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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:40:03 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:40:03 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/12470-0.txt b/12470-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..860143d --- /dev/null +++ b/12470-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12069 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12470 *** + + A PERILOUS SECRET + + BY CHARLES READE + +AUTHOR OF "HARD CASH" "PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE" "GRIFFITH GAUNT" "IT IS +NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND" ETC., ETC. + + 1884 + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +CHAPTER I. +THE POOR MAN'S CHILD + +CHAPTER II. +THE RICH MAN'S CHILD + +CHAPTER III. +THE TWO FATHERS + +CHAPTER IV. +AN OLD SERVANT + +CHAPTER V. +MARY'S PERIL + +CHAPTER VI. +SHARP PRACTICE + +CHAPTER VII. +THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE + +CHAPTER VIII. +THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE + +CHAPTER IX. +LOVERS PARTED + +CHAPTER X. +THE GORDIAN KNOT + +CHAPTER XI. +THE KNOT CUT.--ANOTHER TIED + +CHAPTER XII. +THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE + +CHAPTER XIII. +THE SERPENT LET LOOSE + +CHAPTER XIV. +THE SERPENT + +CHAPTER XV. +THE SECRET IN DANGER + +CHAPTER XVI. +REMINISCENCES.--THE FALSE ACCUSER.--THE SECRET EXPLODED + +CHAPTER XVII. +LOVERS' QUARRELS + +CHAPTER XVIII. +APOLOGIES + +CHAPTER XIX. +A WOMAN OUTWITS TWO MEN + +CHAPTER XX. +CALAMITY + +CHAPTER XXI. +BURIED ALIVE + +CHAPTER XXII. +REMORSE + +CHAPTER XXIII. +BURIED ALIVE.--THE THREE DEADLY PERILS + +CHAPTER XXIV. +STRANGE COMPLICATIONS + +CHAPTER XXV. +RETRIBUTION + +CHAPTER XXVI. +STRANGE TURNS + +CHAPTER XXVII. +CURTAIN + + + + +A PERILOUS SECRET. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE POOR MAN'S CHILD. + + +Two worn travellers, a young man and a fair girl about four years old, +sat on the towing-path by the side of the Trent. + +The young man had his coat off, by which you might infer it was very hot; +but no, it was a keen October day, and an east wind sweeping down the +river. The coat was wrapped tightly round the little girl, so that only +her fair face with blue eyes and golden hair peeped out; and the young +father sat in his shirt sleeves, looking down on her with a loving but +anxious look. Her mother, his wife, had died of consumption, and he was +in mortal terror lest biting winds and scanty food should wither this +sweet flower too, his one remaining joy. + +William Hope was a man full of talent; self-educated, and wonderfully +quick at learning anything: he was a linguist, a mechanic, a +mineralogist, a draughtsman, an inventor. Item, a bit of a farrier, and +half a surgeon; could play the fiddle and the guitar; could draw and +paint and drive a four-in-hand. Almost the only thing he could not do was +to make money and keep it. + +Versatility seldom pays. But, to tell the truth, luck was against him; +and although in a long life every deserving man seems to get a chance, +yet Fortune does baffle some meritorious men for a limited time. +Generally, we think, good fortune and ill fortune succeed each other +rapidly, like red cards and black; but to some ill luck comes in great +long slices; and if they don't drink or despair, by-and-by good luck +comes continuously, and everything turns to gold with him who has waited +and deserved. + +Well, for years Fortune was hard on William Hope. It never let him get +his head above-water. If he got a good place, the employer died or sold +his business. If he patented an invention, and exhausted his savings to +pay the fees, no capitalist would work it, or some other inventor +proved he had invented something so like it that there was no basis for +a monopoly. + +At last there fell on him the heaviest blow of all. He had accumulated +£50 as a merchant's clerk, and was in negotiation for a small independent +business, when his wife, whom he loved tenderly, sickened. + +For eight months he was distracted with hopes and fears. These gave way +to dismal certainty. She died, and left him broken-hearted and poor, +impoverished by the doctors, and pauperized by the undertaker. Then his +crushed heart had but one desire--to fly from the home that had lost its +sunshine, and the very country which had been calamitous to him. + +He had one stanch friend, who had lately returned rich from New Zealand, +and had offered to send him out as his agent, and to lend him money in +the colony. Hope had declined, and his friend had taken the huff, and +had not written to him since. But Hope knew he was settled in Hull, and +too good-hearted at bottom to go from his word in his friend's present +sad condition. So William Hope paid every debt he owed in Liverpool, took +his child to her mother's tombstone, and prayed by it, and started to +cross the island, and then leave it for many a long day. + +He had a bundle with one brush, one comb, a piece of yellow soap, and two +changes of linen, one for himself, and one for his little Grace--item, +his fiddle, and a reaping hook; for it was a late harvest in the north, +and he foresaw he should have to work his way and play his way, or else +beg, and he was too much of a man for that. His child's face won her many +a ride in a wagon, and many a cup of milk from humble women standing at +their cottage doors. + +Now and then he got a day's work in the fields, and the farmer's wife +took care of little Grace, and washed her linen, and gave them both clean +straw in the barn to lie on, and a blanket to cover them. Once he fell in +with a harvest-home, and his fiddle earned him ten shillings, all in +sixpences. But on unlucky days he had to take his fiddle under his arm, +and carry his girl on his back: these unlucky days came so often that +still as he travelled his small pittance dwindled. Yet half-way on this +journey fortune smiled on him suddenly. It was in Derbyshire. He went a +little out of his way to visit his native place--he had left it at ten +years old. Here an old maid, his first cousin, received Grace with +rapture, and Hope pottered about all day, reviving his boyish +recollections of people and places. He had left the village ignorant; he +returned full of various knowledge; and so it was that in a certain +despised field, all thistles and docks and every known weed, which field +the tenant had condemned as a sour clay unfit for cultivation, William +Hope found certain strata and other signs which, thanks to his +mineralogical studies and practical knowledge, sent a sudden thrill all +through his frame. "Here's luck at last!" said he. "My child! my child! +our fortune is made." + +The proprietor of this land, and indeed of the whole parish, was a +retired warrior, Colonel Clifford. Hope knew that very well, and hurried +to Clifford Hall, all on fire with his discovery. + +He obtained an interview without any difficulty. Colonel Clifford, though +proud as Lucifer, was accessible and stiffly civil to humble folk. He was +gracious enough to Hope; but, when the poor fellow let him know he had +found signs of coal on his land, he froze directly; told him that two +gentlemen in that neighborhood had wasted their money groping the bowels +of the earth for coal, because of delusive indications on the surface of +the soil; and that for his part, even if he was sure of success, he would +not dirty his fingers with coal. "I believe," said he, "the northern +nobility descend to this sort of thing; but then they have not smelled +powder, and seen glory, and served her Majesty. _I have_." + +Hope tried to reason with him, tried to get round him. But he was +unassailable as Gibraltar, and soon cut the whole thing short by +saying: "There, that's enough. I am much obliged to you, sir, for +bringing me information you think valuable. You are travelling--on +foot--short of funds perhaps. Please accept this trifle, +and--and--good-morning." He retreated at marching pace, and the hot +blood burned his visitor's face. An alms! + +But on second thoughts he said: "Well, I have offered him a fortune, and +he gives me ten shillings. One good turn deserves another." So he +pocketed the half-sovereign, and bought his little Grace a +neck-handkerchief, blue with white spots; and so this unlucky man and his +child fought their way from west to east, till they reached that place +where we introduced them to the reader. + +That was an era in their painful journey, because until then Hope's only +anxiety was to find food and some little comfort for his child. But this +morning little Grace had begun to cough, a little dry cough that struck +on the father's heart like a knell. Her mother had died of consumption: +were the seeds of that fatal malady in her child? If so, hardship, +fatigue, cold, and privation would develop them rapidly, and she would +wither away into the grave before his eyes. So he looked down on her in +an agony of foreboding, and shivered in his shirt sleeves, not at the +cold, but at the future. She, poor girl, was, like the animals, blessed +with ignorance of everything beyond the hour; and soon she woke her +father from his dire reverie with a cry of delight. + +"Oh, what's they?" said she, and beamed with pleasure. Hope followed the +direction of her blue eyes, open to their full extent; and lo! there was +a little fleet of swans coming round a bend of the river. Hope told her +all about the royal birds, and that they belonged to sovereigns in one +district, to cities in another. Meantime the fair birds sailed on, and +passed stately, arching their snowy necks. Grace gloated on them, and for +a day or two her discourse was of swans. + +At last, when very near the goal, misfortunes multiplied. They came into +a town on a tidal river, whence they could hope to drift down to their +destination for a shilling or two; but here Hope spent his last farthing +on Grace's supper at an eating-house, and had not wherewithal to pay for +bed or breakfast at the humble inn. Here, too, he took up the local +paper, praying Heaven there might be some employment advertised, however +mean, that so he might feed his girl, and not let the fiend Consumption +take her at a gift. + +No, there was nothing in the advertising column, but in the body of the +paper he found a paragraph to the effect that Mr. Samuelson, of Hull, +had built a gigantic steam vessel in that port, and was going out to New +Zealand in her on her trial trip, to sail that morning at high tide, 6.45 +A.M., and it was now nine. + +How a sentence in a newspaper can blast a man! Bereavement, Despair, Lost +Love--they come like lightning in a single line. Hope turned sick at +these few words, and down went his head and his hands, and he sat all of +a heap, cold at heart. Then he began to disbelieve in everything, +especially in honesty. For why? If he had only left Liverpool in debt and +taken the rail, he would have reached Hull in ample time, and would have +gone out to New Zealand in the new ship with money in both pockets. + +But it was no use fretting. Starvation and disease impended over his +child. He must work, or steal, or something. In truth he was getting +desperate. He picked himself up and went about, offering his many +accomplishments to humble shop-keepers. They all declined him, some +civilly. At last he came to a superior place of business. There were +large offices and a handsome house connected with it in the rear. At the +side of the offices were pulleys, cranes, and all the appliances for +loading vessels, and a yard with horses and vans, so that the whole +frontage of the premises was very considerable. A brass plate said, "R. +Bartley, ship-broker and commission agent"; but the man was evidently a +ship-owner and a carrier besides; so this miscellaneous shop roused hopes +in our versatile hero. He rapidly surveyed the outside, and then cast +hungry glances through the window of the man's office. It was a +bow-window of unusual size, through which the proprietor or his employees +could see a long way up and down the river. Through this window Hope +peered. Repulses had made him timid. He wanted to see the face he had to +apply to before he ventured. + +But Mr. Bartley was not there. The large office was at present occupied +by his clerks; one of these was Leonard Monckton, a pale young man with +dark hair, a nose like a hawk, and thin lips. The other was quite a young +fellow, with brown hair, hazel eyes, and an open countenance. "Many a +hard rub puts a point on a man." So Hope resolved at once to say nothing +to that pale clerk so like a kite, but to interest the open countenance +in him and his hungry child. + +There were two approaches to the large office. One, to Hope's right, +through a door and a lobby. This was seldom used except by the habitués +of the place. The other was to Hope's left, through a very small office, +generally occupied by an inferior clerk, who kept an eye upon the work +outside. However, this office had also a small window looking inward; +this opened like a door when the man had anything to say to Mr. Bartley +or the clerks in the large office. + +William Hope entered this outer office, and found it empty. The clerk +happened to be in the yard. Then he opened the inner door and looked in +on the two clerks, pale and haggard, and apprehensive of a repulse. He +addressed himself to the one nearest him; it was the one whose face had +attracted him. + +"Sir, can I see Mr. Bartley?" + +The young fellow glanced over the visitor's worn garments and dusty +shoes, and said, dryly, "Hum! if it is for charity, this is the +wrong shop." + +"I want no charity," said Hope, with a sigh; "I want employment. But I do +want it very badly; my poor little girl and I are starving." + +"Then that is a shame," said the young fellow, warmly. "Why, you are a +gentleman, aren't you?" + +"I don't know for that," said Hope. "But I am an educated man, and I +could do the whole business of this place. But you see I am down in +the world." + +"You look like it," said the clerk, bluntly. "But don't you be so green +as to tell old Bartley that, or you are done for. No, no; I'll show you +how to get in here. Wait till half past one. He lunches at one, and he +isn't quite such a brute after luncheon. Then you come in like Julius +Caesar, and brag like blazes, and offer him twenty pounds' worth of +industry and ability, and above all arithmetic, and he will say he has no +opening (and that is a lie), and offer you fifteen shillings, perhaps." + +"If he does, I'll jump at it," said Hope, eagerly. "But whether I succeed +with him or not, take my child's blessing and my own." + +His voice faltered, and Bolton, with a young man's uneasiness under +sentiment, stopped him. "Oh, come, old fellow, bother all that! Why, we +are all stumped in turn." Then he began to chase a solitary coin into a +corner of his waistcoat pocket. "Look here, I'll lend you a +shilling--pay me next week--it will buy the kid a breakfast. I wish I +had more, but I want the other for luncheon. I haven't drawn my screw +yet. It is due at twelve." + +"I'll take it for my girl," said Hope, blushing, "and because it is +offered me by a gentleman and like a gentleman." + +"Granted, for the sake of argument," said this sprightly youth; and so +they parted for the time, little dreaming, either of them, what a chain +they were weaving round their two hearts, and this little business the +first link. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE RICH MAN'S CHILD. + + +The world is very big, and contains hundreds of millions who are +strangers to each other. Yet every now and then this big world seems to +turn small; so many people whose acquaintance we make turn out to be +acquaintances of our acquaintances. This concatenation of acquaintances +is really one of the marvels of social life, if one considers the +chances against it, owing to the size and population of the country. As +an example of this phenomenon, which we have all observed, William Hope +was born in Derbyshire, in a small parish which belonged, nearly all of +it, to Colonel Clifford; yet in that battle for food which is, alas! the +prosaic but true history of men and nations, he entered an office in +Yorkshire, and there made friends with Colonel Clifford's son, Walter, +who was secretly dabbling in trade and matrimony under the name of +Bolton; and this same Hope was to come back, and to apply for a place to +Mr. Bartley; Mr. Bartley was brother-in-law to that same Colonel +Clifford, though they were at daggers drawn, the pair. + +Miss Clifford, aged thirty-two, had married Bartley, aged thirty-seven. +Each had got fixed habits, and they soon disagreed. In two years they +parted, with plenty of bitterness, but no scandal. Bartley stood on his +rights, and kept their one child, little Mary. He was very fond of her, +and as the mother saw her whenever she liked, his love for his child +rather tended to propitiate Mrs. Bartley, though nothing on earth would +have induced her to live with him again. + +Little Mary was two months younger than Grace Hope, and, like her, had +blue eyes and golden hair. But what a difference in her condition! She +had two nurses and every luxury. Dressed like a princess, and even when +in bed smothered in lace; some woman's eye always upon her, a hand always +ready to keep her from the smallest accident. + +Yet all this care could not keep out sickness. The very day that Grace +Hope began to cough and alarm her father, Mary Bartley flushed and paled, +and showed some signs of feverishness. + +The older nurse, a vigilant person, told Mr. Bartley directly; and the +doctor was sent for post-haste. He felt her pulse, and said there was +some little fever, but no cause for anxiety. He administered syrup of +poppies, and little Mary passed a tranquil night. + +Next day, about one in the afternoon, she became very restless, and was +repeatedly sick. The doctor was sent for, and combated the symptoms; but +did not inquire closely into the cause. Sickness proceeds immediately +from the stomach; so he soothed the stomach with alkaline mucilages, and +the sickness abated. But next day alarming symptoms accumulated, short +breathing, inability to eat, flushed face, wild eyes. Bartley telegraphed +to a first-rate London physician. He came, and immediately examined +the girl's throat, and shook his head; then he uttered a fatal +word--Diphtheria. + +They had wasted four days squirting petty remedies at symptoms, instead +of finding the cause and attacking it, and now he told them plainly he +feared it was too late--the fatal membrane was forming, and, indeed, had +half closed the air-passages. + +Bartley in his rage and despair would have driven the local doctor out of +the house, but this the London doctor would not allow. He even consulted +him on the situation, now it was declared, and, as often happens, they +went in for heroic remedies since it was too late. + +But neither powerful stimulants nor biting draughts nor caustic +applications could hinder the deadly parchment from growing and growing. + +The breath reduced to a thread, no nourishment possible except by baths +of beef tea, and similar enemas. Exhaustion inevitable. Death certain. + +Such was the hopeless condition of the rich man's child, surrounded by +nurses and physicians, when the father of the poor man's child applied to +the clerk Bolton for that employment which meant bread for his child, and +perhaps life for _her_. + +William Hope returned to his little Grace with a loaf of bread he +bought on the road with Bolton's shilling, and fresh milk in a +soda-water bottle. + +He found her crying. She had contrived, after the manner of children, to +have an accident. The room was almost bare of furniture, but my lady had +found a wooden stool that _could_ be mounted upon and tumbled off, and +she had done both, her parent being away. She had bruised and sprained +her little wrist, and was in the depths of despair. + +"Ah," said poor Hope, "I was afraid something or other would happen if I +left you." + +He took her to the window, and set her on his knee, and comforted her. He +cut a narrow slip off his pocket handkerchief, wetted it, and bound it +lightly and deftly round her wrist, and poured consolation into her ear. +But soon she interrupted that, and flung sorrow to the winds; she uttered +three screams of delight, and pointed eagerly through the window. + +"Here they be again, the white swans!" + +Hope looked, and there were two vessels, a brig and a bark, creeping +down the river toward the sea, with white sails bellying to a gentle +breeze astern. + +It is experience that teaches proportion. The eye of childhood is +wonderfully misled in that matter. Promise a little child the moon, and +show him the ladder to be used, he sees nothing inadequate in the means; +so Grace Hope was delighted with her swans. + +But Hope, who made it his business to instruct her, and not deceive her +as some thoughtless parents do, out of fun, the wretches, told her, +gently, they were not swans, but ships. + +She was a little disappointed at that, but inquired what they were doing. + +"Darling," said he, "they are going to some other land, where honest, +hard-working people can not starve, and, mark my words, darling," said +he--she pricked her little ears at that--"you and I shall have to go +with them, for we are poor." + +"Oh," said little Grace, impressed by his manner as well as his words, +and nodded her pretty head with apparent wisdom, and seemed greatly +impressed. + +Then her father fed her with bread and milk, and afterward laid her on +the bed, and asked her whether she loved him. + +"Dearly, dearly," said she. + +"Then if you do," said he, "you will go to sleep like a good girl, and +not stir off that bed till I come back." + +"No more I will," said she. + +However, he waited until she was in an excellent condition for keeping +her promise, being fast as a church. + +Then he looked long at her beautiful face, wax-like and even-tinted, but +full of life after her meal, and prayed to Him who loved little children, +and went with a beating heart to Mr. Bartley's office. + +But in the short time, little more than an hour and a half, which elapsed +between Hope's first and second visit, some most unexpected and +remarkable events took place. + +Bartley came in from his child's dying bed distracted with grief; but +business to him was the air he breathed, and he went to work as usual, +only in a hurried and bitter way unusual to him. He sent out his clerk +Bolton with some bills, and told him sharply not to return without the +money; and whilst Bolton, so-called, was making his toilette in the +lobby, his eye fell on his other clerk, Monckton. + +Monckton was poring over the ledger with his head down, the very picture +of a faithful servant absorbed in his master's work. + +But appearances are deceitful. He had a small book of his own nestled +between the ledger and his stomach. It was filled with hieroglyphics, and +was his own betting book. As for his brown-study, that was caused by his +owing £100 in the ring, and not knowing how to get it. To be sure, he +could rob Mr. Bartley. He had done it again and again by false accounts, +and even by abstraction of coin, for he had false keys to his employer's +safe, cash-box, drawers, and desk. But in his opinion he had played this +game often enough, and was afraid to venture it again so soon and on so +large a scale. + +He was so absorbed in these thoughts that he did not hear Mr. Bartley +come to him; to be sure, he came softly, because of the other clerk, who +was washing his hands and brushing his hair in the lobby. + +So Bartley's hand, fell gently, but all in a moment, on Monckton's +shoulder, and they say the shoulder is a sensitive part in conscious +rogues. Anyway, Monckton started violently, and turned from pale to +white, and instinctively clapped both hands over his betting book. + +"Monckton," said his employer, gravely, "I have made a very ugly +discovery." + +Monckton began to shiver. + +"Periodical errors in the balances, and the errors always against me." + +Monckton began to perspire. Not knowing what to say, he faltered, and at +last stammered out, "Are you sure, sir?" + +"Quite sure. I have long seen reason to suspect it, so last night I went +through all the books, and now I am sure. Whoever the villain is, I will +send him to prison if I can only catch him." + +Monckton winced and turned his head away, debating in his mind whether he +should affect indignation and sympathy, and pretend to court inquiry, or +should wait till lunch-time, and then empty the cash-box and bolt. + +Whilst thus debating, these words fell unexpectedly on his ear: + +"And you must help me." + +Then Monckton's eyes turned this way and that in a manner that is common +among thieves, and a sardonic smile curled his pale thin lip. + +"It is my duty," said the sly rogue, demurely. Then, after a pause, +"But how?" + +Then Mr. Bartley glanced at Bolton in the lobby, and not satisfied with +speaking under his breath, drew this ill-chosen confidant to the other +end of the office. + +"Why, suspect everybody, and watch them. Now there's this clerk Bolton: I +know nothing about him; I was taken by his looks. Have your eye on +_him_." + +"I will, sir," said Monckton, eagerly. He drew a long breath of +relief. For all that, he was glad when a voice in the little office +announced a visitor. + +It was a clear, peremptory voice, short, sharp, incisive, and decisive. +The clerk called Bolton heard it in the lobby, and scuttled into the +street with a rapidity that contrasted drolly enough with the composure +and slowness with which he had been brushing his hair and titivating his +nascent whiskers. + +A tall, stiff military figure literally marched into the middle of the +office, and there stood like a sentinel. + +Mr. Bartley could hardly believe his senses. + +"Colonel Clifford!" said he, roughly. + +"You are surprised to see me here?" + +"Of course I am. May I ask what brings you?" + +"That which composes all quarrels and squares all accounts--Death." + +Colonel Clifford said this solemnly, and with less asperity. He added, +with a glance at Monckton, "This is a very private matter." + +Bartley took the hint, and asked Monckton to retire into the inner +office. + +As soon as he and Colonel Clifford were alone, that warrior, still +standing straight as a dart, delivered himself of certain short +sentences, each of which seemed to be propelled, or indeed jerked out of +him, by some foreign power seated in his breast. + +"My sister, your injured wife, is no more." + +"Dead! This is very sudden. I am very, very sorry. I--" + +Colonel Clifford looked the word "Humbug," and continued to expel short +sentences. + +"On her death-bed she made me promise to give you my hand. There it is." + +His hand was propelled out, caught flying by Bartley, released, and drawn +back again, all by machinery it seemed. + +"She leaves you £20,000 in trust for the benefit of her child and +yours--Mary Bartley." + +"Poor, dear Eliza." + +The Colonel looked as less high-bred people do when they say "Gammon," +but proceeded civilly though brusquely. + +"In dealing with the funds you have a large discretion. Should the girl +die before you, or unmarried, the money lapses to your nephew, my son, +Walter Clifford. He is a scapegrace, and has run away from me; but I must +protect his just interests. So as a mere matter of form I will ask you +whether Mary Bartley is alive." + +Bartley bowed his head. + +Colonel Clifford had not heard she was ill, so he continued: "In that +case"--and then, interrupting himself for a moment, turned away to +Bartley's private table, and there emptied his pockets of certain +documents, one of which he wanted to select. + +His back was not turned more than half a minute, yet a most expressive +pantomime took place in that short interval. + +The nurse opened a door of communication, and stood with a rush at the +threshold: indeed, she would have rushed in but for the stranger. She was +very pale, and threw up her hands to Bartley. Her face and her gesture +were more expressive than words. + +Then Bartley, clinging by mere desperate instinct to money he could not +hope to keep, flew to her, drove her out by a frenzied movement of both +hands, though he did not touch her, and spread-eagled himself before the +door, with his face and dilating eyes turned toward Colonel Clifford. + +The Colonel turned and stepped toward him with the document he had +selected at the table. Bartley went to meet him. + +The Colonel gave it to him, and said it was a copy of the will. + +Bartley took it, and Colonel Clifford expelled his last sentences. + +"We have shaken hands. Let us forget our past quarrels, and respect the +wishes of the dead." + +With that he turned sharply on both heels, and faced the door of the +little office before he moved; then marched out in about seven steps, as +he had marched in, and never looked behind him for two hundred miles. + +The moment he was out of sight, Bartley, with his wife's will in his hand +and ice at his heart, went to his child's room. The nurse met him, +crying, and said, "A change"--mild but fatal words that from a nurse's +lips end hope. + +He came to the bedside just in time to see the breath hovering on his +child's lips, and then move them as the summer air stirs a leaf. + +Soon all was still, and the rich man's child was clay. + +The unhappy father burst into a passion of grief, short but violent. Then +he ordered the nurse to watch there, and let no one enter the room; then +he staggered back to his office, and flung himself down at his table and +buried his head. To do him justice, he was all parental grief at first, +for his child was his idol. + +The arms were stretched out across the table; the head rested on it; the +man was utterly crushed. + +Whilst he was so, the little office door opened softly, and a pale, worn, +haggard face looked in. It was the father of the poor man's child in +mortal danger from privation and hereditary consumption. That haggard +face was come to ask the favor of employment, and bread for his girl, +from the rich man whose child was clay. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE TWO FATHERS. + + +Hope looked wistfully at that crushed figure, and hesitated; it seemed +neither kind nor politic to intrude business upon grief. + +But if the child was Bartley's idol, money was his god, and soon in his +strange mind defeated avarice began to vie with nobler sorrow. His child +dead! his poor little flower withered, and her death robbed him of +£20,000, and indeed of ten times that sum, for he had now bought +experience in trade and speculation, and had learned to make money out of +money, a heap out of a handful. Stung by this vulgar torment in its turn, +he started suddenly up, and dashed his wife's will down upon the floor in +a fury, and paced the room excitedly. Hope still stood aghast, and +hesitated to risk his application. + +But presently Bartley caught sight of him, and stared at him, but +said nothing. + +Then the poor fellow saw it was no use waiting for a better opportunity, +so he came forward and carried out Bolton's instructions; he put on a +tolerably jaunty air, and said, cheerfully, "I beg your pardon, sir; can +I claim your attention for a moment?" + +"What do you want?" asked Bartley, but like a man whose mind was +elsewhere. + +"Only employment for my talent, sir. I hear you have a vacancy for +a manager." + +"Nothing of the sort. _I_ am manager." + +Hope drew back despondent, and his haggard countenance fell at such +prompt repulse. But he summoned courage, and, once more acting genial +confidence, returned to the attack. + +"But you don't know, sir, in how many ways I can be useful to you. A +grand and complicated business like yours needs various acquirements +in those who have the honor to serve you. For instance, I saw a small +engine at work in your yard; now I am a mechanic, and I can double +the power of that engine by merely introducing an extra band and a +couple of cogs." + +"It will do as it is," said Bartley, languidly, "and I can do without +a manager." + +Bartley's manner was not irritated but absorbed. He seemed in all his +replies to Hope to be brushing away a fly mechanically and languidly. The +poor fly felt sick at heart, and crept away disconsolate. But at the very +door he turned, and for his child's sake made another attempt. + +"Have you an opening for a clerk? I can write business letters in French, +German, and Dutch; and keep books by double entry." + +"No vacancy for a clerk," was the weary reply. + +"Well, then, a foreman in the yard. I have studied the economy of +industry, and will undertake to get you the greatest amount of labor out +of the smallest number of men." + +"I have a foreman already," said Bartley, turning his back on him +peevishly, for the first time, and pacing the room, absorbed in his own +disappointment. + +Hope was in despair, and put on his hat to go. But he turned at the +window and said: "You have vans and carts. I understand horses +thoroughly. I am a veterinary surgeon, and I can drive four-in-hand. I +offer myself as carman, or even hostler." + +"I do not want a hostler, and I have a carman." + +Bartley, when he had said this, sat down like a man who had finally +disposed of the application. + +Hope went to the very door, and leaned against it. His jaw dropped. He +looked ten years older. Then, with a piteous attempt at cheerfulness, he +came nearer, and said: "A messenger, then. I'm young and very active, +and never waste my employer's time." + +Even this humble proposal was declined, though Hope's cheeks burned +with shame as he made it. He groaned aloud, and his head dropped on +his breast. + +His eye fell on the will lying on the ground; he went and picked it up, +and handed it respectfully to Bartley. + +Bartley stared, took it, and bowed his head an inch or two in +acknowledgment of the civility. This gave the poor daunted father courage +again. Now that Bartley's face was turned to him by this movement, he +took advantage of it, and said, persuasively: + +"Give me some kind of employment, sir. You will never repent it." Then he +began to warm with conscious power. "I've intelligence, practicability, +knowledge; and in this age of science knowledge is wealth. Example: I saw +a swell march out of this place that owns all the parish I was born in. I +knew him in a moment--Colonel Clifford. Well, that old soldier draws his +rents when he can get them, and never looks deeper than the roots of the +grass his cattle crop. But _I_ tell _you_ he never takes a walk about his +grounds but he marches upon millions--coal! sir, coal! and near the +surface. I know the signs. But I am impotent: only fools possess the gold +that wise men can coin into miracles. Try me, sir; honor me with your +sympathy. You are a father--you have a sweet little girl, I +hear."--Bartley winced at that.--"Well, so have I, and the hole my +poverty makes me pig in is not good for her, sir. She needs the sea air, +the scent of flowers, and, bless her little heart, she does enjoy them +so! Give them to her, and I will give you zeal, energy, brains, and a +million of money." + +This, for the first time in the interview, arrested Mr. Bartley's +attention. + +"I see you are a superior man," said he, "but I have no way to utilize +your services." + +"You can give me no hope, sir?" asked the poor fellow, still lingering. + +"None--and I am sorry for it." + +This one gracious speech affected poor Hope so that he could not speak +for a moment. Then he fought for manly dignity, and said, with a +lamentable mixture of sham sprightliness and real anguish, "Thank you, +sir; I only trust that you will always find servants as devoted to your +interest as my gratitude would have made me. Good-morning, sir." He +clapped his hat on with a sprightly, ghastly air, and marched off +resolutely. + +But ere he reached the door, Nature overpowered the father's heart; +way went Bolton's instructions; away went fictitious deportment and +feigned cheerfulness. The poor wretch uttered a cry, indeed a scream, of +anguish, that would have thrilled ten thousand hearts had they heard it; +he dashed his hat on the ground, and rushed toward Bartley, with both +hands out--"FOR GOD'S SAKE DON'T SEND ME AWAY--MY CHILD IS STARVING!" + +Even Bartley was moved. "Your child!" said he, with some little feeling. +This slight encouragement was enough for a father. His love gushed forth. +"A little golden-haired, blue-eyed angel, who is all the world to me. We +have walked here from Liverpool, where I had just buried her mother. God +help me! God help us both! Many a weary mile, sir, and never sure of +supper or bed. The birds of the air have nests, the beasts of the field a +shelter, the fox a hole, but my beautiful and fragile girl, only four +years old, sir, is houseless and homeless. Her mother died of +consumption, sir, and I live in mortal fear; for now she is beginning to +cough, and I can not give her proper nourishment. Often on this fatal +journey I have felt her shiver, and then I have taken off my coat and +wrapped it round her, and her beautiful eyes have looked up in mine, and +seemed to plead for the warmth and food I'd sell my soul to give her." + +"Poor fellow," said Bartley; "I suppose I ought to pity you. But how can +I? Man--man--your child is alive, and while there is life there is hope; +but mine is dead--dead!" he almost shrieked. + +"Dead!" said Hope, horrified. + +"Dead," cried Bartley. "Cut off at four years old, the very age of yours. +There--go and judge for yourself. You are a father. I can't look upon my +blasted hopes, and my withered flower. Go and see _my_ blue-eyed, +fair-haired darling--clay, hastening to the tomb; and you will trouble me +no more with your imaginary griefs." He flung himself down with his head +on his desk. + +Hope, following the direction of his hand, opened the door of the house, +and went softly forward till he met the nurse. He told her Mr. Bartley +wished him to see the deceased. The nurse hesitated, but looked at him. +His sad face inspired confidence, and she ushered him into the chamber of +mourning. There, laid out in state, was a little figure that, seen in the +dim light, drew a cry of dismay from Hope. He had left his own girl +sleeping, and looking like tinted wax. Here lay a little face the very +image of hers, only this was pale wax. + +Had he looked more closely, the chin was unlike his own girl's, and there +were other differences. But the first glance revealed a thrilling +resemblance. Hope hurried away from the room, and entered the office pale +and disturbed. "Oh, sir! the very image of my own. It fills me with +forebodings. I pity you, sir, with all my heart. That sad sight +reconciles me to my lot. God help you!" and he was going away; for now he +felt an unreasoning terror lest his own child should have turned from +colored wax to pale. + +Mr. Bartley stopped him. "Are they so very like?" said he. + +"Wonderfully like." And again he was going, but Bartley, who had received +him so coldly, seemed now unwilling to part with him. + +"Stay," said he, "and let me think." The truth is, a daring idea had +just flashed through that brain of his; and he wanted to think it out. +He walked to and fro in silent agitation, and his face was as a book in +which you may read strange matter. At last he made up his mind, but +the matter was one he did not dare to approach too bluntly, so he went +about a little. + +"Stay--you don't know all my misfortunes. I am ambitious--like you. I +believe in science and knowledge--like you. And, if my child had +lived, you should have been my adviser and my right hand: I want such +a man as you." + +Hope threw up his hands. "My usual luck!" said he: "always a day too +late." Bartley resumed: + +"But my child's death robs me of the money to work with, and I can't help +you nor help myself." + +Hope groaned. + +Bartley hesitated. But after a moment he said, timidly, "Unless--" and +then stopped. + +"Unless what?" asked Hope, eagerly. "I am not likely to raise objections +my child's life is at stake." + +"Well, then, unless you are really the superior man you seem to be: a man +of ability and--courage." + +"Courage!" thought Hope, and began to be puzzled. However, he said, +modestly, that he thought he could find courage in a good cause. + +"Then you and I are made men," said Bartley. These were stout words; but +they were not spoken firmly; on the contrary, Mr. Bartley's voice +trembled, and his brow began to perspire visibly. + +His agitation communicated itself to Hope, and the latter said, in a +low, impressive voice, "This is something very grave, Mr. Bartley. Sir, +what is it?" + +Mr. Bartley looked uneasily all round the room, and came close to Hope. +"The very walls must not hear what I now say to you." Then, in a +thrilling whisper, "My daughter must not die." + +Hope looked puzzled. + +"Your daughter must take her place." + +Now just before this, two quick ears began to try and catch the +conversation. Monckton had heard all that Colonel Clifford said, that +warrior's tones were so incisive; but, as the matter only concerned Mr. +Bartley, he merely grinned at the disappointment likely to fall on his +employer, for he knew Mary Bartley was at death's door. He said as much +to himself, and went out for a sandwich, for it was his lunch-time. But +when he returned with stealthy foot, for all his movements were cat-like, +he caught sight of Bartley and Hope in earnest conversation, and felt +very curious. + +There was something so mysterious in Bartley's tones that Monckton drew +up against the little window, pushed it back an inch, and listened hard. + +But he could hear nothing at all until Hope's answer came to +Bartley's proposal. + +Then the indignant father burst out, so that it was easy enough to hear +every word. "I part with my girl! Not for the world's wealth. What! You +call yourself a father, and would tempt me to sell my own flesh and +blood? No! Poverty, beggary, anything, sooner than that. My darling, we +will thrive together or starve together; we will live together or die +together!" + +He snatched up his hat to leave. But Bartley found a word to make him +hesitate. He never moved, but folded his arms and said, "So, then, your +love for your child is selfish." + +"Selfish!" cried Hope; "so selfish that I would die for her any hour of +the day." For all that, the taunt brought him down a step, and Bartley, +still standing like a rock, attacked him again. "If it is not selfish, it +is blind." Then he took two strides, and attacked him with sudden power. +"Who will suffer most if you stand in her light? Your daughter: why, she +may die." Hope groaned. "Who will profit most if you are wise, and +really love her, not like a jealous lover, but like a father? Why, your +daughter: she will be taken out of poverty and want, and carried to +sea-breezes and scented meadows; her health and her comfort will be my +care; she will fill the gap in my house and in my heart, and will be my +heiress when I die." + +"But she will be lost to me," sighed poor Hope. + +"Not so. You will be my right hand; you will be always about us; you can +see her, talk to her, make her love you, do anything but tell her you are +her father. Do this one thing for me, and I will do great things for you +and for her. To refuse me will be to cut your own throat and hers--as +well as mine." + +Hope faltered a little. "Am I selfish?" said he. + +"Of course not," was the soothing reply. "No true father is--give him +time to think." + +Hope clinched his hands in agony, and pressed them against his brow. "It +is selfish to stand in her light; but part with her--I can't; I can't." + +"Of course not: who asks you? She will never be out of your sight; only, +instead of seeing her sicken, linger, and die, you will see her +surrounded by every comfort, nursed and tended like a princess, and +growing every day in health, wealth, and happiness." + +"Health, wealth, and happiness?" + +"Health, wealth, and happiness!" + +These words made a great impression on the still hesitating father; he +began to make conditions. They were all granted heartily. + +"If ever you are unkind to her, the compact is broken, and I claim my +own again." + +"So be it. But why suppose anything so monstrous; men do not ill-treat +children. It is only women, who adore them, that kill them and ill-use +them accordingly. She will be my little benefactress, God bless her! I +may love her more than I ought, being yours, for my home is desolate +without her; but that is the only fault you shall ever find with me. +There is my hand on it." + +Hope at the last was taken off his guard, and took the proffered hand. +That is a binding action, and somehow he could no longer go back. + +Then Bartley told him he should live in the house at first, to break the +parting. "And from this hour," said he, "you are no clerk nor manager, +but my associate in business, and on your own terms." + +"Thank you," said Hope, with a sigh. + +"Now lose no time; get her into the house at once while the clerks are +away, and meantime I must deal with the nurse, and overcome the many +difficulties. Stay, here is a five-pound note. Buy yourself a new suit, +and give the child a good meal. But pray bring her here in half an hour +if you can." + +Then Bartley took him to the lobby, and let him out in the street, whilst +he went into the house to buy the nurse, and make her his confidante. + +He had a good deal of difficulty with her; she was shocked at the +proposal, and, being a woman, it was the details that horrified her. She +cried a good deal. She stipulated that her darling should have Christian +burial, and cried again at the doubt. But as Bartley conceded everything, +and offered to settle a hundred pounds a year on her, so long as she +lived in his house and kept his secret, he prevailed at last, and found +her an invaluable ally. + +To dispose of this character for the present we must inform the reader +that she proved a woman can keep a secret, and that in a very short time +she was as fond of Grace Hope as she had been of Mary Bartley. + +We have said that Colonel Clifford's talk penetrated Monckton's ear, but +produced no great impression at the time. Not so, however, when he had +listened to Bartley's proposal, Hope's answer, and all that followed. +Then he put this and Colonel Clifford's communication together, and saw +the terrible importance of the two things combined. Thus, as a +congenital worm grew with Jonah's gourd, and was sure to destroy it, +Bartley's bold and elaborate scheme was furnished from the outset with a +most dangerous enemy. + +Leonard Monckton was by nature a schemer and by habit a villain, and he +was sure to put this discovery to profit. He came out of the little +office and sat down at his desk, and fell into a brown-study. + +He was not a little puzzled, and here lay his difficulty. Two attractive +villainies presented themselves to his ingenious mind, and he naturally +hesitated between them. One was to levy black-mail on Bartley; the other, +to sell the secret to the Cliffords. + +But there was a special reason why he should incline toward the +Cliffords, and, whilst he is in his brown-study, we will let the reader +into his secret. + +This artful person had immediately won the confidence of young Clifford, +calling himself Bolton, and had prepared a very heartless trap for him. +He introduced to him a most beautiful young woman--tall, dark, with oval +face and glorious black eyes and eyebrows, a slight foreign accent, and +ingratiating manners. He called this beauty his sister, and instructed +her to win Walter Clifford in that character, and to marry him. As she +was twenty-two, and Master Clifford nineteen, he had no chance with her, +and they were to be married this very day at the Register Office. + +Manoeuvring Monckton then inclined to let Bartley's fraud go on and +ripen, but eventually expose it for the benefit of young Walter and his +wife, who adored this Monckton, because, when a beautiful woman loves an +ugly blackguard, she never does it by halves. + +But he had no sooner thought out this conclusion than there came an +obstacle. Lucy Muller's heart failed her at the last moment, and she +came into the office with a rush to tell her master so. She uttered a cry +of joy at sight of him, and came at him panting and full of love. "Oh, +Leonard, I am so glad you are alone! Leonard, dear Leonard, pray do not +insist on my marrying that young man. Now it comes to the time, my heart +fails me." The tears stood in her glorious eyes, and an honest man would +have pitied her, and even respected her a little for her compunction, +though somewhat tardy. + +But her master just fixed his eyes coldly on his slave, and said, +brutally, "Never mind your heart; think of your interest." + +The weak woman allowed herself to be diverted into this topic. "Why, he +is no such great catch, I am sure." + +"I tell you he is, more than ever: I have just discovered another £20,000 +he is heir to, and not got to wait for that any longer than I choose." + +Lucy stamped her foot. "I don't care for his money. Till he came with +his money you loved me." + +"I love you as much as ever," said Monckton, coldly. + +Lucy began to sob. "No, you don't, or you wouldn't give me up to that +young fool." + +The villain made a cynical reply, that not every Newgate thief could +have matched. "You fool," said he, "can't you marry him, and go on +loving me? you won't be the first. It is done every day, to the +satisfaction of all parties." + +"And to their unutterable shame," said a clear, stern voice at their +back. Walter Clifford, coming rapidly in, had heard but little, but heard +enough; and there he stood, grim and pale, a boy no longer. These two +skunks had made a man of him in one moment. They recoiled in dismay, and +the woman hid her face. + +He turned upon the man first, you may be sure. "So you have palmed this +lady off on me as your sister, and trapped me, and would have destroyed +me." His lip quivered; for they had passed the iron through his heart. +But he manned himself, and carried it off like a soldier's son: + +"But if I was fool enough to leave my father, I am not fool enough to +present to the world your cast-off mistress as my wife." (Lucy hid her +face in her hands.) "Here, Miss Lucy Monckton--or whatever your name may +be--here is the marriage license. Take that and my contempt, and do what +you like with them." + +With these words he dashed into Bartley's private room, and there broke +down. It was a bitter cup, the first in his young life. + +The baffled schemers drank wormwood too; but they bore it differently. +The woman cried, and took her punishment meekly; the man raged and +threatened vengeance. + +"No, no," said Lucy; "it serves us right. I wish I had never seen the +fellow: then you would have kept your word, and married me." + +"I will marry you now, if you can obey me." + +"Obey you, Leonard? You have been my ruin; but only marry me, and I will +be your slave in everything--your willing, devoted, happy slave." + +"That is a bargain," said Monckton, coolly. "I'll be even with him; I +will marry you in his name and in his place." + +This puzzled Lucy. + +"Why in his name?" said she. + +He did not answer. + +"Well, never mind the name," said she, "so that it is the right man--and +that is you." + +Then Monckton's fertile brain, teeming with villainies, fell to hatching +a new plot more felonious than the last. He would rob the safe, and get +Clifford convicted for the theft; convicted as Bolton, Clifford would +never tell his real name, and Lucy should enter the Cliffords' house with +a certificate of his death and a certificate of his marriage, both +obtained by substitution, and so collar his share of the £20,000, and +off with the real husband to fresh pastures. + +Lucy looked puzzled. Hers was not a brain to disentangle such a +monstrous web. + +Monckton reflected a moment. "What is the first thing? Let me see. Humph! +I think the first thing is to get married." + +"Yes," said Lucy, with an eagerness that contrasted strangely with his +cynical composure, "that is the first thing, and the most +understandable." And she went dancing off with him as gay as a lark, and +leaning on him at an angle of forty-five; whilst he went erect and cold, +like a stone figure marching. + +Walter Clifford came out in time to see them pass the great window. He +watched them down the street, and cursed them--not loud but deep. + +"Mooning, as usual," said a hostile voice behind him. He turned round, +and there was Mr. Bartley seated at his own table. Young Clifford walked +smartly to the other side of the table, determined this should be his +last day in that shop. + +"There are the payments," said he. + +Bartley inspected them. + +"About one in five," said he, dryly. + +"Thereabouts," was the reply. (Consummate indifference.) + +"You can't have pressed them much." + +"Well, I am not good at dunning." + +"What _are_ you good at?" + +"Should be puzzled to say." + +"You are not fit for trade." + +"That is the highest compliment was ever paid me." + +"Oh, you are impertinent as well as incompetent, are you? Then take a +week's warning, Mr. Bolton." + +"Five minutes would suit me better, Mr. Bartley." + +"Oh! indeed! Say one hour." + +"All right, sir; just time for a city clerk's luncheon--glass of bitter, +sandwich, peep at _Punch_, cigarette, and a chat with the bar-maid." + +Mr. Walter Clifford was a gentleman, but we must do him the justice to +say that in this interview with his employer he was a very impertinent +one, not only in words, but in the delivery thereof. Bartley, however, +thought this impertinence was put on, and that he had grave reasons for +being in a hurry. He took down the numbers of the notes Clifford had +given him, and looked very grave and suspicious all the time. + +Then he locked up the notes in the safe, and just then Hope opened the +door of the little office and looked in. + +"At last," said Bartley. + +"Well, sir," said Hope, "I have only been half an hour, and I have +changed my clothes and stood witness to a marriage. She begged me so +hard: I was at the door. Such a beautiful girl! I could not take my +eyes off her." + +"The child?" said Bartley, with natural impatience. + +"I have hidden her in the yard." + +"Bring her this moment, while the clerks are out." + +Hope hurried out, and soon returned with his child, wrapped up in a nice +warm shawl he had bought her with Bartley's money. + +Bartley took the child from him, looked at her face, and said, "Little +darling, I shall love her as my own;" then he begged Hope to sit down in +the lobby till he should call him and introduce him to his clerks. "One +of them is a thief, I'm afraid." + +He took the child inside, and gave her to his confederate, the nurse. + +"Dear me," thought Hope, "only two clerks, and one of them dishonest. I +hope it is not that good-natured boy. Oh no! impossible." + +And now Bartley returned, and at the same time Monckton came briskly in +through the little office. + +At sight of him Bartley said, "Oh, Monckton, I gave that fellow Bolton a +week's notice. But he insists on going directly," Monckton replied, +slyly, that he was sorry to hear that. + +"Suspicious? Eh?" said Bartley. + +"So suspicious that if I were you--Indeed, Mr. Bartley, I think, in +justice to _me_, the matter ought to be cleared to the bottom." + +"You are right," said Bartley: "I'll have him searched before he goes. +Fetch me a detective at once." + +Bartley then wrote a line upon his card, and handed it to Monckton, +directing him to lose no time. He then rushed out of the house with an +air of virtuous indignation, and went to make some delicate arrangements +to carry out a fraud, which, begging his pardon, was as felonious, though +not so prosaic, as the one he suspected his young clerk of. Monckton was +at first a little taken aback by the suddenness of all this; but he was +too clear-headed to be long at fault. The matter was brought to a point. +Well, he must shoot flying. + +In a moment he was at the safe, whipped out a bunch of false keys, opened +the safe, took out the cash-box, and swept all the gold it contained into +his own pockets, and took possession of the notes. Then he locked up the +cash-box again, restored it to the safe, locked that, and sat down at +Bartley's table. He ran over the notes with feverish fingers, and then +took the precaution to examine Bartley's day-book. His caution was +rewarded--he found that the notes Bolton had brought in were _numbered_. +He instantly made two parcels--clapped the unnumbered notes into his +pocket. The numbered ones he took in his hand into the lobby. Now this +lobby must be shortly described. First there was a door with a glass +window, but the window had dark blue gauze fixed to it, so that nobody +could see into the lobby from the office; but a person in the lobby, by +putting his eye close to the gauze, could see into the office in a filmy +sort of way. This door opened on a lavatory, and there were also pegs on +which the clerks hung their overcoats. Then there was a swing-door +leading direct to the street, and sideways into a small room +indispensable to every office. + +Monckton entered this lobby, and inserted the numbered notes into young +Clifford's coat, and the false keys into his bag. Then he whipped back +hastily into the office, with his craven face full of fiendish triumph. + +He started for the detective. But it was bitter cold, and he returned to +the lobby for his own overcoat. As he opened the lobby door the +swing-door moved, or he thought so; he darted to it and opened it, but +saw nobody, Hope having whipped behind the open door of the little room. +Monckton then put on his overcoat, and went for the detective. + +He met Clifford at the door, and wore an insolent grin of defiance, for +which, if they had not passed each other rapidly, he would very likely +have been knocked down. As it was, Walter Clifford entered the office +flushed with wrath, and eager to leave behind him the mortifications and +humiliations he had endured. + +He went to his own little desk and tore up Lucy Mailer's letters, and his +heart turned toward home. He went into the lobby, and, feeling hot, which +was no wonder, bundled his office overcoat and his brush and comb into +his bag. He returned to the office for his penknife, and was going out +all in a hurry, when Mr. Bartley met him. + +Bartley looked rather stern, and said, "A word with you, sir." + +"Certainly, sir," said the young man, stiffly. + +Mr. Bartley sat down at his table and fixed his eyes upon the young man +with a very peculiar look. + +"You seem in a very great hurry to go." + +"Well, I _am_." + +"You have not even demanded your salary up to date." + +"Excuse the oversight; I was not made for business, you know." + +"There is something more to settle besides your salary." + +"Premium for good conduct?" + +"No, sir. Mr. Bolton, you will find this no jesting matter. There are +defalcations in the accounts, sir." + +The young man turned serious at once. "I am sorry to hear that, sir," +said he, with proper feeling. + +Bartley eyed him still more severely. "And even cash abstracted." + +"Good heavens!" said the young man, answering his eyes rather than his +words. "Why, surely you can't suspect me?" + +Bartley answered, sternly, "I know I have been robbed, and so I suspect +everybody whose conduct is suspicious." + +This was too much for a Clifford to bear. He turned on him like a lion. +"Your suspicions disgrace the trader who entertains them, not the +gentleman they wrong. You are too old for me to give you a thrashing, so +I won't stay here any longer to be insulted." + +He snatched up his bag and was marching off, when the door opened, and +Monckton with a detective confronted him. + +"No," roared Bartley, furious in turn; "but you will stay to be +examined." + +"Examined!" + +"Searched, then, if you like it better." + +"No, don't do that," said the young fellow. "Spare me such a +humiliation." + +Bartley, who was avaricious, but not cruel, hesitated. + +"Well," said he, "I will examine the safe before I go further." + +Mr. Bartley opened the safe and took out the cash-box. It was empty. He +uttered a loud exclamation. "Why, it's a clean sweep! A wholesale +robbery! Notes and gold all gone! No wonder you were in such a hurry to +leave! Luckily some of the notes were numbered. Search him." + +"No, no. Don't treat me like a thief!" cried the poor boy, almost +sobbing. + +"If you are innocent, why object?" said Monckton, satirically. + +"You villain," cried Clifford, "this is your doing! I am sure of it!" + +Monckton only grinned triumphantly; but Bartley fired up. "If there is a +villain here, it is you. _He_ is a faithful servant, who warned his +employer." He then pointed sternly at young Bolton, and the detective +stepped up to him and said, curtly, "Now, sir, if I _must_." + +He then proceeded to search his waistcoat pockets. The young man hung his +head, and looked guilty. He had heard of money being put into an innocent +man's pockets, and he feared that game had been played with him. + +The detective examined his waistcoat pockets and found--nothing. His +other pockets--nothing. + +The detective patted his breast and examined his stockings--nothing. + +"Try the bag," said Monckton. + +Then the poor fellow trembled again. + +The detective searched the bag--nothing. + +He took the overcoat and turned the pockets out--nothing. + +Bartley looked surprised. Monckton still more so. Meantime Hope had gone +round from the lobby, and now entered by the small office, and stood +watching a part of this business, viz., the search of the bag and the +overcoat, with a bitter look of irony. + +"But my safe must have been opened with false keys," cried Bartley. +"Where are they?" + +"And the numbered notes," said Monckton, "where are they?" + +"Gentlemen," said Hope, "may I offer my advice?" + +"Who the devil are you?" said Monckton. + +"He is my new partner, my associate in business," said the politic +Bartley. Then deferentially to Hope, "What do you advise?" + +"You have two clerks. I would examine them both." + +"Examine me?" cried Monckton. "Mr. Bartley, will you allow such an +affront to be put on your old and faithful servant?" + +"If you are innocent, why object?" said young Clifford, spitefully, +before Bartley could answer. + +The remark struck Bartley, and he acted on it. + +"Well, it is only fair to Mr. Bolton," said he. "Come, come, Monckton, it +is only a form." + +Then he gave the detective a signal, and he stepped up to Monckton, and +emptied his waistcoat pockets of eighty-five sovereigns. + +"There!" cried Walter Clifford, "There! there!" + +"My own money, won at the Derby," said Monckton, coolly; "and only a part +of it, I am happy to say. You will find the remainder in banknotes." + +The detective found several notes. + +Bartley examined the book and the notes. The Derby! He was beginning to +doubt this clerk, who attended that meeting on the sly. However, he was +just, though no longer confiding. + +"I am bound to say that not one of the numbered notes is here." + +The detective was now examining Monckton's overcoat. He produced a small +bunch of keys. + +"How did they come there?" cried Monckton, in amazement. + +It was an incautious remark. Bartley took it up directly, and pounced on +the keys. He tried them on the safe. One opened the safe, another opened +the cash-box. + +Meantime the detective found some notes in the pocket of the overcoat, +and produced them. + +"Great heavens!" cried Monckton, "how did they come there?" + +"Oh, I dare say you know," said the detective. + +Bartley examined them eagerly. They were the numbered notes. + +"You scoundrel," he roared, "these show me where your gold and your +other notes came from. The whole contents of my safe--in that +villain's pockets!" + +"No, no," cried Monckton, in agony. "It's all a delusion. Some rogue has +planted them there to ruin me." + +"Keep that for the beak," said the policeman; "he is sure to believe it. +Come, my bloke. I knew who was my bird the moment I clapped eyes on the +two. 'Tain't his first job, gents, you take my word. We shall find his +photo in some jail or other in time for the assizes." + +"Away with him!" cried Bartley, furiously. + +As the policeman took him off, the baffled villain's eye fell on Hope, +who stood with folded arms, and looked down on him with lowering brow and +the deep indignation of the just, and yet with haughty triumph. + +That eloquent look was a revelation to Monckton. + +"Ah," he cried, "it was _you_." + +Hope's only reply was this: "You double felon, false accuser and thief, +you are caught in your own trap." + +And this he thundered at him with such sudden power that the thief went +cringing out, and even those who remained were awed. But Hope never told +anybody except Walter Clifford that he had undone Monckton's work in the +lobby; and then the poor boy fell upon his neck, and kissed his hand. + +To run forward a little: Monckton was tried, and made no defense. He +dared not call Hope as his witness, for it was clear Hope must have seen +him commit the theft and attempt the other villainy. But the false +accusation leaked out as well as the theft. A previous conviction was +proved, and the indignant judge gave him fourteen years. + +Thus was Bartley's fatal secret in mortal peril on the day it first +existed; yet on that very day it was saved from exposure, and buried deep +in a jail. + +Bartley set Hope over his business, and was never heard of for months. +Then he turned up in Sussex with a little girl, who had been saved from +diphtheria by tracheotomy, and some unknown quack. + +There was a scar to prove it. The tender parent pointed it out +triumphantly, and railed at the regular practitioners of medicine. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +AN OLD SERVANT. + + +Walter Clifford returned home pretty well weaned from trade, and anxious +to propitiate his father, but well aware that on his way to +reconciliation he must pass through jobation. + +He slipped into Clifford Hall at night, and commenced his approaches by +going to the butler's pantry. Here he was safe, and knew it; a faithful +old butler of the antique and provincial breed is apt to be more +unreasonably paternal than Pater himself. + +To this worthy, then, Walter owed a good bed, a good supper, and good +advice: "Better not tackle him till I have had a word with him first." + +Next morning this worthy butler, who for seven years had been a very good +servant, and for the next seven years rather a bad one, and would now +have been a hard master if the Colonel had not been too great a Tartar to +stand it, appeared before his superior with an air slightly respectful, +slightly aggressive, and very dogged. + +"There is a young gentleman would be glad to speak to you, if you +will let him." + +"Who is he?" asked the Colonel, though by old John's manner he divined. + +"Can't ye guess?" + +"Don't know why I should. It is your business to announce my visitors." + +"Oh, I'll announce him, when I am made safe that he will be welcome." + +"What! isn't he sure of a welcome--good, dutiful son like him?" + +"Well, sir, he deserves a welcome. Why, he is the returning prodigal." + +"We are not told that _he_ deserved a welcome." + +"What signifies?--he got one, and Scripture is the rule of life for men +of our age, _now we are out of the army_." + +"I think you had better let him plead his own cause, John; and if he +takes the tone you do, he will get turned out of the house pretty quick; +as you will some of these days, Mr. Baker." + +"We sha'n't go, neither of us," said Mr. Baker, but with a sudden tone of +affectionate respect, which disarmed the words of their true meaning. He +added, hanging his head for the first time, "Poor young gentleman! afraid +to face his own father!" + +"What's he afraid of?" asked the Colonel, roughly. + +"Of you cursing and swearing at him," said John. + +"Cursing and swearing!" cried the Colonel--"a thing I never do now. +Cursing and swearing, indeed! You be ----!" + +"There you go," said old John. "Come, Colonel, be a father. What has the +poor boy done?" + +"He has deserted--a thing I have seen a fellow shot for, and he has left +me a prey to parental anxieties." + +"And so he has me, for that matter. But I forgive him. Anyway, I should +like to hear his story before I condemn him. Why, he's only nineteen and +four months, come Martinmas. Besides, how do we know?--he may have had +some very good reason for going." + +"His age makes that probable, doesn't it?" + +"I dare say it was after some girl, sir." + +"Call that a good reason?" + +"I call it a strong one. Haven't you never found it?" (the Colonel was +betrayed into winking). "From sixteen to sixty a woman will draw a man +where a horse can't." + +"Since that is _so_," said the Colonel, dryly, "you can tell him to come +to breakfast." + +"Am I to say that from you?" + +"No; you can take that much upon yourself. I have known you presume a +good deal more than that, John." + +"Well, sir," said John, hanging his head for a moment, "old servants are +like old friends--they do presume a bit; but then" (raising his head +proudly) "they care for their masters, young and old. New servants, +sir--why, this lot that we've got now, they would not shed a tear for you +if you was to be hanged." + +"Why should they?" said the Colonel. "A man is not hanged for building +churches. Come, beat a retreat. I've had enough of you. See there's a +good breakfast." + +"Oh," said John, "I've took care of that." + +When the Colonel came down he found his son leaning against the +mantel-piece; but he left it directly and stood erect, for the Colonel +had drilled him with his own hands. + +"Ugh!" said the Colonel, giving a snort peculiar to himself, but he +thought, "How handsome the dog is!" and was proud of him secretly, only +he would not show it. "Good-morning, sir," said the young man, with +civil respect. + +"Your most obedient, sir," said the old man, stiffly. + +After that neither spoke for some time, and the old butler glided about +like a cat, helping both of them, especially the young one, to various +delicacies from the side table. When he had stuffed them pretty well, he +retired softly and listened at the door. Neither of the gentlemen was in +a hurry to break the ice; each waited for the other. + +Walter made the first remark--"What delicious tea!" + +"As good as where you come from?" inquired Colonel Clifford, insidiously. + +"A deal better," said Walter. + +"By-the-bye," said the Colonel, "where _do_ you come from?" + +Walter mentioned the town. + +"You astonish me," said the Colonel. "I made sure you had been enjoying +the pleasures of the capital." + +"My purse wouldn't have stood that, sir." + +"Very few purses can," said Colonel Clifford. Then, in an off-hand way, +"Have you brought her along with you?" + +"Certainly not," said Walter, off his guard. "Her? Who?" + +"Why, the girl that decoyed you from your father's roof." + +"No girl decoyed me from here, sir, upon my honor." + +"Whom are we talking about, then? Who is _her_?" + +"Her? Why, Lucy Monckton." + +"And who is Lucy Monckton?" + +"Why, the girl I fell in love with, and she deceived me nicely; but I +found her out in time." + +"And so you came home to snivel?" + +"No, sir, I didn't; I'm not such a muff. I'm too much your son to love +any woman long when I have learned to despise her. I came home to +apologize, and to place myself under your orders, if you will forgive me, +and find something useful for me to do." + +"So I will, my boy; there's my hand. Now out with it. What did you go +away for, since it wasn't a petticoat?" + +"Well, sir, I am afraid I shall offend you." + +"Not a bit of it, after I've given you my hand. Come, now, what was it?" + +Walter pondered and hesitated, but at last hit upon a way to explain. + +"Sir," said he, "until I was six years old they used to give me peaches +from Oddington House; but one fine day the supply stopped, and I uttered +a small howl to my nurse. Old John heard me, and told me Oddington was +sold, house, garden, estate, and all." + +Colonel Clifford snorted. + +Walter resumed, modestly but firmly: + +"I was thirteen; I used to fish in a brook that ran near Drayton Park. +One day I was fishing there, when a brown velveteen chap stopped me, and +told me I was trespassing. 'Trespassing?' said I. 'I have fished here all +my life; I am Walter Clifford, and this belongs to my father.' 'Well,' +said the man, 'I've heerd it did belong to Colonel Clifford onst, but now +it belongs to Muster Mills; so you must fish in your own water, young +gentleman, and leave ourn to us as owns it.' Till I was eighteen I used +to shoot snipes in a rushy bottom near Calverley Church. One day a fellow +in black velveteen, and gaiters up to his middle, warned me out of that +in the name of Muster Cannon." + +Colonel Clifford, who had been drumming on the table all this time, +looked uneasy, and muttered, with some little air of compunction: "They +have plucked my feathers deucedly, that's a fact. Hang that fellow +Stevens, persuading me to keep race-horses; it's all his fault. Well, +sir, proceed with your observations." + +"Well, I inquired who could afford to buy what we were too poor to keep, +and I found these wealthy purchasers were all in _trade_, not one of them +a gentleman." + +"You might have guessed that," said Colonel Clifford: "it is as much as a +gentleman can do to live out of jail nowadays." + +"Yes, sir," said Walter. "Cotton had bought one of these estates, tallow +another, and lucifer-matches the other." + +"Plague take them all three!" roared the Colonel. + +"Well, then, sir," said Walter, "I could not help thinking there must be +some magic in trade, and I had better go into it. I didn't think you +would consent to that. I wasn't game to defy you; so I did a meanish +thing, and slipped away into a merchant's office." + +"And made your fortune in three months?" inquired the Colonel. + +"No, I didn't; and don't think trade is the thing for _me_. I saw a deal +of avarice and meanness, and a thief of a clerk got his master to suspect +me of dishonesty; so I snapped my fingers at them all, and here I am. +But," said the poor young fellow, "I do wish, father, you would put me +into something where I can make a little money, so that when _this_ +estate comes to be sold, I may be the purchaser." + +Colonel Clifford started up in great emotion. + +"Sell Clifford Hall, where I was born, and you were born, and everybody +was born! Those estates I sold were only outlying properties." + +"They were beautiful ones," said Walter. "I never see such peaches now." + +"As you did when you were six years old," suggested the Colonel. "No, nor +you never will. I've been six myself. Lord knows when it was, though!" + +"But, sir, I don't see any such trout, and no such haunts for snipe." + +"Do you mean to insult me?" cried the Colonel, rather suddenly. "This is +what we are come to now. Here's a brat of six begins taking notes against +his own father; and he improves on the Scotch poet--he doesn't print 'em. +No, he accumulates them cannily until he is twenty, but never says a +word. He loads his gun up to the muzzle, and waits, as the years roll on, +with his linstock in his hand, and one fine day _at breakfast_ he fires +his treble charge of grape-shot at his own father." + +This was delivered so loudly that John feared a quarrel, and to interrupt +it, put in his head, and said, mighty innocently: + +"Did you call, sir? Can I do anything for you, sir?" + +"Yes: go to the devil!" + +John went, but not down-stairs, as suggested--a mere lateral movement +that ended at the keyhole. + +"Well, but, sir," said Walter, half-reproachfully, "it was you elicited +my views." + +"Confound your views, sir, and--your impudence! You're in the right, +and I am in the wrong" (this admission with a more ill-used tone than +ever). "It's the race-horses. Ring the bell. What sawneys you young +fellows are! it used not to take six minutes to ring a bell when I was +your age." + +Walter, thus stimulated, sprang to the bell-rope, and pulled it all down +to the ground with a single gesture. + +The Colonel burst out laughing, and that did him good; and Mr. Baker +answered the bell like lightning; he quite forgot that the bell must have +rung fifty yards from the spot where he was enjoying the dialogue. + +"Send me the steward, John; I saw him pass the window." + +Meantime the Colonel marched up and down with considerable agitation. +Walter, who had a filial heart, felt very uneasy, and said, timidly, "I +am truly sorry, father, that I answered your questions so bluntly." + +"I'm not, then," said the Colonel. "I hold him to be less than a man who +flies from the truth, whether it comes from young lips or old. I have +faced cavalry, sir, and I can face the truth." + +At this moment the steward entered. "Jackson," said the Colonel, in the +very same tone he was speaking in, "put up my race-horses to auction by +public advertisement." + +"But, sir, Jenny has got to run at Derby, and the brown colt at +Nottingham, and the six-year-old gelding at a handicap at Chester, and +the chestnut is entered for the Syllinger next year." + +"Sell them with their engagements." + +"And the trainer, sir?" + +"Give him his warning." + +"And the jockey?" + +"Discharge him on the spot, and take him by the ear out of the premises +before he poisons the lot. Keep one of the stable-boys, and let my groom +do the rest." + +"But who is to take them to the place of auction, sir?" + +"Nobody. I'll have the auction here, and sell them where they stand. +Submit all your books of account to this young gentleman." + +The steward looked a little blue, and Walter remonstrated gently. "To +me, father?" + +"Why, you can cipher, can't ye?" + +"Rather; it is the best thing I do." + +"And you have been in trade, haven't ye?" + +"Why, yes." + +"Then you will detect plenty of swindles, if you find out one in ten. +Above all, cut down my expenditure to my income. A gentleman of the +nineteenth century, sharpened by trade, can easily do that. Sell Clifford +Hall? I'd rather live on the rabbits and the pigeons and the blackbirds, +and the carp in the pond, and drive to church in the wheelbarrow." + +So for a time Walter administered his father's estate, and it was very +instructive. Oh! the petty frauds--the swindles of agency--a term which, +to be sure, is derived from the Latin word "agere," _to do_--the cobweb +of petty commissions--the flat bribes--the smooth hush-money! + +Walter soon cut the expenses down to the income, which was ample, and +even paid off the one mortgage that encumbered this noble estate at five +per cent., only four per cent. of which was really fingered by the +mortgagee; the balance went to a go-between, though no go-between was +ever wanted, for any solicitor in the country would have found the money +in a week at four per cent. + +The old gentleman was delighted, and engaged his own son as steward at a +liberal salary; and so Walter Clifford found employment and a fair income +without going away from home again. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +MARY'S PERIL. + + +Whilst Mr. Bartley's business was improving under Hope's management, Hope +himself was groaning under his entire separation from his daughter. +Bartley had promised him this should not be; but among Hope's good +qualities was a singular fidelity to his employers, and he was also a man +who never broke his word. So when Bartley showed him that the true +parentage of Grace Hope--now called Mary Bartley--could never be +disguised unless her memory of him was interrupted and puzzled before she +grew older, and that she as well as the world must be made to believe +Bartley was her father, he assented, and it was two years before he +ventured to come near his own daughter. + +But he demanded to see her at a distance, himself unseen, and this was +arranged. He provided himself with a powerful binocular of the kind that +is now used at sea, instead of the unwieldy old telescope, and the little +girl was paraded by the nurse, who was in the secret. She played about in +the sight of this strange spy. She was plump, she was rosy, she was full +of life and spirit. Joy filled the father's heart; but then came a bitter +pang to think that he had faded out of her joyous life; by-and-by he +could see her no longer, for a mist came from his heart to his eyes; he +bowed his head and went back to his business, his prosperity, and his +solitude. These experiments were repeated at times. Moreover, Bartley had +the tact never to write to him on business without telling him something +about his girl, her clever sayings, her pretty ways, her quickness at +learning from all her teachers, and so on. When she was eight years old a +foreign agent was required in Bartley's business, and Hope agreed to +start this agency and keep it going till some more ordinary person could +be intrusted to work it. + +But he refused to leave England without seeing his daughter with his +own eyes and hearing her voice. However, still faithful to his pledge, +he prepared a disguise; he actually grew a mustache and beard for this +tender motive only, and changed his whole style of dress; he wore a +crimson neck-tie and dark green gloves with a plaid suit, which +combination he abhorred as a painter, and our respected readers +abominate, for surely it was some such perverse combination that made a +French dressmaker lift her hands to heaven and say, "_Quelle +immoralité_!" So then Bartley himself took his little girl for a walk, +and met Mr. Hope in an appointed spot not far from his own house. Poor +Hope saw them coming, and his heart beat high. "Ah!" said Bartley, +feigning surprise; "why, it's Mr. Hope. How do you do, Hope? This is my +little girl. Mary, my dear, this is an old friend of mine. Give him +your hand." + +The girl looked in Hope's face, and gave him her hand, and did not +recognize him. + +"Fine girl for her years, isn't she?" said Bartley. "Healthy and strong, +and quick at her lessons; and, what's better still, she is a good girl, a +very good girl." + +"Papa!" said the child, blushing, and hid her face behind Bartley's +elbow, all but one eye, with which she watched the effect of these +eulogies upon the strange gentleman. + +"She is all a father could wish," said Hope, tenderly. + +Instantly the girl started from her position, and stood wrapt in thought; +her beautiful eyes wore a strange look of dreamy intelligence, and both +men could see she was searching the past for that voice. + +Bartley drew back, that the girl might not see him, and held up his +finger. Hope gave a slight nod of acquiescence, and spoke no more. +Bartley invited him to take an early dinner, and talk business. Before he +left he saw his child more than once; indeed, Bartley paraded her +accomplishments. She played the piano to Hope; she rode her little +Shetland pony for Hope; she danced a minuet with singular grace for so +young a girl; she conversed with her governess in French, or something +very like it, and she worked a little sewing-machine, all to please the +strange gentleman; and whatever she was asked to do she did with a +winning smile, and without a particle of false modesty, or the real +egotism which is at the bottom of false modesty. + +Anybody who knew William Hope intimately might almost recognize his +daughter in this versatile little mind with its faculty of learning so +many dissimilar things. + +Hope left for the Continent with a proud heart, a joyful heart, and a +sore heart. She was lovely, she was healthy, she was happy, she was +accomplished, but she was his no longer, not even in name; her love was +being gained by a stranger, and there was a barrier of iron, as well as +the English Channel, between William Hope and his own Mary Bartley. + +It would weary the reader were we to detail the small events bearing on +the part of the story which took place during the next five years. They +might be summed up thus: That William Hope got a peep at his daughter now +and then; and, making a series of subtle experiments by varying his voice +as much as possible, confused and nullified her memory of that voice to +all appearance. In due course, however, father and daughter were brought +into natural contact by the last thing that seemed likely to do it, viz., +by Bartley's avarice. Bartley's legitimate business at home and abroad +could now run alone. So he invited Hope to England to guide him in what +he loved better than steady business, viz., speculation. The truth is, +Bartley could execute, but had few original ideas. Hope had plenty, and +sound ones, though not common ones. Hope directed the purchase of +convertible securities on this principle: Select good ones; avoid time +bargains, which introduce a distinct element of risk; and buy largely at +every panic not founded on a permanent reason or out of proportion. +Example: A great district bank broke. The shares of a great district +railway went down thirty per cent. Hope bade his employer and pupil +observe that this was rank delusion, the dividends of the railway were +not lowered one per cent. by the failure of that bank, nor could they be: +the shareholders of the bank had shares in the railway, and were +compelled to force them on the market; hence the fall in the shares. +"But," said Hope, "those depreciated shares are now in the hands of men +who can hold them, and will, too, until they return from this ridiculous +85 to their normal value, which is from 105 to 115. Invest every shilling +you have got; I shall." Bartley invested £30,000, and cleared twenty per +cent. in three months. + +Example 2: There was a terrible accident on another railway, and part of +the line broken up. Vast repairs needed. Shares fell twenty per cent. + +"Out of proportion," said Hope. "The sum for repairs will not deduct +from the dividends one-tenth of the annual sum represented by the fall, +and, in three months, fear of another such disaster will not keep a +single man, woman, child, bullock, pig, or coal truck off that line. Put +the pot on." + +Bartley put the pot on, and made fifteen per cent. + +Hope said to Bartley: + +"When an English speculator sends his money abroad at all, he goes wild +altogether. He rushes at obscure transactions, and lends to Peru, or +Guatemala, or Tierra del Fuego, or some shaky place he knows nothing +about. The insular maniac overlooks the continent of Europe, instead of +studying it, and seeking what countries there are safe and others risky. +Now, why overlook Prussia? It is a country much better governed than +England, especially as regards great public enterprises and monopolies. +For instance, the directors of a Prussian railway can not swindle the +shareholders by false accounts, and passing off loans for dividends. +Against the frauds of directors, the English shareholder has only a sham +security. He is invited to leave his home, and come two hundred miles to +the directors' home, and vote in person. He doesn't do it. Why should he? +In Prussia the Government protects the shareholder, and inspects the +accounts severely. So much for the superior system of that country. Now, +take a map. Here is Hamburg, the great port of the Continent, and Berlin, +the great Continental centre; and there is one railway only between the +two. What English railway can compare with this? The shares are at 150. +But they must go to 300 in time unless the Prussian Government allows +another railway, and that is not likely, and, if so, you will have two +years to back out. This is the best permanent investment of its class +that offers on the face of the globe." + +Bartley invested timidly, but held for years, and the shares went up over +300 before he sold. + +"Do not let your mind live in an island if your body does," was a +favorite saying of William Hope; and we recommend it impartially to +Britons and Bornese. + +On one of Hope's visits Bartley complained he had nothing to do. "I can +sit here and speculate. I want to be in something myself; I think I will +take a farm just to occupy me and amuse me." + +"It will not amuse you unless you make money by it," suggested Hope. + +"And nobody can do that nowadays. Farms don't pay." + +"Ploughing and sowing don't pay, but brains and money pay wherever found +together." + +"What, on a farm?" + +"Why not, sir? You have only to go with the times. Observe the condition +of produce: grain too cheap for a farmer because continents can export +grain with little loss; fruit dear; meat dear, because cattle can not be +driven and sailed without risk of life and loss of weight; agricultural +labor rising, and in winter unproductive, because to farm means to plough +and sow, and reap and mow, and lose money. But meet those conditions. +Breed cattle, sheep, and horses, and make the farm their feeding-ground. +Give fifty acres to fruit; have a little factory on the land for winter +use, and so utilize all your farm hands and the village women, who are +cheaper laborers than town brats, and I think you will make a little +money in the form of money, besides what you make in gratuitous eggs, +poultry, fruit, horses to ride, and cart things for the house--items +which seldom figure in a farmer's books as money, but we stricter +accountants know they are." + +"I'll do it," said Bartley, "if you'll be my neighbor, and work it with +me, and watch the share market at home and abroad." + +Hope acquiesced joyfully to be near his daughter; and they found a farm +in Sussex, with hills for the sheep, short grass for colts, plenty of +water, enough arable land and artificial grasses for their purpose, and a +grand sunny slope for their fruit trees, fruit bushes, and strawberries, +with which last alone they paid the rent. + +"Then," said Hope, "farm laborers drink an ocean of beer. Now look at the +retail price of beer: eighty per cent. over its cost, and yet +deleterious, which tells against your labor. As an employer of labor, the +main expense of a farm, you want beer to be slightly nourishing, and very +inspiriting, not somniferous." + +So they set up a malt-house and a brew-house, and supplied all their own +hands with genuine liquor on the truck system at a moderate but +remunerative price, and the grains helped to feed their pigs. Hope's +principle was this: Sell no produce in its primitive form; if you change +its form you make two profits. Do you grow barley? Malt it, and infuse +it, and sell the liquor for two small profits, one on the grain, and one +on the infusion. Do you grow grass? Turn it into flesh, and sell for two +small profits, one on the herb, and one on the animal. + +And really, when backed by money, the results seemed to justify his +principle. + +Hope lived by himself, but not far from his child, and often, when she +went abroad, his loving eyes watched her every movement through his +binocular, which might be described as an opera-glass ten inches long, +with a small field, but telescopic power. + +Grace Hope, whom we will now call Mary Bartley, since everybody but her +father, who generally avoided _her name_, called her so, was a well-grown +girl of thirteen, healthy, happy, beautiful, and accomplished. She was +the germ of a woman, and could detect who loved her. She saw in Hope an +affection she thought extraordinary, but instinct told her it was not +like a young man's love, and she accepted it with complacency, and +returned it quietly, with now and then a gush, for she could gush, and +why not? "Far from us and from our friends be the frigid philosophy"--of +a girl who can't gush. + +Hope himself was loyal and guarded, and kept his affection within bounds; +and a sore struggle it was. He never allowed himself to kiss her, though +he was sore tempted one day, when he bought her a cream-colored pony, and +she flung her arms round his neck before Mr. Bartley and kissed him +eagerly; but he was so bashful that the girl laughed at him, and said, +half pertly, "Excuse the liberty, but if you will be such a duck, why, +you must take the consequences." + +Said Bartley, pompously, "You must not expect middle-aged men to be as +demonstrative as very young ladies; but he has as much real affection +for you as you have for him." + +"Then he has a good deal, papa," said she, sweetly. Both the men +were silent, and Mary looked to one and the other, and seemed a +little puzzled. + +The great analysts that have dealt microscopically with commonplace +situations would revel in this one, and give you a curious volume of +small incidents like the above, and vivisect the father's heart with +patient skill. But we poor dramatists, taught by impatient audiences to +move on, and taught by those great professors of verbosity, our female +novelists and nine-tenths of our male, that it is just possible for +"masterly inactivity," _alias_ sluggish narrative, creeping through sorry +flags and rushes with one lily in ten pages, to become a bore, are driven +on to salient facts, and must trust a little to our reader's intelligence +to ponder on the singular situation of Mary Bartley and her two fathers. + +One morning Mary Bartley and her governess walked to a neighboring town +and enjoyed the sacred delight of shopping. They came back by a +short-cut, which made it necessary to cross a certain brook, or rivulet, +called the Lyn. This was a rapid stream, and in places pretty deep; but +in one particular part it was shallow, and crossed by large +stepping-stones, two-thirds of which were generally above-water. The +village girls, including Mary Bartley, used all to trip over these +stones, and think nothing of it, though the brook went past at a fine +rate, and gradually widened and deepened as it flowed, till it reached a +downright fall; after that, running no longer down a decline, it became +rather a languid stream. + +Mary and her governess came to this ford and found it swollen by recent +rains, and foaming and curling round the stepping-stones, and their tops +only were out of the water now. + +The governess objected to pass this current. + +"Well, but," said Mary, "the other way is a mile round, and papa expects +us to be punctual at meals, and I am, oh, so hungry! Dear Miss Everett, I +have crossed it a hundred times." + +"But the water is so deep." + +"It is deeper than usual; but see, it is only up to my knee. I could +cross it without the stones. You go round, dear, and I'll explain against +you come home." + +"Not until I've seen you safe over." + +"That you will soon see," said the girl, and, fearing a more +authoritative interference, she gathered up her skirts and planted one +dainty foot on the first stepping-stone, another on the next, and so on +to the fourth; and if she had been a boy she would have cleared them all. +But holding her skirts instead of keeping her arms to balance herself, +and wearing idiotic shoes, her heels slipped on the fifth stone, which +was rather slimy, and she fell into the middle of the current with a +little scream. + +To her amazement she found that the stream, though shallow, carried her +off her feet, and though she recovered them, she could not keep them, but +was alternately up and down, and driven along, all the time floundering. +Oh, then she screamed with terror, and the poor governess ran screaming +too, and making idle clutches from the bank, but powerless to aid. + +Then, as the current deepened, the poor girl lost her feet altogether, +and was carried on toward the deep water, flinging her arms high and +screaming, but powerless. At first she was buoyed up by her clothes, and +particularly by a petticoat of some material that did not drink water. +But as her other clothes became soaked and heavy, she sank to her chin, +and death stared her in the face. + +She lost hope, and being no common spirit, she gained resignation; she +left screaming, and said to Everett, "Pray for me." + +But the next moment hope revived, and fear with it--this is a law of +nature--for a man, bare-headed and his hair flying, came galloping on a +bare-backed pony, shouting and screaming with terror louder than both the +women. He urged the pony furiously to the stream; then the beast planted +his feet together, and with the impulse thus given Hope threw himself +over the pony's head into the water, and had his arm round his child in a +moment. He lashed out with the other hand across the stream. But it was +so powerful now as it neared the lasher that they made far more way +onward to destruction than they did across the stream; still they did +near the bank a little. But the lasher roared nearer and nearer, and the +stream pulled them to it with iron force. They were close to it now. Then +a willow bough gave them one chance. Hope grasped it, and pulled with +iron strength. From the bough he got to a branch, and finally clutched +the stem of the tree, just as his feet were lifted up by the rushing +water, and both lives hung upon that willow-tree. The girl was on his +left arm, and his right arm round the willow. + +"Grace," said he, feigning calmness. "Put your arm around my neck, Mary." + +"Yes, dear," said she, firmly. + +"Now don't hurry yourself--_there's no danger_; move slowly across me, +and hold my right arm very tight." + +She did so. + +"Now take hold of the bank with your left hand; but don't let go of me." + +"Yes, dear," said the little heroine, whose fear was gone now she had +Hope to take care of her. + +Then Hope clutched the tree with his left hand, pushed Mary on shore with +his right, and very soon had her in his arms on _terra firma_. + +But now came a change that confounded Mary Bartley, to whom a man was a +very superior being; only not always intelligible. + +The brave man fell to shaking like an aspen leaf; the strong man +to sobbing and gasping, and kissing the girl wildly. "Oh, my child! +my child!" + +Then Mary, of course, must gulp and cry a little for sympathy; but her +quick-changing spirit soon shook it off, and she patted his cheek and +kissed him, and then began to comfort him, if you please. "Good, dear, +kind Mr. Hope," said she. "La! don't go on like that. You were so brave +in the water, and now the danger is over. I've had a ducking, that is +all. Ha! ha! ha!" and the little wretch began to laugh. + +Hope looked amazed; neither his heart nor his sex would let him change +his mood so swiftly. + +"Oh, my child," said he, "how can you laugh? You have been near eternity, +and if you had been lost, what should I--O God!" + +Mary turned very grave. "Yes," said she, "I have been near eternity. It +would not have mattered to you--you are such a good man--but I should +have caught it for disobedience. But, dear Mr. Hope, let me tell you that +the moment you put your arm round me I felt just as safe in the water as +on dry land; so you see I have had longer to get over it than you have; +that accounts for my laughing. No, it doesn't; I am a giddy, giggling +girl, with _no depth of character_, and not worthy of all this affection. +Why does everybody love _me_? They ought to be ashamed of themselves." + +Hope told her she was a little angel, and everybody was right to love +her; indeed, they deserved to be hanged if they did not. + +Mary fixed on the word angel. "If I was an angel," she said, "I shouldn't +be hungry, and I am, awfully. Oh, please come home; papa is so punctual. +Mr. Hope, are you going to tell papa? Because if you _are_, just you take +me and throw me in again. I'd rather be drowned than scolded." (This with +a defiant attitude and flashing eyes.) + +"No, no," said Hope. "I will not tell him, to vex him, and get +you scolded." + +"Then let us run home." + +She took his hand, and he ran with her like a playmate, and oh! the +father's heart leaped and glowed at this sweet companionship after danger +and terror. + +When they got near the house Mary Bartley began to walk and think. She +had a very thinking countenance at times, and Hope watched her, and +wondered what were her thoughts. She was very grave, so probably she was +thinking how very near she had been to the other world. + +Standing on the door-step, whilst he stood on the gravel, she let him +know her thoughts. All her life, and even at this tender age, she had +very searching eyes; they were gray now, though they had been blue. +She put her hands to her waist, and bent those searching eyes on +William Hope. + +"Mr. Hope," said she, in a resolute sort of way. + +"My dear," said he, eagerly. + +"YOU LOVE ME BETTER THAN PAPA DOES, THAT'S ALL." + +And having administered this information as a dry fact that might be +worth looking into at leisure, she passed thoughtfully into the house. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +SHARP PRACTICE. + + +Hope paid a visit to his native place in Derbyshire, and his poor +relations shared his prosperity, and blessed him, and Mr. Bartley upon +his report; for Hope was one of those choice spirits who praise the +bridge that carries them safe over the stream of adversity. + +He returned to Sussex with all the news, and, amongst the rest, that +Colonel Clifford had a farm coming vacant. Walter Clifford had +insisted on a higher rent at the conclusion of the term, but the +tenant had demurred. + +Bartley paid little attention at the time; but by-and-by he said, "Did +you not see signs of coal on Colonel Clifford's property?" + +"That I did, and on this very farm, and told him so. But he is behind the +age. I have no patience with him. Take one of those old iron ramrods that +used to load the old musket, and cover that ramrod with prejudices a foot +and a half deep, and there you have Colonel Clifford." + +"Well, but a tenant would not be bound by his prejudices." + +"A tenant! A tenant takes no right to mine, under a farm lease; he would +have to propose a special contract, or to ask leave, and Colonel Clifford +would never grant it." + +There the conversation dropped. But the matter rankled in Bartley's mind. +Without saying any more to Hope, he consulted a sharp attorney. + +The result was that he took Mary Bartley with him into Derbyshire. + +He put up at a little inn, and called at Clifford Hall. + +He found Colonel Clifford at home, and was received stiffly, but +graciously. He gave Colonel Clifford to understand that he had +left business. + +"All the better," said Colonel Clifford, sharply. + +"And taken to farming." + +"Ugh!" said the other, with his favorite snort. + +At this moment, who should walk into the room but Walter Clifford. + +Bartley started and stared. Walter started and stared. + +"Mr. Bolton," said Bartley, scarcely above a whisper. + +But Colonel Clifford heard it, and said, brusquely: "Bolton! No. Why, +this is Walter Clifford, my son, and my man of business.--Walter, this is +Mr. Bartley." + +"Proud to make your acquaintance, sir," said the astute Bartley, +ignoring the past. + +Walter was glad he took this line before Colonel Clifford: not that he +forgave Mr. Bartley that old affront the reader knows of. + +The judicious Bartley read his face, and, as a first step toward +propitiation, introduced him to his daughter. Walter was amazed at her +beauty and grace, coming from such a stock. He welcomed her courteously, +but shyly. She replied with rare affability, and that entire absence of +mock-modesty which was already a feature in her character. To be sure, +she was little more than fifteen, though she was full grown, and looked +nearer twenty. + +Bartley began to feel his way with Colonel Clifford about the farm. He +told him he was pretty successful in agriculture, thanks to the +assistance of an experienced friend, and then he said, half carelessly, +"By-the-bye, they tell me you have one to let. Is that so?" + +"Walter," said Colonel Clifford, "have you a farm to let?" + +"Not at present, sir; but one will be vacant in a month, unless the +present tenant consents to pay thirty per cent. more than he has done." + +"Might I see that farm, Mr. Walter?" asked Bartley. + +"Certainly," said Walter; "I shall be happy to show you over it." Then he +turned to Mary. "I am afraid it would be no compliment to you. Ladies are +not interested in farms." + +"Oh, but _I_ am, since papa is, and Mr. Hope: and then on _our_ farm +there are so many dear little young things: little calves, little lambs, +and little pigs. Little pigs are ducks--_very_ little ones, I mean; and +there is nearly always a young colt about, that eats out of my hand. Not +like a farm? The idea!" + +"Then I will show you all over ours, you and your papa," said Walter, +warmly. He then asked Mr. Bartley where he was to be found; and when +Bartley told him at the "Dun Cow," he looked at Mary and said, "Oh!" + +Mary understood in a moment, and laughed and said: "We are very +comfortable, I assure you. We have the parlor all to ourselves, and +there are samplers hung up, and oh! such funny pictures, and the landlady +is beginning to spoil me already." + +"Nobody can spoil you, Mary," said Mr. Bartley. + +"You ought to know, papa, for you have been trying a good many years." + +"Not very many, Miss Bartley," said Colonel Clifford, graciously. Then he +gave half a start and said: "Here am I calling her miss when she is my +own niece, and, now I think of it, she can't be half as old as she looks. +I remember the very day she was born. My dear, you are an impostor." + +Bartley changed color at this chance shaft. But Colonel Clifford +explained: + +"You pass for twenty, and you can't be more than--Let me see." + +"I am fifteen and four months," said Mary, "and I do take people +in--_cruelly_." + +"Well," said Colonel Clifford, "you see you can't take me in. I know your +date. So come and give your old ruffian of an uncle a kiss." + +"That I will," cried Mary, and flew at Colonel Clifford, and flung both +arms round his neck and kissed him. "Oh, papa," said she, "I have got an +uncle now. A hero, too; and me that is so fond of heroes! Only this is my +first--out of books." + +"Mary, my dear," said Bartley, "you are too impetuous. Please excuse her, +Colonel Clifford. Now, my dear, shake hands with your cousin, for we must +be going." + +Mary complied; but not at all impetuously. She lowered her long lashes, +and put out her hand timidly, and said, "Good-by, Cousin Walter." + +He held her hand a moment, and that made her color directly. "You will +come over the farm. Can you ride? Have you your habit?" + +"No, cousin; but never mind that. I can put on a long skirt." + +"A skirt! But, after all, it does not matter a straw what _you_ wear." + +Mary was such a novice that she did not catch the meaning of this on the +spot, but half-way to the inn, and in the middle of a conversation, her +cheeks were suddenly suffused with blushes. A young man had admired her +and _said_ so. Very likely that was the way with young men. _No_ doubt +they were bolder than young women; but somehow it was not so very +objectionable _in them_. + +That short interview was a little era in Mary's young life. Walter had +fixed his eyes on her with delight, had held her hand some seconds, and +admired her to her face. She began to wonder a little, and flutter a +little, and to put off childhood. + +Next day, punctual to the minute, Walter drove up to the door in an open +carriage drawn by two fast steppers. He found Mr. Bartley alone, and why? +because, at sight of Walter, Mary, for the first time in her life, had +flown upstairs to look at herself in the glass before facing the visitor, +and to smooth her hair, and retouch a bow, etc., underrating, as usual, +the power of beauty, and overrating nullities. Bartley took this +opportunity, and said to young Clifford: + +"I owe you an apology, and a most earnest one. Can you ever forgive me?" + +Walter changed color. Even this humble allusion to so great an insult was +wormwood to him. He bit his lip, and said: + +"No man can do more than say he is sorry. I will try to forget it, sir." + +"That is as much as I can expect," said Bartley, humbly. "But if you only +knew the art, the cunning, the apparent evidence, with which that villain +Monckton deluded me--" + +"That I can believe." + +"And permit me one observation before we drop this unhappy subject +forever. If you had done me the honor to come to me as Walter Clifford, +why, then, strong and misleading as the evidence was, I should have said, +'Appearances are deceitful, but no Clifford was ever disloyal.'" + +This artful speech conquered Walter Clifford. He blushed, and bowed a +little haughtily at the compliment to the Cliffords. But his sense of +justice was aroused. + +"You are right," said he. "I must try and see both sides. If a man +sails under false colors, he mustn't howl if he is mistaken for a +pirate. Let us dismiss the subject forever. I am Walter Clifford +now--at your service." + +At that moment Mary Bartley came in, beaming with youth and beauty, and +illumined the room. The cousins shook hands, and Walter's eyes glowed +with admiration. + +After a few words of greeting he handed Mary into the drag. Her father +followed, and he was about to drive off, when Mary cried out, "Oh, I +forgot my skirt, if I am to ride." + +The skirt was brought down, and the horses, that were beginning to fret, +dashed off. A smart little groom rode behind, and on reaching the farm +they found another with two saddle-horses, one of them, a small, gentle +Arab gelding, had a side-saddle. They rode all over the farm, and +inspected the buildings, which were in excellent repair, thanks to +Walter's supervision. Bartley inquired the number of acres and the rent +demanded. Walter told him. Bartley said it seemed to him a fair rent; +still, he should like to know why the present tenant declined. + +"Perhaps you had better ask him," said Walter. "I should wish you to hear +both sides." + +"That is like you," said Bartley; "but where does the shoe pinch, in +your opinion?" + +"Well, he tells me, in sober earnest, that he loses money by it as it is; +but when he is drunk he tells his boon companions he has made seven +thousand pounds here. He has one or two grass fields that want draining, +but I offer him the pipes; he has only got to lay them and cut the +drains. My opinion is that he is the slave of habit; he is so used to +make an unfair profit out of these acres that he can not break himself of +it and be content with a fair one." + +"I dare say you have hit it," said Bartley. "Well, I am fond of farming; +but I don't live by it, and a moderate profit would content me." + +Walter said nothing. The truth is, he did not want to let the farm +to Bartley. + +Bartley saw this, and drew Mary aside. + +"Should not you like to come here, my child?" + +"Yes, papa, if you wish it; and you know it's dear Mr. Hope's +birth-place." + +"Well, then, tell this young fellow so. I will give you an opportunity." + +That was easily managed, and then Mary said, timidly, "Cousin Walter, we +should all three be so glad if we might have the farm." + +"Three?" said he. "Who is the third?" + +"Oh, somebody that everybody likes and I love. It is Mr. Hope. Such a +duck! I am sure you would like him." + +"Hope! Is his name William?" + +"Yes, it is. Do you know him?" asked Mary, eagerly. + +"I have reason to know him: he did me a good turn once, and I shall never +forget it." + +"Just like him!" cried Mary. "He is always doing people good turns. He +is the best, the truest, the cleverest, the dearest darling dear that +ever stepped, and a second father to me; and, cousin, this village is his +birth-place, and he didn't say much, but it was he who told us of this +farm, and he would be so pleased if I could write and say, 'We are to +have the farm--Cousin Walter says so.'" + +She turned her lovely eyes, brimming with tenderness, toward her cousin +Walter, and he was done for. + +"Of course you shall have it," he said, warmly. "Only you will not be +angry with me if I insist on the increased rent. You know, cousin, I +have a father, too, and I must be just to him." + +"To be sure, you must, dear," said Mary, incautiously; and the word +penetrated Walter's heart as if a woman of twenty-five had said it all of +a sudden and for the first time. + +When they got home, Mary told Mr. Bartley he was to have the farm if he +would pay the increased rent. + +"That is all right," said Bartley. "Then to-morrow we can go home." + +"So soon!" said Mary, sorrowfully. + +"Yes," said Bartley, firmly; "the rest had better be done in writing. +Why, Mary, what is the use of staying on now? We are going to live here +in a month or two." + +"I forgot that," said Mary, with a little sigh. It seemed so ungracious +to get what they wanted, and then turn their backs directly. She hinted +as much, very timidly. + +But Bartley was inexorable, and they reached home next day. + +Mary would have liked to write to Walter, and announce their safe +arrival, but nature withheld her. She was a child no longer. + +Bartley went to the sharp solicitor, and had a long interview with him. +The result was that in about ten days he sent Walter Clifford a letter +and the draft of a lease, very favorable to the landlord on the whole, +but cannily inserting one unusual clause that looked inoffensive. + +It came by post, and Walter read the letter, and told his father whom +it was from. + +"What does the fellow say?" grunted Colonel Clifford. + +"He says: 'We are doing very well here, but Hope says a bailiff can now +carry out our system; and he is evidently sweet on his native place, and +thinks the proposed rent is fair, and even moderate. As for me, my life +used to be so bustling that I require a change now and then; so I will be +your tenant. Hope says I am to pay the expense of the lease, so I have +requested Arrowsmith & Cox to draw it. I have no experience in leases. +They have drawn hundreds. I told them to make it fair. If they have not, +send it back with objections.'" + +"Oh! oh!" said Colonel Clifford. "He draws the lease, does he? Then look +at it with a microscope." + +Walter laughed. + +"I should not like to encounter him on his own ground. But here he is a +fish out of water; he must be. However, I will pass my eye over it. +Where the farmer generally over-reaches us, if he draws the lease, is in +the clauses that protect him on leaving. He gets part possession for +months without paying rent, and he hampers and fleeces the incoming +tenant, so that you lose a year's rent or have to buy him out. Now, let +me see, that will be at the end of the document--No; it is exceedingly +fair, this one." + +"Show it to our man of business, and let him study every line. Set an +attorney to catch an attorney." + +"Of course I shall submit it to our solicitor," said Walter. + +This was done, and the experienced practitioner read it very carefully. +He pronounced it unusually equitable for a farmer's lease. + +"However," said he, "we might suggest that he does _all_ the repairs and +draining, and that you find the materials; and also that he insures all +the farm buildings. But you can hardly stand out for the insurance if he +objects. There's no harm trying. Stay! here is one clause that is +unusual: the tenant is to have the right to bore for water, or to +penetrate the surface of the soil, and take out gravel or chalk or +minerals, if any. I don't like that clause. He might quarry, and cut the +farm in pieces. Ah, there's a proviso, that any damage to the surface or +the agricultural value shall be fully compensated, the amount of such +injury to be settled by the landlord's valuer or surveyor. Oh, come, if +you can charge your own price, that can't kill you." + +In short, the draft was approved, subject to certain corrections. These +were accepted. The lease was engrossed in duplicate, and in due course +signed and delivered. The old tenant left, abusing the Cliffords, and +saying it was unfair to bring in a stranger, for _he_ would have given +all the money. + +Bartley took possession. + +Walter welcomed Hope very warmly, and often came to see him. He took a +great interest in Hope's theories of farming, and often came to the farm +for lessons. But that interest was very much increased by the +opportunities it gave him of seeing and talking to sweet Mary Bartley. +Not that he was forward or indiscreet. She was not yet sixteen, and he +tried to remember she was a child. + +Unfortunately for that theory she looked a ripe woman, and this very +Walter made her more and more womanly. Whenever Walter was near she had +new timidity, new blushes, fewer gushes, less impetuosity, more reserve. +Sweet innocent! She was set by Nature to catch the man by the surest way, +though she had no such design. + +Oh, it was a pretty, subtle piece of nature, and each sex played its +part. Bold advances of the man, with internal fear to offend, mock +retreats of the girl, with internal throbs of complacency, and life +invested with a new and growing charm to both. Leaving this pretty little +pastime to glide along the flowery path that beautifies young lives to +its inevitable climax, we go to a matter more prosaic, yet one that +proved a source of strange and stormy events. + +Hope had hardly started the farm when Bartley sent him off to Belgium--TO +STUDY COAL MINES. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE. + + +Mr. Hope left his powerful opera-glass with Mary Bartley. One day that +Walter called she was looking through it at the landscape, and handed it +to him. He admired its power. Mary told him it had saved her life once. + +"Oh," said he, "how could that be?" + +Then she told him how Hope had seen her drowning, a mile off, with it, +and ridden a bare-backed steed to her rescue. + +"God bless him!" cried Walter. "He is our best friend. Might I borrow +this famous glass?" + +"Oh," said Mary, "I am not going into any more streams; I am not so brave +now as I used to be." + +"Please lend it me, for all that." + +"Of course I will, if you wish it." + +Strange to say, after this, whether Mary walked out or rode out, she very +often met Mr. Walter Clifford. He was always delighted and surprised. She +was surprised three times, and said so, and after that she came to lower +her lashes and blush, but not to start. Each meeting was a pure accident, +no doubt, only she foresaw the inevitable occurrence. + +They talked about everything in the world except what was most on their +minds. Their soft tones and expressive eyes supplied that little +deficiency. + +One day he caught her riding on her little Arab. The groom fell +behind directly. After they had ridden some distance in silence, +Walter broke out: + +"How beautifully you ride!" + +"Me!" cried Mary. "Why, I never had a lesson in my life." + +"That accounts for it. Let a lady alone, and she does everything more +gracefully than a man; but let some cad undertake to teach her, she +distrusts herself and imitates the snob. If you could only see the women +in Hyde Park who have been taught to ride, and compare them with +yourself!" + +"I should learn humility." + +"No; it would make you vain, if anything could." + +"You seem inclined to do me that good turn. Come, pray, what do these +poor ladies do to offend you so?" + +"I'll tell you. They square their shoulders vulgarly; they hold the reins +in their hands as if they were driving, and they draw the reins to their +waists in a coarse, absurd way. They tighten both these reins equally, +and saw the poor devil's mouth with the curb and the snaffle at one time. +Now you know, Mary, the snaffle is a mild bit, and the curb is a sharp +one; so where is the sense of pulling away at the snaffle when you are +tugging at the curb? Why, it is like the fellow that made two holes at +the bottom of the door--a big one for the cat to come through and a +little one for the kitten. But the worst of all is they show the caddess +so plainly." + +"Caddess! What is that; goddess you mean, I suppose?" + +"No; I mean a cad of the feminine gender. They seem bursting with +affectation and elated consciousness that they are on horseback. That +shows they have only just made the acquaintance of that animal, and in a +London riding-school. Now you hold both reins lightly in the left hand, +the curb loose, since it is seldom wanted, the snaffle just feeling the +animal's mouth, and you look right and left at the people you are talking +to, and don't seem to invite one to observe that you are on a horse: that +is because you are a lady, and a horse is a matter of course to you, just +as the ground is when you walk upon it." + +The sensible girl blushed at his praise, but she said, dryly, "How +meritorious! Cousin Walter, I have heard that flattery is poison. I won't +stay here to be poisoned--so." She finished the sentence in action; and +with a movement of her body she started her Arab steed, and turned her +challenging eye back on Walter, and gave him a hand-gallop of a mile on +the turf by the road-side. And when she drew bridle her cheeks glowed so +and her eyes glistened, that Walter was dazzled by her bright beauty, +and could do nothing but gaze at her for ever so long. + +If Hope had been at home, Mary would have been looked after more +sharply. But if she was punctual at meals, that went a long way with +Robert Bartley. + +However, the accidental and frequent meetings of Walter and Mary, and +their delightful rides and walks, were interfered with just as they began +to grow into a habit. There arrived at Clifford Hall a formidable +person--in female eyes, especially--a beautiful heiress. Julia Clifford, +great-niece and ward of Colonel Clifford; very tall, graceful, with dark +gray eyes, and black eyebrows the size of a leech, that narrowed to a +point and met in finer lines upon the bridge of a nose that was gently +aquiline, but not too large, as such noses are apt to be. A large, +expressive mouth, with wonderful rows of ivory, and the prettiest little +black down, fine as a hair, on her upper lip, and a skin rather dark but +clear, and glowing with the warm blood beneath it, completed this noble +girl. She was nineteen years of age. + +Colonel Clifford received her with warm affection and old-fashioned +courtesy; but as he was disabled by a violent fit of gout, he deputed +Walter to attend to her on foot and horseback. + +Miss Clifford, accustomed to homage, laid Walter under contribution every +day. She was very active, and he had to take her a walk in the morning, +and a ride in the afternoon. He winced a little under this at first; it +kept him so much from Mary. But there was some compensation. Julia +Clifford was a lady-like rider, and also a bold and skillful one. + +The first time he rode with her he asked her beforehand what sort of a +horse she would like. + +"Oh, anything," said she, "that is not vicious nor slow." + +"A hack or a hunter?" + +"Oh, a hunter, if I _may_." + +"Perhaps you will do me the honor to look at them and select." + +"You are very kind, and I will." + +He took her to the stables, and she selected a beautiful black mare, with +a coat like satin. + +"There," said Walter, despondingly. "I was afraid you would fix on _her_. +She is impossible, I can't ride her myself." + +"Vicious?" + +"Not in the least." + +"Well, then--" + +Here an old groom touched his hat, and said, curtly, "Too hot and +fidgety, miss. I'd as lieve ride of a boiling kettle." + +Walter explained: "The poor thing is the victim of nervousness." + +"Which I call them as rides her the victims," suggested the +ancient groom. + +"Be quiet, George. She would go sweetly in a steeple-chase, if she didn't +break her heart with impatience before the start. But on the road she is +impossible. If you make her walk, she is all over lather in five minutes, +and she'd spoil that sweet habit with flecks of foam. My lady has a way +of tossing her head, and covering you all over with white streaks." + +"She wants soothing," suggested Miss Clifford. + +"Nay, miss. She wants bleeding o' Sundays, and sweating over the fallows +till she drops o' week-days. But if she was mine I'd put her to work a +coal-cart for six months; that would larn her." + +"I will ride her," said Miss Clifford, calmly; "her or none." + +"Saddle her, George," said Walter, resignedly. "I'll ride Goliah. Black +Bess sha'n't plead a bad example. Goliah is as meek as Moses, Miss +Clifford. He is a gigantic mouse." + +"I'd as lieve ride of a dead man," said the old groom. + +"Mr. George," said the young lady, "you seem hard to please. May I ask +what sort of animal you do like to ride?" + +"Well, miss, summat between them two. When I rides I likes to be at +peace. If I wants work, there's plenty in the yard. If I wants fretting +and fuming, I can go home: I'm a married man, ye know. But when I crosses +a horse I looks for a smart trot and a short stepper, or an easy canter +on a bit of turf, and not to be set to hard labor a-sticking my heels +into Goliah, nor getting a bloody nose every now and then from Black Bess +a-throwing back her uneasy head when I do but lean forward in the saddle. +I be an old man, miss, and I looks for peace on horseback if I can't get +it nowhere else." + +All this was delivered whilst saddling Black Bess. When she was ready, +Miss Clifford asked leave to hold the bridle, and walk her out of the +premises. As she walked her she patted and caressed her, and talked to +her all the time--told her they all misunderstood her because she was +a female; but now she was not to be tormented and teased, but to have +her own way. + +Then she asked George to hold the mare's head as gently as he could, and +Walter to put her up. She was in the saddle in a moment. The mare +fidgeted and pranced, but did not rear. Julia slackened the reins, and +patted and praised her, and let her go. She made a run, but was checked +by degrees with the snaffle. She had a beautiful mouth, and it was in +good hands at last. + +When they had ridden a few miles they came to a very open country, and +Julia asked, demurely, if she might be allowed to try her off the road. +"All right," said Walter; and Miss Julia, with a smart decision that +contrasted greatly with the meekness of her proposal, put her straight at +the bank, and cleared it like a bird. They had a famous gallop, but this +judicious rider neither urged the mare nor greatly checked her. She +moderated her. Black Bess came home that day sweating properly, but with +a marked diminution of lather and foam. Miss Clifford asked leave to ride +her into the stable-yard, and after dismounting talked to her, and patted +her, and praised her. An hour later the pertinacious beauty asked for a +carrot from the garden, and fed Black Bess with it in the stable. + +By these arts, a very light hand, and tact in riding, she soothed Black +Bess's nerves, so that at last the very touch of her habit skirt, or her +hand, or the sound of her voice, seemed to soothe the poor nervous +creature; and at last one day in the stable Bess protruded her great lips +and kissed her fair rider on the shoulder after her manner. + +All this interested and amused Walter Clifford, but still he was +beginning to chafe at being kept from Miss Bartley, when one morning her +servant rode over with a note. + +"DEAR COUSIN WALTER,--Will you kindly send me back my opera glass? +I want to see what is going on at Clifford Hall. + +"Yours affectionately, + +"MARY BARTLEY." + +Walter wrote back directly that he would bring it himself, and tell her +what was going on at Clifford Hall. + +So he rode over and told her of Julia Clifford's arrival, and how his +father had deputed him to attend on her, and she took up all his time. It +was beginning to be a bore. + +"On the contrary," said Mary, "I dare say she is very handsome." + +"That she is," said Walter. + +"Please describe her." + +"A very tall, dark girl, with wonderful eyebrows; and she has broken in +Black Bess, that some of us men could not ride in comfort." + +Mary changed color. She murmured, "No wonder the Hall is more attractive +than the farm!" and the tears shone in her eyes. + +"Oh, Mary," said Walter, reproachfully, "how can you say that? What is +Julia Clifford to me?" + +"I can't tell," said Mary, dryly. "I never saw you together _through my +glasses, you know_." + +Walter laughed at this innuendo. + +"You shall see us together to-morrow, if you will bless one of us with +your company." + +"I might be in the way." + +"That is not very likely. Will you ride to Hammond Church to-morrow at +about ten, and finish your sketch of the tower? I will bring Miss +Clifford there, and introduce you to each other." + +This was settled, and Mary was apparently quite intent on her sketch when +Walter and Julia rode up, and Walter said: + +"That is my cousin, Mary Bartley. May I introduce her to you?" + +"Of course. What a sweet face!" + +So the ladies were introduced, and Julia praised Mary's sketch, and Mary +asked leave to add her to it, hanging, with pensive figure, over a +tombstone. Julia took an admirable pose, and Mary, with her quick and +facile fingers, had her on the paper in no time. Walter asked her, in a +whisper, what she thought of her model. + +"I like her," said Mary. "She is rather pretty." + +"Rather pretty! Why, she is an acknowledged beauty." + +"A beauty? The idea! Long black thing!" + +Then they rode all together to the farm. There Mary was all innocent +hospitality, and the obnoxious Julia kissed her at parting, and begged +her to come and see her at the Hall. + +Mary did call, and found her with a young gentleman of short stature, who +was devouring her with his eyes, but did not overflow in discourse, +having a slight impediment in his speech. This was Mr. Percy Fitzroy. +Julia introduced him. + +"And where are you staying, Percy?" inquired she. + +"At the D--D--Dun Cow." + +"What is that?" + +Walter explained that it was a small hostelry, but one that was +occasionally honored by distinguished visitors. Miss Bartley staid there +three days. + +"I h--hope to st--ay more than that," said little Percy, with an amorous +glance at Julia. + +Miss Clifford took Mary to her room, and soon asked her what she thought +of him; then, anticipating criticism, she said there was not much of him, +but he was such a duck. + +"He dresses beautifully," was Mary's guarded remark. + +However, when Walter rode home with her, being now relieved of his +attendance on Julia, she was more communicative. Said she: "I never knew +before that a man could look like fresh cambric. Dear me! his head and +his face and his little whiskers, his white scarf, his white waistcoat, +and all his clothes, and himself, seem just washed and ironed and +starched. _I looked round for the bandbox_." + +"Never mind," said Walter. "He is a great addition. My duties devolve on +him. And I shall be free to--How her eyes shone and her voice mellowed +when she spoke to him! Confess, now, love is a beautiful thing." + +"I can not say. Not experienced in beautiful things." And Mary looked +mighty demure. + +"Of course not. What am I thinking of? You are only a child." + +"A little more than that, _please_." + +"At all events, love beautified _her_." + +"I saw no difference. She was always a lovely girl." + +"Why, you said she was 'a long black thing.'" + +"Oh, that was before--she looked engaged." + +After this young Fitzroy was generally Miss Clifford's companion in her +many walks, and Walter Clifford had a delightful time with Mary Bartley. + +Her nurse discovered how matters were going. But she said nothing. From +something Bartley let fall years ago she divined that Bartley was robbing +Walter Clifford by substituting Hope's child for his own, and she thought +the mischief could be repaired and the sin atoned for if he and Mary +became man and wife. So she held her tongue and watched. + +The servants at the Hall watched the whole game, and saw how the young +people were pairing, and talked them over very freely. + +The only person in the dark was Colonel Clifford. He was nearly always +confined to his room. However, one day he came down, and found Julia and +Percy together. She introduced Percy to him. The Colonel was curt, but +grumpy, and Percy soon beat a retreat. + +The Colonel sent for Walter to his room. He did not come for some time, +because he was wooing Mary Bartley. + +Colonel Clifford's first word was, "Who was that little stuttering dandy +I caught spooning _your_ Julia?" + +"Only Percy Fitzroy." + +"Only Percy Fitzroy! Never despise your rivals, sir. Always remember that +young women are full of vanity, and expect to be courted all day long. I +will thank you not to leave the field open a single day till you have +secured the prize." + +"What prize, sir?" + +"What prize, you ninny? Why, the beautiful girl that can buy back +Oddington and Drayton, peaches and fruit and all. They are both to be +sold at this moment. What prize? Why, the wife I have secured for you, if +you don't go and play the fool and neglect her." + +Walter Clifford looked aghast. + +"Julia Clifford!" said he. "Pray don't ask me to marry _her_." + +"Not ask you?--but I do ask you; and what is more, I command you. Would +you revolt again against your father, who has forgiven you, and break my +heart, now I am enfeebled by disease? Julia Clifford is your wife, or you +are my son no more." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE. + + +The next time Walter Clifford met Mary Bartley he was gloomy at +intervals. The observant girl saw he had something on his mind. She taxed +him with it, and asked him tenderly what it was. + +"Oh, nothing," said he. + +"Don't tell me!" said she. "Mind, nothing escapes my eye. Come, tell me, +or we are not friends." + +"Oh, come, Mary. That is hard." + +"Not in the least. I take an interest in you." + +"Bless you for saying so!" + +"And so, if you keep your troubles from me, we are not friends, +nor cousins." + +"Mary!" + +"Nor anything else." + +"Well, dear Mary, sooner than not be anything else to you I will tell +you, and yet I don't like. Well, then, if I must, it is that dear old +wrong-headed father of mine. He wants me to marry Julia Clifford." + +Mary turned pale directly. "I guessed as much," said she. "Well, she is +young and beautiful and rich, and it is your duty to obey your father." + +"But I can't." + +"Oh yes, you can, if you try." + +"But I can't try." + +"Why not?" + +"Can't you guess?" + +"No." + +"Well, then, I love another girl. As opposite to her as light is to +darkness." + +Mary blushed and looked down. "Complimentary to Julia," she said. "I pity +her opposite, for Julia is a fine, high-minded girl." + +"Ah, Mary, you are too clever for me; of course I mean the opposite in +appearance." + +"As ugly as she is pretty?" + +"No; but she is a dark girl, and I don't like dark girls. It was a dark +girl that deceived me so heartlessly years ago." + +"Ah!" + +"And made me hate the whole sex." + +"Or only the brunettes?" + +"The whole lot." + +"Cousin Walter, I thank you in the name of that small company." + +"Until I saw you, and you converted me in one day." + +"Only to the blondes?" + +"Only to one of them. My sweet Mary, the situation is serious. You, whose +eye nothing escapes--you must have seen long ago how I love you." + +"Never mind what I have seen, Walter," said Mary, whose bosom was +beginning to heave. + +"Very well," said Walter; "then I will tell you as if you didn't know it. +I admired you at first sight; every time I was with you I admired you, +and loved you more and more. It is my heaven to see you and to hear you +speak. Whether you are grave or gay, saucy or tender, it is all one +charm, one witchcraft. I want you for my wife, and my child, and my +friend. Mary, my love, my darling, how could I marry any woman but you? +and you, could you marry any man but me, to break the heart that beats +only for you?" + +This and the voice of love, now ardent, now broken with emotion, were +more than sweet, saucy Mary could trifle with; her head drooped slowly +upon his shoulder, and her arm went round his neck, and the tremor of her +yielding frame and the tears of tenderness that flowed slowly from her +fair eyes told Walter Clifford without a word that she was won. + +He had the sense not to ask her for words. What words could be so +eloquent as this? He just held her to his manly bosom, and trembled with +love and joy and triumph. + +She knew, too, that she had replied, and treated her own attitude like a +sentence in rather a droll way. "But _for all that_," said she, "I don't +mean to be a wicked girl if I can help. This is an age of wicked young +ladies. I soon found that out in the newspapers; that and science are the +two features. And I have made a solemn vow not to be one of +them"--(query, a science or a naughty girl)--"making mischief between +father and son." + +"No more you shall, dear," said Walter. "Leave it to me. We must be +patient, and all will come right." + +"Oh, I'll be true to you, dear, if that is all," said Mary. + +"And if you would not mind just temporizing a little, for my sake, who +love you?" + +"Temporize!" said Mary, eagerly. "With all my heart. I'll temporize till +we are all dead and buried." + +"Oh, that will be too long for me," said Walter. + +"Oh, never do things by halves," said the ready girl. + +If his tongue had been as prompt as hers, he might have said that +"temporizing" was doing things by halves; but he let her have the +last word. And perhaps he lost nothing, for she would have had that +whether or no. + +So this day was another era in their love. Girls after a time are not +content to see they are beloved; they must hear it too; and now Walter +had spoken out like a man, and Mary had replied like a woman. They were +happy, and walked hand in hand purring to one another, instead of +sparring any more. + +On his return home Walter found Julia marching swiftly and haughtily up +and down upon the terrace of Clifford Hall, and he could not help +admiring the haughty magnificence of her walk. The reason soon appeared. +She was in a passion. She was always tall, but now she seemed lofty, and +to combine the supple panther with the erect peacock in her ireful march. +Such a fine woman as Julia really awes a man with her carriage at such a +time. The poor soul thinks he sees before him the indignation of the +just; when very likely it is only what in a man would be called +Petulance. + +"Anything the matter, Miss Clifford?" said he, obsequiously. + +"No, sir" (very stiffly). + +"Can I be of any service?" + +"No, you can not." And then, swifter than any weather-cock ever turned: +"You are a good creature: why should I be rude to you? I ought to be +ashamed of myself. It is that little wretch." + +"Not our friend Fitzroy?" + +"Why, what other little wretch is there about? We are all Grenadiers and +May-poles in this house except him. Well, let him go. I dare say somebody +else--hum--and Uncle Clifford has told me more than once I ought to look +higher. I couldn't well look lower than five feet nothing. Ha! ha! ha! I +told him so." + +"That was cruel." + +"Don't scold _me_. I won't be lectured by any of you. Of course it was, +_dear_. Poor little Percy. Oh! oh! oh!" + +And after all this thunder there was a little rain, by a law that governs +Atmosphere and Woman impartially. + +Seeing her softened, and having his own reasons for wishing to keep +Fitzroy to his duty, Walter begged leave to mediate, if possible, and +asked if she would do him the honor to confide the grievance to him. + +"Of course I will," said Julia. "He is angry with Colonel Clifford for +not wishing him to stay here, and he is angry with me for not making +Uncle Clifford invite him. As if I _could_! I should be ashamed to +propose such a thing. The truth is, he is a luxurious little fellow, and +my society out-of-doors does not compensate him for the cookery at the +Dun Cow. There! let him go." + +"But I want him to stay." + +"Then that is very kind of you." + +"Isn't it?" said Walter, slyly. "And I must make him stay somehow. Now +tell me, isn't he a little jealous?" + +"A little jealous! Why, he is eaten up with it; he is _pétrie de +jalousie_." + +"Then," said Walter, timidly, and hesitating at every word, "you can't be +angry if I work on him a little. Would there be any great harm if I were +to say that nobody can see you without admiring you; that I have always +respected his rights, but that if he abandons them--" + +Julia caught it in a moment. She blushed, and laughed heartily. "Oh, you +good, sly Thing!" said she; "and it is the truth, for I am as proud as he +is vain; and if he leaves me I will turn round that moment and make you +in love with me." + +Walter looked queer. This was a turn he had not counted on. + +"Do you think I couldn't, sir?" said she, sharply. + +"It is not for me to limit the power of beauty," said Walter, meekly. + +"Say the power of flattery. I could cajole any man in the world--if +I chose." + +"Then you are a dangerous creature, and I will make Fitzroy my shield. +I'm off to the Dun Cow." + +"You are a duck," said this impetuous beauty. "So there!" She took him +round the neck with both hands, and gave him a most delicious kiss. + +"Why, he must be mad," replied the recipient, bluntly. She laughed at +that, and he went straight to the Dun Cow. He found young Fitzroy sitting +rather disconsolate, and opened his errand at once by asking him if it +was true that they were to lose him. + +Percy replied stiffly that it was true. + +"What a pity!" said Walter. + +"I d--don't think I shall be m--much m--missed," said Percy, +rather sullenly. + +"I know two people who will miss you." + +"I d--don't know one." + +"Two, I assure you--Miss Clifford and myself. Come, Mr. Fitzroy, I will +not beat about the bush. I am afraid you are mortified, and I must say, +justly mortified, at the coolness my father has shown to you. But I +assure you that it is not from any disrespect to you personally." + +"Oh, indeed!" said Percy, ironically. + +"No; quite the reverse--he is afraid of you." + +"That is a g--g--good joke." + +"No; let me explain. Fathers are curious people. If they are ever so +disinterested in their general conduct, they are sure to be a little +mercenary for their children. Now you know Miss Clifford is a beauty who +would adorn Clifford Hall, and an heiress whose money would purchase +certain properties that join ours. You understand?" + +"Yes," said the little man, starting up in great wrath. "I understand, +and it's a--bom--inable. I th--thought you were my friend, and a m--man +of h--honor." + +"So I am, and that is why I warn you in time. If you quarrel with Miss +Clifford, and leave this place in a pet, just see what risks we both run, +you and I. My father will be always at me, and I shall not be able to +insist on your prior claim; he will say you have abandoned it. Julia will +take the huff, and you know beautiful women will do strange things--mad +things--when once pique enters their hearts. She might turn round and +marry me." + +"You forget, sir, you are a man of honor." + +"But not a man of stone. Now, my dear Fitzroy, be reasonable. Suppose +that peerless creature went in for female revenge; why, the first thing +she would do would be to _make_ me love her, whether I chose or no. She +wouldn't give _me_ a voice in the matter. She would flatter me; she would +cajole me; she would transfix my too susceptible heart with glances of +fire and bewitching languor from those glorious eyes." + +"D--d----! Ahem!" cried Percy, turning green. + +Walter had no mercy. "I heard her say once she could make any man love +her if she chose." + +"So she could," said Percy, ruefully. "She made me. I had an awful +p--p--prejudice against her, but there was no resisting." + +"Then don't subject _me_ to such a trial. Stick to her like a man." + +"So I will; b--but it is a m--m--mortifying position. I'm a man of +family. We came in with the C--Conquest, and are respected in our +c--county; and here I have to meet her on the sly, and live at the +D--Dun Cow." + +"Where the _cuisine_ is wretched." + +"A--b--b--bominable!" + +Having thus impregnated his mind with that soothing sentiment, jealousy, +Walter told him he had a house to let on the estate--quite a gentleman's +house, only a little dilapidated, with a fine lawn and garden, only +neglected into a wilderness. "But all the better for you," said he. "You +have plenty of money, and no occupation. Perhaps that is what leads to +these little quarrels. It will amuse you to repair the crib and restore +the lawn. Why, there is a brook runs through it--it isn't every lawn has +that--and there used to be water-lilies floating, and peonies nodding +down at them from the bank: a paradise. She adores flowers, you know. Why +not rent that house from me? You will have constant occupation and +amusement. You will become a rival potentate to my governor. You will +take the shine out of him directly; you have only to give a ball, and +then all the girls will worship you, Julia Clifford especially, for she +could dance the devil to a stand-still." + +Percy's eyes flashed. "When can I have the place?" said he, eagerly. + +"In half an hour. I'll draw you a three months' agreement. Got any +paper? Of course not. Julia is so near. What are those? Playing-cards. +What do you play? 'Patience,' all by yourself. No wonder you are +quarrelsome! Nothing else to bestow your energy on." + +Percy denied this imputation. The cards were for pistol practice. He shot +daily at the pips in the yard. + +"It is the fiend _Ennui_ that loads your pistols, and your temper too. +Didn't I tell you so?" + +Walter then demanded the ace of diamonds, and on its face let him the +house and premises on a repairing lease for three years, rent £5 a year: +which was a good bargain for both parties, since Percy was sure to lay +out a thousand pounds or two on the property, and to bind Julia more +closely to him, who was worth her weight in gold ten times over. + +Walter had brought the keys with him, so he drove Percy over at once and +gave him possession, and, to do the little fellow justice, the moisture +of gratitude stood in his eyes when they parted. + +Walter told Julia about it the same night, and her eyes were +eloquent too. + +The next day he had a walk with Mary Bartley, and told her all about it. +She hung upon him, and gazed admiringly into his eyes all the time, and +they parted happy lovers. + +Mr. Bartley met her at the gate, "Mary," said he, gravely, "who was that +I saw with you just now?" + +"Cousin Walter." + +"I feared so. You are too much with him." + +Mary turned red and white by turns, but said nothing. + +Bartley went on: "You are a good child, and I have always trusted you. I +am sure you mean no harm. But you must be more discreet. I have just +heard that you and that young man are looked upon as engaged lovers. They +say it is all over the village. Of course a father is the last to hear +these things. Does Mrs. Easton know of this?" + +"Oh yes, papa, and approves it." + +"Stupid old woman! She ought to be ashamed of herself." + +"Oh, papa!" said Mary, in deep distress; "why, what objection can there +be to Cousin Walter?" + +"None whatever as a cousin, but every objection to intimacy. Does he +court you?" + +"I don't know, papa. I suppose he does." + +"Does he seek your love?" + +"He does not say so exactly." + +"Come, Mary, you have never deceived me. Does he love you?" + +"I am afraid he does; and if you reject him he will be very unhappy. And +so shall I." + +"I am truly sorry to hear it, Mary, for there are reasons why I can not +consent to an engagement between him and you." + +"What reasons, papa?" + +"It would not be proper to disclose my reasons; but I hope, Mary, that it +will be enough to say that Colonel Clifford has other views for his son, +and I have other views for my daughter. Do you think a blessing will +attend you or him if you defy both fathers?" + +"No, no," said poor Mary. "We have been hasty and very foolish. But, oh, +papa, have you not seen from the first? Oh, why did you not warn me in +time? Then I could have obeyed you easily. Now it will cost me the +happiness of my life. We are very unfortunate. Poor Walter! He left me so +full of hope. What shall I do? what shall I do?" + +It was Mary Bartley's first grief. She thought all chance of happiness +was gone forever, and she wept bitterly for Walter and herself. + +Bartley was not unmoved, but he could not change his nature. The sum he +had obtained by a crime was dearer to him than all his more honest gains. +He was kind on the surface, but hard as marble. + +"Go to your room, my child," said he, "and try and compose yourself. I +am not angry with you. I ought to have watched you. But you are so young, +and I trusted to that woman." + +Mary retired, sobbing, and he sent for Mrs. Easton. + +"Mrs. Easton," said he, "for the first time in all these years I have a +fault to find with you." + +"What is that, sir, if you please?" + +"Young Clifford has been courting that child, and you have +encouraged it." + +"Nay, sir," said the woman, "I have not done that. She never spoke to me, +nor I to her." + +"Well, then, you never interfered." + +"No, sir; no more than you did." + +"Because I never observed it till to-day." + +"How could I know that, sir? Everybody else observed it. Mr. Hope would +have been the first to see it, if he had been in your place." This sudden +thrust made Bartley wince, and showed him he had a tougher customer to +deal with than poor Mary. + +"You can't bear to be found fault with, Easton," said he, craftily, "and +I don't wonder at it, after fourteen years' fidelity to me." + +"I take no credit for that," said the woman, doggedly. "I have been +paid for it." + +"No doubt. But I don't always get the thing I pay for. Then let by-gones +be by-gones; but just assist me now to cure the girl of this folly." + +"Sir," said the woman, firmly, "it is not folly; it is wisest and best +for all; and I can't make up my mind to lift a finger against it." + +"Do you mean to defy me, then?" + +"No, sir. I don't want to go against you, nor yet against my own +conscience, what's left on't. I have seen a pretty while it must come to +this, and I have written to my sister Sally. She keeps a small hotel at +the lakes. She is ready to have me, and I'm not too old to be useful to +her. I'm worth my board. I'll go there this very day, if you please. I'm +as true to you as I can be, sir. For I see by Miss Mary crying so you +have spoken to her, and so now she is safe to come to me for comfort; and +if she does, I shall take her part, you may be sure, for I love her like +my own child." Here the dogged voice began to tremble; but she recovered +herself, and told him she would go at once to her sister Gilbert, that +lived only ten miles off, and next day she would go to the little hotel +at the lakes, and leave him to part two true lovers if he could and break +both their hearts; she should wash her hands of it. + +Bartley asked a moment to consider. + +"Shall we be friends still if you leave me like that? Surely, after all +these years, you will not tell your sister? You will not betray me?" + +"Never, sir," said she. "What for? To bring those two together? Why, it +would part them forever. I wonder at you, a gentleman, and in business +all your life, yet you don't seem to see through the muddy water as I do +that is only a plain woman." + +She then told him her clothes were nearly all packed, and she could start +in an hour. + +"You shall have the break and the horses," said he, with great alacrity. + +Everything transpires quickly in a small house, and just as she had +finished packing, in came Mary in violent distress. "What, is it true? +Are you going to leave me, now my heart is broken? Oh, nurse! nurse!" + +This was too much even for stout-hearted Nancy Easton. + +"Oh, my child! my child!" she cried, and sat down on her box sobbing +violently, Mary infolded in her arms, and then they sat crying and +rocking together. + +"Papa does not love me as I do him," sobbed Mary, turning bitter for the +first time. "He breaks my heart, and sends you away the same day, for +fear you should comfort me." + +"No, my dear," said Mrs. Easton; "you are wrong. He does not send me +away; I go by my own wish." + +"Oh, nurse, you desert me! then you don't know what has happened." + +"Oh yes, I do; I know all about it; and I'm leaving because I can't do +what he wishes. You see it is this way, Miss Mary--your father has been +very good to me, and I am his debtor. I must not stay here and help you +to thwart him--that would be ungrateful--and yet I can't take his side +against you. Master has got reasons why you should not marry Walter +Clifford, and--" + +"He told me so himself," said Mary. + +"Ah, but he didn't tell you his reasons." + +"No." + +"No more must I. But, Miss Mary, I'll tell you this. I know his reasons +well; his reasons why you should not marry Walter Clifford are my reasons +why you should marry no other man." + +"Oh, nurse! oh, you dear, good angel!" + +"So when friends differ like black and white, 'tis best to part. I'm +going to my sister Gilbert this afternoon, and to-morrow to my sister +Sally, at her hotel." + +"Oh, nurse, must you? must you? I shall have not a friend to advise or +console me till Mr. Hope comes back. Oh, I hope that won't be long now." + +Mrs. Easton dropped her hands upon her knees and looked at Mary Bartley. + +"What, Miss Mary, would you go to Mr. Hope in such a matter as this? +Surely you would not have the face?" + +"Not take my breaking heart to Mr. Hope!" cried Mary, with a sudden +flood of tears. "You might as well tell me not to lay my trouble before +my God. Dear, dear Mr. Hope, who saved my life in those deep waters, and +then cried over me, darling dear! I think more of that than of his +courage. Do you think I am blind? He loves me better than my own father +does; and it is not a young man's love; it is an angel's. Not cry to +_him_ when I am in the deep waters of affliction? I could not write of +such a thing to him for blushing, but the moment he returns I shall +find some way to let him know how happy I have been, how broken-hearted +I am, and that papa has reasons against _him_, and they are your reasons +for him, and that you are both afraid to let _me_ know these _curious_ +reasons--me, the poor girl whose heart is being made a foot-ball of in +this house. Oh! oh! oh!" + +"Don't cry, Miss Mary," said Nurse Easton, tenderly; "and pray don't +excite yourself so. Why, I never saw you like this before." + +"Had I ever the same reason? You have only known the happy, thoughtless +child. They have made a woman of me now, and my peace is gone. I _must_ +not defy my father, and I _will_ not break poor Walter's heart--the +truest heart that ever beat. Not tell dear Mr. Hope? I'll tell him +everything, if I'm cut in pieces for it." And her beautiful eyes flashed +lightning through her tears. + +"Hum!" said Mrs. Easton, under her breath, and looking down at her own +feet. + +"And pray what does 'hum' mean?" asked Mary, fixing her eyes with +prodigious keenness on the woman's face. + +"Well, I don't suppose 'hum' means anything," said Mrs. Easton, still +looking down. + +"Doesn't it?" said Mary. "With such a face as _that_ it means a volume. +And I'll make it my business to read that volume." + +"Hum!" + +"And Mr. Hope shall help me." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +LOVERS PARTED. + + +Walter, little dreaming the blow his own love had received, made Percy +write Julia an apology, and an invitation to visit his new house if he +was forgiven. Julia said she could not forgive him, and would not go. +Walter said, "Put on your bonnet, and take a little drive with me." + +"Oh, with pleasure," said Julia, slyly. + +So then Walter drove her to the new house, without a word of remonstrance +on her part, and Fitzroy met her radiant, and Walter slipped away round a +corner, and when he came back the quarrel had dissolved. He had brought a +hamper with all the necessaries of life--table-cloth, napkins, knives, +forks, spoons, cold pie, salad, and champagne. They lunched beside the +brook on the lawn. The lovers drank his health, and Julia appointed him +solemnly to the post of "peace-maker," "for," said she, "you have shown +great talent that way, and I foresee we shall want one, for we shall be +always quarrelling; sha'n't we, Percy?" + +"N--o; n--never again." + +"Then you mustn't be jealous." + +"I'm not. I d--despise j--jealousy. I'm above it." + +"Oh, indeed," said Julia, dryly. + +"Come, don't begin again, you two," said Walter, "or--no champagne." + +"Now what a horrid threat!" said Julia. "I'll be good, for one." + +In short they had a merry time, and Walter drove Julia home. Both were in +high spirits. + +In the hall Walter found a short note from Mary Bartley: + +"DEAR, DEAR WALTER,--I write with a bleeding heart to tell you that papa +has only just discovered our attachment, and I am grieved to say he +disapproves of it, and has forbidden me to encourage your love, that is +dearer to me than all the world. It is very hard. It seems so cruel. But +I must obey. Do not make obedience too difficult, dear Walter. And pray, +pray do not be as unhappy as I am. He says he has reasons, but he has not +told me what they are, except that your father has other views for you; +but, indeed, with both parents against us what can we do? Forgive me the +pain this will give you. Ask yourself whether it gives me any less. You +were all the world to me. Now everything is dull and distasteful. What a +change in one little day! We are very unfortunate. But it can not be +forever. And if you will be constant to me, you know I shall to you. I +_could not_ change. Ah, Walter, I little thought when I said I would +temporize, how soon I should be called on to do it. I can't write any +more for crying. I do nothing but cry ever since papa was so cruel; but I +must obey. Your loving, sorrowful + +"MARY." + +This letter was a chilling blow to poor Walter. He took it into his own +room and read it again and again. It brought the tears into his own eyes, +and discouraged him deeply for a time. But, of course, he was not so +disposed to succumb to authority as the weaker vessel was. He wrote back: + +"My own Love,--Don't grieve for me. I don't care for anything so long as +you love me. I shall resist, of course. As for my father, I am going to +marry Julia to Percy Fitzroy, and so end my governor's nonsense. As for +your father, I do not despair of softening him. It is only a check; it is +not a defeat. Who on earth can part us if we are true to each other? God +bless you, dearest! I did not think you loved me so much. Your letter +gives me comfort forever, and only disappointment for a time. Don't fret, +sweet love. It will be all right in the end. + +"Your grateful, hopeful love, till death, WALTER." + +Mary opened this letter with a beating heart. She read it with tears and +smiles and utter amazement. She knew so little about the male character +that this way of receiving a knockdown blow astonished and charmed her. +She thought to herself, no wonder women look up to men. They _will_ have +their own way; they resist, _of course_. How sensible! We give in, right +or wrong. What a comfort I have got a man to back me, and not a poor +sorrowing, despairing, obeying thing like myself! + +So she was comforted for the minute, and settled in her own mind that she +would be good and obedient, and Walter should do all the fighting. But +letters soon cease to satisfy the yearning hearts of lovers unnaturally +separated. Walter and Mary lived so near each other, yet now they never +met. Bartley took care of that. He told Mary she must not walk out +without a maid or ride without a servant; and he gave them both special +orders. He even obliged her with his own company, though that rather +bored him. + +Under this severe restraint Mary's health and spirits suffered, and she +lost some of her beautiful color. + +Walter's spirits were kept up only by anger. Julia Clifford saw he was in +trouble, and asked him what was the matter. + +"Oh, nothing that would interest you," said he, rather sullenly. + +"Excuse me," said she. "I am always interested in the troubles of my +friends, and you have been a good friend to me." + +"It is very good of you to think so. Well, then, yes, I am unhappy. I am +crossed in love." + +"Is it that fair girl you introduced me to when out riding?" + +"Yes." + +"She is lovely." + +"Miss Clifford, she is an angel." + +"Ha! ha! We are all angels till we are found out. Who is the man?" + +"What man?" + +"That she prefers to my good Walter. She deserves a good whipping, +your angel." + +"Much obliged to you, Miss Clifford; but she prefers no man to your good +Walter, though I am not worthy to tie her shoes. Why, we are devoted to +each other." + +"Well, you needn't fly out at _me_. I am your friend, as you will see. +Make me your confidante. Explain, please. How can you be crossed in love +if there's no other man?" + +"It's her father. He has discovered our love, and forbids her to +speak to me." + +"Her father!" said Julia, contemptuously. "Is that all? _That_ for her +father! You shall have her in spite of fifty fathers. If it had been a +lover, now." + +"I should have talked to him, not to you," said Walter, with his +eyes flashing. + +"Be quiet, Walter; as it is not a lover, nor even a mother, you shall +have the girl; and a very sweet girl she is. Will you accept me for +your ally? Women are wiser than men in these things, and understand +one another." + +"Oh, Miss Clifford," said Walter, "this is good of you! Of course it will +be a great blessing to us both to have your sympathy and assistance." + +"Well, then," said Julia, "begin by telling me--have you spoken to +her father?" + +"No." + +"Then that is the very first thing to be done. Come, order our horses. We +will ride over directly. I will call on _Miss_ Bartley, and you on +_Mister_. Now mind, you must ignore all that has passed, and just ask his +permission to court his daughter. Whilst you are closeted with him, the +young lady and I will learn each other's minds with a celerity you poor +slow things have no idea of." + +"I see one thing," said Walter, "that I am a child in such matters +compared with you. What decision! what promptitude!" + +"Then imitate it, young man. Order the horses directly;" and she stamped +her foot impatiently. + +Walter turned to the stables without another word, and Julia flew +upstairs to put on her riding-habit. + + * * * * * + +Bartley was in his study with a map of the farm before him, and two +respectable but rather rough men in close conference over it. These were +practical men from the county of Durham, whom he had ferreted out by +means of an agent, men who knew a great deal about coal. They had already +surveyed the farm, and confirmed Hope's opinion that coal lay below the +surface of certain barren fields, and the question now was as to the +exact spot where it would be advisable to sink the first shaft. + +Bartley was heart and soul in this, and elevated by love of gain far +above such puny considerations as the happiness of Mary Bartley and her +lover. She, poor girl, sat forlorn in her little drawing-room, and tried +to draw a bit, and tried to read a bit, and tried to reconcile a new +German symphony to her ear as well as to her judgment, which told her it +was too learned not to be harmonious, though it sounded very discordant. +But all these efforts ended in a sigh of despondency, and in brooding on +innocent delights forbidden, and a prospect which, to her youth and +inexperience, seemed a wilderness robbed of the sun. + +Whilst she sat thus pensive and sad there came a sudden rush and clatter +of hoofs, and Miss Clifford and Walter Clifford reined up their horses +under the very window. + +Mary started up delighted at the bare sight of Walter, but amazed and +puzzled. The next moment her quick intelligence told her this was some +daring manoeuvre or other, and her heart beat high. + +Walter opened the door and stood beside it, affecting a cold ceremony. + +"Miss Bartley, I have brought Miss Clifford to call on you at her +request. My own visit is to your father. Where shall I find him?" + +"In his study," murmured Miss Bartley. + +Walter returned, and the two ladies looked at each other steadily for one +moment, and took stock of one another's dress, looks, character, and +souls with supernatural rapidity. Then Mary smiled, and motioned her +visitor to a seat, and waited. + +Miss Clifford made her approaches obliquely at first. + +"I ought to apologize to you for not returning your call before this. At +any rate, here I am at last." + +"You are most welcome, Miss Clifford," said Mary, warmly. + +"Now the ice is broken, I want you to call me Julia." + +"May I?" + +"You may, and you must, if I call you Mary. Why, you know we are cousins; +at least I suppose so. We are both cousins of Walter Clifford, so we must +be cousins to each other." + +And she fixed her eyes on her fair hostess in a very peculiar way. + +Mary returned this fixed look with such keen intelligence that her gray +eyes actually scintillated. + +"Mary, I seldom waste much time before I come to the point. Walter +Clifford is a good fellow; he has behaved well to me. I had a quarrel +with mine, and Walter played the peace-maker, and brought us together +again without wounding my pride. By-and-by I found out Walter himself was +in grief about you. It was my turn, wasn't it? I made him tell me all. He +wasn't very willing, but I would know. I see his love is making him +miserable, and so is yours, dear." + +"Oh yes." + +"So I took it on me to advise him. I have made him call on your father. +Fathers sometimes pooh-pooh their daughters' affections; but when the son +of Colonel Clifford comes with a formal proposal of marriage, Mr. Bartley +can not pooh-pooh _him_." + +Mary clasped her hands, but said nothing. + +Julia flowed on: + +"And the next thing is to comfort you. You seem to want a good +cry, dear." + +"Yes, I d--do." + +"Then come here and take it." + +No sooner said than done. Mary's head on Julia's shoulder, and Julia's +arm round Mary's waist. + +"Are you better, dear?" + +"Oh, so much." + +"It is a comfort, isn't it? Well, now, listen to me. Fathers sometimes +delay a girl's happiness; but they don't often destroy it; they don't go +and break her heart as some mothers do. A mother that is resolved to have +her own way brings another man forward; fathers are too simple to see +that is the only way. And then a designing mother cajoles the poor girl +and deceives her, and does a number of things a man would call +villainies. Don't you fret your heart out for so small a thing as a +father's opposition. You are sure to tire him out if he loves you, and if +he doesn't love you, or loves money better, why, then, he is not a worthy +rival to my cousin Walter, for that man really loves you, and would marry +you if you had not a penny. So would Percy Fitzroy marry me. And that is +why I prefer him to the grenadiers and plungers with silky mustaches, and +half an eye on me and an eye and a half on my money." + +Many other things passed between these two, but what we have endeavored +to repeat was the cream of Julia's discourse, and both her advice and +her sympathy were for the time a wonderful comfort to the love-sick, +solitary girl. + +But our business is with Walter Clifford. As soon as he was announced, +Mr. Bartley dismissed his rugged visitors, and received Walter affably, +though a little stiffly. + +Walter opened his business at once, and told him he had come to ask his +permission to court his daughter. He said he had admired her from the +first moment, and now his happiness depended on her, and he felt sure he +could make her happy; not, of course, by his money, but by his devotion. +Then as to making a proper provision for her-- + +Here Bartley stopped him. + +"My young friend," said he, "there can be no objection either to your +person or your position. But there are difficulties, and at present they +are serious ones. Your father has other views." + +"But, Mr. Bartley," said Walter, eagerly, "he must abandon them. The lady +is engaged." + +"Well, then," said Bartley, "it will be time to come to me when he has +abandoned those views, and also overcome his prejudices against me and +mine. But there is another difficulty. My daughter is not old enough to +marry, and I object to long engagements. Everything, therefore, points to +delay, and on this I must insist." + +Bartley having taken this moderate ground, remained immovable. He +promised to encourage no other suitor; but in return he said he had a +right to demand that Walter would not disturb his daughter's peace of +mind until the prospect was clearer. In short, instead of being taken by +surprise, the result showed Bartley quite prepared for this interview, +and he baffled the young man without offending him. He was cautious not +to do that, because he was going to mine for coal, and feared +remonstrances, and wanted Walter to take his part, or at least to be +neutral, knowing his love for Mary. So they parted good friends; but when +he retailed the result to Julia Clifford she shook her head, and said the +old fox had outwitted him. Soon after, knitting her brows in thought for +some time, she said, "She is very young, much younger than she looks. I +am afraid you will have to wait a little, and watch." + +"But," said Walter, in dismay, "am I not to see her or speak to her all +the time I am waiting?" + +"I'd see both fathers hanged first, if I was a man," said Julia. + +In short, under the courageous advice of Julia Clifford, Walter began to +throw himself in Mary's way, and look disconsolate; that set Mary pining +directly, and Julia found her pale, and grieving for Walter, and +persuaded her to write him two or three lines of comfort; she did, and +that drew pages from him. Unfortunately he did not restrain himself, but +flung his whole heart upon paper, and raised a tumult in the innocent +heart of her who read his passionate longings. + +She was so worked upon that at last one day she confided to Julia that +her old nurse was going to visit her sister, Mrs. Gilbert, who lived only +ten miles off, and she thought she should ride and see her. + +"When?" asked Julia, carelessly. + +"Oh, any day next week," said Mary, carelessly. "Wednesday, if it is +fine. She will not be there till Monday." + +"Does she know?" asked Julia. + +"Oh yes; and left because she could not agree with papa about it; and, +dear, she said a strange thing--a very strange thing: she knew papa's +reasons against him, and they were her reasons for him." + +"Fancy that!" said Julia. "Your father told you what the reasons were?" + +"No; he wouldn't. They both treat me like a child." + +"You mean they pretend to," she added. + +"I see one thing; there is some mystery behind this. I wonder what it +is?" + +"Ten to one, it is money. I am only twenty, but already I have found out +that money governs the world. Let me see--your mother was a Clifford. She +must have had money. Did she settle any on you?" + +"I am sure I don't know." + +"Ten to one she did, and your father is your trustee; and when you +marry, he must show his accounts and cash up. There, that is where the +shoe pinches." + +Mary was distressed. + +"Oh, don't say so, dear. I can't bear to think that of papa. You make me +very unhappy." + +"Forgive me, dear," said Julia. "I am too bitter and suspicious. Some +day I will tell you things in my own life that have soured me. Money--I +hate the very word," she said, clinching her teeth. + +She urged her view no more, but in her own heart she felt sure that she +had read Mr. Bartley aright. Why, he was a trader, into the bargain. + +As for Mary, when she came to think over this conversation, her own +subtle instinct told her that stronger pressure than ever would now be +brought on her. Her timidity, her maiden modesty, and her desire to do +right set her on her defense. She determined to have loving but impartial +advice, and so she overcame her shyness, and wrote to Mr. Hope. Even then +she was in no hurry to enter on such a subject by letter, so she must +commence by telling him that her father had set a great many people, most +of them strangers, to dig for coal. That cross old thing, Colonel +Clifford, had been heard to sneer at her dear father, and say unkind and +disrespectful things--that the love of money led to loss of money, and +that papa might just as well dig a well and throw his money into that. +She herself was sorry he had not waited for Mr. Hope's return before +undertaking so serious a speculation. Warmed by this preliminary, she +ventured into the delicate subject, and told him the substance of what we +have told the reader, only in a far more timid and suggestive way, and +implored him to advise her by return of post if possible--or why not +come home? Papa had said only yesterday, "I wish Hope was here." She got +an answer by return of post. It disappointed her, on the whole. Mr. Hope +realized the whole situation, though she had sketched it faintly instead +of painting it boldly. He was all sympathy, and he saw at once that he +could not himself imagine a better match for her than Walter Clifford. +But then he observed that Mr. Bartley himself offered no personal +objection, but wished the matter to be in abeyance until she was older, +and Colonel Clifford's objection to the connection should be removed or +softened. That might really be hoped for should Miss Clifford marry Mr. +Fitzroy; and really in the mean time he (Hope) could hardly take on him +to encourage her in impatience and disobedience. He should prefer to talk +to Bartley first. With him he should take a less hesitating line, and set +her happiness above everything. In short, he wrote cautiously. He +inwardly resolved to be on the spot very soon, whether Bartley wanted him +or not; but he did not tell Mary this. + +Mary was disappointed. "How kind and wise he is!" she said to +Julia--"too wise." + +Next Wednesday morning Mary Bartley rode to Mrs. Gilbert, and was +received by her with courtesy, but with a warm embrace by Mrs. +Easton. After a while the latter invited her into the parlor, saying +there is somebody there; but no one knows. This, however, though +hardly unexpected, set Mary's heart beating, and when the parlor +door was opened, Mrs. Easton stepped back, and Mary was alone with +Walter Clifford. + +Then might those who oppose an honest and tender affection have learned a +lesson. It was no longer affection only. It was passion. Walter was pale, +agitated, eager; he kissed her hands impetuously, and drew her to his +bosom. She sobbed there; he poured inarticulate words over her, and still +held her, panting, to his beating heart. Even when the first gush of love +subsided a little he could not be so reasonable as he used to be. He was +wild against his own father, hers, and every obstacle, and implored her +to marry him at once by special license, and leave the old people to +untie the knot if they could. + +Then Mary was astonished and hurt. + +"A clandestine marriage, Mr. Clifford!" said she. "I thought you had +more respect for me than to mention such a thing." + +Then he had to beg her pardon, and say the separation had driven him mad. + +Then she forgave him. + +Then he took advantage of her clemency, and proceeded calmly to show her +it was their only chance. + +Then Mary forgot how severely she had checked him, and merely said that +was the last thing she would consent to, and bound him on his honor never +to mention to Julia Clifford that he had proposed such a thing. Walter +promised that readily enough, but stuck to his point; and as Mary's pride +was wounded, and she was a girl of great spirit though love-sick, she +froze to him, and soon after said she was very sorry, but she must not +stay too long or papa would be angry. She then begged him not to come out +of the parlor, or the servant would see him. + +"That is a trifle," said Walter. "I am going to obey you in greater +things than that. Ah! Mary, Mary, you don't love me as I love you!" + +"No, Walter," said Mary, "I do not love you as you love me, for I respect +you." Then her lip trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. + +Walter fell on his knees, and kissed her skirt several times; then ended +with her hand. "Oh, don't harbor such a thought as that!" said he. + +She sobbed, but made no reply. + +They parted good friends, but chilled. + +That made them both unhappy to think of. + +It was only two, or at the most three, days after this that, as Mary was +walking in the garden, a nosegay fell at her feet. She picked it up, and +immediately found a note half secreted in it. The next moment it was +entirely secreted in her bosom. She sauntered in-doors, and scudded +upstairs to her room to read it. + +The writer told her in a few agitated words that their fathers had met, +and he must speak to her directly. Would she meet him for a moment at the +garden gate at nine o'clock that evening? + +"No, no, no!" cried Mary, as if he was there. She was frightened. Suppose +they should be caught. The shame--the disgrace. But oh, the temptation! +Well, then, how wrong of him to tempt her! She must not go. There was no +time to write and refuse; but she must not go. She would not go. And in +this resolution she persisted. Nine o'clock struck, and she never moved. +Then she began to picture Walter's face of disappointment and his +unhappiness. At ten minutes past nine she tied a handkerchief round her +head and went. + +There he was at the gate, pale and agitated. He did not give her time to +scold him. + +"Pray forgive me," he said; "but I saw no other way. It is all over, +Mary, unless you love me as I love you." + +"Don't begin by doubting me," she said. "Tell me, dear." + +"It is soon told. Our fathers have met at that wretched pit, and the +foreman has told me what passed between them. My father complained that +mining for coal was not husbandry, and it was very unfair to do it, and +to smoke him out of house and home. (Unfortunately the wind was west, and +blew the smoke of the steam-engine over his lawn.) Your father said he +took the farm under that express stipulation. Colonel Clifford said, 'No; +the condition was smuggled in.' 'Then smuggle it out,' said Mr. Bartley." + +"Oh!" + +"If it had only ended there, Mary. But they were both in a passion, and +must empty their hearts. Colonel Clifford said he had every respect for +you, but had other views for his son. Mr. Bartley said he was thankful to +hear it, for he looked higher for his daughter. 'Higher in trade, I +suppose,' said my father; 'the Lord Mayor's nephew.' 'Well,' said Mr. +Bartley, 'I would rather marry her to money than to mortgages.' And the +end of it was they parted enemies for life." + +"No, no; not for life!" + +"For life, Mary. It is an old grudge revived. Indeed, the first quarrel +was only skinned over. Don't deceive yourself. We have nothing to do but +disobey them or part." + +"And you can say that, Walter? Oh, have a little patience!" + +"So I would," said Walter, "if there was any hope. But there is none. +There is nothing to wait for but the death of our parents, and by that +time I shall be an elderly man, and you will have lost your bloom and +wasted your youth--for what? No; I feel sometimes this will drive me mad, +or make me a villain. I am beginning to hate my own father, and everybody +else that thwarts my love. How can they earn my hate more surely? No, +Mary; I see the future as plainly as I see your dear face, so pale and +shocked. I can't help it. If you will marry me, and so make sure, I will +keep it secret as long as you like; I shall have got you, whatever they +may say or do; but if you won't, I'll leave the country at once, and get +peace if I can't get love." + +"Leave the country?" said Mary, faintly. "What good would that do?" + +"I don't know. Perhaps bring my father to his senses for one thing; +and--who knows?--perhaps you will listen to reason when you see I can't +wait for the consent of two egotists--for that is what they both +are--that have no real love or pity for you or me." + +"Ah," said Mary, with a deep sigh, "I see even men have their faults, and +I admired them so. They are impatient, selfish." + +"Yes, if it is selfish to defend one's self against brutal selfishness, I +am selfish; and that is better than to be a slave to egotists, and lie +down to be trodden on as you would do. Come, Mary, for pity's sake, +decide which you love best--your father, who does not care much for you, +or me, who adore you, and will give you a life of gratitude as well as +love, if you will only see things as they are and always will be, and +trust yourself to me as my dear, dear, blessed, adored wife!" + +"I love you best," said Mary, "and I hope it is not wicked. But I love +him too, though he does say 'wait.' And I respect _myself_, and I dare +not defy my parent, and I will not marry secretly; that is degrading. +And, oh, Walter, think how young I am and inexperienced, and you that are +so much older, and I hoped would be my guide and make me better; is it +you who tempt me to clandestine meetings that I blush for, and a +clandestine marriage for which I should despise myself?" + +Walter turned suddenly calm, for these words pricked his conscience. + +"You are right," said he. "I am a blackguard, and you are an angel of +purity and goodness. Forgive me, I will never tempt nor torment you +again. For pity's sake forgive me. You don't know what men's passions +are. Forgive me!" + +"With all my heart, dear," said Mary, crying gently. + +He put both arms suddenly round her neck and kissed her wet eyes with a +sigh of despair. Then he seemed to tear himself away by a great effort, +and she leaned limp and powerless on the gate, and heard his footsteps +die away into the night. They struck chill upon her foreboding heart, for +she felt that they were parted. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE GORDIAN KNOT. + + +Walter, however, would not despair until he had laid the alternative +before his father. He did so, firmly but coolly. + +His father, irritated by the scene with Bartley, treated Walter's +proposal with indignant scorn. + +Walter continued to keep his temper, and with some reluctance asked him +whether he owed nothing, not even a sacrifice of his prejudices, to a son +who had never disobeyed him, and had improved his circumstances. + +"Come, sir," said he; "when the happiness of my life is at stake I +venture to lay aside delicacy, and ask you whether I have not been a good +son, and a serviceable one to you?" + +"Yes, Walter," said the Colonel, "with this exception." + +"Then now or never give me my reward." + +"I'll try," said the grim Colonel; "but I see it will be hard work. +However, I'll try and save you from a _mésalliance_." + +"A _mésalliance_, sir? Why, she is a Clifford." + +"The deuce she is!" + +"As much a Clifford as I am." + +"That is news to me." + +"Why, one of her parents was a Clifford, and your own sister. And one of +mine was an Irish woman." + +"Yes; an O'Ryan; not a trader; not a small-coal man." + +"Like the Marquis of Londonderry, sir, and the Earl of Durham. Come, +father, don't sacrifice your son, and his happiness and his love for +you, to notions the world has outlived. Commerce does not lower a +gentleman, nor speculation either, in these days. The nobility and the +leading gentry of these islands are most of them in business. They are +all shareholders, and often directors of railways, and just as much +traders as the old coach proprietors were. They let their land, and so do +you, to the highest bidder, not for honor or any romantic sentiment, but +for money, and that is trade. Mr. Bartley is his own farmer; well, so was +Mr. Coke, of Norfolk, and the Queen made him a peer for it--what a +sensible sovereign! Are Rothschild and Montefiore shunned for their +speculations by the nobility? Whom do their daughters marry? Trade rules +the world, and keeps it from stagnation. Genius writes, or paints, or +plays Hamlet--for money; and is respected in exact proportion to the +amount of money it gets. Charity holds bazars, and sells at one hundred +per cent. profit, and nearly every new church is a trade speculation. Is +my happiness and hers to be sacrificed to the chimeras and crotchets that +everybody in England but you has outlived?" + +"All this," replied the unflinching sire, "I have read in the papers, and +my son shall not marry the daughter of a trader and cad who has insulted +me grossly; but that, I presume, you don't object to." + +This stung Walter so that he feared to continue the discussion. + +"I will not reply," said he. "You drive me to despair. I leave you to +reflect. Perhaps you will prize me when you see me no more." + +With this he left the room, packed up his clothes, went to the nearest +railway, off to London, collected his funds, crossed the water, and did +not write one word to Clifford Hall, except a line to Julia. "Left +England heart-broken, the victim of two egotists and my sweet Mary's weak +conscientiousness. God forgive me, I am angry even with her, but I don't +doubt her love." + +This missive and the general consternation at Clifford Hall brought Julia +full gallop to Mary Bartley. + +They read the letter together, and Julia was furious against Colonel +Clifford. But Mary interposed. + +"I am afraid," said she, "that I am the person who was most to blame." + +"Why, what have you done?" + +"He said our case was desperate, and waiting would not alter it; and he +should leave the country unless--" + +"Unless what? How can I advise you if you have any concealments from me?" + +"Well, then, it was unless I would consent to a clandestine marriage." + +"And you refused--very properly." + +"And I refused--very properly one would think--and what is the +consequence? I have driven the man I love away from his friends, as well +as from me, and now I begin to be very sorry for my properness." + +"But you don't blush for it as you would for the other. The idea! To be +married on the sly and to have to hide it from everybody, and to be found +out at last, or else be suspected of worse things." + +"What worse things?" + +"Never you mind, child; your womanly instinct is better than knowledge or +experience, and it has guided you straight. If you had consented, I +should have lost my respect for you." + +And then, as the small view of a thing is apt to enter the female head +along with the big view, she went on, with great animation: + +"And then for a young lady to sneak into a church without her friends, +with no carriages, no favors, no wedding cake, no bishop, no proper +dress, not even a bridal veil fit to be seen! Why, it ought to be the +great show of a girl's life, and she ought to be a public queen, at all +events for that one day, for ten to one she will be a slave all the rest +of her life if she loves the fellow." + +She paused for breath one moment. + +"And it isn't as if you were low people. Why, it reminds me of a thing I +read in some novel: a city clerk, or some such person, took a walk with +his sweetheart into the country, and all of a sudden he said, 'Why, there +is something hard in my pocket. What is it, I wonder? A plain gold ring. +Does it fit you? Try it on, Polly. Why, it fits you, I declare; then keep +it till further orders.' Then they walked a little further. 'Why, what is +this? Two pairs of white gloves. Try the little pair on, and I will try +the big ones. Stop! I declare here's a church, and the bells beginning +to ring. Why, who told them that I've got a special license in my pocket? +Hallo! there are two fellows hanging about; best men, witnesses, or some +such persons, I should not wonder. I think I know one of them; and here +is a parson coming over a stile! What an opportunity for us now just to +run in and get married! Come on, old girl, lend me that wedding ring a +minute, I'll give it you back again in the church.' No, thank you, Mr. +Walter; we love you very dearly, but we are ladies, and we respect +ourselves." + +In short, Julia confirmed Mary Bartley in her resolution, but she could +not console her under the consequences. Walter did not write a line +even to her; she couldn't but fear that he was really in despair, and +would cure himself of his affection if he could. She began to pine; the +roses faded gradually out of her cheeks, and Mr. Bartley himself began +at last to pity her, for though he did not love her, he liked her, and +was proud of her affection. Another thing, Hope might come home now any +day, and if he found the girl sick and pining, he might say this is a +breach of contract. + +He asked Mary one day whether she wouldn't like a change. "I could take +you to the sea-side," said he, but not very cordially. + +"No, papa," said Mary; "why should you leave your mine when everything is +going so prosperously? I think I should like to go to the lakes, and pay +my old nurse a visit." + +"And she would talk to you of Walter Clifford?" + +"Yes, papa," said Mary, firmly, "she would; and that's the only thing +that can do me any good." + +"Well, Mary," said Bartley, "if she could be content with praising him, +and regretting the insuperable obstacles, and if she would encourage you +to be patient--There, let me think of it." + +Things went hard with Colonel Clifford. He felt his son's desertion very +bitterly, though he was too proud to show it; he now found out that +universally as he was _respected_, it was Walter who was the most beloved +both in the house and in the neighborhood. + +One day he heard a multitude shouting, and soon learned the reason. +Bartley had struck a rich vein of coal, and tons were coming up to the +surface. Colonel Clifford would not go near the place, but he sent old +Baker to inquire, and Baker from that day used to bring him back a number +of details, some of them especially galling to him. By degrees, and rapid +ones, Bartley was becoming a rival magnate; the poor came to him for the +slack, or very small coal, and took it away gratis; they flattered him, +and to please him, spoke slightingly of Colonel Clifford, which they had +never ventured to do before. But soon a circumstance occurred which +mortified the old soldier more than all. He was sole proprietor of the +village, and every house in it, with the exception of a certain +beer-house, flanked by an acre and a half of ground. This beer-house was +a great eye-sore to him; he tried to buy this small freeholder out; but +the man saw his advantage, and demanded £1500--nearly treble the real +value. Walter, however, by negotiating in a more friendly spirit, had +obtained a reduction, and was about to complete the purchase for £1150. +But when Walter left the country the proprietor never dreamed of going +again to the haughty Colonel. He went to Bartley, and Bartley bought the +property in five minutes for £1200, and paid a deposit to clinch the +contract. He completed the purchase with unheard-of rapidity, and set an +army of workmen to raise a pit village, or street of eighty houses. They +were ten times better built than the Colonel's cottages; not one of them +could ever be vacant, they were too great a boon to the miners; nor could +the rent be in arrears, with so sharp a hand as the mine-owner; the +beer-house was to be perpetuated, and a nucleus of custom secured from +the miners, partly by the truck system, and partly by the superiority of +the liquor, for Bartley announced at once that he should brew the beer. + +All these things were too much for a man with gout in his system; Colonel +Clifford had a worse attack of that complaint than ever; it rose from his +feet to other parts of his frame, and he took to his bed. + +In that condition a physician and surgeon visited him daily, and his +lawyer also was sent for, and was closeted with him for a long time on +more than one occasion. + +All this caused a deal of speculation in the village, and as a system +of fetch and carry was now established by which the rival magnates also +received plenty of information, though not always accurate, about each +other, Mr. Bartley heard what was going on, and put his own +construction upon it. + + * * * * * + +Just when Mr. Hope was expected to return came a letter to Mary to say +that he should be detained a day or two longer, as he had a sore throat +and fever, but nothing alarming. Three or four days later came a letter +only signed by him, to say he had a slight attack of typhoid fever, and +was under medical care. + +Mary implored Mr. Bartley to let her go to him. He refused, and gave his +reasons, which were really sufficient, and now he became more unwilling +than ever to let her visit Mrs. Easton. + +This was the condition of affairs when one day an old man with white +hair, dressed in black, and looking almost a gentleman, was driven up to +the farm by Colonel Clifford's groom, and asked, in an agitated voice, if +he might see Miss Mary Bartley. + +Her visitors were so few that she was never refused on speculation, so +John Baker was shown at once into her drawing-room. He was too much +agitated to waste time. + +"Oh, Miss Bartley," said he, "we are in great distress at the Hall. Mr. +Walter has gone, and not left his address, and my poor master is dying!" + +Mary uttered an unfeigned exclamation of horror. + +"Ah, miss," said the old man, "God bless you; you feel for us, I'm not on +the old man's side, miss; I'm on Mr. Walter's side in this as I was in +the other business, but now I see my poor old master lying pale and +still, not long for this world, I do begin to blame myself. I never +thought that he would have taken it all to heart like this. But, there, +the only thing now is to bring them together before he goes. We don't +know his address, miss; we don't know what country he is in. He sent a +line to Miss Clifford a month ago from Dover, but that is all; but, in +course, he writes to you--_that_ stands to reason; you'll give me his +address, miss, won't you? and we shall all bless you." + +Mary turned pale, and the tears streamed down her eyes. "Oh, sir," said +she, "I'd give the world if I could tell you. I know who you are; my poor +Walter has often spoken of you to me, Mr. Baker. One word from you would +have been enough; I would have done anything for you that I could. But he +has never written to me at all. I am as much deserted as any of you, and +I have felt it as deeply as any father can, but never have I felt it as +now. What! The father to die, and his son's hand not in his; no looks of +love and forgiveness to pass between them as the poor old man leaves this +world, its ambitions and its quarrels, and perhaps sees for the first +time how small they all are compared with the love of those that love us, +and the peace of God!" Then this ardent girl stretched out both her +hands. "O God, if my frivolous life has been innocent, don't let me be +the cause of this horrible thing; don't let the father die without +comfort, nor the son without forgiveness, for a miserable girl who has +come between them and meant no harm!" + +This eloquent burst quite overpowered poor old John Baker. He dropped +into a chair, his white head sunk upon his bosom, he sobbed and trembled, +and for the first time showed his age. + +"What on earth is the matter?" said Mr. Bartley's voice, as cold as an +icicle, at the door. Mary sprang toward him impetuously. "Oh, papa!" she +cried, "Colonel Clifford is dying, and we don't know where Walter is; we +can't know." + +"Wait a little," said Bartley, in some agitation. "My letters have just +come in, and I thought I saw a foreign postmark." He slipped back into +the hall, brought in several letters, selected one, and gave it to Mary, +"This is for you, from Marseilles." + +He then retired to his study, and without the least agitation or the +least loss of time returned with a book of telegraph forms. + +Meanwhile Mary tore the letter open, and read it eagerly to John Baker. + +"GRAND HÔTEL, NOAILLES, MARSEILLES, _May_ 16. + +"MY OWN DEAR LOVE,--I have vowed that I will not write again to tempt you +to anything you think wrong; but it looks like quarrelling to hide my +address from you. Only I do beg of you, as the only kindness you can do +me now, never to let it be known by any living creature at Clifford Hall. + +"Yours till death, WALTER." + +Mr. Bartley entered with the telegraph forms, and said to Mary, sharply, +"Where is he?" Mary told him. "Well, write him a telegram. It shall be at +the railway in half an hour, at Marseilles theoretically in one hour, +practically in four." + +Mary sat down and wrote her telegram: "Pray come to Clifford Hall. Your +father is dangerously ill." + +"Show it to me," said Bartley. And on perusing it: "A woman's telegram. +Don't frighten him too much; leave him the option to come or stay." + +He tore it up, and said, "Now write a business telegram, and make sure of +the thing you want." + +"Come home directly--your father is dying." + +Old Baker started up. "God bless you, sir," says he, "and God bless you, +miss, and make you happy one day. I'll take it myself, as my trap is at +the door." He bustled out, and his carriage drove away at a great rate. + +Mr. Bartley went quietly to his study to business without another word, +and Mary leaned back a little exhausted by the scene, but a smile almost +of happiness came and tarried on her sweet face for the first time these +many days; as for old John Baker, he told his tale triumphantly at the +Hall, and not without vanity, for he was proud of his good judgment in +going to Mary Bartley. + +To the old housekeeper, a most superior woman of his own age, and almost +a lady, he said something rather remarkable which he was careful not to +bestow on the young wags in the servants' hall: "Mrs. Milton," says he, +"I am an old man, and have knocked about at home and abroad, and seen a +deal of life, but I've seen something to-day that I never saw before." + +"Ay, John, surely; and what ever was that?" + +"I've seen an angel pray to God, and I have seen God answer her." + +From that day Mary had two stout partisans in Clifford Hall. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Bartley's views about Mary now began to waver. It occurred to him +that should Colonel Clifford die and Walter inherit his estates, he could +easily come to terms with the young man so passionately devoted to his +daughter. He had only to say: "I can make no allowance at present, but +I'll settle my whole fortune upon Mary and her children after my death, +if you'll make a moderate settlement at present," and Walter would +certainly fall into this, and not demand accounts from Mary's trustee. So +now he would have positively encouraged Mary in her attachment, but one +thing held him back a little: he had learned by accident that the last +entail of Clifford Hall and the dependent estates dated two generations +back, so that the entail expired with Colonel Clifford, and this had +enabled the Colonel to sell some of the estates, and clearly gave him +power now to leave Clifford Hall away from his son. Now the people who +had begun to fetch and carry tales between the two magnates told him of +the lawyer's recent visits to Clifford Hall, and he had some misgivings +that the Colonel had sent for the lawyer to alter his will and +disinherit, in whole or in part, his absent and rebellious son. All this +taken together made Mr. Bartley resolve to be kinder to Mary in her love +affair than he ever had been, but still to be guarded and cautious. + +"Mary, my dear," said he, "I am sure you'll be on thorns till this young +man comes home; perhaps now would be a good time to pay your visit to +Mrs. Easton." + +"Oh, papa, how good of you! but it's twenty miles, I believe, to where +she is staying at the lakes." + +"No, no," said Mr. Bartley; "she's staying with her sister Gilbert; quite +within a drive." + +"Are you sure, papa?" + +"Quite sure, my dear; she wrote to me yesterday about her little pension; +the quarter is just due." + +"What! do you allow her a pension?" + +"Certainly, my dear, or rather I pay her little stipend as before: how +surprised you look, Mary! Why, I'm not like that old Colonel, intolerant +of other people's views, when they advance them civilly. That woman +helped me to save your life in a very great danger, and for many years +she has been as careful as a mother, and we are not, so to say, at +daggers drawn about Walter Clifford. Why, I only demand a little +prudence and patience both from you and from her. Now tell me. Is there +proper accommodation for you in Mrs. Gilbert's house?" + +"Oh yes, papa; it is a farm-house now, but it was a grand place. There's +a beautiful spare room with an oriel-window." + +"Well, then, you secure that, and write to-day to have a blazing fire, +and the bed properly aired as well as the sheets, and you shall go +to-morrow in the four-wheel; and you can take her her little stipend in +a letter." + +This sudden kindness and provision for her health and happiness filled +Mary's heart to overflowing, and her gratitude gushed forth upon Mr. +Bartley's neck. The old fox blandly absorbed it, and took the opportunity +to say, "Of course it is understood that matters are to go no further +between you and Walter Clifford. Oh, I don't mean that you're to make him +unhappy, or drive him to despair; only insist upon his being patient like +yourself. Everything comes sooner or later to those that can wait." + +"Oh, papa," cried Mary, "you've said more to comfort me than Mrs. Easton +or anybody can; but I feel the change will do me good. I am, oh, so +grateful!" + +So Mary wrote her letter, and went to Mrs. Easton next day. After the +usual embraces, she gave Mrs. Easton the letter, and was duly installed +in the state bedroom. She wrote to Julia Clifford to say where she was, +and that was her way of letting Walter Clifford know. + +Walter himself arrived at Clifford Hall next day, worn, anxious, and +remorseful, and was shown at once to his father's bedside. The Colonel +gave him a wasted hand, and said: + +"Dear boy, I thought you'd come. We've had our last quarrel, Walter." + +Walter burst into tears over his father's hand, and nothing was said +between them about their temporary estrangement. + +The first thing Walter did was to get two professional nurses from +Derby, and secure his father constant attention night and day, and, above +all, nourishment at all hours of the night when the patient would take +it. On the afternoon after his arrival the Colonel fell into a sound +sleep. Then Walter ordered his horse, and in less than an hour was at +Mrs. Gilbert's place. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE KNOT CUT.--ANOTHER TIED. + + +The farm-house the Gilberts occupied had been a family mansion of great +antiquity with a moat around it. It was held during the civil war by a +stout royalist, who armed and garrisoned it after a fashion with his own +servants. This had a different effect to what he intended. It drew the +attention of one of Cromwell's generals, and he dispatched a party with +cannon and petards to reduce the place, whilst he marched on to join +Cromwell in enterprises of more importance. The detachment of Roundheads +summoned the place. The royalist, to show his respect for their +authority, made his kitchen wench squeak a defiance from an upper +window, from which she bolted with great rapidity as soon as she had +thus represented the valor of the establishment, and when next seen it +was in the cellar, wedged in between two barrels of beer. The men went +at it hammer and tongs, and in twenty-four hours a good many +cannon-balls traversed the building, a great many stuck in the walls +like plums in a Christmas pudding, the doors were blown in with petards, +and the principal defenders, with a few wounded Roundheads, were carried +off to Cromwell himself; whilst the house itself was fired, and blazed +away merrily. + +Cromwell threatened the royalist gentleman with death for defending an +untenable place. + +"I didn't know it was untenable," said the gentleman. "How could I till +I had tried?" + +"You had the fate of fortified places to instruct you," said Cromwell, +and he promised faithfully to hang him on his own ruins. + +The gentleman turned pale and his lips quivered, but he said, "Well, Mr. +Cromwell, I've fought for my royal master according to my lights, and I +can die for him." + +"You shall, sir," said Mr. Cromwell. + +About next morning Mr. Cromwell, who had often a cool fit after a hot +one, and was a very big man, take him altogether, gave a different order. +"The fool thought he was doing his duty; turn him loose." + +The fool in question was so proud of his battered house that he left it +standing there, bullets and all, and built him a house elsewhere. + +King Charles the Second had not landed a month before he made him a +baronet, and one tenant after another occupied a portion of the old +mansion. Two state-rooms were roofed and furnished with the relics of the +entire mansion, and these two rooms the present baronet's surveyor +occupied at rare intervals when he was inspecting the large properties +connected with the baronet's estate. + +Mary Bartley now occupied these two rooms, connected by folding-doors, +and she sat pensive in the oriel-window of her bedroom. Young ladies +cling to their bedrooms, especially when they are pretty and airy. +Suddenly she heard a scurry and patter of a horse's hoof, reined up at +the side of the house. She darted from the window and stood panting in +the middle of the room. The next minute Mrs. Easton entered the +sitting-room all in a flutter, and beckoned her. Mary flew to her. + +"He is here." + +"I thought he would be." + +"Will you meet him down-stairs?" + +"No, here." + +Mrs. Easton acquiesced, rapidly closed the folding-doors, and went out, +saying, "Try and calm yourself, Miss Mary." + +Miss Mary tried to obey her, but Walter rushed in impetuously, pale, +worn, agitated, yet enraptured at the first sight of her, and Mary threw +herself round his neck in a moment, and he clasped her fluttering bosom +to his beating heart, and this was the natural result of the restraint +they had put upon a passionate affection: for what says the dramatist +Destouches, improving upon Horace, so that in England his immortal line +is given to Molière. "_Chassez le naturel, il revient au galop_." + +The next thing was, they held each other at arm's-length, and mourned +over each other. + +"Oh, my poor Mary, how ill you look!" + +"Oh, my poor Walter, how pale and worn!" + +"It's all my fault," said Mary. + +"No; it's all mine," said Walter. + +And so they blamed themselves, and grieved over each other, and vowed +that come what might they would never part again. But, lo and behold! +Walter went on from that to say: + +"And that we may never part again let us marry at once, and put our +happiness out of the reach of accidents." + +"What!" said Mary. "Defy your father upon his dying bed." + +"Oh no," said Walter, "that I could not do. I mean marry secretly, and +announce it after his decease, if I am to lose him." + +"And why not wait till after his decease?" said Mary. + +"Because, then, the laws of society would compel us to wait six months, +and in that six months some infernal obstacle or other would be sure to +occur, and another would be sure to follow. I am a great deal older than +you, and I see that whoever procrastinates happiness, risks it; and +whoever shilly-shallies with it deserves to lose it, and generally does." + +Where young ladies are concerned, logic does not carry all before it, +and so Mary opposed all manner of feminine sentiments, and ended by +saying she could not do such a thing. + +Then Walter began to be mortified and angry; then she cunningly shifted +the responsibility, and said she would consult Mrs. Easton. + +"Then consult her in my presence," said Walter. + +Mary had not bargained for that; she had intended to secure Mrs. Easton +on her side, and then take her opinion. However, as Walter's proposal was +fair, she called Mrs. Easton, and they put the case to her, and asked her +to give her candid opinion. + +Mrs. Easton, however, took alarm at the gravity of the proposal, and told +them both she knew things that were unknown to both of them, and it was +not so easy for her to advise. + +"Well, but," said Walter, "if you know more than we do, you are the very +person that can advise. All I know is that if we are not married now, I +shall have to wait six months at least, and if I stay here Mr. Bartley +and I shall quarrel, and he will refuse me Mary; and if I go abroad again +I shall get knocked on the head, or else Mary will pine away again, and +Bartley will send her to Madeira, and we shall lose our happiness, as all +shilly-shallying fools do." + +Mrs. Easton made no reply to this, though she listened attentively to it. +She walked to the window and thought quietly to herself; then she came +back again and sat down, and after a pause she said, very gravely, +"Knowing all I know, and seeing all I see, I advise you two to marry at +once by special license, and keep it secret from every one who knows +you--but myself--till a proper time comes to reveal it; and it's borne in +upon me that that time will come before long, even if Colonel Clifford +should not die this bout, which everybody says he will." + +"Oh, nurse," said Mary, faintly, "I little thought that you'd be +against me." + +"Against you, Miss Mary!" said Mrs. Eastern, with much feeling. "I admire +Mr. Walter very much, as any woman must with eyes in her head, and I love +him for loving of you so truly, and like a man, for it does not become a +man to shilly-shally, but I never saw him till he _was_ a man, but you +are the child I nursed, and prayed over, and trembled for in sickness, +and rejoiced over in health, and left a good master because I saw he did +not love you so well as I did." + +These words went to Mary's heart, and she flew to her nurse, and hung +weeping round her neck. Her tears made the manly but tender-hearted +Walter give a sort of gulp. Mary heard it, and put her white hand out to +him. He threw himself upon his knees, and kissed it devotedly, and the +coy girl was won. + +From this hour Walter gave her no breathing-time; he easily talked over +old Baker, and got him to excuse his short absence; he turned his hunters +into roadsters, and rode them very hard; he got the special license; he +squared a clergyman at the head of the lake, who was an old friend of his +and fond of fees, and in three days after her consent, Mary and Mrs. +Easton drove a four-wheeled carriage Walter had lent them to the little +hotel at the lakes. Walter had galloped over at eleven o'clock, and they +all three took a little walk together. Walter Clifford and Mary Bartley +returned from that walk MAN AND WIFE. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE. + + +Walter Clifford and Mary sat at a late breakfast in a little inn that +looked upon a lake, which appeared to them more lovely than the lake of +Thun or of Lucerne. He beamed steadily at her with triumphant rapture; +she stole looks at him of wonder, admiration, and the deepest love. + +As they had nothing now to argue about, they only spoke a few words at a +time, but these were all musical with love. + +To them, as we dramatists say, entered Mrs. Easton, with signs of hurry. + +"Miss Mary--" said she. + +"Mrs. Mary," suggested Walter, meekly. + +Mrs. Mary blew him a kiss. + +"Ay, ay," said Mrs. Easton, smiling. "Of course you will both hate me, +but I have come to take you home, Mistress Mary." + +"Home!" said Mary; "why, this feels like home." + +"No doubt," said Mrs. Easton, "but, for all that, in half an hour we +must start." + +The married couple remonstrated with one accord, but Mrs. Easton was +firm. "I dreamed," said she, "that we were all found out--and that's a +warning. Mr. Walter, you know that you'll be missed at Clifford Hall, and +didn't ought to leave your father another day. And you, Miss Mary, do but +think what a weight I have taken upon my shoulders, and don't put off +coming home, for I am almost shaking with anxiety, and for sure and +certain my dream it was a warning, and there's something in the wind." + +They were both so indebted to this good woman that they looked at each +other piteously, but agreed. Walter rang the bell, and ordered the +four-wheeler and his own nag. + +"Mary, one little walk in that sweet garden." + +"Yes, dear," said Mary, and in another moment they were walking in the +garden, intertwined like the ivy and the oak, and purring over their +present delights and glowing prospects. + +In the mean time Mrs. Easton packed up their things: Walter's were +enrolled in a light rug with straps, which went upon his saddle. They +left the little inn, Mary driving. When they had gone about two miles +they came to cross-roads. + +"Please pull up," said Mrs. Easton; then turning to Walter, who was +riding ridiculously close to Mary's whip hand, "Isn't that the way to +Clifford Hall?" + +"It's one way," said he; "but I don't mean to go that way. How can I? +It's only three miles more round by your house." + +"Nurse," said Mary, appealingly. + +"Ay, ay, poor things," said Mrs. Easton. "Well, well, don't loiter, +anyway. I shall not be my own woman again till we're safe at the farm." + +So they drove briskly on, and in about an hour more they got to a long +hill, whence they could see the Gilberts' farm. + +"There, nurse," said Mary, pouting a little, "now I hope you're content, +for we have got safe home, and he and I shall not have a happy day +together again." + +"Oh yes, you will, and many happy years," said Mrs. Easton. "Well, yes, I +don't feel so fidgety now." + +"Oh!" cried Mary, all of a sudden. "Why, there's our gray mare coming +down the hill with the dog-cart! Who's that driving her? It's not papa. I +declare it's Mr. Hope, come home safe and sound. Dear Mr. Hope! Oh, now +my happiness is perfect!" + +"Mr. Hope!" screamed Mrs. Easton. "Drive faster, for Heaven's sake! Turn +your horse, sir, and gallop away from us as hard as you can!" + +"Well, but, Mrs. Easton--" objected Walter. + +Mrs. Easton stood up in the carriage. "Man alive!" she screamed, "you +know nothing, and I know a deal; begone, or you are no friend of mine: +you'll make me curse the hour that I interfered." + +"Go, darling," said Mary, kindly, and so decidedly that he turned his +horse directly, gave her one look of love and disappointment, and +galloped away. + +Mary looked pale and angry, and drove on in sullen silence. + +Mrs. Easton was too agitated to mind her angry looks. She kept wiping +the perspiration from her brow with her handkerchief, and speaking in +broken sentences: "If we could only get there first--fool not to teach +my sister her lesson before we went, she's such a simpleton!--can't you +drive faster?" + +"Why, nurse," said Mary, "don't be so afraid of Mr. Hope. It's not him +I'm afraid of; it's papa." + +"Yon don't know what you're talking about, child. Mr. Bartley is easily +blinded; I won't tell you why. It isn't so with Mr. Hope. Oh, if I could +only get in to have one word with my simple sister before he turns her +inside out!" + +This question was soon decided. Hope drove up to the door whilst Mary and +Mrs. Eastern were still some distance off and hidden by a turn in the +road. When they emerged again into sight of the farm they just caught +sight of Hope's back, and Mrs. Gilbert curtseying to him and ushering him +into the house. + +"Drive into the stable-yard," said Mrs. Easton, faintly. "He mustn't see +your travelling basket, anyway." + +She told the servant to put the horse into the stable immediately, and +the basket into the brew-house. Then she hurried Mary up the back +stairs to her room, and went with a beating heart to find Mr. Hope and +her sister. + +Mrs. Gilbert, though a simple and unguarded woman, could read faces like +the rest, and she saw at once that her sister was very much put out by +this visit of Mr. Hope, and wanted to know what had passed between her +and him. This set the poor woman all in a flutter for fear she should +have said something injudicious, and there-upon she prepared to find out, +if possible, what she ought to have said. + +"What! Mr. Hope!" said Mrs. Easton. "Well, Mary will be glad. And have +you been long home, sir?" + +"Came last night," said Hope. "She hasn't been well, I hear. What is the +matter?" And he looked very anxious. + +"Well, sir," said Mrs. Easton, very guardedly, "she certainly gave me a +fright when she came here. She looked quite pale; but whether it was +that she wanted a change--but whatever it was, it couldn't be very +serious. You shall judge for yourself. Sister, go to Miss Mary's room, +and tell her." + +Mrs. Easton, in giving this instruction, frowned at her sister as much as +to say, "Now don't speak, but go." + +When she was gone, the next thing was to find out if the woman had made +any foolish admission to Mr. Hope; so she waited for him. + +She had not long to wait. + +Hope said: "I hardly expected to see you; your sister said you were +from home." + +"Well, sir," said Mrs. Easton, "we were not so far off, but we did come +home a little sooner than we intended, and I am rare glad we did, for +Miss Mary wouldn't have missed you for all the _views_ in the county." + +With that she made an excuse, and left him. She found her sister in +Mary's room: they were comparing notes. + +"Now," said she to Mrs. Gilbert, "you tell me every word you said to Mr. +Hope about Miss Mary and me." + +"Well, I said you were not at home, and that is every word; he didn't +give me time to say any more for questioning of me about her health." + +"That's lucky," said Mrs. Easton, dryly. "Thank Heaven, there's no harm +done; he sha'n't see the carriage." + +"Dear me, nurse," said Mary, "all this time I'm longing to see him." + +"Well, you shall see him, if you won't own to having been a night +from home." + +Mary promised, and went eagerly to Mr. Hope. It did not come natural to +her to be afraid of him, and she was impatient for the day to come when +she might tell him the whole story. The reception he gave her was not of +a nature to discourage this feeling; his pale face--for he had been very +ill--flushed at sight of her, his eyes poured affection upon her, and he +held out both hands to her. "This the pale girl they frightened me +about!" said he. "Why, you're like the roses in July." + +"That's partly with seeing of you, sir," said Mrs. Easton, quietly +following, "but we do take some credit to ourselves too; for Miss Mary +_was_ rather pale when she came here a week ago; but la, young folks want +a change now and then." + +"Nurse," said Mary, "I really was not well, and you have done wonders for +me, and I hope you won't think me ungrateful, but I _must_ go home with +Mr. Hope." + +Hope's countenance flushed with delight, and Mrs. Easton saw in a moment +that Mary's affection was co-operating with her prudence. "I thought that +would be her first word, sir," said she. "Why, of course you will, miss. +There, don't you take any trouble; we'll pack up your things and put them +in the dog-cart; but you must eat a morsel both of you before you go. +There's a beautiful piece of beef in the pot, not oversalted, and some +mealy potatoes and suet dumplings. You sit down and have your chat, +whilst Polly and I get everything ready for you." + +Then Mary asked Mr. Hope so many questions with such eager affection that +he had no time to ask her any, and then she volunteered the home news, +especially of Colonel Clifford's condition, and then she blushed and +asked him if he had said anything to her father about Walter Clifford. + +"Not much," said Mr. Hope. "You are very young, Mary, and it's not for me +to interfere, and I won't interfere. But if you want my opinion, why, I +admire the young man extremely. I always liked him; he is a +straightforward, upright, manly, good-hearted chap, and has lots of +plain good sense--Heaven knows where he got it!" + +This eulogy was interrupted by Mary putting a white hand and a perfect +nose upon Hope's shoulder, and kissing the cloth thereon. + +"What," said Hope, tenderly, and yet half sadly--for he knew that all +middle-aged men must now be second--"have I found the way to your heart?" + +"You always knew that, Mr. Hope," said Mary, softly; "especially since my +escapade in that horrid brook." + +Their affectionate chat was interrupted by a stout servant laying a snowy +cloth, and after her sailed in Mrs. Gilbert, with a red face, and pride +unconcealed and justifiable, carrying a grand dish of smoking hot boiled +beef, set in a very flower bed, so to speak, of carrots, turnips, and +suet dumplings; the servant followed with a brown basin, almost as big as +a ewer, filled with mealy potatoes, whose jackets hung by a thread. +Around this feast the whole party soon collected, and none of them sighed +for Russian soups or French ragouts; for the fact is that under the title +of boiled beef there exist two things, one of which, without any great +impropriety, might be called junk; but this was the powdered beef of our +ancestors, a huge piece just slightly salted in the house itself, so that +the generous juice remained in it, but the piquant slices, with the mealy +potatoes, made a delightful combination. The glasses were filled with +home-brewed ale, sparkling and clear and golden as the finest Madeira. +They all ate manfully, stimulated by the genial hostess. Even Mary +outshone all her former efforts, and although she couldn't satisfy Mrs. +Gilbert, she declared she had never eaten so much in all her life. This +set good Mrs. Gilbert's cheeks all aglow with simple, honest +satisfaction. + +Hope drove Mary home in the dog-cart. He was a happy man, but she could +hardly be called a happy woman. She was warm and cold by turns. She had +got her friend back, and that was a comfort, but she was not treating him +with confidence; indeed, she was passively deceiving him, and that +chilled her; but then it would not be for long, and that comforted her, +and yet even when the day should come for the great doors of Clifford +Hall to fly open to her, would not a sad, reproachful look from dear Mr. +Hope somewhat imbitter her cup of happiness? Deceit, and even reticence, +did not come so natural to her as they do to many women: she was not +weak, and she was frank, though very modest. + +Mr. Bartley met them at the door, and, owing to Hope's presence, was more +demonstrative than usual. He seemed much pleased at Mary's return, and +delighted at her appearance. + +"Well," said he, "I am glad I sent you away for a week. We have all +missed you, my dear, but the change has set you up again, I never saw you +look better. Now you are well, we must try and keep you well." + + * * * * * + +We must leave the reader to imagine the mixed feelings with which Mrs. +Walter Clifford laid her head upon the pillow that night, and we +undertake to say that the female readers, at all events, will supply this +blank in our narrative much better than we could, though we were to fill +a chapter with that subject alone. + + * * * * * + +Passion is a terrible enemy to mere affection. Walter Clifford loved his +father dearly, yet for twenty-four hours he had almost forgotten him. +But the moment he turned his horse's head toward Clifford Hall, +uneasiness and something very like remorse began to seize him. Suppose +his father had asked for him, and wondered where he was, and felt +himself deserted and abandoned in his dying moments. He spurred his +horse to a gallop, and soon reached Clifford Hall. As he was afraid to +go straight to his father's room, he went at once to old Baker, and +said, in an agitated voice, + +"One word, John--is he alive?" + +"Yes, sir, he is," said John, gravely, and rather sternly. + +"Has he asked for me?" + +"More than once or twice, sir." + +Walter sank into a chair, and covered his face with his hands. This +softened the old servant, whose manner till then had been sullen +and grim. + +"You need not fret, Mr. Walter," said he; "it's all right. In course I +know where you have been." + +Walter looked up alarmed. + +"I mean in a general way," said the old man. "You have been a-courting of +an angel. I know her, sir, and I hope to be her servant some day; and if +you was to marry any but her, I'd leave service altogether, and so would +Rhoda Milton; but, Mr. Walter, sir, there's a time for everything: I hope +you'll forgive me for saying so. However you are here now, and I was +wide-awake, and I have made it all right, sir." + +"That's impossible," said Walter. "How could you make it right with my +poor dear father, if in his last moments he felt himself neglected?" + +"But he didn't feel himself neglected." + +"I don't understand you," said Walter. + +"Well, sir," said old Baker, "I'm an old servant, and I have done my duty +to father and son according to my lights: I told him a lie." + +"A lie, John!" said Walter. + +"A thundering lie," said John, rather aggressively. "I don't know as I +ever told a greater lie in all my life. I told him you was gone up to +London to fetch a doctor." + +Walter grasped John Baker's hand. "God bless you, old man," said he, "for +taking that on your conscience! Well, you sha'n't have yourself to +reproach for my fault. I know a first-class gout doctor in London; he has +cured it more than once. I'll wire him down this minute; you'll dispatch +the message, and I'll go to my father." + +The message was sent, and when the Colonel awoke from an uneasy slumber +he saw his son at the foot of the bed, gazing piteously at him. + +"My dear boy," said he, faintly, and held out a wasted hand. Walter was +pricked to the heart at this greeting: not a word of remonstrance at +his absence. + +"I fear you missed me, father," said he, sadly. + +"That I have," said the old man; "but I dare say you didn't forget me, +though you weren't by my side." + +The high-minded old soldier said no more, and put no questions, but +confided in his son's affection, and awaited the result of it. From that +hour Walter Clifford nursed his father day and night. Dr. Garner arrived +next day. He examined the patient, and put a great many questions as to +the history and progress of the disorder up to that date, and inquired +in particular what was the length of time the fits generally endured. +Here he found them all rather hazy. "Ah," said he, "patients are seldom +able to assist their medical adviser with precise information on this +point, yet it's very important. Well, can you tell me how long this +attack has lasted?" + +They told him that within a day or two. + +"Then now," said he, "the most important question of all: What day did +the pain leave his extremities?" + +The patient and John Baker had to compare notes to answer this question, +and they made it out to be about twenty days. + +"Then he ought to be as dead as a herring," whispered the doctor. + +After this he began to walk the room and meditate, with his hands +behind him. + +"Open those top windows," said he. "Now draw the screen, and give his +lungs a chance; no draughts must blow upon him, you know." Then he drew +Walter aside. "Do you want to know the truth? Well, then, his life hangs +on a thread. The gout is creeping upward, and will inevitably kill him +if we can't get it down. Nothing but heroic remedies will do that, and +it's three to five against them. What do you say?" + +"I dare not--I dare not. Pray put the question to _him_." + +"I will," said the doctor; and accordingly he did put it to him with a +good deal of feeling and gentleness, and the answer rather surprised him. + +Weak as he was, Colonel Clifford's dull eye flashed, and he half raised +himself on his elbow. "What a question to put to a soldier!" said he. +"Why, let us fight, to be sure. I thought it was twenty to one--five to +three? I have often won the rubber with five to three against me." + +"Ah!" said Dr. Garner, "these are the patients that give the doctor a +chance." Then he turned to Baker. "Have you any good champagne in the +house--not sweet, and not too dry, and full of fire?" + +"Irroy's Carte d'Or," suggested the patient, entering into the business +with a certain feeble alacrity that showed his gout had not always been +unconnected with imprudence in diet. + +Baker was sent for the champagne. It was brought and opened, and the +patient drank some of it fizzing. When he had drank what he could, his +eyes twinkled, and he said, + +"That's a hair of a dog that has often bitten me." + +The wine soon got into his weakened head, and he dropped asleep. + +"Another draught when he wakes," said the doctor, "but from a +fresh bottle." + +"We'll finish this one to your health in the servants' hall," said honest +John Baker. + +Dr. Garner staid there all night, keeping up the patient's strength with +eggs and brandy, and everything, in short, except medicine; and he also +administered champagne, but at much longer intervals. + +At one o'clock next day the patient gave a dismal groan; Walter and the +others started up in alarm. + +"Good!" said the doctor, calmly; "now I'll go to bed. Call me if there's +any fresh symptom." + +At six o'clock old Baker burst in the room: "Sir, sir, he have swore at +me twice. The Lord be praised!" + +"Excellent!" said the doctor. "Now tell me what disagrees with him most +after champagne?" + +"Why, Green Chartreuse, to be sure," said old Baker. + +"Then give him a table-spoonful," said the doctor. "Get me some +hot water." + +"Which first?" inquired Baker. + +"The patient, to be sure," said Dr. Garner. + +Soon after this the doctor stood by his patient's side, and found him +writhing, and, to tell the truth, he was using bad language occasionally, +though he evidently tried not to. + +Dr. Garner looked at his watch. "I think there's time to catch the +evening train." + +"Why," said Walter, "surely you would not desert us; this is the crisis, +is it not?" + +"It's something more than that," said the doctor; "the disease knows its +old place; it has gone back to the foot like a shot; and if you can keep +it there, the patient will live; he's not the sort of patient that +strikes his colors while there's a bastion left to defend." + +These words pleased the old Colonel so that he waved a feeble hand above +his head, then groaned most dismally, and ground his teeth to avoid +profanity. + +The doctor, with exquisite gentleness, drew the clothes off his feet, and +sent for a lot of fleecy cotton or wool, and warned them all not to touch +the bed, nor even to approach the lower part of it, and then he once more +proposed to leave, and gave his reasons. + +"Now, look here, you know, I have done my part, and if I give special +instructions to the nurses, they can do the rest. I'm rather dear, and +why should you waste your money?" + +"Dear!" said Walter, warmly; "you're as cheap as dirt, and as good as +gold, and the very sight of you is a comfort to us. There's a fast train +at ten; I'll drive you to the station after breakfast myself. Your +fees--they are nothing to us. We love him, and we are the happiest house +in Christendom; we, that were the saddest." + +"Well," said the doctor, "you north countrymen are hearty people. I'll +stay till to-morrow morning--indeed, I'll stay till the afternoon, for my +London day will be lost anyway." + +He staid accordingly till three o'clock, left his patient out of all +present danger, and advised Walter especially against allowing colchicum +to be administered to him until his strength had recovered. + +"There is no medicinal cure for gout," said he; "pain is a mere symptom, +and colchicum soothes that pain, not by affecting the disease, but by +stilling the action of the heart. Well, if you still the action of that +heart there, you'll kill him as surely as if you stilled it with a pistol +bullet. Knock off his champagne in three or four days, and wheel him into +the sun as soon as you can with safety, fill his lungs with oxygen, and +keep all worry and disputes and mental anxiety from him, if you can. +Don't contradict him for a month to come." + +The Colonel had a terrible bout of it so far as pain was concerned, but +after about a fortnight the paroxysms intermitted, the appetite +increased. Everybody was his nurse; everybody, including Julia Clifford, +humored him; Percy Fitzroy was never mentioned, and the name of Bartley +religiously avoided. The Colonel had got a fright, and was more prudent +in his diet, and always in the open air. + +Walter left him only at odd times, when he could hope to get a hasty word +with Mary, and tell her how things were going, and do all that man could +do to keep her heart up, and reconcile her to the present situation. + +Returning from his wife one day, and leaving her depressed by their +galling situation, though she was never peevish, but very sad and +thoughtful, he found his father and Julia Clifford in the library. +Julia had been writing letters for him; she gave Walter a deprecatory +look, as much as to say, "What I am doing is by compulsion, and you +won't like it." Colonel Clifford didn't leave the young man in any +doubt about the matter. He said: "Walter, you heard me speak of Bell, +the counsel who leads this circuit. I was once so fortunate as to do +him a good turn, and he has not forgotten it; he will sleep here the +day after to-morrow, and he will go over that black-guard's lease: he +has been in plenty of mining cases. I have got a sort of half opinion +out of him already; he thinks it contrary to the equity of contracts +that minerals should pass under a farm lease where the surface of the +soil is a just equivalent to the yearly payment; but the old fox won't +speak positively till he has read every syllable of the lease. However, +it stands to reason that it's a fraud; it comes from a man who is all +fraud; but thank God I am myself again." + +He started up erect as a dart. "I'll have him off my lands; I'll drag him +out of the bowels of the earth, him and all his clan." + +With this and other threats of the same character he marched out of the +room, striking the floor hard with his stick as he went, and left Julia +Clifford amazed, and Walter Clifford aghast, at his vindictive fury. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +THE SERPENT LET LOOSE. + + +Walter Clifford was so distressed at this outburst, and the prospect of +actual litigation between his father and his sweetheart's father, that +Julia Clifford pitied him, and, after thinking a little, said she would +stop it for the present. She then sat down, and in five minutes the +docile pen of a female letter-writer produced an ingratiating composition +impossible to resist. She apologized for her apparent insincerity, but +would be candid, and confide the whole truth to Mr. Bell. Then she told +him that Colonel Clifford "had only just been saved from death by a +miracle, and a relapse was expected in case of any great excitement or +irritation, such as a doubtful lawsuit with a gentleman he disliked would +certainly cause. The proposed litigation was, _for various reasons_, most +distressing to his son and successor, Walter Clifford, and would Mr. Bell +be so very kind as to put the question off as long as possible by any +means he thought proper?" + +Walter was grateful, and said, "What a comfort to have a lady on +one's side!" + +"I would rather have a gentleman on mine," said Julia, laughing. + +Mr. Bell wrote a discreet reply. He would wait till the Assizes--six +weeks' delay--and then write to the Colonel, postponing his visit. This +he did, and promised to look up cases meantime. + +But these two allies not only baffled their irascible chief; they also +humored him to the full. They never mentioned the name of Bartley, and +they kept Percy Fitzroy out of sight in spite of his remonstrances, and, +in a word, they made the Colonel's life so smooth that he thought he was +going to have his own way in everything, and he improved in health and +spirits; for you know it is an old saying, "Always get your own way, and +you'll never die in a pet." + +And then what was still a tottering situation was kept on its legs by the +sweet character and gentle temper of Mary Bartley. + +We have already mentioned that she was superior to most women in the +habit of close attention to whatever she undertook. This was the real key +to her facility in languages, history, music, drawing, and calisthenics, +as her professor called female gymnastics. The flexible creature's limbs +were in secret steel. She could go thirty feet up a slack rope hand over +hand with wonderful ease and grace, and hang by one hand for ten minutes +to kiss the other to her friends. So the very day she was surprised into +consenting to marry Walter secretly she sat down to the Marriage Service +and learned it all by heart directly, and understood most of it. + +By this means she realized that now she had another man to obey as well +as her father. So now, when Walter pressed her for secret meetings, she +said, submissively, "Oh yes, if you insist." She even remarked that she +concluded clandestine meetings were the natural consequence of a +clandestine marriage. + +She used to meet her husband in the day when she could, and often for +five minutes under the moon. And she even promised to spend two or three +days with him at the lakes if a safe opportunity should occur. But for +that she stipulated that Mr. Hope must be absent. + +Walter asked her why she was more afraid of Mr. Hope than of her father. + +Her eyes seemed to look inward dimly, and at first she said she +didn't know. But after pondering the matter a little she said, +"Because he watches me more closely than papa, and that is +because--You won't tell anybody?" + +"No." + +"Not a soul, upon your honor?" + +"Not a soul, dearest, upon my honor." + +"Well, then, because he loves me more." + +"Oh, come!" said Walter, incredulously. + +But Mary would neither resign her opinion nor pursue a subject which +puzzled and grieved her. + +We have now indicated the peaceful tenor of things in Derbyshire for a +period of some months. We shall have to show by-and-by that elements of +discord were accumulating under the surface; but at present we must leave +Derbyshire, and deal very briefly with another tissue of events, +beginning years ago, and running to a date three months, at least, ahead +of Colonel Clifford's recovery. The reader will have no reason to regret +this apparent interruption. Our tale hitherto has been rather sluggish; +but it is in narrative as it is in nature, when two streams unite their +forces the current becomes broader and stronger. + +Leonard Monckton was sent to Pentonville, and after some years +transferred to Portland. In both places he played the game of an old +hand; always kept his temper and carnied everybody, especially the +chaplain and the turnkeys. These last he treated as his only masters; and +if they gave him short weight in bread or meat, catch him making matters +worse by appealing to the governor! Toward the end of his time at +Pentonville he had some thought of suicide, but his spirits revived at +Portland, where he was cheered by the conversation of other villains. +Their name was legion; but as he never met one of them again, except Ben +Burnley, all those miscreants are happily irrelevant. And the reader need +not fear an introduction to them, unless he should find himself garroted +in some dark street or suburb, or his home rifled some dark and windy +night. As for Ben Burnley, he was from the North country, imprisoned for +conspiracy and manslaughter in an attack upon non-union miners. Toward +the end of his time he made an attack upon a warder, and got five years +more. Then Monckton showed him he was a fool, and explained to him his +own plan of conduct, and bade him observe how popular he was with the +warders, and reaped all the favor they dared to show him. + +"He treated me like a dog," said the man, sullenly. + +"I saw it," said Leonard. "And if I had been you I would have said +nothing, but waited till my time was out, and then watched for him till +he got his day out, and settled his hash. That is the way for your sort. +As for me, killing is a poor revenge; it is too soon over. Do you think I +don't mean to be revenged on that skunk Bartley, and, above all, on that +scoundrel Hope, who planted the swag in my pockets, and let me into this +hole for fourteen years?" Then, with all his self-command, he burst into +a torrent of curses, and his pale face was ghastly with hate, and his +eyes glared with demoniac fire, for hell raged in his heart. + +Just then a warder approached, and to Burnley's surprise, who did not see +him coming, Monckton said, gently, "And therefore, my poor fellow, do +just consider that you have broken the law, and the warders are only +doing their duty and earning their bread, and if you were a warder +to-morrow, you'd have to do just what they do." + +"Ay," said the warder, in passing, "you may lecture the bloke, but you +will not make a silk purse out of a sow's ear." + +That was true, but nevertheless the smooth villain Monckton obtained a +great ascendency over this rough, shock-headed ruffian Burnley, and he +got into no more scrapes. He finished his two sentences, and left before +Monckton. This precious pair revealed to each other certain passages in +their beautiful lives. Monckton's were only half-confidences, but Burnley +told Monckton he had been concerned with others in a burglary at +Stockton, and also in the death of an overseer in a mine in Wales, and +gave the particulars with a sort of quaking gusto, and washing his hands +nervously in the tainted air all the time. To be sure the overseer had +earned his fate; he had himself been guilty of a crime--he had been true +to his employer. + +The grateful Burnley left Portland at last, and promised faithfully to +send word to a certain friend of Monckton's, in London, where he was, +and what he was doing. Meantime he begged his way northward from +Portland, for the southern provinces were a dead letter to him. + +Monckton's wife wrote to him as often as the rules of the jail permitted, +and her letters were full of affection, and of hope that their separation +would be shortened. She went into all the details of her life, and it was +now a creditable one. Young women are educated practically in Germany; +and Lucy was not only a good scholar, and almost a linguist, but +excellent at all needlework, and, better still, could cut dresses and +other garments in the best possible style. After one or two inferior +places, she got a situation with an English countess; and from that time +she was passed as a treasure from one member of the aristocracy to +another, and received high stipends, and presents of at least equal +value. Being a German, she put by money, and let her husband know it. But +in the seventh year of her enforced widowhood her letters began to +undergo subtle changes, one after another. + +First there were little exhibitions of impatience. Then there were signs +of languor and a diminution of gush. + +Then there were stronger protestations of affection than ever. + +Then there were mixed with these protestations queries whether the +truest affection was not that which provided for the interests of the +beloved person. + +Then in the eighth year of Monckton's imprisonment she added to remarks +of the above kind certain confessions that she was worn out with +anxieties, and felt her lonely condition; that youth and beauty did not +last forever; that she had let slip opportunities of doing herself +substantial service, and him too, if he could look at things as coolly +now as he used to; and she began to think she had done wrong. + +This line once adopted was never given up, though it was accompanied +once or twice with passionate expressions of regret at the vanity of +long-cherished hopes. Then came a letter, or two more in which the fair +writer described herself as torn this way and that way, and not knowing +what to do for the best, and inveighed against Fate. + +Then came a long silence. + +Then came a short letter imploring him, if he loved her as she loved him, +to try and forget her, except as one who would always watch over his +interests, and weep for him in secret. + +"Crocodile!" said Monckton, with a cold sneer. + +All this showed him it was his interest not to lose his hold on her. So +he always wrote to her in a beautiful strain of faith, affection, and +constancy. + +But this part of the comedy was cut short by the lady discontinuing the +correspondence and concealing her address for years. + +"Ah!" said Monckton, "she wants to cure me. That cock won't fight, my +beauty. A month before he was let loose upon society came a surprise--a +letter from his wife, directing him to call at the office of a certain +solicitor in Serjeant's Inn, Fleet Street, when he would receive £50 upon +his personal receipt, and a similar sum from time to time, provided he +made no attempt to discover her, or in any way disturb her life. 'Oh, +Leonard,' said she, 'you ruined me once. Pray do not destroy me again. +You may be sure I am not happy; but I am in peace and comfort, and I am +old enough to know their value. Dear Leonard, I offer them both to you. +Pray, pray do not despise them, and, whatever you do, do not offend +against the law again. You see how strong it is.'" + +Monckton read this with calm indifference. He did not expect a woman to +give him a pension unconditionally, or without some little twaddle by way +of drawback. He called on the lawyer, and sent in his name. He was +received by the lawyer in person, and eyed very keenly. "I am directed +to call here for £50, sir," said he. + +"Yes, Mr. Monckton. I believe the payment is conditional." + +"No, sir; not the first £50. It is the future payments that are to depend +upon my conniving at my wife's infidelity;" and with that he handed him +the letter. + +The lawyer perused it, and said: "You are right, sir. The £50 shall be +paid to you immediately; but we must request you to consider that our +client is your friend, and acts by our advice, and that it will not be +either graceful or delicate to interpret her conduct to her discredit." + +"My good sir," said Monckton, with one of his cynical sneers, "every time +your client pays me £50, put on the receipt that black is white in +matters of conjugal morality, and I'll sign the whole acknowledgment." + +Finding he had such a serpent to deal with, the lawyer cut the dialogue +short, and paid the money. However, as Monckton was leaving, he said: +"You can write to us when you want any more, and would it be discreet of +me to ask where we can address you?" + +"Why not?" said Monckton. "I have nothing to conceal. However, all I can +tell you at present is that I am going to Hull to try and find a couple +of rogues." + +To Hull he went, breathing avarice and vengeance. This dangerous villain +was quite master of Bartley's secret, and Hope's. To be sure, when Hope +first discovered him in Bartley's office, he was puzzled at the sudden +interference of that stranger. He had only seen Hope's back until this, +and, moreover, Hope had been shabbily dressed in black cloth hard worn, +whereas he was in a new suit of tweed when he exposed Monckton's +villainy. But this was explained at the trial, and Monckton instructed +his attorney to cross-examine Hope about his own great fraud; but counsel +refused to do so, either because he disbelieved his client, or thought +such a cross-examination would be stopped, or set the court still more +against his client. + +Monckton raged at this, and, of course, said he had been bought by the +other side. But now he was delighted that his enemies' secret had never +been inquired into, and that he could fall on them both like a +thunder-bolt. + +He was at Hull next day, and rambled about the old shop, and looked in at +the windows. All new faces, and on the door-plate, "Atkinson & Co." + +Then he went in, and asked for Mr. Bartley. + +Name not known. + +"Why, he used to be here. I was in his employ." + +No; nobody knew Mr. Bartley. + +Could he see Mr. Atkinson? + +Certainly. Mr. Atkinson would be there at two o'clock. + +Monckton, after some preamble, asked whether he had not succeeded in this +business to Mr. Robert Bartley. + +No. He had bought the business from Mrs. Duplex, a widow residing in this +town, and he happened to know that her husband had taken it from +Whitaker, a merchant at Boston. + +"Is he alive, sir?" + +"I believe so, and very well known." + +Monckton went off to Whitaker, and learned from him that he had bought +the business from Bartley, but it was many years ago, and he had never +heard of the purchaser since that day. + +Monckton returned to London baffled. What was he to do? Go to a +secret-inquiry office? Advertise that if Mr. Robert Bartley, late of +Hull, would write to a certain agent, he would hear of something to his +advantage? He did not much fancy either of these plans. He wanted to +pounce on Bartley, or Hope, or both. + +Then he argued thus: "Bartley has got lots of money now, or he would not +have given up business. Ten to one he lives in London, or visits it. I +will try the Park." + +Well, he did try the Park, both at the riding hour and the driving hour. +He saw no Bartley at either time. + +But one day in the Lady's Mile, as he listlessly watched the carriages +defile slowly past him, with every now and then a jam, there crawled +past him a smart victoria, and in it a beautiful woman with glorious +dark eyes, and a lovely little boy, the very image of her. It was his +wife and her son. + +Monckton started, but the lady gave no sign of recognition. She bowed, +but it was to a gentleman at Monckton's side, who had raised his hat to +her with marked respect. + +"What a beautiful crechaar!" said a little swell to the gentleman in +question. "You know her?" + +"Very slightly." + +"Who is she? A duchess?" + +"No; a stock-broker's wife, Mrs. Braham. Why, she is a known beauty." + +That was enough for Monckton. He hung back a little, and followed the +carriage. He calculated that if it left the Park at Hyde Park corner, or +the Marble Arch, he could take a hansom and follow it. + +When the victoria got clear of the crowd at the corner, Mrs. Braham +leaned forward a moment and whispered a word to her coachman. Instantly +the carriage dashed at the Chesterfield Gate and into Mayfair at such a +swift trot that there was no time to get a cab and keep it in sight. + +Monckton lighted a cigarette. "Clever girl!" said he, satirically. "She +knew me, and never winked." + +The next day he went to the lawyer and said, "I have a little favor to +ask you, sir." + +The lawyer was on his guard directly, but said nothing. + +"An interview--in this office--with Mrs. Braham." + +The lawyer winced, but went on his guard again directly. + +"Client of ours?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Braham? Braham?" said the lawyer, affecting to search the caverns of +professional memory. + +"Stock-broker's wife." + +"Where do they live?" + +"What! don't you know? Place of _business_--Threadneedle Street. Place of +_bigamy_--Portman Square." + +"I have no authority to grant a personal interview with any such person." + +"But you have no power to hinder one, and it is her interest the meeting +should take place here, and the stock-broker be out of it." + +The lawyer reflected. + +"Will you promise me it shall be a friendly interview? You will never go +to her husband?" + +"Her stock-broker, you mean. Not I. If she comes to me here when I +want her." + +"Will that be often?" + +"I think not. I have a better card to play than Mrs. Braham. I only want +her to help me to find certain people. Shall we say twelve o'clock +to-morrow?" + +The lawyer called on Mrs. Braham, and after an agitated and tearful +interview, persuaded her to keep the appointment. + +"Consider," said he, "what you gain by making our office the place of +meeting. Establish that at once. It's a point of defense." + +The meeting took place in the lawyer's private room, and Mrs. Braham was +so overcome that she nearly fainted. Then she was hysterical, and finally +tears relieved her. + +When she came to this point, Monckton, who had looked upon the whole +exhibition as a mere preliminary form observed by females, said, + +"Come, Lucy, don't be silly. I am not here to spoil your little game, but +to play my own. The question is, will you help me to make my fortune?" + +"Oh, that I will, if you will not break up my home." + +"Not such a fool, my dear. Catch me killing a milk-cow! You give me a +percentage on your profits, and I'm dumb." + +"Then all you want is more money?" + +"That is all; and I shall not want that in a month's time." + +"I have brought £100, Leonard," she said, timidly. + +"Sensible girl. Hand it over." + +Two white hands trembled at the strings of a little bag, and took out ten +crisp notes. + +Leonard took them with satisfaction. + +"There," said he. "This will last me till I have found Bartley and Hope, +and made my fortune." + +"Hope!" said Mrs. Braham. "Oh, pray keep clear of him! Pray don't attack +_him_ again. He is such an able man!" + +"I will not attack him again to be defeated. Forewarned, forearmed. +Indeed, if I am to bleed Bartley, I don't know how I can be revenged on +Hope. _That is the cruel thing_. But don't you trouble about my business, +Lucy, unless," said he, with a sneer, "you can tell me where to find +them, and so save me a lot of money." + +"Well, Leonard," said Lucy, "it can't be so very hard to find Hope. You +know where that young man lives that you--that I--" + +"Oh, Walter Clifford! Yes, of course I know where _he_ lives. At Clifford +Hall, in Derbyshire." + +"Well, Leonard, Hope saved him from prison, and ruined you. That young +man had a good heart. He would not forget such a kindness. He may not +know where Mr. Bartley lives, but surely he will know where Hope is." + +"Lucy," said Leonard, "you are not such a fool as you were. It is a +chance, at all events. I'll go down to that neighborhood directly. I'll +have a first-rate disguise, and spy about, and pick up all I can." + +"And you will never say anything or do anything to--Oh, Leonard, I'm +a bad wife. I never can be a good one now to anybody. But I'm a good +mother; and I thought God had forgiven me, when he sent me my little +angel. You will never ruin his poor mother, and make her darling +blush for her!" + +"Curse me if I do!" said Leonard, betrayed into a moment's warmth. But he +was soon himself again. "There," said he, "I'll leave the little bloke my +inheritance. Perhaps you don't know I'm heir to a large estate in +Westmoreland; no end of land, and half a lake, _and only eleven lives +between the estate and me_. I will leave my 'great expectations' to that +young bloke. What's his Christian name?" + +"Augustus." + +"And what's his father's name?" + +"Jonathan." + +Leonard then left all his property, real and personal, and all that +should ever accrue to him, to Augustus Braham, son of Jonathan Braham, +and left Lucy Braham sole executrix and trustee. + +Then he hurried into the outer office, signed this document, and got it +witnessed. The clerks proposed to engross it. + +"What for?" said he. "This is the strongest form. All in the same +handwriting as the signature; forgery made easy are your engrossed +wills." + +He took it in to Mrs. Braham, and read it to her, and gave it her. He +meant it all as a joke; he read it with a sneer. But the mother's heart +over-flowed. She put it in her bosom, and kissed his hand. + +"Oh, Leonard," said she, "God bless you! Now I see you mean no ill to me +and mine. _You don't love me enough to be angry with me_. But it all +comes back to _me_. A woman can't forget her first. Now promise me one +thing; don't give way to revenge or avarice. You are so wise when you are +cool, but no man can give way to his passions and be wise. Why run any +more risks? He is liberal to me, and I'm not extravagant. I can allow you +more than I said, and wrong nobody." + +Monckton interrupted her, thus: "There, old girl, you are a good sort; +you always were. But not bleed that skunk Bartley, and not be revenged on +that villain Hope? I'd rather die where I stand, for they have turned my +blood to gall, and lighted hell in my heart this many a year of misery." + +He held out his hand to her; it was cold. She grasped it in her warm, +soft palm, and gave him one strange, searching look with her glorious +eyes; and so they parted. + +Next day, at dusk, there arrived at the Dun Cow an elderly man with a +large carpet-bag and a strapped bundle of patterns--tweed, kersey, +velveteen, and corduroys. He had a short gray mustache and beard, very +neat; and appeared to be a commercial traveller. + +In the evening he asked for brandy, old rum, lemons, powdered sugar, a +kettle, and a punch-bowl. A huge one, relic of a past age, was produced. +He mixed delicious punch, and begged the landlady to sit down and taste +it. She complied, and pronounced it first-rate. He enticed her into +conversation. + +She was a rattling gossip, and told him first her own grievances. Here +was the village enlarging, and yet no more custom coming to her because +of the beer-house. The very mention of this obnoxious institution moved +her bile directly. "A pretty gentleman," said she, "to brew his own beer +and undersell a poor widow that have been here all her days and her +father before her! But the Colonel won't let me be driven out altogether, +no more will Mr. Walter: he do manage for the old gentleman now." + +Monckton sipped and waited for the name of Hope, but it did not come. +The good lady deluged him with the things that interested her. She was +to have a bit of a farm added on to the Dun Cow. It was to be grass +land, and not much labor wanted. She couldn't undertake that; was it +likely? But for milking of cows and making butter or cheese, that she +was as good at as here and there one; and if she could have the custom +of the miners for her milk. "But, la, sir," said she, "I'll go bail as +that there Bartley will take and set up a dairy against me, as he have a +beer shop." + +"Bartley?" said Monckton, inquiringly. + +"Ay, sir; him as owns the mine, and the beer shop, and all, worse +luck for me." + +"Bartley? Who is he?" + +"Oh, one of those chaps that rise from nothing nowadays. Came here to +farm; but that was a blind, the Colonel says. Sunk a mine, he did, and +built a pit village, and turns everything into brass [money]. But there, +you are a stranger, sir; what is all this to you?" + +"Why, it is very interesting," said Monckton. "Mistress, I always like to +hear the whole history of every place I stop at, especially from a +sensible woman like you, that sees to the bottom of things. Do have +another glass. Why, I should be as dull as ditch-water, now, if I had not +your company." + +"La, sir, I'm sure you are welcome to my company in a civil way; and for +the matter of that you are right; life is life, and there's plenty to be +learned in a public--do but open your eyes and ears." + +"Have another glass with me. I am praised for my punch." + +"You deserve it, sir. Better was never brewed." + +She sipped and sipped, and smacked her lips, till it was all gone. + +This glass colored her cheeks, brightened her eyes, and even loosened her +tongue, though that was pretty well oiled by nature. + +"Well, sir," said she, "you are a bird of passage, here to-day and gone +to-morrow, and it don't matter much what I tell you, so long as I don't +tell no lies. _There will be a row in this village_." + +Having delivered this formidable prophecy, the coy dame pushed her glass +to her companion for more, and leaning back cozily in the old-fashioned +high-backed chair, observed the effect of her thunder-bolt. + +Monckton rubbed his hands. "I'm glad of it," said he, genially; "that is +to say, provided my good hostess does not suffer by it." + +"I'm much beholden to you, sir," said the lady. "You are the +civilest-spoken gentleman I have entertained this many a day. Here's your +health, and wishing you luck in your business, and many happy days well +spent. My service to you, sir." + +"The same to you, ma'am." + +"Well, sir, in regard to a row between the gentlefolks--not that I call +that there Bartley one--judge for yourself. You are a man of the world +and a man of business, and an elderly man apparently." + +"At all events, I am older than you, madam." + +"That is as may be," said Mrs. Dawson, dryly. "We hain't got the parish +register here, and all the better for me. So once more I say, judge for +yourself." + +"Well, madam," said Monckton, "I will try, if you will oblige me with +the facts." + +"That is reasonable," said Mrs. Dawson, loftily, but after some little +consideration. "The facts I will declare, and not a lie among 'em." + +"That will be a novelty," thought her cynical hearer, but he held his +tongue, and looked respectfully attentive. + +"Colonel Clifford," said Mrs. Dawson, "hates Bartley like poison, and +Bartley him. The Colonel vows he will have him off the land and out +of the bowels of the earth, and he have sent him a lawyer's letter; +for everything leaks out in this village, along of the servants' +chattering. Bartley he don't value a lawyer's letter no more than +that. He defies the Colonel, and they'll go at it hammer and tongs at +the 'Sizes, and spend a mint of money in law. That's one side of the +question. But there's another. Master Walter is deep in love with +Miss Mary." + +"Who is she?" + +"Who is she? Why, Bartley's daughter, to be sure; not as I'd believe it +if I hadn't known her mother, for she is no more like him in her looks or +her ways than a tulip is to a dandelion. She is the loveliest girl in the +county, and better than she's bonny. You don't catch _her_ drawing bridle +at her papa's beer-house, and she never passes my picture. It's 'Oh, Mrs. +Dawson, I _am_ so thirsty, a glass of your good cider, please, and a +little hay and water for Deersfoot.' That's her way, bless your silly +heart! _She_ ain't dry; and Deersfoot, he's full of beans, and his coat's +like satin; but that's Miss Mary's way of letting me know that she's my +customer, and nobody else's in the town. God bless her, and send her many +happy days with the man of her heart, and that is Walter Clifford, for +she is just as fond of him as he is of her. I seen it all from the first +day. 'Twas love at first sight, and still a-growing to this day. Them old +fogies may tear each other to pieces, but they won't part such lovers as +those. There's not a girl in the village that doesn't run to look at +them, and admire them, and wish them joy. Ay, and you mark my words, they +are young, but they have got a spirit, both of them. Miss Mary, she looks +you in the face like a lion and a dove all in one. They may lead her, but +they won't drive her. And Walter, he's a Clifford from top to toe. +Nothing but death will part them two. Them's the facts, sir, without a +lie, which now I'm a-waiting for judgment." + +"Mrs. Dawson," said Monckton, solemnly, "since you do me the honor to ask +my opinion, I say that out of these facts a row will certainly arise, and +a deadly one." + +"It must, sir; and Will Hope will have to take a side. 'Tis no use his +trying to be everybody's friend this time, though that's his natural +character, poor chap." + +Monckton's eyes flashed fire, but he suppressed all appearance of +excitement, and asked who Mr. Hope was. + +Mrs. Dawson brightened at the very name of her favorite, and said, "Who +is Will Hope? Why, the cleverest man in Derbyshire, for one thing; but he +is that Bartley's right-hand man, worse luck. He is inspector of the mine +and factotum. He is the handiest man in England. He invents machines, and +makes fiddles and plays 'em, and mends all their clocks and watches and +wheel-barrows, and charges 'em naught. He makes hisself too common. I +often tell him so. Says I, 'Why dost let 'em all put on thee so? Serve +thee right if I was to send thee my pots and pans to mend.' 'And so do,' +says he, directly. 'There's no art in it, if you can make the sawder, and +I can do that, by the Dick and Harry!' And one day I said to him, 'Do +take a look at this fine new cow of mine as cost me twenty-five good +shillings and a quart of ale. What ever is the matter with her? She looks +like the skin of a cow flattened against the board.' So says he, 'Nay, +she's better drawn than nine in ten; but she wants light and shade. Send +her to my workshop.' 'Ay, ay,' says I; 'thy workshop is like the +church-yard; we be all bound to go there one day or t'other.' Well, sir, +if you believe me, when they brought her home and hung her again she +almost knocked my eye out. There was three or four more women looking on, +and I mind all on us skreeked a bit, and our hands went up in the air as +if one string had pulled the lot; and says Bet Morgan, the carter's wife, +'Lord sake, gie me a bucket somebody, and let me milk her!' 'Nay, but +thou shalt milk me,' said I, and a pint of fourpenny I gave her, then and +there, for complimenting of my cow. Will Hope, he's everybody's friend. +He made the Colonel a crutch with his own hands, which the Colonel can +use no other now. Walter swears by him. Miss Mary dotes on him: he saved +her life in the river when she was a girl. The very miners give him a +good word, though he is very strict with them; and as for Bartley, it's +my belief he owes all his good luck to Will Hope. And to think he was +born in this village, and left it a poor lad; ay, and he came back here +one day as poor as Job, seems but t'other day, with his bundle on his +back and his poor little girl in his hand. I dare say I fed them both +with whatever was going, poor bodies." + +"What was she like?" + +"A poor little wizened thing. She had beautiful golden hair, though." + +"Like Miss Bartley's?" + +"Something, but lighter." + +"Have you ever seen her since?" + +"No; and I never shall." + +"Who knows?" + +"Nay, sir. I asked him after her one day when he came home for good. He +never answered me, and he turned away as if I had stung him. She has +followed her mother, no doubt. And so now she is gone he's well-to-do; +and that is the way of it, sir. God sends mouths where there is no meat, +and meat where there's no mouths. But He knows best, and sees both worlds +at once. We can only see this one--that's full of trouble." + +Monckton now began to yawn, for he wanted to be alone and think over the +schemes that floated before him now. + +"You are sleepy, sir," said Mrs. Dawson. "I'll go and see your bed is +all right." + +He thanked her and filled her glass. She tossed it off like a man this +time, and left him to doze in his chair. + +Doze, indeed! Never did a man's eyes move to and fro more restlessly. +Every faculty was strung to the utmost. + +At first as all the _dramatis personae_ he was in search of came out one +after another from that gossip's tongue, he was amazed and delighted to +find that instead of having to search for one of them in one part of +England, and another in another, he had got them all ready to his hand. +But soon he began to see that they were too near each other, and some of +them interwoven, and all the more dangerous to attack. + +He saw one thing at a glance. That it would be quite a mistake to settle +a plan of action. That is sometimes a great advantage in dealing with the +unguarded. But it creates a stiffness. Here all must be supple and fitted +with watchful tact to the situation as it rose. Everything would have to +be shot flying. + +Then as to the immediate situation, Reader, did ever you see a careful +setter run suddenly into the middle of a covey who were not on their feet +nor close together, but a little dispersed and reposing in high cover in +the middle of the day? No human face is ever so intense or human form +more rigid. He knows that one bird is three yards from his nose, another +the same distance from either ear, and, in short, that they are all about +him, and to frighten one is to frighten all. + +His tail quivers, and then turns to steel, like his limbs. His eyes +glare; his tongue fears to pant; it slips out at one side of his teeth +and they close on it. Then slowly, slowly, he goes down, noiseless as a +cat, and crouches on the long covert, whether turnips, rape, or clover. + +Even so did this designing cur crouch in the Dun Cow. + +The loyal quadruped is waiting for his master, and his anxiety is +disinterested. The biped cur was waiting for the first streak of dawn to +slip away to some more distant and safe hiding-place and sally-port than +the Dun Cow, kept by a woman who was devoted to Hope, to Walter, and to +Mary, and had all her wits about her--mother-wit included. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE SERPENT. + + +Monckton slipped away at the dawn, and was off to Derby to prepare +first-rate disguises. + +At Derby, going through the local papers, he found lodgings offered at a +farm-house to invalids, fresh milk and eggs, home-made bread, etc. The +place was within a few miles of Clifford Hall. Monckton thought this +would suit him much better than being too near. When his disguises were +ready, he hired a horse and dog-cart by the month, and paid a deposit, +and drove to the place in question. He put some shadow under his eyes to +look more like an invalid. He had got used to his own cadaverous tint, so +that seemed insufficient. + +The farmer's wife looked at him, and hesitated. + +"Well, sir," said she, with a blush, "we takes 'em in to cure, not to--" + +"Not to bury," said Monckton. "Don't you be alarmed. I have got no time +to die; I'm too busy. Why, I have been much worse than this. I am +convalescent now." + +"Ye don't say so, sir!" said she. "Well, I see your heart is good" (the +first time he had ever been told that), "and so I've a mind to risk it." + +Then she quickly clapped on ten shillings a week more for color, and he +was installed. He washed his face, and then the woman conceived hopes of +him, and expressed them in rustic fashion. "Well," said she, "dirt is a +disguise. Now I look at you, you have got more mischief to do in the +world yet, I do believe." + +"A deal more, I hope," said he. + +It now occurred to him, all of a sudden, that really he was not in good +health, and that he had difficulties before him which required calm +nerves, and that nerves are affected by the stomach. So, not to throw a +chance away, he had the sense and the resolution to devote a few days to +health and unwholesome meditation. + +This is a discordant world: even vices will not always pull the same +way. Here was a sinister villain distracted between avarice and revenge, +and sore puzzled which way to turn. Of course he could expose the real +parentage of Mary Bartley, and put both Bartley and Hope to shame, and +then the Cliffords would make Bartley disgorge the £20,000. But he, +Monckton, would not make a shilling by that, and it would be a weak +revenge on Bartley, who could now spare £20,000, and no revenge at all on +Hope, for Hope was now well-to-do, and would most likely be glad to get +his daughter back. Then, on the other hand, he could easily frighten +Bartley into giving him £5000 to keep dark, but in that case he must +forego his vengeance on Hope. + +This difficulty had tormented Monckton all along; but now Mrs. Dawson had +revealed another obstacle. Young Clifford and Mary in love with each +other. What Mrs. Easton saw as a friend, with her good mother-wit, this +man saw in a moment as an enemy, viz., that this new combination dwarfed +the £20,000 altogether. Monckton had no idea that his unknown antagonist +Nurse Easton had married the pair, but the very attachment, as the +chatter-box of the Dun Cow described it, was a bitter pill to him. "Who +could have foreseen this?" said he. "It's devilish." We did not ourselves +intend our readers to feel it so, or we would not have spent so much time +over it. But as regards that one adjective, Mr. Monckton is a better +authority than we are. He had a document with him that, skillfully used, +might make mischief for a time between these lovers. But he foresaw there +could be no permanent result without the personal assistance of Mrs. +Braham. That he could have commanded fourteen years ago, but now he felt +how difficult it would be. He would have to threaten and torment her +almost to madness before she would come down to Derbyshire and declare +that this Walter Clifford was the Walter Clifford of the certificate, and +that she was his discarded wife. But Monckton was none the less resolved +she should come if necessary. Leaving him _varius distractum vitiis_, and +weighing every scheme, with its pros and cons, and, like a panther +crouching and watching before he would make his first spring, we will now +bring our other characters up to the same point, and that will not take +us long, for during the months we have skipped there were not many +events, and Mrs. Dawson has told the readers some of them, and the rest +were only detached incidents. + +The most important in our opinion were: + +1. That Colonel Clifford resumed his determination to marry Julia +Clifford to Walter, and pooh-poohed Fitzroy entirely, declaring him to be +five feet nothing, and therefore far below the military standard. + +2. That Hope rented a cottage of Walter about three hundred yards +from the mine, and not upon the land that was leased to Bartley; that +there was a long detached building hard by, which Walter divided for +him, and turned into an office with a large window close to the +ground, and a workshop with a doorway and an aperture for a window, +but no window nor door. + +3. That Hope got more and more uneasy about the £20,000, and observed to +Bartley that they must be robbing _somebody_ of it without the excuse +they once had. He, for his part, would work to disgorge his share. +Bartley replied that the money would have gone to a convent if he had not +saved it from so vile a fate. This said the astute Bartley because one +day Hope, who had his opinions on everything, inveighed against a +convent, and said no private prisons ought to exist in a free country. So +Bartley's ingenious statement stunned Hope for a minute, but did not +satisfy his conscience. + +4. Hope went to London for a week, and Mary spent four days with her +husband at a hotel near the lake; but not the one held by Mrs. Easton's +sister. This change was by advice of Mrs. Easton. On this occasion Mary +played the woman. She requested Walter to get her some orange blossoms, +and she borrowed a diamond bracelet of Julia, and sat down to dinner with +her husband in evening dress, and dazzled him with her lovely arms and +bust, and her diamond bracelet and eyes that outshone it. She seemed ever +so much larger as well as lovelier, and Walter gazed at her with a sort +of loving awe, and she smiled archly at him, and it was the first time +she had really enjoyed her own beauty, or even troubled her head much +about it. They condensed a honey-moon into these four days, and came home +compensated for their patience, and more devoted than ever. But whilst +they were away Colonel Clifford fired his attorney at Mr. Bartley, and +when Mary came home, Bartley, who had lately connived at the love affair, +told Mary this, and forbade her strictly to hold any more intercourse +with Walter Clifford. + +This was the state of things when "the hare with many friends," and only +one enemy, returned to his cottage late in the afternoon. But before +night everybody knew he had come home, and next morning they were all at +him in due order. No sooner was he seated in his workshop, studying the +lines of a new machine he was trying to invent, than he was startled from +intense thought into the attitude of Hogarth's enraged musician by cries +of "Mr. Hope! Mr. Hope! Mr. Hope!" and there was a little lot of eager +applicants. First a gypsy boy with long black curls and continuous +genuflections, and a fiddle, and doleful complaints that he could not +play it, and that it was the fiddle's fault. + +"Well, it is for once," said Hope. "Why, you little duffer, don't you see +the bridge is too low?" + +He slackened the string, removed the bridge, fitted on a higher one, +tuned it, and handed it over. + +"There," said he, "play us one of the tunes of Egypt. 'The Rogue's +March,' eh? and mizzle." + +The supple Oriental grinned and made obeisances, pretended not to know +"The Rogue's March" (to the hen-house), and went off playing "Johnny +Comes Marching Home." (Bridewell to wit.) + +Then did Miss Clifford's French maid trip forward smirking with a parasol +to mend: _Désolée de vous déranger, Monsieur Hope, mais notre demoiselle +est au désespoir: oh, ces parasols Anglais_! + +"_Connu_," said Hope, "_voyons çà _;" and in a minute repaired the +article, and the girl spread it, and went off wriggling and mincing with +it, so that there was a pronounced horse-laugh at her minauderies. + +Then advanced a rough young English nurse out of a farm-house with a +child that could just toddle. She had left an enormous doll with Hope for +repairs, and the child had given her no peace for the last week. Luckily +the doll was repaired, and handed over. The mite, in whose little bosom +maternal feelings had been excited, insisted on carrying her child. The +consequence was that at about the third step they rolled over one +another, and to spectators at a little distance it was hard to say which +was the parent and which the offspring. Them the strapping lass in charge +seized roughly, and at the risk of dislocating their little limbs, tossed +into the air and caught, one on each of her own robust arms, and carried +them off stupidly irritated--for want of a grain of humor--at the +good-natured laugh this caused, and looking as if she would like to knock +their little heads together. + +Under cover of this an old man in a broad hat, and seemingly infirm, +crept slowly by and looked keenly at Hope, but made no application. Only +while taking stock of Hope his eyes flashed wickedly, and much too +brightly for so old a man as he appeared. He did not go far; he got +behind a tree, and watched the premises. Then a genuine old man and +feeble came and brought Hope his clock to mend. Hope wound it up, and it +went to perfection. The old man had been a stout fellow when Hope was a +boy, but now he was weak, especially in the upper story. Hope saw at +once that the young folk had sent him there for a joke, and he did not +approve it. + +"Gaffer," said he, "this will want repairing every eight days; but don't +you come here any more; I'll call on you every week, and repair it for +auld lang syne." + +Whilst he toddled away, and Hope retired behind his lathe to study his +model in peace, Monckton raged at the sight of him and his popularity. + +"Ay," said he, "you are a genius. You can model a steam-engine or mend a +doll, and you outwitted me, and gave me fourteen years. But you will find +me as ingenious as you at one thing, and that's revenge." + +And now a higher class of visitors began to find their way to the general +favorite. The first was a fair young lady of surpassing beauty. She +strolled pensively down the green turf, cast a hasty glance in at the +workshop, and not seeing Hope, concluded he was a little tired after his +journey, and had not yet arrived. She strolled slowly down then, and +seated herself in a large garden chair, stuffed, that Hope had made, and +placed there for Colonel Clifford. That worthy frequented the spot +because he had done so for years, and because it was a sweet turfy slope; +and there was a wonderful beech-tree his father had made him plant when +he was five years old. It had a gigantic silvery stem, and those giant +branches which die crippled in a beech wood but really belong to the +isolated tree, as one Virgil discovered before we were born. Mary Bartley +then lowered her parasol, and settled into the Colonel's chair under the +shade _patulae fagi_--of the wide-spreading beech-tree. + +She sat down and sighed. Monckton eyed her from his lurking-place, and +made a shrewd guess who she was, but resolved to know. + +Presently Hope caught a glimpse of her, and came forward and leaned out +of the window to enjoy the sight of her. He could do that unobserved, for +he was a long way behind her at a sharp angle. + +He was still a widower and this his only child, and lovely as an angel; +and he had seen her grow into ripe loveliness from a sick girl. He had +sinned for her and saved her; he had saved her again from a more terrible +death. He doted on her, and it was always a special joy to him when he +could gloat on her unseen. Then he had no need to make up an artificial +face and hide his adoration from her. + +But soon a cloud came over his face and his paternal heart. He knew she +had a lover; and she looked like a girl who was waiting pensively for +him. She had not come there for him whom she knew only as her devoted +friend. At this thought the poor father sighed. + +Mary's quick senses caught that, and she turned her head, and her sweet +face beamed. + +"You _are_ there, after all, Mr. Hope." + +Hope was delighted. Why, it was him she had come to see, after all. He +came down to her directly, radiant, and then put on a stiff manner he +often had to wear, out of fidelity to Bartley, who did not deserve it. + +"This is early for you to be out, Miss Bartley." + +"Of course it is," said she. "But I know it is the time of day when you +are kind to anybody that comes, and mend all their rubbish for them, and +I could kill them for their impudence in wasting your time so. And I am +as bad as the rest. For here I am wasting your time in my turn. Yes, dear +Mr. Hope, you are so kind to everybody and mend their things, I want you +to be kind to me and mend--my prospects for me." + +Hope's impulse was to gather into his arms and devour with kisses this +sweet specimen of womanly tenderness, frank inconsistency, naïveté, +and archness. + +As he could not do that, he made himself extra stiff. + +"Your prospects. Miss Bartley! Why, they are brilliant. Heiress to all +the growing wealth and power around you." + +"Wealth and power!" said the girl. "What is the use of them, if our +hearts are to be broken? Oh, Mr. Hope, papa is so unkind. He has +forbidden me to speak to him." Then, gravely, "That command comes +too late." + +"I fear it does," said Hope. "I have long suspected something." + +"Suspected?" said Mary, turning pale. "What?" + +"That you and Walter Clifford--" + +"Yes," said Mary, trembling inwardly, but commanding her face. + +"Are--engaged." + +Mary drew a long breath. "What makes you think so?" said she, +looking down. + +"Well, there is a certain familiarity--no, that is too strong a word; but +there is more ease between you than there was. Ever since I came back +from Belgium I have seen that the preliminaries of courtship were over, +and you two looked on yourselves as one." + +"Mr. Hope," said this good, arch girl, and left off panting, "you are +a terrible man. Papa is eyes and no eyes. You frighten me; but not +very much, for you would not watch me so closely if you did not love +me--a little." + +"Not a little, Miss Bartley." + +"Mary, please." + +"Mary. I have seen you a sickly child; I have been anxious--who would +not? I have seen you grow in health and strength, and every virtue." + +"And seen me tumble into the water and frighten you out of your senses, +and there's nothing one loves like a downright pest, especially if she +loves us; and I do love you, Mr. Hope, dearly, dearly, and I promise to +be a pest to you all your days. Ah, here he comes at last." She made two +eager steps to meet him, then she said, "Oh! I forgot," and came back +again and looked prodigiously demure and innocent. + +Walter came on with his usual rush, crying, "Mary, how good of you!" + +Mary put her fingers in her ears. "No, no, no; we are forbidden to +communicate." Then, imitating a stiff man of business--for she was a +capital mimic when she chose--"any communication you may wish to honor me +with must be addressed to this gentleman, Mr. Hope; he will convey it to +me, and it shall meet with all the attention it deserves." + +Walter laughed, and said, "That's ingenious." + +"Of course it is ingenuous," said Mary, subtly. "That's my character +to a fault." + +"Well, young people," said Hope, "I am not sure that I have time to +repeat verbal communications to keen ears that heard them. And I think I +can make myself more useful to you. Walter, your father has set his +lawyer on to Mr. Bartley, and what is the consequence? Mr. Bartley +forbids Mary to speak to you, and the next thing will be a summons, +lawsuit, and a great defeat, and loss to your father and you. Mr. Bartley +sent me the lawyer's letter. He hopes to get out of a clear contract by +pleading a surprise. Now you must go to the lawyer--it is no use arguing +with your father in his present heat--and you must assure him there has +been no surprise. Why, I called on Colonel Clifford years ago, and told +him there was coal on that farm; and I almost went on my knees to him to +profit by it." + +"You don't say that, Mr. Hope?" + +"I do say it, and I shall have to swear it. You may be sure Mr. Bartley +will subpoena me, if this wretched squabble gets into court." + +"But what did my father say to you?" + +"He was kind and courteous to me. I was poor as a rat, and dusty with +travel--on foot; and he was a fine gentleman, as he always is, when he is +not in too great a passion. He told me more than one land-owner had +wasted money in this county groping for coal. He would not waste his +money nor dirty his fingers. But he thanked me for my friendly zeal, and +rewarded me with ten shillings." + +"Oh!" cried Walter, and hid his face in his hands. As for Mary, she put +her hand gently but quietly on Hope's shoulder, as if to protect him from +such insults. + +"Why, children," said Hope, pleased at their sympathy, but too manly to +hunt for it, "it was more than he thought the information worth, and I +assure you it was a blessed boon to me. I had spent my last shilling, and +there I was trapesing across the island on a wild-goose chase with my +reaping-hook and my fiddle; and my poor little Grace, that I--that I--" + +Mary's hand went a moment to his other shoulder, and she murmured through +her tears, "You have got _me_." + +Then Hope was happy again, and indeed the simplest woman can find in a +moment the very word that is balm of Gilead to a sorrowful man. + +However, Hope turned it off and continued his theme. The jury, he said, +would pounce on that ten shillings as the Colonel's true estimate of his +coal, and he would figure in the case as a dog in the manger who grudged +Bartley the profits of a risky investment he had merely sneered at and +not opposed, until it turned out well; and also disregarded the interests +of the little community to whom the mine was a boon. "No," said Hope; +"tell your lawyer that I am Bartley's servant, but love equity. I have +proposed to Bartley to follow a wonderful seam of coal under Colonel +Clifford's park. We have no business there. So if the belligerents will +hear reason I will make Bartley pay a royalty on every ton that comes to +the surface from any part of the mine; and that will be £1200 a year to +the Cliffords. Take this to the lawyer and tell him to unfix that hero's +bayonet, or he will charge at the double and be the death of his own +money--and yours." + +Walter threw up his hands with amazement and admiration. "What a +head!" said he. + +"Fiddledee!" said Mary; "what a heart!" + +"In a word, a phoenix," said Hope, dryly. "Praise is sweet, especially +behind one's back. So pray go on, unless you have something better to +say to each other;" and Hope retired briskly into his office. But when +the lovers took him at his word, and began to strut up and down hand in +hand, and murmur love's music into each other's ears, he could not take +his eyes off them, and his thoughts were sad. She had only known that +young fellow a few months, yet she loved him passionately, and he would +take her away from her father before she even knew all that father had +done and suffered for her. When the revelation did come she would +perhaps be a wife and a mother, and then even that revelation would fall +comparatively flat. + +Besides his exceptional grief, he felt the natural pang of a father at +the prospect of resigning her to a husband. Hard is the lot of parents; +and, above all, of a parent with one child whom he adores. Many other +creatures love their young tenderly, and their young leave them. But then +the infancy and youth of those creatures are so short. In a few months +the young shift for themselves, forgetting and forgotten. But with our +young the helpless periods of infancy and youth are so long. Parental +anxiety goes through so many trials and so various, and they all strike +roots into the parent's heart. Yet after twenty years of love and hope +and fear comes a handsome young fellow, a charming highwayman to a +parent's eye, and whisks her away after two months' courtship. Then, oh, +ye young, curb for a moment your blind egotism, and feel a little for the +parents who have felt so much for you! You rather like William Hope, so +let him help you to pity your own parents. See his sad face as he looks +at the love he is yet too unselfish to discourage. To save that tender +root, a sickly child, he transplanted it from his own garden, and still +tended it with loving care for many a year. Another gathers the flower. +He watched and tended and trembled over the tender nestling. The young +bird is trying her wings before his eyes; soon she will spread them, and +fly away to a newer nest and a younger bosom. + +In this case, however, the young people had their troubles too, and their +pretty courtship was soon interrupted by an unwelcome and unexpected +visitor, who, as a rule, avoided that part, for the very reason that +Colonel Clifford frequented it. However, he came there to-day to speak to +Hope. Mr. Bartley, for he it was, would have caught the lovers if he had +come silently; but he was talking to a pitman as he came, and Mary's +quick ears heard his voice round the corner. + +"Papa!" cried she. "Oh, don't let him see us! Hide!" + +"Where?" + +"Anywhere--in here--quick!" and she flew into Hope's workshop, which +indeed offered great facilities for hiding. However, to make sure, they +crouched behind the lathe and a huge plank of beautiful mahogany Hope was +very proud of. + +As soon as they were hidden, Mary began to complain in a whisper. "This +comes of our clandestine m--. Our very life is a falsehood; concealment +is torture--and degradation." + +"I don't feel it. I call this good fun." + +"Oh, Walter! Good fun! For shame! Hush!" + +Bartley bustled on to the green, called Hope out, and sat down in Colonel +Clifford's chair. Hope came to him, and Bartley, who had in his hand some +drawings of the strata in the coal mine, handed the book to Hope, and +said, "I quite agree with you. That is the seam to follow: there's a +fortune in it." + +"Then you are satisfied with me?" + +"More than satisfied." + +"I have something to ask in return." + +"I am not likely to say no, my good friend," was the cordial reply. + +"Thank you. Well, then, there is an attachment between Mary and young +Clifford." + +Bartley was on his guard directly. + +"Her happiness is at stake. That gives me a right to interfere, and say, +'be kind to her.'" + +"Am I not kind to her? Was any parent ever kinder? But I must be wise as +well as kind. Colonel Clifford can disinherit his son." + +At this point the young people ventured to peep and listen, taking +advantage of the circumstance that both Hope and Bartley were at some +distance, with their backs turned to the workshop. + +So they both heard Hope say, + +"Withdraw your personal opposition to the match, and the other difficulty +can be got over. If you want to be kind to a young woman, it is no use +feeding her ambition and her avarice, for these are a man's idols. A +woman's is love." + +Mary wafted the speaker a furtive kiss. + +"To enrich that dear child after your death, thirty years hence, and +break her heart in the flower of her youth, is to be unkind to her; and +if you are unkind to her, our compact is broken." + +"Unkind to her," said Bartley. "What male parent has ever been more kind, +more vigilant? Sentimental weakness is another matter. My affection is +more solid. Can I oblige you in anything that is business?" + +"Mr. Bartley," said Hope, "you can not divert me from the more important +question: business is secondary to that dear girl's happiness. However, I +have more than once asked you to tell me who is the loser of that large +sum, which, as you and I have dealt with it, has enriched you and given +me a competence." + +"That's my business," said Bartley, sharply, "for you never fingered a +shilling of it. So if the pittance I pay you for conducting my business +burns your pocket, why, send it to Rothschild." + +And having made this little point, Bartley walked away to escape further +comment, and Hope turned on his heel and walked into his office, and out +at the back door directly, and proceeded to his duties in the mine; but +he was much displeased with Bartley, and his looks showed it. + +The coast lay clear. The lovers came cautiously out, and silently too, +for what they had heard puzzled them not a little. + +Mary came out first, and wore a very meditative look. She did not say a +word till they got to some little distance from the workshop. Then she +half turned her head toward Walter, who was behind her, and said, "I +suppose you know we have done a contemptible thing--listening?" + +"Well," said Walter, "it wasn't good form; but," added he, "we could +hardly help it." + +"Of course not," said Mary. "We have been guilty of a concealment that +drives us into holes and corners, and all manner of meannesses must be +expected to follow. Well, we _have_ listened, and I am very glad of it; +for it is plain we are not the only people who have got secrets. Now +tell me, please, what does it all mean?" + +"Well, Mary," said Walter, "to tell the truth, it is all Greek to +me, except about the money. I think I could give a guess where that +came from." + +"There, now!" cried Mary; "that is so like you gentlemen. +Money--money--money! Never mind the money part; leave that to take care +of itself. Can you explain what Mr. Hope said to papa about _me_? Mr. +Hope is a very superior man, and papa's adviser _in business_. But, after +all, he is in papa's employment. Papa _pays_ him. Then how comes he to +care more about my happiness than papa does--and say so?" + +"Why, you begged him to intercede." + +"Yes," said Mary, "but not to threaten papa; not to say, 'If you are +unkind to Mary, our compact is broken.'" + +Then she pondered awhile; then she turned to Walter, and said: + +"What sort of compact is that? A compact between a father and another +gentleman that a father shall not be unkind to his own daughter? Did you +ever hear of such a thing?" + +"I can't say I ever did." + +"Did you ever hear tell of such a thing?" + +"Well, now you put it to me, I don't think I ever did." + +"And yet you could run off about money. What's money! This compact is a +great mystery. It's my business from this hour to fathom that mystery. +Please let me think." + +Mary's face now began to show great power and intensity; her eyes seemed +to veil themselves, and to turn down their glances inward. + +Walter was struck with the intensity of that fair brow, those remarkable +eyes, and that beautiful face; they seemed now to be all strung up to +concert pitch. He kept silent and looked at his wife with a certain +reverence, for to tell the truth she had something of the Pythian +priestess about her, when she concentrated her whole mind on any one +thing in this remarkable manner. At last the oracle spoke: + +"Mr. Hope has been deceiving me with some good intention. He pretends to +be subservient to papa, but he is the master. How he comes to be master I +don't know, but so it is, Walter. If it came to a battle royal, Mr. Hope +would side, not with papa, but with me." + +"That's important, if true," said Walter, dryly. + +"It's true," said Mary, "and it's important." Then she turned suddenly +round on him. "How did you feel when you ran into that workshop, and we +both crouched, and hid like criminals or slaves?" + +"Well," said Walter, hanging his head, "to tell the truth, I took a comic +view of the business." + +"I can't do that," said Mary. "I respect my husband, and can't bear him +to hide from the face of any mortal man; and I am proud of my own love, +and indignant to think that I have condescended to hide it." + +"It is a shame," said Walter, "and I hope we sha'n't have to hide it +much longer. Oh, bother, how unfortunate! here's my father. What are +we to do?" + +"I'll tell you," said Mary, resolutely. "You must speak to him at once, +and win him over to our side. Tell him Julia is going to marry Percy +Fitzroy on the first of next month, then tell him all that Mr. Hope said +you were to tell the lawyer, and then tell him what you have made me +believe, that you love me better than your life, and that I love you +better still; and that no power _can_ part us. If you can soften him, Mr. +Hope shall soften papa." + +"But if he is too headstrong to be softened?" faltered Walter. + +"Then," said Mary, "you must defy my papa, and I shall defy yours." + +After a moment's thought she said: "Walter, I shall stay here till he +sees me and you together; then he won't be able to run off about his +mines, and his lawsuits, and such rubbishy things. His attention will be +attracted to our love, and so you will have it out with him, whilst I +retire a little way--not far--and meditate upon Mr. Hope's strange words, +and ponder over many things that have happened within my recollection." + +True to this policy, the spirited girl waited till Colonel Clifford came +on the green, and then made Walter as perfect a courtesy as ever graced a +minuet at the court of Louis le Grand. + +Walter took off his hat to her with chivalric grace and respect. Colonel +Clifford drew up in a stiff military attitude, which flavored rather of +the parade or the field of battle than the court either of the great +monarch or of little Cupid. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE SECRET IN DANGER. + + +"Hum!" said the Colonel, dryly; "a petticoat!" + +"Et cetera," suggested Walter, meekly; and we think he was right, for a +petticoat has never in our day been the only garment worn by females, +nor even the most characteristic: fishermen wear petticoats, and don't +wear bonnets. + +"Who is she, sir?" asked the grim Colonel. + +"Your niece, father," said Walter, mellifluously, "and the most beautiful +girl in Derbyshire." + +The Colonel snorted, but didn't condescend to go into the question +of beauty. + +"Why did my niece retire at sight of me?" was his insidious inquiry. + +"Well," said Walter, meekly, "the truth is, some mischief-making fool has +been telling her that you have lost all natural affection for your dead +sister's child." + +The stout Colonel staggered for a moment, snorted, and turned it off. +"You and she are very often together, it seems." + +"All the better for me," said Walter, stoutly. + +"And all the worse for me," retorted the Colonel. And as men gravitate +toward their leading grievance, he went off at a tangent, "What do you +think my feelings must be, to see my son, my only son, spooning the +daughter of my only enemy; of a knave who got on my land on pretense of +farming it, but instead of that he burrowed under the soil like a mole, +sir; and now the place is defiled with coal dust, the roads are black, +the sheep are black, the daisies and buttercups are turning black. +There's a smut on your nose, Walter. I forbid you to spoon his daughter, +upon pain of a father's curse. My real niece, Julia, is a lady and an +heiress, and the beauty of the county. She is the girl for you." + +"And how about the seventh commandment?" inquired Walter, putting his +hands in his pockets. + +"Oh," said the Colonel, indifferently, "you must mind your eye, like +other husbands. But in our walk of life it's the man's fault if the woman +falls out of the ranks." + +"That's not what I mean," said Walter. + +"What do you mean, then, if you mean anything at all?" + +"I mean this, father. She marries Percy Fitzroy in three weeks; so if I +fix my affections on her up to the date of the wedding, shall I not be +tempted to continue, and will not a foolish attachment to another man's +sweetheart end in a vicious attachment to another man's wife?" + +Once more was the Colonel staggered for a moment, and, oh--as the ladies +say--is it not gratifying to find that where honest reasons go for +nothing, humbug can obtain a moment's hearing? The Colonel admitted there +was something in that; but even humbug could not divert him long from +his mania. "The only thing to be done," said he, "is to cut him out +between this and then. Why, he stands five feet nothing." + +"That's the advantage he has over me," suggested Walter; "she is five +feet eight or thereabouts, so he is just the height of her heart." + +The Colonel burst out laughing. "You are no fool," said he; "that's the +second good thing you have said these three years. I forget what the +other was, but I remember it startled me at the time. You are a wit, and +you will cut out that manikin or you are no son of mine." + +"Don't say that, father," said Walter; "and cutting out, why, that's a +naval operation, not military. I am not the son of an admiral." + +"No equivocation, sir; the forces assist one another at a pinch." + +"How can I cut him out?--there's no room, he is tied to her apron +strings." + +"Untie him, then." + +At this moment, whether because Hope attracted everybody in the course of +the day, or because talking about people draws them to the place by some +subtle agency, who should appear in sight but Miss Julia Clifford, and +little Fitzroy wooing her so closely that really he did seem tied to her +apron strings. + +"There," said Walter, "now use your eyes, father; look at this amorous +pair. Do you really think it possible for a fellow to untie those two?" + +"Quite possible," said the Colonel. "Walter," said he, sententiously, +"there's a little word in the English language which is one of the +biggest. I will spell it to you, T--R--Y. Nobody knows what he can do +till he gives that word a fair trial. It was far more impossible to scale +the rock of Gibraltar; but our infantry did it; and there we are, with +all Europe grinding their teeth at us. What's a woman compared with +Gibraltar? However, as you seem to be a bit of a muff, I'll stand +sentinel whilst you cut him out." + +The Colonel then retired into a sort of ambuscade--at least he mingled +with a small clump of three Scotch firs, and stood amongst them so +rectilinear he might have passed for the fourth stump. Walter awaited the +arrival of the foe, but in a spirit which has seldom conducted men to +conquest and glory, for if the English infantry had deviated so far from +their insular habits as to admire the Spaniards, you may be sure that +Gibraltar rock at this day would be a part of the Continent, and not a +detached fragment of Great Britain. In a word, Walter, at sight of the +lovers, was suddenly seized with sentimental sympathy; they both seemed +to him so beautiful in their way. The man was small, but his heart was +not; he stuck to the woman like a man, and poured hot love into her ears, +and almost lost the impediment in his speech. The woman pretended to be +cooler, but she half turned her head toward him, and her half-closed eyes +and heightened color showed she was drinking every word. Her very gayety, +though it affected nonchalance, revealed happiness to such as can read +below the surface of her sex. The Colonel's treacherous ally, after +gazing at them with marked approval, and saying, "I couldn't do it better +myself," which was surely a great admission for a lover to make, slipped +quietly into Hope's workshop not to spoil sport--a juvenile idea which we +recommend to older persons, and to such old maids as have turned sour. +The great majority of old maids are match-makers, whatever cant may keep +saying and writing to the contrary. + +"No wonder at all," said Percy, who was evidently in the middle of some +amorous speech; "you are the goddess of my idolatry." + +"What ardent expressions you do use!" said Julia, smiling. + +"Of c-course I do; I'm over head and ears in love." + +Julia surveyed his proportions, and said, "That's not very deep." + +But Percy had got used to this kind of wit, and did not mind it now. +He replied with dignity: "It's as deep--as the ocean, and as +imp-per-t-t-tur-bable. Confound it! there's your cousin." + +"You are not jealous of him, Mr. Imperturbable, are you?" asked +Julia, slyly. + +"Jealous?" said Percy, changing color rather suspiciously; "certainly +not. Hang him!" + +Walter, finding he was discovered, and feeling himself in the way, came +out at the back behind them, and said, "Never mind me, you two; far be it +from me to deprive the young of their innocent amusements." + +Whilst making this little speech he was going off on the points of his +toes, intending to slip off to Clifford Hall, and tell his father that +both cutting out and untying had proved impossible, but, to his horror, +the Colonel emerged from his ambuscade and collared him. Then took place +two short contemporaneous dialogues: + +_Julia_. "I'd never marry a jealous man." + +_Percy_. "I never could be jealous. I'm above it. Impossible for a nature +like mine to be jealous." + +_Colonel Clifford._ "Well, why don't you cut him out?" + +_Walter_. "They seem so happy without it." + +_Colonel Clifford._ "You are a muff. I'll do it for you. Forward!" + +Colonel Clifford then marched down and seated himself in the chair Hope +had made for him. + +Julia saw him, and whispered Percy: "Ah! here's Uncle Clifford. He is +going to marry me to Walter. Never mind--you are not jealous." + +Percy turned yellow. + +"Well," said Colonel Clifford to all whom it might concern, "this +certainly is the most comfortable chair in England. These fools of +upholsterers never make the bottom of the chair long enough, but Mr. +Hope has made this to run under a gentleman's knees and support him. He's +a clever fellow. Julia, my dear, there's a garden chair for you; come and +sit down by me." + +Julia gave a sly look at Percy, and went to Colonel Clifford. She kissed +him on the forehead to soften the coming negative, and said: "To tell you +the truth, dear uncle, I have promised to go down a coal mine. See! I'm +dressed accordingly." + +"Go down a coal mine!" said the Colonel, contemptuously. "What fool put +that idea in your head?" + +Fitzroy strutted forward like a bantam-cock. "I did, sir. Coal is a very +interesting product." + +"Ay, to a cook." + +"To every English g-gentleman." + +"I disown that imputation for one." + +"Of being an English g-gentleman?" + +There was a general titter at this sly hit. + +"No, sir," said the Colonel, angrily--"of taking an interest in coal." + +"Well, but," said Percy, with a few slight hesitations, "not to t-take an +interest in c-coal is not to take an interest in the n-nation, for this +n-nation is g-great, not by its p-powerful fleet, nor its little b-b-bit +of an army--" + +A snort from the Colonel. + +"--nor its raw m-militia, but by its m-m-manufactures; these depend on +machines that are driven by steam-power, and the steam-engines are +coal-fed, and were made in coal-fed furnaces; our machines do the work of +five hundred million hands, and you see coal keeps them going. The +machinery will be imitated by other nations, but those nations can not +create coal-fields. Should those ever be exhausted, our ingenuity will be +imitated by larger nations, our territory will remain small, and we shall +be a second-rate power; so I say that every man who reads and thinks +about his own c--country ought to be able to say, 'I have been +d--d--down a coal mine.'" + +"Well," said the Colonel, loftily, "and can't you say you have been down +a coal mine? I could say that and sit here. Well, sir, you have been +reading the newspapers, and learning them off by heart as if they were +the Epistle and Gospel; of course _you_ must go down a coal mine; but if +you do, have a little mercy on the fair, and go down by yourself. In the +mean while, Walter, you can take your cousin and give her a walk in the +woods, and show her the primroses." + +Now Julia was surprised and pleased at Percy's good sense, and she did +not care whether he got it from the newspapers or where he got it from; +it was there; so she resisted, and said, coldly and firmly, "Thank you, +uncle, but I don't want the primroses, and Walter does not want me. Come, +Percy _dear_;" and so she marched off; but she had not gone many steps +before, having a great respect for old age, she ordered Percy, in a +whisper, to make some apology to her uncle. + +Percy did not much like the commission. However, he went back, and said, +very civilly, "This is a free country, but I am afraid I have been a +little too free in expressing my opinion; let me hope you are not +annoyed with me." + +"I am never annoyed with a fool," said the implacable Colonel. + +This was too much for any little man to stand. + +"That is why you are always on such good terms with yourself," said +Percy, as red as a turkey-cock. + +The Colonel literally stared with amazement. Hitherto it had been for him +to deliver bayonet thrusts, not to receive them. + +Julia pounced on her bantam-cock, and with her left hand literally pulled +him off the premises, and shook her right fist at him till she got him +out of sight of the foe; then she kissed him on both cheeks, and burst +out laughing; and, indeed, she was so tickled that she kept laughing at +intervals, whether the immediate subject of the conversation was grave or +gay. It is hard not to laugh when a very little fellow cheeks a very big +one. Even Walter, though he admired as well as loved his father, hung his +head, and his shoulders shook with suppressed risibility. Colonel +Clifford detected him in this posture, and in his wrath gave his chair a +whack with his staff that brought Master Walter to the position of a +private soldier when the drill-sergeant cries "ATTENTION!" + +"Did you hear that, sir?" said he. + +"I did," said Walter: "cheeky little beggar. But you know, father, you +were rather hard upon him before his sweetheart, and a little pot is +soon hot." + +"There was nothing to be hot about," said the Colonel, naively; "but that +is neither here nor there. You are ten times worse than he is. He is only +a prating, pedantic puppy, but you are a muff, sir, a most unmitigated +muff, to stand there mum-chance and let such an article as that carry off +the prize." + +"Oh, father," said Walter, "why will you not see that the prize is a +living woman, a woman with a will of her own, and not a French eagle, or +the figure-head of a ship? Now do listen to reason." + +"Not a word," said the Colonel, marching off. + +"But excuse me," said Walter, "I have another thing far more important to +speak to you about: this unhappy lawsuit." + +"That's no business of yours, and I don't want your opinion of it; +there is no more fight in you than there is in a hen-sparrow. I decline +your company and your pacific twaddle; I have no patience with a muff;" +and the Colonel marched off, leaving his son planted there, as the +French say. + +Walter, however, was not long alone; the interview had been watched +from a distance by Mary. She now stole noiselessly on the scene, and +laid her white hand upon her husband's shoulder before he was aware of +her. The sight of her was heaven to him, but her first question clouded +his happy face. + +"Well, dear, have you propitiated him?" + +Walter hung his head sorrowfully, and said hardly anything. + +"He has been blustering at me all the time, and insists upon my +cutting out Percy whether I can or not, and marrying Julia whether she +chooses or not." + +"Then we must do what I said. Indeed there is no other course. We must +own the truth; concealment and deceit will not mend our folly." + +"Oh, hang it, Mary, don't call it folly." + +"Forgive me, dear, but it was the height of folly. Not that I mean to +throw the blame on you--that would be ungenerous; but the truth is you +had no business to marry me, and I had no business to marry you. Only +think--me--Mary Bartley--a clandestine marriage, and then our going to +the lakes again, and spending our honey-moon together just like other +couples--the recklessness--the audacity! Oh, what happiness it was!" + +Walter very naturally pounced upon this unguarded and naive conclusion of +Mary's self-reproaches. "Yes," said he, eagerly; "let us go there again +next week." + +"Not next week, not next month, not next year, nor ever again until we +have told all the world." + +"Well, Mary," said Walter, "it's for you to command and me to obey. I +said so before, and I say so now, if you are not ashamed of me, how can I +be ashamed of you; you say the word, and I will tell my father at +dinner-time, before Julia Clifford and John Baker, and request them to +tell everybody they know, that I am married to a woman I adore, and there +is nobody I care for on earth as I do for her, and nothing I value +compared with her love and her esteem." + +Mary put her arm tenderly around her husband's neck; and now it was +with her as it is often with generous and tender-hearted women, when +all opposition to their wishes is withdrawn, they begin to see the +other side. + +"My dearest," said Mary, "I couldn't bear you to sacrifice your +prospects for me." + +"Why, Mary," said Walter, "what would my love be worth if it shrank from +self-sacrifice? I really think I should feel more pleasure than pain if I +gave up friends, kindred, hope, everything that is supposed to make life +pleasant for you." + +"And so would I for you," said Mary; "and oh, Walter, women have +presentiments, and something tells me that fate has great trials in store +for you or for me, perhaps for both. Yes, you are right, the true measure +of love must be self-sacrifice, and if there is to be self-sacrifice, oh, +let the self-sacrifice fall on me; for I can not think any man can love a +woman quite so deeply as I love you--my darling." + +He had only time to draw her sweet forehead to his bosom, whilst her arm +encircled his neck, when in came an ordinary love by way of contrast. + +Julia Clifford and Percy came in, walking three yards apart: Percy had +untied the apron strings without Walter's assistance. + +"Ah," said she, "you two are not like us. I am ashamed to interrupt you; +but they would not let us go down the mine without an order from Mr. +Hope. Really, I think Mr. Hope is king of this country. Not that we have +wasted our time, for he has been quarrelling with me all the way there +and back." + +"Oh, Mr. Fitzroy!" said Mary Bartley. + +"Miss Bartley," said Percy, very civilly, "I never q-q-quarrel, I merely +dis-distin-guished between right and wrong. I shall make you the judge. +I gave her a di-dia-mond br-bracelet which came down from my ancestors; +she did me the honor to accept it, and she said it should never leave her +day nor night." + +"Oh," cried Julia, "that I never did. I can not afford to stop my +circulation altogether; it's much too little." Then she flew at him +suddenly. "Your ancestors were pigmies." + +Percy drew himself up to his full height, and defied the insinuation. +"They were giants, in chain armor," said he. + +"What," said Julia, without a moment's hesitation, "the ladies? Or was it +the knights that wore bracelets?" + +Some French writer says, "The tongue of a woman is her sword," and Percy +Fitzroy found it so. He could no more answer this sudden thrust than he +could win the high leap at Lillie Bridge. He stood quivering as if a +polished rapier had really been passed clean through him. + +Mary was too kind-hearted to laugh in his face, but she could not help +turning her head away and giggling a little. + +At last Percy recovered himself enough to say, + +"The truth is you have gone and given it to somebody else." + +"Oh, you wicked--bad-hearted--you that couldn't be jealous!" + +By this time Percy was himself again, and said, with some reason, that +"invectives were not arguments. Produce the bracelet." + +"And so I can," said Julia, stoutly. "Give me time." + +"Oh," said Percy, "if it's a mere question of time, there is no more to +be said. You'll find the bracelet in time, and in time I shall feel once +more that confidence in you which induced me to confide to you as to +another self that precious family relic, which I value more than any +other material object in the world." Then Percy, whose character seemed +to have changed, retired with stiff dignity and an air of indomitable +resolution. + +Neither Julia nor Mary had ever seen him like that before. Julia was +unaffectedly distressed. + +"Oh, Mary, why did I ever lend it to you?" + +Now Mary knew very well where the bracelet was, but she was ashamed to +say; she stammered and said, "You know, dear, it is too small, much too +small, and my arm is bigger than yours." + +"There!" said Julia; "you have broken the clasp!" + +Mary colored up to the eyes at her own disingenuousness, and said, +hastily, "But I'll have it mended directly; I'll return it to-morrow at +the latest." + +"I shall be wretched till you do," said Julia, eagerly. "I suppose you +know what I want it for now?" + +"Why," said Mary, "of course I do: to soothe his wounded feelings." + +"Soothe _his_ feelings!" cried Julia, scornfully; "and how about mine? +No; the only thing I want it for now is to fling it in his face. His +soul is as small as his body: he's a little, mean, suspicious, jealous +fellow, and I'm very glad to have lost him." She flounced off all on +fire, looking six feet high, and got quite out of sight before she +began to cry. + +Then the truth came out. Mary, absorbed in conjugal bliss, had left it at +the hotel by the lakes. She told Walter. + +"Oh, hang it!" said Walter; "that's unlucky; you will never see it +again." + +"Oh yes, I shall," said Mary; "they are very honest people at that inn; +and I have written about it, and told them to keep it safe, unless they +have an opportunity of sending it." + +Walter reflected a moment. "Take my advice, Mary," said he. "Let me +gallop off this afternoon and get it." + +"Oh yes, Walter," said Mary. "Thank you so much. That will be the +best way." + +At this moment loud and angry voices were heard coming round the corner, +and Mary uttered a cry of dismay, for her discriminating ear recognized +both those voices in a moment. She clutched Walter's shoulder. + +"Oh, Walter, it's your father and mine quarrelling. How unfortunate that +they should have met! What shall we do?" + +"Hide in Hope's office. The French window is open." + +"Quick, then!" cried Mary, and darted into the office in a moment. Walter +dashed in after her. + +When she got safe into cover she began to complain. + +"This comes of concealment--we are always being driven into holes +and corners." + +"I rather like them with you," said the unabashed Walter. + +It matters little what had passed out of sight between Bartley and +Colonel Clifford, for what the young people heard now was quite enough to +make what Sir Lucius O'Trigger calls a very pretty quarrel. Bartley, +hitherto known to Mary as a very oily speaker, shouted at the top of his +voice in arrogant defiance, "You're not a child, are you? You are old +enough to read papers before you sign them." + +The Colonel shouted in reply, "I am old, sir, but I am old in honor. I +did not expect that any decent tradesman would slip a clause into a farm +lease conveying the minerals below the surface to a farmer. It was a +fraud, sir; but there's law for fraud. My lawyer shall be down on you +to-morrow. Your chimneys disgorge smoke all over my fields. You shall +disgorge your dishonest gains. I'll have you off my land, sir; I'll tear +you out of the bowels of the earth. You are a sharper and a knave." + +At this Bartley roared at him louder still, so that both the young people +winced as they crouched in the recess of the window. "You foul-mouthed +slanderer, I'll indict you for defamation, and give you twelve months in +one of her Majesty's jails." + +"No, you won't," roared the Colonel; "I know the law. My comments on +your character are not written and signed like your knavish lease; it's a +privileged communication--VILLAIN! there are no witnesses--SHARPER! By +Jupiter, there are, though!" + +He had caught sight of a male figure just visible at the side of +the window. + +"Who is it? MY SON!" + +"My DAUGHTER!" cried Bartley, catching sight of Mary. + +"Come out, sir," said the Colonel, no longer loudly, but trembling +with emotion. + +"Come here, Mary," said Bartley, sternly. + +At this moment who should open the back door of the office but +William Hope! + +"Walter," said the Colonel, with the quiet sternness more formidable than +all his bluster, "have not I forbidden you to court this man's daughter?" + +Said Bartley to Mary: "Haven't I forbidden you to speak to this +ruffian's son?" + +Then, being a cad who had lost his temper, he took the girl by the wrist +and gave her a rough pull across him that sent her effectually away from +Walter. She sank into the Colonel's seat, and burst out crying with +shame, pain, and fright. + +"Brute!" said the Colonel. But the thing was not to end there. Hope +strode in amongst them, with a pale cheek and a lowering brow as black as +thunder; his first words were, "Do YOU CALL YOURSELF A FATHER?" Not one +of them had ever seen Hope like that, and they all stood amazed, and +wondered what would come next. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +REMINISCENCES.--THE FALSE ACCUSER.--THE SECRET EXPLODED. + + +The secret hung on a thread. Hope, after denouncing Bartley, as we have +described, was rushing across to Mary, and what he would have said or +done in the first impulse of his wrath, who can tell? + +But the quick-witted Bartley took the alarm, and literally collared him. +"My good friend," said he, "you don't know the provocation. It is the +affront to her that has made me forget myself. Affronts to myself from +the same quarter I have borne with patience. But now this insolent man +has forbidden his son to court her, and that to her face; as if we wanted +his son or him. Haven't I forbidden the connection?" + +"We are agreed for once," said the Colonel, and carried his son off +bodily, sore against his will. + +"Yes," shrieked Bartley after him; "only _I_ did it like a gentleman, and +did not insult the young man to his face for loving my daughter." + +"Let me hear what Mary says," was Hope's reply. + +"Mr. Hope," said Mary, "did you ever know papa to be hard on me before? +He is vexed because he feels I am lowered. We have both been grossly +insulted, and he may well be in a passion. But I am very unhappy." And +she began to cry again. + +"My poor child," said Bartley, coaxingly, "talk it all over with Mr. +Hope. He may be able to comfort you, and, indeed, to advise me. For what +can I do when the man calls me a sharper, a villain, and a knave, before +his son and my daughter?" + +"Is it possible?" said Hope, beginning to relent a little. + +"It is true," replied Mary. + +Bartley then drew Hope aside, and said, "See what confidence I place in +you. Now show me my trust is not misplaced." Then he left them together. + +Hope came to Mary and said, tenderly, "What can I say or do to +comfort you?" + +Mary shook her head. "I asked you to mend my prospects; but you can't do +that. They are desperate. You can do nothing for me now but comfort me +with your kind voice. And mend my poor wrist--ha! ha! ha! oh! oh!" +(Hysterical.) + +"What?" cried Hope, in sudden alarm; "is it hurt? Is it sprained?" + +Mary recovered her composure. "Oh no," said she; "only twisted a little. +Papa was so rough." + +Hope went into a rage again. "Perdition!" cried he. "I'll go and end this +once for all." + +"You will do nothing of the kind," said the quick-witted girl. "Oh, Mr. +Hope, would you break my heart altogether, quarrelling with papa? Be +reasonable. I tell you he couldn't help it, that old monster insulted him +so. It hurts, for all that," said she, naively, and held him out a lovely +white wrist with a red mark on it. + +Hope inspected it. "Poor little wrist," said he. "I think I can cure it." +Then he went into his office for something to bind it with. + +But he had spoken those few words as one speaks to an afflicted child. +There was a mellow softness and an undisguised paternity in his +tones--and what more natural, the girl being in pain? + +But Mary's ear was so acute that these tones carried her out of the +present situation, and seemed to stir the depths of memory. She fell into +a little reverie, and asked herself had she not heard a voice like that +many years ago. + +She was puzzling herself a little over this when Hope returned with a +long thin band of white Indian cotton, steeped in water, and, taking her +hand gently, began to bind her wrist with great lightness and delicacy. +And as he bound it he said, "There, the pain will soon go." + +Mary looked at him full, and said, slowly, "I believe it will." Then, +very thoughtfully, "It did--before." + +These three simple words struck Hope as rather strange. + +"It did before?" said he, and stared at her. "Why, when was that?" + +Mary said, in a hopeless sort of way, "I don't know when, but long +before your time." + +"Before my time, Mary? What, are you older than me?" And he smiled +sweetly on her. + +"One would think not. But let me ask you a question, Mr. Hope?" + +"Yes, Mary." + +"Have you lived _two lives_?" + +Said Hope, solemnly, "I have lived through great changes, but only +one life." + +"Well, then," said Mary, "I have lived two; or more likely it was one +life, only some of it in another world--my other world, I mean." + +Hope left off binding her wrist, and said, "I don't understand you." But +his heart began to pant. + +The words that passed between them were now so strange that both their +voices sank into solemnity, and had an acute observer listened to them he +would have noticed that these two mellow voices had similar beauties, and +were pitched exactly in the same key, though there was, of course, an +octave between them. + +"Understand me? How should you? It is all so strange, so mysterious: I +have never told a soul; but I will tell you. You won't laugh at me?" + +"Laugh at you? Only fools laugh at what they don't understand. Why, Mary, +I hang on every word you say with breathless interest." + +"Dear Mr. Hope! Well, then, I will tell you. Sometimes in the silent +night, when the present does not glare at one, the past comes back to me +dimly, and I seem to have lived two lives: one long, one short--too +short. My long life in a comfortable house, with servants and carriages +and all that. My short life in different places; not comfortable places, +but large places; all was free and open, and there was always a kind +voice in my ear--like yours; and a tender touch--like yours." + +Hope was restraining himself with difficulty, and here he could not help +uttering a faint exclamation. + +To cover it he took her wrist again, and bending his head over it, he +said, almost in a whisper, "And the face?" + +Mary's eyes turned inward, and she seemed to scan the past. + +"The face?" said she--"the face I can not recall. But one thing I do +remember clearly. This is not the first time my wrist--yes--and it was my +right wrist too--has been bound up so tenderly. He did it for me in that +other world, just as you do in this one." + +Hope now thrilled all over at this most unexpected revelation. But though +he glowed with delight and curiosity, he put on a calm voice and manner, +and begged her to tell him everything else she could remember that had +happened in that other life. + +Finding him so serious, so sympathetic, and so interested, put this +remarkable girl on her mettle. She began to think very hard, and show +that intense power of attention she had always in reserve for great +occasions. + +"Then you must not touch me nor speak to me," said she. "The past is +such a mist." + +He obeyed, and left off binding her wrist; and now he literally hung upon +her words. + +Then she took one step away from him; her bright eyes veiled themselves, +and seemed to see nothing external, but looked into the recesses of the +brain. Her forehead, her hand, her very body, thought, and we must try, +though it is almost hopeless, to convey some faint idea of her manner and +her words. + +"Let--me--see." + +Then she paused. + +"I remember--WHITE SWANS." + +A pause. + +"Were they swans?" + +"Or ships?" + +"They floated down the river to the sea." + +She paused. + +"And the kind voice beside me said, 'Darling!' Papa never calls me +'darling.'" + +"Yes, yes," whispered Hope, almost panting. + +"'Darling, we must go with them to some other land, for we are poor.'" +She paused and thought hard. "Poor we must have been; very poor. I can +see that now that I am rich." She paused and thought hard. "But all was +peace and love. There were two of us, yet we seemed one." + +Then in a moment Mary left the past, her eyes resigned the film of +thought, and shone with the lustre of her great heart, and she burst at +once into that simple eloquence which no hearer of hers from John Baker +to William Hope ever resisted. "Ah! sweet memories, treasures of the +past, why are you so dim and wavering, and this hard world so clear and +glaring it seems cut out of stone? Oh, if I had a fairy's wand, I'd say, +'Vanish fine house and servants--vanish wealth and luxury and strife; and +you come back to me, sweet hours of peace--and poverty--and love.'" + +Her arms were stretched out with a grace and ardor that could embellish +even eloquence, when a choking sob struck her ear. She turned her head +swiftly, and there was William Hope, his hands working, his face +convulsed, and the tears running down his cheeks like the very rain. + +It was no wonder. Think of it! The child he adored, yet had parted with +to save her from dire poverty, remembered that sad condition to ask for +it back again, because of his love that made it sweet to her after all +these years of comfort. And of late he had been jealous, and saw, or +thought, he had no great place in her heart, and never should have. + +Ah, it is a rarity to shed tears of joy! The thing is familiarly spoken +of, but the truth is that many pass through this world of tears and never +shed one such tear. The few who have shed them can congratulate William +Hope for this blissful moment after all he had done and suffered. + +But the sweet girl who so surprised that manly heart, and drew those +heavenly tears, had not the key. She was shocked, surprised, distressed. +She burst out crying directly from blind womanly sympathy; and then she +took herself to task. "Oh, Mr. Hope! what have I done? Ah! I have +touched some chord of memory. Wicked, selfish girl, to distress you with +my dreams." + +"Distress me!" cried Hope. "These tears you have drawn from me are pearls +of memory and drops of balm to my sore, tried heart. I, too, have lived +and struggled in a by-gone world. I had a lovely child; she made me rich +in my poverty, and happy in my homelessness. She left me--" + +"Poor Mr. Hope!" + +"Then I went abroad, drudged in foreign mines, came home and saw my child +again in you. I need no fairy's wand to revive the past; you are my +fairy--your sweet words recall those by-gone scenes; and wealth, +ambition, all I live for now, vanish into smoke. The years themselves +roll back, and all is once more peace--and poverty--and love." + +"Dear Mr. Hope!" said Mary, and put her forehead upon his shoulder. + +After a while she said, timidly, "Dear Mr. Hope, now I feel I can trust +you with anything." Then she looked down in charming confusion. "My +reminiscences--they are certainly a great mystery. But I have another +secret to confide to you, if I am permitted." + +"Is the consent of some other person necessary?" + +"Not exactly necessary, Mr. Hope." + +"But advisable." + +Mary nodded her head. + +"Then take your time," said Hope. He took out his watch, and said: "I +want to go to the mine. My right-hand man reports that a ruffian has been +caught lighting his pipe in the most dangerous part after due warning. I +must stop that game at once, or we shall have a fatal accident. But I +will be back in half an hour. You can rest in my office if you are here +first. It is nice and cool." + +Hope hurried away on his errand, and Mary was still looking after him, +when she heard horses' feet, and up came Walter Clifford, escaped from +his father. He slipped off his horse directly at sight of Mary, and they +came together like steel and magnet. + +"Oh, Walter," said Mary, "we are not so unfortunate as we were just now. +We have a powerful friend. Where are you going in such hurry?" + +"That is a good joke. Why, did you not order me to the lakes?" + +"Oh yes, for Julia's bracelet. I forgot all about that." + +"Very likely; but it is not my business to forget your orders." + +"Dear Walter! But, dearest, things of more importance have happened since +then. We have been insulted. Oh, how we have been insulted!" + +"That we have," said Walter. + +"And nobody knows the truth." + +"Not yet." + +"And our secret oppresses me--torments me--degrades me." + +"Pray don't say that." + +"Forgive me. I can't help saying it, I feel it so bitterly. Now, dear, I +will walk a little way with you, and tell you what I want you to do this +very day; and you will be a darling, as you always are, and consent." + +Then Mary told how Mr. Hope had just shown her singular affection; next +she reminded him of the high tone Mr. Hope had taken with her father in +their hearing. "Why," said she, "there is some mysterious compact about +me between papa and him. I don't think I shall ever have the courage to +ask him about that compact, for then I must confess that I listened; but +it is clear we can depend upon Mr. Hope, and trust him. So now, dear, I +want you to indulge your little wife, and let me take Mr. Hope into our +confidence." + +To Mary's surprise and disappointment, Walter's countenance fell. + +"I don't know," said he, after a pause. "Unfortunately it's not Mr. +Bartley only that's against us." + +"Well, but, dear," said Mary, "the more people there are against us, the +more we need one powerful friend and champion. Now you know Mr. Hope is a +man that everybody loves and respects, even your father." + +Walter just said, gloomily, "I see objections, for all that; but do as +you please." + +Mary's tender heart and loving nature couldn't accept an unwilling +assent. She turned her eyes on Walter a little reproachfully. "That's the +way to make me do what you please." + +"I don't intend it so," said Walter. "When a husband and wife love each +other as we do, they must give in to each other." + +"That's not what we said at the altar." + +"Oh, the marriage service is rather one-sided. I promised very different +things to get you to marry me, and I mean to stand by them. If you are +impatient at all of this secrecy, tell Mr. Hope." + +"I can't now," said Mary, a little bitterly. + +"Why not, since I consent?" + +"An unwilling consent is no consent." + +"Mary, you are too tyrannical. How can I downright like a thing I don't +like? I yield my will to yours; there's a certain satisfaction in that. I +really can say no more." + +"Then say no more," said Mary, almost severely. + +"At all events give me a kiss at parting." + +Mary gave him that directly, but it was not a warm one. + +He galloped away upon his errand, and as she paced slowly back toward Mr. +Hope's office she was a good deal put out. What should she say to Mr. +Hope now? She could not defy Walter's evident wishes, and make a clean +breast of the matter. Then she asked herself what was Walter's +objection; she couldn't conceive why he was afraid to trust Mr. Hope. It +was a perfect puzzle to her. + +Indeed this was a most unfortunate dialogue between her and Walter, for +it set her mind speculating and guessing at Walter's mind, and thinking +all manner of things just at the moment when an enemy, smooth as the old +serpent, was watching for an opportunity to make mischief and poison her +mind. Leonard Monckton, who had long been hanging about, waiting to catch +her alone, met her returning from Walter Clifford, and took off his hat +very respectfully to her, and said: + +"Miss Bartley, I think." + +Mary lifted her eyes, and saw an elderly man with a pale face and dark +eyebrows and a cast of countenance quite unlike that of any of her +friends. His face repelled her directly, and she said, very coldly: + +"Yes, sir; but I have not the pleasure of knowing you." + +And she quietly passed on. + +Monckton affected not to see that she was declining to communicate with +him. He walked on quietly, and said: + +"And I have not seen you since you were a child, but I had the honor of +knowing your mother." + +"You knew my mother, sir?" + +"Knew her and respected her." + +"What was she like, sir?" + +"She was tall and rather dark, not like you." + +"So I have heard," said Mary. "Well, sir," said she, for his voice was +ingratiating, and had modified the effect of his criminal countenance, +"as you knew my mother, you are welcome to me." + +The artist in deceit gave a little sigh, and said, "That's more than I +dare hope. For I am here upon a most unpleasant commission; but for my +respect for your mother I would not have undertaken it, for really my +acquaintance with the other lady is but slight." + +Mary looked a little surprised at this rigmarole, and said, "But this +commission, what is it?" + +"Miss Bartley," said he, solemnly, yet gravely, "I have been requested to +warn you against a gentleman who is deceiving you." + +"Who is that?" said Mary, on her guard directly. + +"It is a Mr. Walter Clifford." + +"Walter Clifford!" said Mary. "You are a slanderer; he is incapable +of deceit." + +The rogue pretended to brighten up. + +"Well, I hope so," said he, "and I told the lady as much; he comes from a +most honorable stock. So then he has _told_ you about Lucy Monckton?" + +"Lucy Monckton!" cried Mary. "No; who is she?" + +"Miss Bartley," said the villain, very gravely and solemnly, "she is +his wife." + +"His wife, sir?" cried Mary, contemptuously--"his wife? You must be mad. +I'll hear no more against him behind his back." Then, threatening her +tormentor: "He will be home again this evening; he has only ridden to the +Lake Hotel; you shall repeat this to his face, if you dare." + +"It will be my painful duty," said the serpent, meekly. + +"His wife!" said Mary, scornfully, but her lips trembled. + +"His wife," replied Monckton, calmly; "a respectable woman whom, it +seems, he has deserted these fourteen years. My acquaintance with her is +slight, but she is in a good position, and, indeed, wealthy, and has +never troubled him. However, she heard somehow he was courting you, and +as I often visit Derby upon business, she requested me to come over here +and warn you in time." + +"And do you think," said Mary, scornfully, "I shall believe this from a +stranger?" + +"Hardly," said Monckton, with every appearance of candor. "Mrs. Walter +Clifford directed me to show you his marriage certificate and hers." + +"The marriage certificate!" cried Mary, turning pale. + +"Yes," said Monckton; "they were married at the Registry Office on the +11th June, 1868," and he put his hand in his breast pocket to search for +the certificate. He took this opportunity to say, "You must not fancy +that there is any jealousy or ill feeling after fourteen years' +desertion, but she felt it her duty as a woman--" + +"The certificate!" said Mary--"the certificate!" + +He showed her the certificate; she read the fatal words, "Walter +Clifford." The rest swam before her eyes, and to her the world seemed at +an end. She heard, as in a dream, the smooth voice of the false accuser, +saying, with a world of fictitious sympathy, "I wish I had never +undertaken this business. Mrs. Walter Clifford doesn't want to distress +you; she only felt it her duty to save you. Don't give way. There is no +great harm done, unless you were to be deluded into marrying him." + +"And what then?" inquired Mary, trembling. + +Monckton appeared to be agitated at this question. + +"Oh, don't speak of it," said he. "You would be ruined for life, and he +would get seven years' penal servitude; and that is a sentence few +gentlemen survive in the present day when prisons are slaughter-houses. +There, I have discharged the most disagreeable office I ever undertook in +my life; but at all events you are warned in time." + +Then he bowed most respectfully to her, and retired, exhaling his pent-up +venom in a diabolical grin. + +She, poor victim, stood there stupefied, pierced with a poisoned arrow, +and almost in a state of collapse; then she lifted her hands and eyes for +help, and saw Hope's study in front of her. Everything swam confusedly +before her; she did not know for certain whether he was there or not; +she cried to that true friend for help. + +"Mr. Hope--I am lost--I am in the deep waters of despair--save me _once +more_, save me!" Thus speaking she tottered into the office, and sank all +limp and powerless into a chair, unable to move or speak, but still not +insensible, and soon her brow sank upon the table, and her hands spread +themselves feebly out before her. + +It was all villainous spite on Monckton's part. He did not for a moment +suppose that his lie could long outlive Walter Clifford's return; but he +was getting desperate, and longing to stab them all. Unfortunately fate +befriended the villain's malice, and the husband and wife did not meet +again till that diabolical poison had done its work. + +Monckton retired, put off his old man's disguise behind the fir-trees, +and went toward another of his hiding-places, an enormous oak-tree which +stood in the hedge of Hope's cottage garden. The subtle villain had made +this hollow tree an observatory, and a sort of sally-port, whence he +could play the fiend. + +The people at the hotel were, as Mary told Julia Clifford, very +honest people. + +They showed Percy Fitzroy's bracelet to one or two persons, and found it +was of great value. This made them uneasy, lest something should happen +to it under their charge; so the woman sent her husband to the +neighborhood of Clifford Hall to try and find out if there was a lady of +that name who had left it. The husband was a simple fellow, very unfit to +discharge so delicate a commission. He went at first, as a matter of +course, to the public-house; they directed him to the Hall, but he missed +it, and encountered a gentleman, whose quick eye fell upon the bracelet, +for the foolish man had shown it to so many people that now he was +carrying it in his hand, and it blazed in the meridian sun. This +gentleman said, "What have you got there?" + +"Well, sir," said the man, "it was left at our hotel by a young couple +from these parts. Handsome couple they were, sir, and spending their +honey-moon." + +"Let me see it," said Mr. Bartley, for he was the gentleman. He had come +back in some anxiety to see whether Hope had pacified Mary, or whether +he must exert himself to make matters smooth with her again. Whilst he +was examining the bracelet, who should appear but Percy Fitzroy, the +owner. Not that he came after the bracelet; on the contrary, that +impetuous young gentleman had discovered during the last two hours that +he valued Miss Clifford's love a great deal more than all the bracelets +in the world, for all that he was delighted at the unexpected sight of +his property. + +"Why, that's mine," said he. "It's an heirloom. I lent it to Miss Julia +Clifford, and when I asked her for it to-day she could not produce it." + +"Oho!" said Mr. Bartley. "What, do the ladies of the house of Clifford go +in for clandestine marriages?" + +"Certainly not, sir," said Fitzroy. "Don't you know the difference +between a wedding ring and a bracelet?" Then he turned to the man, "Here +is a sovereign for your trouble, my man. Now give me my bracelet." + +To his surprise the hotel-keeper put it behind his back instead of giving +it to him. + +"Nay," said he, shaking his head knowingly, "you are not the gentleman +that spent the honey-moon with the lady as owns it. My mistress said I +was not to give it into no hands but hers." + +This staggered Percy dreadfully, and he looked from one to another to +assist him in solving the mystery. + +Bartley came to the assistance of his understanding, but with no regard +to the feelings of his heart. "It's clear enough what it means, sir; your +sweetheart is playing you false." + +That went through the true-lover's heart like a knife, and poor little +Percy leaned in despair against Hope's workshop window transfixed by the +poisoned arrow of jealousy. + +At this moment the voice of Colonel Clifford was heard, loud and ringing +as usual. Julia Clifford had decoyed him there in hopes of falling in +with Percy and making it up; and to deceive the good Colonel as to her +intentions she had been running him down all the way; so the Colonel was +heard to say, in a voice for all the village to hear, "Jealous is he, and +suspicious? Then you take my advice and give him up at once. You will +easily find a better man and a bigger." After delivering this, like the +word of command upon parade, the Colonel was crossing the turf, a yard or +two higher up than Hope's workshop, when the spirit of revenge moved +Bartley to retort upon his insulter. + +"Hy, Colonel Clifford!" + +The Colonel instantly halted, and marched down with Julia on his arm, +like a game-cock when another rooster crows defiance. + +"And what can you have to say to me, sir?" was his haughty inquiry. + +"To take you down a peg. You rode the high horse pretty hard to-day. The +spotless honor of the Cliffords, eh?" + +Then it was fixed bayonets and no quarter. + +"Have the Cliffords ever dabbled in trade or trickery? Coal merchants, +coal heavers, and coal whippers may defile our fields with coal dust and +smoke, but they can not defile our honor." + +"The men are brave as lions, and the women as chaste as snow?" +sneered Bartley. + +"I don't know about lions and snow. I have often seen a lion turn tail, +and the snow is black slush wherever you are. But the Cliffords, being +gentlemen, are brave, and being ladies, are chaste." + +"Oh, indeed!" hissed Bartley. "Then how comes it that your niece +there--whose name is _Miss_ Clifford, I believe--spent what this good man +calls a honey-moon, with a young gentleman, at this good man's inn?" + +Here the good man in question made a faint endeavor to interpose, but the +gentlefolks by their impetuosity completely suppressed him. + +"It's a falsehood!" cried Julia, haughtily. + +"You scurrilous cad!" roared the Colonel, and shook his staff at him, and +seemed on the point of charging him. + +But Bartley was not to be put down this time. He snatched the bracelet +from the man, and held it up in triumph. + +"And left this bracelet there to prove it was no falsehood." + +Then Julia got frightened at the evidence and the terrible nature of the +accusation. "Oh!" cried she, in great distress, "can any one here believe +that I am a creature so lost? I have not seen the bracelet these two +months. I lent it--to--ah, here she is! Mary, save me from shame; you +know I am innocent." + +Mary, who was standing at the window in Hope's study, came slowly +forward, pale as death with her own trouble, to do an act of womanly +justice. "Miss Clifford," said she, languidly, as one to whom all human +events were comparatively indifferent--"Miss Clifford lent the bracelet +to me, and I left it at that man's inn." This she said right in the +middle of them all. + +The hotel-keeper took the bracelet from the unresisting hand of Bartley, +touched his hat, and gave it to her. + +"There, mistress," said he. "I could have told them you was the lady, but +they would not let a poor fellow get a word in edgeways." He retired with +an obeisance. + +Mary handed the bracelet to Julia, and then remained passive. + +A dead silence fell upon them all, and a sort of horror crept over Mary +Bartley at what must follow; but come what might, no power should +induce her to say the word that should send Walter Clifford to jail for +seven years. + +Bartley came to her; she trembled, and her hands worked. + +"What are you saying, you fool?" he whispered. "The lady that left the +bracelet was there with a gentleman." + +Mary winced. + +Then Bartley said, sternly, "Who was your companion?" + +"I must not say." + +"You will say one thing," said Bartley, "or I shall have no mercy on you. +Are you secretly married?" + +Then a single word flashed across Mary's almost distracted +mind--SELF-SACRIFICE. She held her tongue. + +"Can't you speak? Are you a wife?" He now began to speak so loud in his +anger that everybody heard it. + +Mary crouched a little and worked her hands convulsively under the +torture, but she answered with such a doggedness that evidently she would +have let herself be cut to pieces sooner than said more. + +"I--don't--know." + +"You don't know?" roared Bartley. + +Mary paused, and then, with iron doggedness, "I--don't--know." + +This apparent insult to his common-sense drove Bartley almost mad. "You +have given these cursed Cliffords a triumph over me," he cried; "you have +brought shame to my door; but it shall never pass the threshold." Here +the Colonel uttered a contemptuous snort. This drove Bartley wild +altogether; he rushed at the Colonel, and shook his fist in his face. +"You stand there sneering at my humiliation; now see the example I can +make." Then he was down upon Mary in a moment, and literally yelled at +her in his fury. "Go to your paramour, girl; go where you will. You never +enter my door again." And he turned his back furiously upon her. + +This terrible denunciation overpowered poor Mary's resolution; she clung +to him in terror. "Oh, mercy, mercy, papa! I'll explain to _you_, have +pity on your child!" + +Bartley flung her so roughly from him that she nearly fell, "You are my +child no more." + +But at that moment in strode William Hope, looking seven feet high, and +his eyes blazing. "Liar and hypocrite," he roared, "_she never was your +child_!" Then, changing to a tone of exquisite love, and stretching out +both his hands to Mary, "SHE IS MINE!" + +Mary, being now between the two men, turned swiftly first to one, then to +the other, and with woman's infallible eye knew her own flesh and blood +in that half-moment. She uttered a cry of love and rapture that went +through every heart that heard it; and she flung herself in a moment upon +her father's bosom. + +He whirled her round like a feather on to his right arm, then faced both +her enemies, Clifford and Bartley, with haughty defiance, head thrown +back, and eyes that flashed black lightning in defense of his child. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +LOVERS' QUARRELS. + + +It was a living picture. The father protecting his child like an eagle; +Bartley cooled in a moment, and hanging his head apart, gloomy and +alarmed at the mad blunder rage had betrayed him into; Colonel Clifford +amazed and puzzled, and beginning to see the consequences of all this; +Julia clasping her hands in rapture and thrilling interest at so +romantic an incident; Fitzroy beaming with delight at his sweetheart +being cleared; and, to complete the picture, the villainous face of +Leonard Monckton, disguised as an old man, showed itself for a moment +sinister and gloomy; for now all hope of pecuniary advantage to him was +gone, and nothing but revenge was on the cards, and he could not see his +way clear to that. + +But Hope was no posture-maker; he turned the next moment and said a word +or two to all present. + +"Yes, this is Grace Hope, my daughter. We were very poor, and her life +was in danger; I saw nothing else but that; my love was stronger than my +conscience; I gave her to that man upon a condition which he has now +broken. He saved her life and was kind to her. I thanked him; I thank him +still, and I did my best to repay him. But now he has trusted to +appearances, and not to her; he has belied and outraged her publicly. But +I am as proud of her as ever, and don't believe appearances against her +character and her angel face and--" + +"No more do I," cried Julia Clifford, eagerly. "I know her. She's purity +itself, and a better woman than I shall ever be." + +"Thank you, Miss Clifford," said Hope, in a broken voice; "God bless you. +Come, Grace, and share my humble home. At all events, it will shelter you +from insult." + +And so the pair went lovingly away, Grace clinging to her father, +comforted for the moment, but unable to speak, and entered Hope's little +cottage. It was but a stone's-throw from where they stood. + +This broke up the party. + +"And my house is yours," said Colonel Clifford to Julia. "I did not +believe appearances against a Clifford." With these words he took two +steps toward his niece and held out his arm. She moved toward him. Percy +came forward radiant to congratulate her. She drew up with a look of +furious scorn that made him recoil, and she marched proudly away with +her uncle. He bestowed one parting glance of contempt upon the +discomfited Bartley, and marched his niece proudly off, more determined +than ever that she should be his daughter. But for once he was wise +enough not to press that topic: he let her indignation work alone. +Moreover, though he was a little wrong-headed and not a little +pig-headed, he was a noble-minded man, and nothing noble passed him +unobserved or unappreciated. + +"_That_ Bartley's daughter!" said he to Julia. "Ay, when roses spring +from dunghills, and eagles are born of sparrow-hawks. Brave +girl!--brave girl!" + +"Oh, uncle," said Julia, "I am so glad you appreciate her!" + +"Appreciate her!" said the Colonel; "what should I be worth if I did not? +Why, these are the women that win Waterloo in the persons of their sons. +That girl could never breed a coward nor a cheat." Then his incisive +voice mellowed suddenly. "Poor young thing," said he, with manly emotion, +"I saw her come out of that room pale as death to do another woman +justice. She's no fool, though that ruffian called her one. She knew what +she was doing, yet for all her woman's heart she faced disgrace as +unflinchingly as if it was, only death. It was a great action, a noble +action, a just action, and a manly action, but done like a very woman. +Where the two sexes meet like that in one brave deed it's grand. I +declare it warms an old soldier's heart, and makes him thank God there +are a few creatures in the world that do humanity honor." + +As the Colonel was a man that stuck to a topic when he got upon it, this +was the main of his talk all the way to Clifford Hall. He even remarked +to his niece that, so far as his observations of the sex extended, great +love of justice was not the leading feature of the female mind; other +virtues he ventured to think were more prominent. + +"So everybody says," was Julia's admission. + +"Everybody is right for once," said the Colonel. + +They entered the house together, and Miss Clifford went up to her room; +there she put on a new bonnet and a lovely shawl, recently imported from +Paris. Who could this be for? She sauntered upon the lawn till she found +herself somehow near the outward boundary, where there was a gate leading +into the Park. As she walked to and fro by this gate she observed, out of +the tail of her eye of course, the figure of a devoted lover creeping +toward her. Whether this took her by surprise, or whether the lovely +creature was playing the part of a beautiful striped spider waiting for +her fly, the reader must judge for himself. + +Percy came to the gate; she walked past him twice, coming and going with +her eyes fixed upon vacancy. She passed him a third time. He murmured in +a pleading voice, + +"Julia!" + +She neither saw nor heard, so attractive had the distant horizon become. + +Percy opened the gate and came inside, and stood before her the next time +she passed. She started with _surprise_. + +"What do you want here?" said she. + +"To speak to you." + +"How dare you speak to me after your vile suspicions?" + +"Well, but, Julia--" + +"How dare you call me Julia?" + +"Well, Miss Clifford, won't you even hear me?" + +"Not a word. It's through you poor dear Mary and I have both been +insulted by that wretch of a father of hers." + +"Which father?" + +"I said wretch. To whom does that term apply except to Mr. Bartley, and" +(with sudden vigor) "to you." + +"Then you think I am as bad as old Bartley," said Percy, firing up. + +"No, I don't." + +"Ah," said Percy, glad to find there was a limit. + +But Julia explained: "I think you are a great deal worse. You pretend to +love me, and yet without the slightest reason you doubt me." + +"What did I doubt? I thought you had parted with my bracelet to another +person, and so you had. I never doubted your honor." + +"Oh yes, you did; I saw your face." + +"I am not r--r--responsible for my face." + +"Yes, you are; you had no business to look broken-hearted, and miserable, +and distrustful, and abominable. It was your business, face and all, to +distrust appearances, and not me." + +"Ap--pear--ances were so strong that not to look m--miserable would have +been to seem indifferent; there is no love where there is no jealousy." + +"Oh," said Julia, "he has let that out at last, after denying it a +hundred times. Now I say there is no true love without respect and +confidence, and this doesn't exist where there is jealousy, and all about +a trumpery bracelet." + +"Anything but tr--ump--ump--umpery; it came down from my ancestors." + +"You never had any; your behavior shows that." + +"I tell you it is an heirloom. It was given to my mother by--" + +"Oh, we know all about that," said Julia. "'This bracelet did an Egyptian +to my mother give.' But you are not going to play Othello with me." + +"I shouldn't have a very gentle Desdemona." + +"No, you wouldn't, candidly. No man shall ever bully and insult me, and +then wake me out of my first sleep to smother me because my maid has lost +one of his handkerchiefs at the wash." + +He burst out laughing at this, and tried to inveigle her into good-humor. + +"Say no more about it," said he, "and I'll forgive you." + +"Forgive me, you little wretch!" cried Julia. "Why, haven't you the +sense to see that it is serious this time, and my patience is exhausted, +and that our engagement is broken off, and I never mean to see you +again--except when you come to my wedding?" + +"Your wedding!" cried Percy, turning pale. "With whom?" + +"That's my business; you leave that to me, sir. Hold out your hand--both +hands; here is the ancestral bracelet--it shall pinch me no longer, +neither my wrist nor my heart; here's the brooch you gave me--I won't be +pinned to it any longer, nor to you neither; and there is your bunch of +charms; and there is your bundle of love-letters--stupid ones they are;" +and she crammed all the aforesaid treasures into his hands one after the +other. So this was what she went to her room for. + +Percy looked down on his handful ruefully. "My very letters! There was no +jealousy in them; they were full of earnest love." + +"Fuller of bad spelling," said the relentless girl. Then she went into +details: "You spell abominable with two m's--and that's abominable; you +spell ridiculous with a k--and that's ridicklous. So after this don't you +presume to speak to me, for I shall never speak to you again." + +"Very well, then," said Percy. "I, too, will be silent forever." + +"Oh, I dare say," said Julia; "a chatter-box like you." + +"Even chatter-boxes are silent in the grave," suggested Percy; "and if we +are to part like this forever to-day, to-morrow I shall be no more." + +"Well, you could not be much less," said Julia, but with a certain +shame-faced change of tone that perhaps, if Percy had been more +experienced, might have given him a ray of hope. + +"Well," said he, "I know one lady that would not treat these presents +with quite so much contempt." + +"Oh, I have seen her," said Julia, spitefully. "She has been setting +her cap at you for some time; it's Miss Susan Beckley--a fine +conquest--great, fat, red-haired thing." + +"Auburn." + +"Yes, all-burn, scarlet, carrots, _flamme d'enfer_. Well, go and give her +my leavings, yourself and your ancestral--paste." + +"Well," said Percy, gloomily, "I might do worse. You never really loved +me; you were always like an enemy looking out for faults. You kept +postponing our union for something to happen to break it off. But I won't +be any woman's slave; I'll use one to drive out the other. None of you +shall trample on me." Then he burst forth into singing. Nobody stammers +when he sings. + +"Shall I, wasting in despair, +Sigh because a woman's fair? +Shall my cheeks grow pale with care +Because another's rosy are? +If she be not kind to me, +What care I how fair she be?" + +This resolute little gentleman passed through the gate as he concluded +the verse, waved his hand jauntily by way of everlasting adieu, and +went off whistling the refrain with great spirit, and both hands in +his pockets. + +"You impudent!" cried Julia, almost choking; then, authoritatively, +"Percy--Mr. Fitzroy;" then, coaxingly, "Percy _dear_." + +Percy heard, and congratulated himself upon his spirit. "That's the way +to treat them," said he to himself. + +"Well?" said he, with an air of indifference, and going slowly back to +the gate. "What is it now?" said he, a little arrogantly. + +She soon let him know. Directly he was quite within reach she gave him a +slap in the face that sounded like one plank falling upon another, and +marched off with an air of royal dignity, as if she had done the most +graceful and lady-like thing in all the world. + +How happy are those choice spirits who can always preserve their dignity! + +Percy retired red as fire, and one of his cheeks retained that high +color for the rest of the day. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +APOLOGIES. + + +We must now describe the place to which Hope conducted his daughter, and +please do not skip our little description. It is true that some of our +gifted contemporaries paint Italian scenery at prodigious length _à +propos de bottes_, and others show in many pages that the rocks and the +sea are picturesque objects, even when irrelevant. True that others gild +the evening clouds and the western horizon merely to please the horizon +and the clouds. But we hold with Pope that + +"The proper study of mankind is man," + +and that authors' pictures are bores, except as narrow frames to big +incidents. The true model, we think, for a writer is found in the opening +lines of "Marmion," where the castle at even-tide, its yellow lustre, its +drooping banner, its mail-clad warders reflecting the western blaze, the +tramp of the sentinel, and his low-hummed song, are flung on paper with +the broad and telling touch of Rubens, not from an irrelevant admiration +of old castles and the setting sun, but because the human figures of the +story are riding up to that sun-gilt castle to make it a scene of great +words and deeds. + +Even so, though on a much humbler scale, we describe Hope's cottage and +garden, merely because it was for a moment or two the scene of a +remarkable incident never yet presented in history or fiction. + +This cottage, then, was in reality something between a villa and a +cottage; it resembled a villa in this, that the rooms were lofty, and the +windows were casements glazed with plate glass and very large. Walter +Clifford had built it for a curate, who proved a bird of passage, and +the said Walter had a horror of low rooms, for he said, "I always feel as +if the ceiling was going to flatten me to the floor." Owing to this the +bedroom windows, which looked westward on the garden, were a great height +from the ground, and the building had a Gothic character. + +Still there was much to justify the term cottage. The door, which looked +southward on the road, was at the side of the building, and opened, not +into a hall, but into the one large sitting-room, which was thirty feet +long and twenty-five feet broad, and instead of a plaster ceiling there +were massive joists, which Hope had gilded and painted till they were a +sight to behold. Another cottage feature: the walls were literally +clothed with verdure and color; in front, huge creeping geraniums, +jasmine, and Virginia creepers hid the brick-work; and the western walls, +to use the words of a greater painter than ourselves, were + +"Quite overcanopied with lush woodbine, +With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine." + +In the next place, the building stood in a genuine cottage garden. It was +close to the road. The southern boundary was plain oak paling, made of +upright pieces which Hope had varnished so that the color was now a fine +amber; the rest of the boundary was a quick-set hedge, in the western +division of which stood an enormous oak-tree, hollow at the back. And the +garden was fair with humble flowers--pinks, sweet-williams, crimson +nasturtiums, double daisies, lilies, and tulips; but flower beds shared +the garden with friendly cabbages, potatoes, onions, carrots, and +asparagus. + +To this humble but pleasant abode Hope conducted his daughter, and +insisted upon her lying down on the sofa in the sitting-room. Then he +ordered the woman who kept the house for him to prepare the spare +bedroom, which looked into the garden, and to cut some of the +sweet-smelling flowers. He himself had much to say to his daughter, and, +above all, to demand her explanation of the awkward circumstances that +had been just revealed. But she had received a great shock, and, like +most manly men, he had a great consideration for the weakness of women, +and his paternal heart said, "Let her have an hour or two of absolute +repose before I subject her to any trial whatever." So he opened the +window to give her air, enjoining her most strictly not to move, and even +to go to sleep if she could; and then he put on his shooting coat, with +large inside pocket, to go and buy her a little wine--a thing he never +touched himself--and what other humble delicacies the village afforded. +He walked briskly away from his door without the least idea that all his +movements were watched from a hiding-place upon his own premises, no +other than the great oak-tree, hollow and open at the back, in which +Leonard Monckton had bored two peep-holes, and was now ensconced there +watching him. + +Hope had not gone many yards from his own door when he was confronted +by one of those ruffians who, by their way of putting it, are the +eternal butt of iniquitous people and iniquitous things, namely, honest +men, curse them! and the law, confound it! This was no other than that +Ben Burnley, who, being a miner, had stuck half-way between Devonshire +and Durham, and had been some months in Bartley's mine. He opened on +Hope in a loud voice, and dialect which we despair of conveying with +absolute accuracy. + +"Mr. Hope, sir, they won't let me go down t' mine." + +"No; you're discharged." + +"Who by?" + +"By me." + +"What for?" + +"For smoking in the mine, in spite of three warnings." + +"Me smoking in t' mine! Who telt you yon lie?" + +"You were seen to pick the lock of your Davylamp, and that put the mine +in danger. Then you were seen to light your pipe at the bare light, and +that put it in worse peril." + +"That's a lie. What mak's yer believe my skin's nowt to me? It's all one +as it is to them liars that would rob me of my bread out of clean spite." + +"It's the truth, and proved by four honest witnesses. There are a hundred +and fifty men and twenty ponies in that mine, and their lives must not be +sacrificed by one two-legged brute that won't hear reason. You are +discharged and paid; so be good enough to quit the premises and find work +elsewhere; and Lord help your employer, whoever he is!" + +Hope would waste no more time over this fellow. He turned his back, and +went off briskly on his more important errand. + +Burnley shook his fist at him, and discharged a volley of horrible curses +after him. Whilst he was thus raging after the man that had done his duty +he heard a satirical chuckle. He turned his head, and, behold! there was +the sneering face of his fellow jail-bird Monckton. Burnley started. + +"Yes, mate," said Monckton, "it is me. And what sort of a pal are you, +that couldn't send me a word to Portland that you had dropped on to this +rascal Hope? You knew I was after him. You might have saved me the +trouble, you selfish brute." + +Burnley submitted at once to the ascendency of Monckton; he hung his +head, and muttered, "I am no scholard to write to folk." + +"You grudged a joey to a bloke to write for you. Now I suppose you expect +me to be a good pal to you again, all the same?" + +"Why not?" said Burnley. "He is poison to you as well as to me. He +gave you twelve years' penal; you told me so at Portland; let's be +revenged on him." + +"What else do you think I am here for, you fool? But empty revenge, +that's child's play. The question is, can you do what you are told?" + +"Ay, if I see a chance of revenge. Why, I always did what you told me." + +"Very well, then; there's nothing ripe yet." + +"Yer don't mean I am to wait a year for my revenge." + +"You will have to wait an opportunity. Revenge is like other luxuries, +there's a time for it. Do you think I am such a fool as to go in for +blindfold revenge, and get lagged or stretched? Not for Joseph, nor for +you, either, Benjamin. I'll tell you what, though, I think this will be a +busy day; it must be a busy day. That old fox Bartley has found out his +blunder before now, and he'll try something on; then the Cliffords, they +won't go to sleep on it." + +"I don't know what yer talking about," says Burnley. + +"Remain in your ignorance, Ben. The best instrument is a blind +instrument; you shall have your revenge soon or late." + +"Let it be soon, then." + +"In the meantime," said Monckton, "have you got any money?" + +"Got my wages." + +"That will do for you to-day. Go to the public-house and get half-drunk." + +"Half-drunk?" + +"Half-drunk! Don't I speak plain?" + +"Miners," said Burnley, candidly, "never get half-drunk in t' county +Durham; they are that the best part of their time." + +"Then you get half-drunk, neither more nor less, or I'll discharge you as +Hope has done, and that will be the worst discharge of the two for you. +When you are half-drunk come here directly, and hang about this place. +No; you had better be under that tree in the middle of the field there, +and pretend to be sleeping off your liquor. Come, mizzle!" + +When he had packed off Burnley, he got back into his hiding-place, and +only just in time, for Hope came back again upon the wings of love, and +Grace, whose elastic nature had revived, saw him coming, and came out to +meet him. Hope scolded her urgently: why had she got off the sofa when +repose was so necessary for her? + +"You are mistaken, dear father," said she. "I am wonderfully strong and +healthy; I never fainted away in my life, and my mind will not let me +rest at present--I have been longing so for my father." + +"Ah, precious word!" murmured Hope. "Keep saying that word to me, +darling. Oh, the years that I have pined for it!" + +"Dear father, we will make up for all those years. Oh, papa, let us not +part again, never, never, not even for a day." + +"My child, we never will. What am I saying? I shall have to give you back +to one who has a stronger claim than I--to your husband." + +"My husband?" said Mary, turning pale. + +"Yes," said Hope; "for you know you have a husband. Oh, I heard a few +words there before I interfered; but it is not to me you'll say '_I +don't know_.' That was good enough for Bartley and a lot of strangers. +Come, Grace dear, take my arm; have no concealments from me. Trust to a +father's infinite love, even if you have been imprudent or betrayed; but +that's a thing I shall never believe except from your lips. Take a turn +with me, my child, since you can not lie down and rest; a little air, +and gentle movement on your father's arm, and close to your father's +heart, will be the next best thing for you." Then they walked to and fro +like lovers. + +"Why, Grace, my child," said he, "of course I understand it all. No +doubt you promised to keep your marriage secret, or had some powerful +reason for withholding it from strangers; and, indeed, why should you +reveal such a secret to insolence or to mere curiosity. But you will tell +the truth to me, your father and your best friend; you will tell me you +are a wife." + +"Father," said Mary, trembling, and her eyes roved as if she was looking +out for the means of flight. + +Hope saw this look, and it made him sick at heart, for he had lived too +long, and observed too keenly, not to know that innocence and purity are +dangers, and are more often protected by the safeguards of society than +by themselves. + +"Oh, my child," said he, "anything is better than this suspense; why +do you not answer me? Why do you torture me? Are you Walter +Clifford's wife?" + +Mary began to pant and sob. "Oh papa, have patience with me. You do not +know the danger. Wait till he comes back. I dare not; I can not." + +"Then, by Heaven, he shall!" + +He dropped her arm, and his countenance became terrible. She clung to +him directly. + +"No, no; wait till I have seen him. He will be back this very +evening. Do not judge hastily; and oh, papa, as you love your child, +do not act rashly." + +"I shall act firmly," was Hope's firm reply. "You have come from a sham +father to a real one, and you will be protected as well as loved. This +lover has forbidden you to confide in your father (he did not know that I +was your father, but that makes no difference); it looks very ugly, and +if he has wronged you he shall do you justice, or I will have his life." + +"Oh, papa," screamed Mary, "his life? Why, mine is bound up with it." + +"I fear so," said Hope. "But what's our life to us without our honor, +especially to a woman? He is the true Cain that destroys a pure virgin." + +Then he put both his hands on her shoulder, and said, "Look at me, +Grace." She looked at him full with eyes as brave as a lion's and as +gentle as a gazelle's. + +In a moment his senses enlightened him beyond the power of circumstances +to deceive. "It's a lie," said he; "men are always lying and +circumstances deceiving; there is no blush of shame upon these cheeks, no +sin nor frailty in these pure eyes. You are his wife?" + +"I am!" cried Grace, unable to resist any longer. + +"Thank God!" cried Hope, and father and daughter were locked that moment +in a tender embrace. + +"Yes, papa, you shall know all, and then I shall have to fall on my knees +and ask you not to punish one I love--for--a fault committed years ago. +You will have pity on us both. Walter and I were married at the altar, +and I am his wife in the eyes of Heaven. But, oh, papa, I fear I am not +his lawful wife." + +"Not his lawful wife, child! Why, what nonsense!" + +"I would to Heaven it was; but this morning I learned for the first time +that he had been married before. Oh, it was years ago; but she is alive." + +"Impossible! He could not be so base." + +"Papa," said Mary, very gravely, "I have seen the certificate." + +"The certificate!" said Hope, in dismay. "What certificate?" + +"Of the Registry Office. It was shown me by a gentleman she sent +expressly to warn me; she had no idea that Walter and I were married, but +she had heard somehow of our courtship. I try to thank her, and I tried, +and always will, to save him from a prison and his family from disgrace." + +"And sacrifice yourself?" cried Hope, in agony. + +"I love him," said Mary, "and you must spare him." + +"I will have justice for my child." + +Grace was in such terror lest her father should punish Walter that she +begged him to consider whether in sacrificing herself she really had not +been unintentionally wise. What could she gain by publishing that she had +married another woman's husband "I have lost my husband," said she "but I +have found my father. Oh take me away and let me rest my broken heart +upon yours far from all who know me. Every wound seems to be cured in +this world, and if time won't cure this my wound, even with my father's +help, the grave _will_." + +"Oh, misery!" cried Hope; "do I hear such words as these from my child +just entering upon life and all its joys?" + +"Hush, papa," said Grace; "there is that man." + +That man was Mr. Bartley. He looked very much distressed, and proceeded +at once to express his penitence. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +A WOMAN OUTWITS TWO MEN. + + +"Oh, Mary, what can I say? I was simply mad, stung into fury by that +foul-mouthed ruffian. Mary, I am deeply sorry, and thoroughly ashamed of +my violence and my cruelty, and I implore you to think of the very many +happy years we have spent together without an angry word--not that you +ever deserved one. Let us silence all comments; return to me as the head +of my house and the heiress of my fortune; you will bind Mr. Hope to me +still more strongly, he shall be my partner, and he will not be so +selfish as to ruin your future." + +"Ay," said Hope, "that's the same specious argument you tempted me with +twelve years ago. But she was a helpless child then; she is a woman now, +and can decide for herself. As for me, I will not be your partner. I have +a small royalty on your coal, and that is enough for me; but Grace shall +do as she pleases. My child, will you go to the brilliant future that his +wealth can secure you, or share my modest independence, which will need +all my love to brighten it. Think before you answer; your own future life +depends upon yourself." + +With this he turned his back and walked for some distance very stoutly, +then leaned upon the palings with his back toward Grace; but even a back +can speak, and the young lady looked at him and her eyes filled; then she +turned them toward Bartley, and those clear eyes dried as if the fire in +the heart had scorched them. + +"In the first place, sir," said she, with a cold and cutting voice, very +unusual to her, "my name is not Mary, it is Grace; and, be assured of +this, if there was not another roof in all the world to shelter me, if I +was helpless, friendless and fatherless, I would die in the nearest ditch +rather than set my foot in the house from which I was thrust out with +shame and insult such as no lady ever yet forgave. But, thank Heaven, I +am not at your mercy at all. He to whom nature has drawn me all these +years is my father--Oh, papa, come to me; is it for _you_ to stand aloof? +It is into your hands, with all the trust and love you have earned so +well from your poor Grace, I give my love, my veneration, and my heart +and soul forever." Then she flung herself panting on his bosom, and he +cried over her. The next moment he led her to the house, where he made +her promise to repose now after this fresh trial; and, indeed, he would +have followed her, but Bartley implored him so piteously, for the sake of +old times, not to refuse him one word more, that he relented so far as to +come out to him, though he felt it was a waste of time. + +He said, "Mr. Bartley, it's no use; nothing can undo this morning's +work: our paths lie apart. From something Walter Clifford let fall one +day, I suspect he is the person you robbed, and induced me to rob, of a +large fortune." + +"Well, what is he to you? Have pity upon me; be silent, and name your +own price." + +"Wrong Walter Clifford with my eyes open? He is the last man in the +world that I would wrong in money matters. I have got a stern account +against him, and I will begin it by speaking the truth and giving him +back his own." + +Here the interview was interrupted by an honest miner, one Jim Perkins. +He came in hurriedly, and, like people of that class, thrust everybody +else's business out of his way. "You are wanted at the mine, Mr. Hope. +The shoring of the old works is giving way, and there's a deal of water +collecting in another part." + +"I'll come at once," said Hope; "the men's lives must not be endangered. +Have the cage ready." Jim walked away. + +Hope turned to Bartley. + +"Pray understand, Mr. Bartley, that this is my last visit to your mine." + +"One moment, Hope," cried Bartley in despair; "we have been friends so +long, surely you owe me something." + +"I do." + +"Well, then, I'll make you rich for life if you will but let Mary return +to me and only just be silent; speak neither for me nor against me; +surely that is not much for an old friend to ask. What is your answer?" + +"That I will speak the truth, and keep my conscience and my child." + +This answer literally crushed Bartley. His very knees knocked together; +he leaned against the palings sick at heart. He saw that Colonel Clifford +would extort not only Walter's legacy, but what the lawyers call the +mesne profits, that is to say, the interest and the various proceeds +from the fraud during fourteen years. + +Whilst he was in this condition of bodily collapse and mental horror a +cold, cynical voice dropped icicles, so to speak, into his ear. + +"In a fix, governor, eh? The girl won't come back, and Hope won't hold +his tongue." + +Bartley looked round in amazement, and saw the cadaverous face and +diabolical sneer of Leonard Monckton. Fourteen years and evil passions +had furrowed that bloodless cheek; but there was no mistaking the man. It +was a surprise to Bartley to see him there and be spoken to by a knave +who had tried to rob him; but he was too full of his immediate trouble to +think much of minor things. + +"What do you know about it?" said he, roughly. + +"I'll tell you," said Monckton, coolly. + +He then walked in a most leisurely way to the gate that led into the +meadow whose eastern boundary was Hope's quick-set hedge, and he came in +the same leisurely way up to Mr. Bartley, and leaned his back, with his +hands behind him, with perfect effrontery, against the palings. + +"I know all," said he. "I overheard you in your office fourteen years +ago, when you changed children with Hope." + +Bartley uttered an exclamation of dismay. + +"And I've been hovering about here all day, and watched the little game, +and now I am fly, and no mistake." + +Bartley threw up his hands in dismay. "Then it's all over; I am doubly +ruined. I can not hope to silence you both." + +"Don't speak so loud, governor." + +"Why not?" said Bartley, "others will, if I don't." He lowered his voice +for all that, and wondered what was coming. + +"Listen to me," said Monckton, exchanging his cynical manner for a quiet +and weighty one. + +Bartley began to wonder, and look at him with a sort of awe. The words +now dropped out of Monckton's thin lips as if they were chips of granite, +so full of meaning was every syllable, and Bartley felt it. + +"It's not so bad as it looks. There are only two men that know you +are a felon." + +Bartley winced visibly. + +"Now one of those men is to be bought"--Bartley lifted his head with a +faint gleam of hope at that--"and the other--has gone--down a coal-mine." + +"What good will that do me?" + +The villain paused, and looked Bartley in the face. + +"That depends. Suppose you were to offer me what you offered Hope, and +suppose Hope--was never--to come up--again?" + +"No such luck," said Bartley, shaking his head sorrowfully. + +"Luck," said Monckton, contemptuously; "we make our own luck. Do you see +that vagabond lying under the tree, that's Ben Burnley." + +"Ah!" said Bartley, "the ruffian Hope discharged." + +"The same, and a man that is burning to be revenged on him: _he's_ your +luck, Mr. Bartley; I know the man, and what he has done in a mine +before to-day." + +Then he drew near to Bartley's ear, and hissed into it these +fearful words: + +"Send him down the mine, promise him five hundred pounds--if William +Hope--never comes up again--and William Hope never will." + +Bartley drew back aghast. "Assassination!" he cried, and by a generous +impulse of horror he half fled from the tempter; but Monckton followed +him up and laid his hand upon his shoulder. + +"Hush," said he, "you are getting too near that window; and it is open. +Let me see there's nobody inside." + +He looked in. There was nobody. Grace was upstairs, but it did so happen +that she came into the room soon after. + +"Nothing of the kind. Accident. Accidents will happen in mines, and +talking of luck, this mine was declared dangerous this very day." + +"No, no," groaned Bartley, trembling in every limb, "it's a horrible +crime; I dare not risk it." + +"It is but a risk. The alternative is certain. You will be indicted for +fraud by the Cliffords." + +Bartley groaned. + +"They'll live in your home, they'll revel in your money, while you wear a +cropped head--and a convict dress--in a stone cell at Portland." + +"No, never!" screamed Bartley. "Man, man; you are tempting me to my +perdition!" + +"I am saving you. Just consider--where is the risk? It is only an +accident, and who will suspect you? Men don't ruin their own mines. Here, +just let me call him." + +Bartley made a faint gesture to forbid it, but Monckton pretended to take +that as an assent. + +"Hy, Ben," he cried, "come here." + +"No, no," cried Bartley, "I'll have nothing to do with him." + +"Well," said Monckton, "then don't, but hear what he has got to say; +he'll tell you how easily accidents happen in a mine." + +Then Burnley came in, but stood at some distance. Bartley turned his back +upon them both, and edged away from them a little; but Monckton stood +between the two men, determined to bring them together. + +"Ben," said he, "Mr. Bartley takes you on again at my request, no thanks +to Mr. Hope." + +"No, curse him; I know that." + +"Talking of that, Ben, how was it that you got rid of that troublesome +overseer in the Welsh colliery?" + +Ben started, and looked aghast for a moment, but soon recovered himself +and told his tale of blood with a strange mixture of satisfaction and +awe, washing his hands in the air nervously all the time. + +"Well, you see, sir, we put some gun-cotton in a small canister, with a +fuse cut to last fowr minutes, and hid it in one of the old workings the +men had left; then they telt t' overseer they thowt t' water was coming +in by quickly. He got there just in time; and what with t' explosion, +fire-damp, and fallen coal, we never saw t' over-seer again." + +"Dear me," said Monckton, "and Mr. Hope has gone down the mine expressly +to inspect old workings. Is it not a strange coincidence? Now if such an +accident was to befall Mr. Hope, it's my belief Mr. Bartley would give +you five hundred pounds." + +Bartley made no reply, the perspiration was pouring down his face, and he +looked a picture of abject guilt and terror. + +Monckton looked at him, and decided for him. He went softly, like a cat, +to Ben Burnley and said, "If an accident does occur, and that man never +comes up again, you are to have five hundred pounds." + +"Five hundred pounds!" shouted Ben. "I do t' job. Nay, _nay_, but," said +he, and his countenance fell, "they will not let me go down the mine." + +The diabolical agent went cat-like to Bartley. + +"Please give me a written order to let this man go to work again in +the mine." + +Bartley trembled and hesitated, but at last took out his pocket-book and +wrote on a leaf, + +"Take Burnley on again. + +"R. BARTLEY." + +Whilst writing it his hand shook, and when it was written he would not +tear it out. He panted and quivered and was as pale as ashes, and said, +"No, no, it's a death-warrant; I can not;" and his trembling hand tried +to convey the note-book back to his pocket, but it fell from his shaking +fingers, and Monckton took it up and quietly tore the leaf out, and took +it across to Burnley, in spite of a feeble gesture the struggling wretch +made to detain him. He gave Ben the paper, and whispered, "Be off before +he changes his mind." + +"You'll hear of an accident in the mine before the day is over," said +Burnley, and he went off without a grain of remorse under the double +stimulus of revenge and lucre. + +"He'll do it," cried Monckton, triumphantly, "and Hope will end his days +in the Bartley mine." + + * * * * * + +These words were hardly out of his lips when Grace Hope walked out of the +house, pale, and with her eyes gleaming, and walked rapidly past them. +She had nothing on her head but a white handkerchief that was tied under +her chin. Her appearance and her manner struck the conspirators with +terror. Bartley stood aghast; but the more resolute villain seized her as +she passed him. She was not a bit frightened at that, but utterly amazed. +It was a public road. + +"How dare you touch me, you villain!" she cried. "Let me go. Ah, I shall +know you again, with your face like a corpse and your villainous eyes. +Let me go, or I'll have you hung." + +"Where are you going?" said Bartley, trembling. + +"To my father." + +"He is not your father; it is a conspiracy. You must come home with me." + +"Never!" cried Mary, and by a sudden and violent effort she flung +Monckton off. + +But Bartley, mad with terror, seized her that moment, and that gave +Monckton time to recover and seize her again by the arm. + +"You are not of age," cried Bartley; "you are under my authority, and you +shall come home with me." + +"No! no!" cried Mary. "Help! help! murder! help!" + +She screamed, and struggled so violently that with all their efforts +they could hardly hold her. Then the devil Monckton began to cry louder +still, "She's mad! she's mad! help to secure a mad woman." This terrified +Grace Hope. She had read of the villainies that had been done under cover +of that accusation, which indeed has too often prevented honest men from +interfering with deeds of lawless violence. But she had all her wits +about her, woman's wit included. She let them drag her past the cottage +door. Then she cried out with delight, "Ah! here is my father." They +followed the direction of her eye, and relaxed their grasp. Instantly she +drew her hands vigorously downward, got clear of them, gave them each a +furious push that sent them flying forward, then darted back through the +open door, closed it, and bolted it inside just as Monckton, recovering +himself, quickly dashed furiously against it--in vain. + +The quick-witted villain saw the pressing danger in a moment. "To the +back door or we are lost!" he yelled. Bartley dashed round to that door +with a cry of dismay. + +But Grace was before him just half a minute. She ran through the house. + +Alas! the infernal door was secure. The woman had locked it when she went +out. Grace came flying back to the front, and drew the bolt softly. But +as she did so she heard a hammering, and found the door was fast. +Unluckily, Hope's tool-basket was on the window-ledge, and Monckton drove +a heavy nail obliquely through the bottom of the door, and it was +immovable. Then Mary slipped with cat-like step to the window, and had +her hand on the sill to vault clean out into the road; she was perfectly +capable, it being one of her calisthenic exercises. But here again her +watchful enemy encountered her. He raised his hammer as if to strike her +hand--though perhaps he might not have gone that length--but she was a +woman, and drew back at that cruel gesture. Instantly he closed the +outside shutters; he didn't trouble about the window, but these outside +shutters he proceeded to nail up; and, as the trap was now complete, he +took his time, and by a natural reaction from his fears, he permitted +himself to exult a little. + +"Thank you, Mr. Hope, for the use of your tools." (Rat-tat.) +"There, my little bird, you're caged." (Rat-tat-tat.) "Did you +really think--(rat-tat)--two men--(rat-tat-tat)--were to be beaten +by one woman?" + +The prisoner thus secured, he drew aside with justifiable pride to admire +his work. This action enabled him to see the side of the cottage he had +secured so cleverly in front and behind, and there was Grace Hope coming +down from her bedroom window; she had tied two crimson curtains together +by a useful knot, which is called at sea a fisherman's bend, fastened one +end to the bed or something, and she was coming down this extemporized +rope, hand over hand alternately, with as much ease and grace as if she +were walking down marble steps. Monckton flung his arm and body wildly +over the paling and grabbed her with his finger ends, she gave a spang +with her heels against the wall, and took a bold leap away from him into +a tulip-bed ten feet distant at least: he yelled to Bartley, "To the +garden;" and not losing a moment, flung his leg over the paling to catch +her, with Bartley's help, in this new trap. Mary dashed off without a +moment's hesitation at the quick-set hedge; she did not run up to it and +hesitate like a woman, for it was not to be wriggled through; she went at +it with the momentum and impetus of a race-horse, and through it as if it +was made of blotting-paper, leaving a wonderfully small hole, but some +shreds of her dress, and across the meadow at a pace that neither +Bartley nor Monckton, men past their prime, could hope to rival even if +she had not got the start. They gazed aghast at one another; at the +premises so suddenly emptied as if by magic; at the crimson curtain +floating like a banner, and glowing beautifully amongst the green +creepers; and at that flying figure, with her hair that glittered in the +sun, and streamed horizontal in the wind with her velocity, flying to the +mine to save William Hope, and give these baffled conspirators a life of +penal servitude. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +CALAMITY. + + +The baffled conspirators saw Grace Hope bound over a stile like a deer +and dash up to the mine; then there was a hurried colloquy, and some men +were seen to start from the mine and run toward Hope's cottage. What +actually took place was this: She arrived panting, and begged to be sent +down the mine at once; the deputy said, "You cannot, miss, without an +order from Mr. Hope." + +"I am his daughter, sir," said she; "he has claimed me from Mr. Bartley +this day." + +At that word the man took off his hat to her. + +"Let me down this instant; there's a plot to fire the mine, and destroy +my dear father." + +"A plot to fire the mine!" said the man, all aghast. "Why, who by? Hy! +cage ready there!" + +"One Burnley, but he's bribed by a stranger. Send me down to warn my +father; but you run and seize that villain; you can not mistake him. He +wears a light suit of tweed, all one color. He has very black eyebrows, +and a face like a corpse, and a large gold ring on the little finger of +his right hand. You will find him somewhere near my father's cottage. +Neither you nor I have a moment to lose." + +Then the deputy called three more men, and made for Hope's cottage, while +Grace went down in the cage. + +Bartley fled in mortal terror to his own house, and began to pack up his +things to leave the country. Monckton withdrew to the clump of fir-trees, +and from that thin shelter watched the mine, intending to levant as soon +as he should see Hope come up safe and sound; but, when he saw three or +four men start from the mine and run across to him, he took the alarm and +sought the thicker shelter of a copse hard by. It was a very thick cover, +good for temporary concealment; but he soon found it was so narrow that +he couldn't emerge from it on either side without being seen at once, and +his quick wit told him that Grace had denounced him, and probably +described him accurately to the miners; he was in mortal terror, but not +unprepared for this sort of danger. The first thing he did was to whip +off his entire tweed suit and turn it inside out; he had had it made on +purpose; it was a thin tweed, doubled with black kerseymere, so that this +change was a downright transformation. Then he substituted a black tie +for a colored one, whipped out a little mirror and his hare's-foot, etc., +browned and colored his cheek, put on an admirable gray wig, whiskers, +mustache, and beard, and partly whitened his eyebrows, and hobbled feebly +out of the little wood an infirm old man. Presently he caught sight of +his gold ring. "Ah!" said he, "she is a sharp girl; perhaps she noticed +that in the struggle?" He took it off and was going to put it in his +pocket, but thought better of that, and chucked it into a ditch. Then he +made for the village. The pursuers hunted about the house and, of course, +didn't find him; but presently one of them saw him crossing a meadow not +far off, so they ran toward him and hailed him. + +"Hy! mister!" + +He went feebly on, and did not seem to hear; then they hailed him again +and ran toward him; then he turned and stopped, and seeing men running +toward him, took out a large pair of round spectacles, and put them on to +look at them. By this artifice that which in reality completed his +disguise seemed but a natural movement in an old man to see better who it +was that wanted him. + +"What be you doing here?" said the man. + +"Well, my good man," said Monckton, affecting surprise, "I have been +visiting an old friend, and now I'm going home again. I hope I am not +trespassing. Is not this the way to the village? They told me it was." + +"That's right enough," said the deputy, "but by the way you come you just +have seen him." + +"No, sir," said Monckton, "I haven't seen anybody except one gentleman, +that came through that wood there as I passed it." + +"What was he like, sir?" + +"Well, I didn't take particular notice, and he passed me all in a hurry." + +"That would be the man," said the deputy. "Had he a very pale face?" + +"Not that I remarked; he seemed rather heated with running." + +"How was he dressed, sir?" + +"Oh, like many of the young people, all of one pattern." + +"Light or dark?" + +"Light, I think." + +"Was it a tweed suit?" + +"I almost think it was. What had he been doing--anything wrong? He seemed +to me to be rather scared-like." + +"Which way did he go, sir?" + +"I think he made for that great house, sir." + +"Come on," said the deputy, and he followed this treacherous indication, +hot in pursuit. + +Monckton lost no time. He took off twenty years, and reached the Dun Cow +as an old acquaintance. He hired the one vehicle the establishment +possessed, and was off like a shot to Derby; thence he dispatched a note +to his lodgings to say he was suddenly called to town, but should be back +in a week. Not that he ever intended to show his face in that +neighborhood again. + +Nevertheless events occasioned that stopped both his flight and +Bartley's, and yet broke up their unholy alliance. + +It was Hope's final inspection of the Bartley mine, and he took things in +order. Months ago a second shaft had been sunk by his wise instructions, +and but for Bartley's parsimony would have been now completed. Hope now +ascertained how many feet it was short, and noted this down for Bartley. + +Then, still inspecting, he went to the other extremity of the mine, and +reached a sort of hall or amphitheatre much higher than the passages. +This was a centre with diverging passages on one side, but closed on the +other. Two of these passages led by oblique routes to those old works, +the shoring of which had been reported unsafe. + +This amphitheatre was now a busy scene, empty trucks being pushed off, +full trucks being pushed on, all the men carrying lighted lanterns, that +wavered and glinted like "wills of the wisp." Presently a bell rung, and +a portion of the men, to whom this was a signal, left off work and began +to put on their jackets and to await the descent of the cage to take them +up in parties. At this moment Hope met, to his surprise, a figure that +looked like Ben Burnley. He put up his lamp to see if he was right, and +Ben Burnley it was. The ruffian had the audacity to put up his lamp, as +if to scrutinize the person who examined him. + +"Did I not discharge you?" said Hope. + +"Ay, lad," said Ben; "but your master put me on again." With that he +showed Bartley's order and signature. + +Hope bit his lips, but merely said, "He will rue it." Burnley sidled +away; but Hope cried to one or two men who were about, + +"Keep a sharp lookout on him, my men, your lives are not safe whilst he's +in the mine." + +Burnley leaned insolently against a truck and gave the men nothing to +observe; the next minute in bustled the honest miner at whose instance +Hope had come down the mine, and begged him to come and visit the +shoring at once. + +Hope asked if there were any other men there; the miner replied in +the negative. + +"Very well, then," said Hope, "I'll just take one look at the water here, +and I'll be at the shoring in five minutes." + +Unfortunately this unwary statement let Burnley know exactly what to do; +he had already concealed in the wood-work a canister of dynamite, and a +fuse to it to last about five minutes. He now wriggled away under cover +of Hope's dialogue and lighted the fuse, then he came flying back to get +safe out of the mine, and leave Hope in his death-trap. + +But in the meantime Grace Hope came down in the cage, and caught sight of +her father and came screaming to him, "Father, father!" + +"You here, my child!" + +"There's a plot to murder you! A man called Burnley is to cause an +explosion at the old works just as you visit them." + +"An explosion!" cried Hope, "and fire-damp about. One explosion will +cause fifty--ring the bell--here men! danger!" + +Then there was a rush of men. + +"Ben Burnley is firing the mine." + +There was a yell of fury; but a distant explosion turned it to one +of dismay. Hope caught his daughter up in his arms and put her +into a cavity. + +"Fly, men, to the other part of the mine," he cried. + +There was a louder explosion. In ran Burnley terrified at his own work, +and flying to escape. Hope sprang out upon him. "No you don't--living or +dead, you are the last to leave this mine." + +Burnley struggled furiously, but Hope dashed him down at his feet. Just +as a far more awful explosion than all took place, one side of that +amphitheatre fell in and the very earth heaved. The corner part of the +shaft fell in upon the cage and many poor miners who were hoping to +escape by it; but those escaped for the present who obeyed Hope's order +and fled to another part of the mine, and when the stifling vapors +drifted away there stood Hope pale as death, but strong as iron, with the +assassin at his feet, and poor Grace crouching and quivering in her +recess. Their fate now awaited these three, a speedy death by choke-damp, +or a slow death by starvation, or a rescue from the outside under +circumstances of unparalleled difficulty, since there was but one shaft +completed, and that was now closed by a mountain of débris. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +BURIED ALIVE. + + +The explosions so tremendously loud below were but muffled sounds at the +pit's mouth; but, alas! these muffled sounds, and one flash of lurid +flame that shot up into the air, told the tale of horror to every +experienced pitman and his wife, and the cry of a whole village went up +to heaven. + +The calamity spread like wildfire. It soon found its way to Clifford +Hall, and the deputy ran himself with the news to Mr. Bartley. Bartley +received it at first with a stony glare, and trembled all over; then the +deputy, lowering his voice, said, "Sir, the worst of it is, there is foul +play in it. There is good authority to say that Ben Burnley fired the +mine to destroy his betters, and he has done it; for Mr. Hope and Miss +Hope that is, Miss Bartley that was, are both there." He added, in a +broken voice, "And if they are not buried or stifled, it will be hard +work to save them. The mine is a ruin." + +Bartley delivered a wild scream, and dashed out of the house at once; he +did not even take his hat, but the deputy, more self-possessed, took one +out of the hall and followed him. + +Bartley hurried to the mine, and found that several stout fellows had +gone down with their pickaxes and other tools to clear the shaft, but +that it must be terribly slow work, so few men could work at a time in +that narrow space. Bartley telegraphed to Derby for a more powerful +steam-engine and experienced engineers, and set another gang to open the +new shaft to the bottom, and see if any sufferers could be saved that +way. Whatever he did was wise, but his manner was frenzied. None of his +people thought he had so much feeling, and more than one of the quaking +women gave him a kind word; he made no reply, he did not even seem to +hear. He wandered about the mine all night wringing his hands, and at +last he was taken home almost by force. + +Humanity overpowered prejudice, and Colonel Clifford came to the mine to +see if he could be of any use to the sufferers. He got hold of the deputy +and learned from him what Bartley was doing. He said he thought that was +the best course, as there would be division of labor; but, said he, "I am +an old campaigner, and I know that men can not fight without food, and +this work will be a fight. How will you house the new-comers?" + +"There are forty-seven men missing, and the new men can sleep in their +cottages." + +"That's so," said the Colonel, "but there are the wives and the children. +I shall send sleeping tents and eating tents, and provisions enough to +feed a battalion. Forty-seven lives," said he, pityingly. + +"Ay, sir," said the deputy, "and such lives, some of them; for Mr. Hope +and Miss Mary Bartley--leastways that is not her name now, she's Mr. +Hope's daughter." + +"Why, what has she to do with it?" + +"I am sorry to say, sir, she is down the mine." + +"God forbid!" said the Colonel; "that noble girl dead, or in +mortal danger." + +"She is, sir," and, lowering his voice, "by foul play;" then seeing the +Colonel greatly shocked and moved, he said, "and I ought not to keep it +from you. You are our nearest magistrate; the young lady told me at the +pit mouth she is Mr. Hope's daughter." + +"And so she is." + +"And she said there was a plot to destroy her father in the mine by +exploding the old workings he was going to visit. One Ben Burnley was to +do it; a blackguard that has a spite against Mr. Hope for discharging +him. But there was money behind him and a villain that she described to +us--black eyebrows, a face like a corpse, and dressed in a suit of tweed +one color. We hoped that she might have been mistaken, or she might have +warned Mr. Hope in time; but now it is to be seen that there was no +mistake, and she had not time to warn him. The deed is done; and a darker +deed was never done, even in the dark." + +Colonel Clifford groaned: after a while he said, "Seize that Ben Burnley +at once, or he will soon leave this place behind him." + +"No, he won't," said the deputy. "He is in the mine, that is one comfort; +and if he comes out alive his life won't be worth much, with the law on +one side of the blackguard and Judge Lynch on t'other." + +"The first thing," said the Colonel, "is to save these precious lives. +God help us and them." + +He then went to the Railway, and wired certain leading tradesmen in +Derby for provisions, salt and fresh, on a large scale, and for new +tents. He had some old ones stored away in his own house. He also secured +abundance of knives, forks, plates, buckets, pitchers, and jugs, and, in +short, he opened a commissariat. He inquired for his son Walter, and why +he was so late. He could learn nothing but that Walter had mounted a +hunter and left word with Baker that he should not be home till eight +o'clock. "John," said the Colonel, solemnly, "I am in great trouble, and +Walter is in worse, I fear. Let nobody speak to him about this accident +at the mine till he has seen me." + + * * * * * + +Walter Clifford rode to the Lake Hotel to inquire after the bracelet. The +landlady told him she had sent her husband over with it that day. + +"Confound it," said Walter; "why, he won't know who to take it to." + +"Oh, it's all right, sir," said she. "My Sam won't give it to the wrong +person, you may be sure." + +"How do I know that?" said Walter; "and, pray, who did you tell him to +give it to?" + +"Why, to the lady as was here with you." + +"And how the deuce is he to find her? He does not know her name. It's a +great pity you could not keep it till I came." + +"Well, sir, you was so long a-coming." + +"That's true," said Walter; "let us make the best of it. I shall feed my +horse, and get home as quickly as I can." + +However, he knew he would be late, and thought he had better go straight +home. He sent a telegram to Mary Bartley: "Landlord gone to you with +bracelet;" and this he signed with the name of the landlady, but no +address. He was afraid to say more, though he would have liked to put his +wife upon her guard; but he trusted to her natural shrewdness. He mounted +his horse and went straight home, but he was late for dinner, and that +vexed him a little, for it was a matter Colonel Clifford was particular +about. He dashed up to his bedroom and began to dress all in a hurry. + +John Baker came to him wearing a very extraordinary look, and after +some hesitation said, "I would not change my clothes if I were you, +Mr. Walter." + +"Oh," said Walter, "I am too late, you know; in for a penny, in +for a pound." + +"But, sir," said old John, "the Colonel wants to speak to you in the +drawing-room." + +Now Walter was excited with the events of the day, irritated by the +affront his father had put upon him and Mary, strung up by hard riding, +etc. He burst out, "Well, I shall not go to him; I have had enough of +this--badgered and bullied, and my sweetheart affronted--and now I +suppose I am to be lectured again; you say I am not well, and bring my +dinner up here." + +"No, Mr. Walter," said the old man, gravely, "I must not do that. Sir, +don't you think as you are to be scolded, or the angel you love +affronted; all that is over forever. There has been many a strange thing +happened since you rode out of our stable last, but I wish you would go +to the Colonel and let him tell you all; however, I suppose I may tell +you so much as this, that your sweetheart is not Mary Bartley at all; she +is Mr. Hope's daughter." + +"What!" cried Walter, in utter amazement. + +"There is no doubt about it, sir," said the old man, "and I believe it is +all out about you and her, but that would not matter, for the Colonel he +takes it quite different from what you might think. He swears by her now. +I don't know really how that came about, sir, for I was not there, but +when I was dressing the Colonel he said to me, 'John, she's the grandest +girl in England, and an honor to her sex, and there is not a drop of +Bartley's blood in her.'" + +"Oh, he has found that out," said Walter. "Then I'll go to him like a +bird, dear old fellow. So that is what he wanted to tell me." + +"No," said John Baker, gravely. + +"No," said Walter; "what then?" + +"It's trouble." + +"Trouble," said Walter, puzzled. + +"Ay, my poor young master," said Baker, tenderly--"sore trouble, such +trouble as a father's heart won't let me, or any man break to you, while +he lives to do it. I know my master. Ever since that fellow Bartley came +here we have seen the worst of him; now we shall see the best of him. Go +to him, dear Master Walter. Don't waste time in talking to old John +Baker. Go to your father and your friend." + +Walter Clifford cast a look of wonder and alarm on the old man, and went +down at once to the drawing-room. His father was standing by the fire. He +came forward to him with both hands, and said, + +"My son!" + +"Father," said Walter, in a whisper, "what is it?" + +"Have you heard nothing?" + +"Nothing but good news, father--that you approve my choice." + +"Ah, John told you that!" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And did he tell you anything else?" + +"No sir, only that some great misfortune is upon me, and that I have my +father's sympathy." + +"You have," said the Colonel, "and would to God I had known the truth +before. She is not Bartley's daughter at all; she is Hope's daughter. Her +virtue shines in her face; she is noble, she is self-denying, she is +just, she is brave; and no doubt she can account for her being at the +Lake Hotel in company with some man or other. Whatever that lady says +will be the truth. That's not the trouble, Walter; all that has become +small by comparison. But shall we ever see her sweet face again or hear +her voice?" + +"Father," said Walter, trembling, "you terrify me. This sudden change in +your voice that I never heard falter before; some great calamity must +have happened. Tell me the worst at once." + +"Walter," said the old man, "stand firm; do not despair, for there is +hope." + +"Thank God for that, father! now tell me all." + +"Walter, there has been an explosion in the mine--a fearful explosion; +the shaft has fallen in; there is no getting access to the mine, and all +the poor souls confined there are in mortal peril. Those who are best +acquainted with the mine do not think that many of them have been +destroyed by the ruin, but they tell me these explosions let loose +poisonous gases, and so now those poor souls are all exposed to three +deadly perils--choke-damp, fire-damp, and starvation." + +"It's pitiable," said Walter, "but surely this is a calamity to Bartley, +and to the poor miners, but not to any one that I love, and that you have +learnt to respect." + +"My son," said the Colonel, solemnly, "the mine was fired by foul play." + +"Is it possible?" + +"It is believed that some rival owner, or else some personal enemy of +William Hope, bribed a villain to fire some part of the mine that Hope +was inspecting." + +"Great heavens!" said Walter, "can such villains exist? Poor, poor Mr. +Hope: who would think he had an enemy in the world?" + +"Alas!" said the Colonel, "that is not all. His daughter, it seems, +over-heard the villain bribing the ruffian to commit this foul and +terrible act, and she flew to the mine directly. She dispatched some +miners to seize that hellish villain, and she went down the mine to save +her father." + +"Ah!" said Walter, trembling all over. + +"She has never been seen since." + +The Colonel's head sank for a moment on his breast. + +Walter groaned and turned pale. + +"She came too late to save him; she came in time to share his fate." + +Walter sank into a chair, and a deadly pallor overspread his face, his +forehead, and his very lips. + +The Colonel rushed to the door and called for help, and in a moment John +Baker and Mrs. Milton and Julia Clifford were round poor Walter's chair +with brandy and ether and salts, and every stimulant. He did not faint +away; strong men very seldom do at any mere mental shock. + +The color came slowly back to his cheeks and his pale lips, and his eyes +began to fill with horror. The weeping women, and even the stout Colonel, +viewed with anxiety his return to the full consciousness of his calamity. +"Be brave," cried Colonel Clifford; "be a soldier's son; don't despair; +fight: nothing has been neglected. Even Bartley is playing the man; he +has got another engine coming up, and another body of workmen to open the +new shaft as well as the old one." + +"God bless him!" said Walter. + +"And I have an experienced engineer on the road, and the things civilians +always forget--tents and provisions of all sorts. We will set an army to +work sooner than your sweetheart, poor girl, shall lose her life by any +fault of ours." + +"My sweetheart," cried Walter, starting suddenly from his chair. "There, +don't cling to me, women. No man shall head that army but I. My +sweetheart! God help me--SHE'S MY WIFE." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +REMORSE. + + +In a work of this kind not only the external incidents should be noticed, +but also what may be called the mental events. We have seen a calamity +produce a great revulsion in the feelings of Colonel Clifford; but as for +Robert Bartley his very character was shaken to the foundation by his +crime and its terrible consequences. He was now like a man who had glided +down a soft sunny slope, and was suddenly arrested at the brink of a +fathomless precipice. Bartley was cunning, selfish, avaricious, +unscrupulous in reality, so long as he could appear respectable, but he +was not violent, nor physically reckless, still less cruel. A deed of +blood shocked him as much as it would shock an honest man. Yet now +through following his natural bent too far, and yielding to the influence +of a remorseless villain, he found his own hands stained with blood--the +blood of a man who, after all, had been his best friend, and had led him +to fortune; and the blood of an innocent girl who had not only been his +pecuniary benefactress for a time, but had warmed and lighted his house +with her beauty and affection. + +Busy men, whose views are all external, are even more apt than others to +miss the knowledge of their own minds. This man, to whom everything was +business, had taken for granted he did not actually love Grace Hope. Why, +she was another man's child. But now he had lost her forever, he found he +had mistaken his own feelings. He looked round his gloomy horizon and +realized too late that he did love her; it was not a great and +penetrating love like William Hope's; he was incapable of such a +sentiment; but what affection he had to bestow, he had given to this +sweet creature. His house was dark without her; he was desolate and +alone, and, horrible to think of, the instrument of her assassination. +This thought drove him to frenzy, and his frenzy took two forms, furious +excitement and gloomy despair; this was now his life by night and day, +for sleep deserted him. At the mine his measures were all wise, but his +manner very wild; the very miners whispered amongst themselves that he +was going mad. At home, on the contrary, he was gloomy, with sullen +despair. He was in this latter condition the evening after the explosion, +when a visitor was announced. Thinking it was some one from the mine, he +said, faintly, "Admit him," and then his despondent head dropped on his +breast; indeed, he was in a sort of lethargy, worn out with his labors, +his remorse and his sleeplessness. + +In that condition his ear was suddenly jarred by a hard, metallic voice, +whose tone was somehow opposed to all the voices with which goodness and +humanity have ever spoken. + +"Well, governor, here's a slice of luck." + +Bartley shivered. "Is that the devil speaking to me?" he muttered, +without looking up. + +"No," said Monckton, jauntily, "only one of his servants, and your +best friend." + +"My friend," said Bartley, turning his chair and looking at him with a +sort of dull wonder. + +"Ay," said Monckton, "your friend; the man that found you brains and +resolution, and took you out of the hole, and put Hope and his +daughter in it instead; no, not his daughter, she did that for us, she +was so clever." + +"Yes," said Bartley, wildly, "it was you who made me an assassin. +But for you, I should only have been a knave; now I am a +murderer--thanks to you." + +"Come, governor," said Monckton, "no use looking at one side of the +picture. You tried other things first. You made him liberal offers, you +know; but he would have war to the knife, and he has got it. He is buried +at the bottom of that shaft." + +"God forbid!" + +"And you are all right." + +"I am in hell," shrieked Bartley. + +"Well, come out of it," said Monckton, "and let's talk sense. I--I read +the news at Derby, just as I was starting for London. I have been as near +the mine as I thought safe. They seem to be very busy clearing out both +shafts--two steam-engines, constant relays of workmen. Who has got the +job in hand?" + +"I have," said Bartley. + +"Well, that's clever of you to throw dust in their eyes, and put our +little game off your own shoulders. You want to save appearances? You +know you can not save William Hope." + +"I can save him, and I will save him. God will have mercy on a penitent +assassin, as he once had upon a penitent thief." + +Monckton stared at him and smiled. + +"Who has been talking to you--the parson?" + +"My own conscience. I abhor myself as much as I do you, you black +villain." + +"Ah!" said Monckton, with a wicked glance, "that's how a man patters +before he splits upon his pals, to save his own skin. Now, look here, old +man, before you split on me ask yourself who had the greatest interest in +this job. You silenced a dangerous enemy, but what have I gained? you +ought to square with me first, as you promised. If you split upon me +before that, you will put yourself in the hole and leave me out of it." + +"Villain and fool!" said Bartley, "these trifles do not trouble me now. +If Hope and my dear Mary are found dead in that mine, I'll tell how they +came by their death, and I'll die by my own hand." + +Monckton said nothing, but looked at him keenly, and began at last to +feel uneasy. + +"A shaft is but a narrow thing," Bartley rejoined; "why should they be +buried alive? let's get to them before they are starved to death. We may +save them yet." + +"Why, you fool, they'll denounce us!" + +"What do I care? I would save them both to-night if I was to stand in the +dock to-morrow." + +"And swing on the gallows next week, or end your days in a prison." + +"I'd take my chance," said Bartley, desperately. "I'll undo my crime if +I can. No punishment can equal the agony I am in now, thanks to you, +you villain." + +Then turning on him suddenly, and showing him the white of his eyes like +a maniac, or a dangerous mastiff, he hissed out, "You think nothing of +the lives of better men; perhaps you don't value your own?" + +"Oh, I beg your pardon," said Monckton. "That's a very different thing." + +"Oh, you do value your own foul life?" + +"At any amount of money," said Monckton. + +"Then why do you risk it?" + +"Excuse me, governor, that's a thing I make a point of not doing. I risk +my instruments, not my head, Ben Burnley to wit." + +"You are risking it now," said Bartley, looking still more +strangely at him. + +"How so, pray?" said Monckton, getting a little uneasy, for this was not +the Bartley he had known till then. + +Bartley took the poker in his hand and proceeded to poke the fire; but +somehow he did not look at the fire. He looked askant at Monckton, and he +showed the white of his eyes more and more. Monckton kept his eye upon +him and put his hand upon the handle of the door. + +"I'll tell you," said Bartley--"by coming here to tempt, provoke, and +insult the wretch whose soul you destroyed, by forcing me to assassinate +the best man and the sweetest girl in England, when there were vipers and +villains about whom it's a good action to sweep off God's earth. Villain! +I'll teach you to come like a fool and madden a madman. I was only a +rogue, you have made me a man of blood. All the worse for you. I have +murdered _them_, I'll execute _you_," and with these words he bounded on +him like a panther. + +Monckton tore the doors open, and dashed out, but a furious blow fell +before he was quite clear of the doorway. With such force was it +delivered that the blunt metal cut into the edge of the door like a +sword; the jamb was smashed, and even Monckton, who received but +one-fourth of the blow, fell upon his hands and knees into the hall and +was stunned for a moment, but fearing worse, staggered out of the hall +door, which, luckily for him, was open, and darting into a little grove +of shrubs, that was close by, grovelled there in silence, bleeding like a +pig, and waiting for his chance to escape entirely; but the quaking +reptile ran no further risk. + +Bartley never followed him beyond his own room; he had been goaded into a +maniacal impulse, and he returned to his gloomy sullenness. + + * * * * * + +Walter's declaration, made so suddenly before four persons, startled +them greatly for a moment--but only for a moment. Julia was the +first to speak. + +"We might have known it," she said, "Mary Bartley is a young lady +incapable of misconduct; she is prudence, virtue, delicacy, and purity in +person; the man she was with at that place was sure to be her husband, +and who should that be but Walter, whom she loved?" + +Then the servants looked anxiously at their master to see how he took +this startling revelation. Well, the Colonel stood firm as if he was at +the head of a column in the field. He was not the man to retreat from any +position, he said, "All we have to do is to save her; then my house and +arms are open to my son's wife." + +"God bless you, father!" cried Walter, in a broken voice; "and God +bless you, dear cousin. Yes, it's no time for words." And he was gone +in a moment. + +"Now Milton," said the Colonel, "he won't sleep here till the work is +done, and he won't sleep at all if we don't get a bed for him near the +mine. You order the break out, and go to the Dun Cow and do what you +can for him." + +"That I will, sir; I'll take his own sheets and bedding with me. I won't +trust that woman--she talks too much; and, if you please, sir, I'll stay +there a day or two myself, for maybe I shall coax him to eat a morsel of +my cooking, and to lie down a bit, when he would not listen to a +stranger." + +"You're a faithful creature," said the Colonel, rather aggressively, not +choosing to break down, "so are you, John; and it is at these moments we +find out our friends in the house; and, confound you, I forbid you both +to snivel," said he, still louder. Then, more gravely, "How do we know? +many a stormy day ends well; this calamity may bring happiness and peace +to a divided house." + +Colonel Clifford prophesied right. Walter took the lead of a working gang +and worked night and day, resting two hours only in the twenty-four, and +even that with great reluctance. Outside the scene was one of bustle and +animation. Little white tents, for the strange workmen to sleep in, +dotted the green, and two snowy refreshment tents were pitched outside +the Dun Cow. That establishment had large brick ovens and boilers, and +the landlady, and the women she had got to help her, kept the tables +always groaning under solid fare that never once flagged, being under the +charge of that old campaigner, Colonel Clifford. The landlady tried to +look sad at the occasion which called forth her energy and talents; but +she was a woman of business, and her complacency oozed through her. Ah, +it was not so at the pit mouth; the poor wives whose husbands were +entombed below, alive or dead, hovered and fluttered about the two shafts +with their aprons to their eyes, and eager with their questions. Deadly +were their fears, their hopes fainter and fainter, as day after day went +by, and both gangs, working in so narrow a space, made little progress, +compared with their own desires, and the prayers of those who trembled +for the result. It was a race and a struggle of two gallant parties, and +a short description of it will be given; but as no new incidents happened +for six days we shall preserve the chronological order of events, and now +relate a daring project which was revived in that interval. + +Monckton and Bartley were now enemies. Sin had united, crime and remorse +had disunited them. Monckton registered a vow of future vengeance upon +his late associate, but in the meantime, taking a survey of the present +circumstances, he fell back upon a dark project he had conceived years +ago on the very day when he was arrested for theft in Bartley's office. + +Perhaps our readers, their memory disturbed by such a number of various +matters as we have since presented to them, may have forgotten that +project, but what is about to follow will tend to revive their +recollection. Monckton then wired to Mrs. Braham's lawyer demanding an +immediate interview with that lady; he specified the hour. + +The lawyer went to her directly, the matter being delicate. He found +her in great distress, and before he could open his communication she +told him her trouble. She said that her husband, she feared, was going +out of his mind; he groaned all night and never slept, and in the +daytime never spoke. + +There had been just then some surprising falls and rises in foreign +securities, and the shrewd lawyer divined at once that the stock-broker +had been doing business on his own account, and got pinched; so he said, +"My dear madam, I suspect it is business on the Exchange; he will get +over that, but there is something that is immediately pressing," and he +then gave her Monckton's message. + +Now her nerves were already excited, and this made matters worse. She +cried and trembled, and became hysterical, and vowed she would never +go near Leonard Monckton again; he had never loved her, had never been +a friend to her as Jonathan Braham had. "No," said she; "if he wants +money, take and sell my jewels; but I shall stay with my husband in +his trouble." + +"He is not your husband," said the lawyer, quietly; "and this man is your +husband, and things have come to my knowledge lately which it would be +imprudent at present to disclose either to him or you; but we are old +friends. You can not doubt that I have your interest at heart." + +"No, I don't doubt that," said Lucy, hastily, and held out her +hand to him. + +"Well, then," said he, "be persuaded and meet the man." + +"No, I will not do that," said she. "I am not a good woman, I know; but +it is not for want of the wish. I will not play double any more." And +from that nothing he could say could move her. + +The lawyer returned to his place, and when Monckton called next day he +told him he was sorry to say Mr. Braham was ill and in trouble, and the +lady couldn't meet him. She would make any reasonable sacrifice for his +convenience except that. + +"And I," said Monckton, "insist upon that, and nothing else." + +The lawyer endeavored to soften him, and hinted that he would advance +money himself sooner than his client should be tormented. + +But Monckton was inflexible. He said, "It is about a matter that she can +not communicate to you, nor can I. However, I am obliged to you for your +information. She won't leave her stock-broker, eh? Well, then I know +where to find her;" and he took up his hat to go. + +"No, pray don't do that," said Mr. Middleton, earnestly. "Let me try her +again. She has had time to sleep over it." + +"Try her," said Monckton, sternly, "and if you are her friend, take +her husband's side in this one thing; it's the last time I shall +trouble her." + +"I am her friend," said the lawyer. "And if you must know, I rather +wish her to meet you and get it over. Will you come here again at +five o'clock?" + +"All right," said Monckton. + +Monckton was struck with lawyer Middleton's manner, and went away +puzzling over it. + +"What's _his_ little game, I wonder?" said he. + +The lawyer went post-haste to his client's house. He found her in tears. +She handed him an open letter. + +Braham was utterly ruined, and besides that had done something or other +he did not care to name; he was off to America, leaving her what money +she could find in the house and the furniture, which he advised her to +sell at once before others claimed it; in short, the man was wild with +fear, and at present thought but little of anybody but himself. + +Then the lawyer set himself to comfort her as well as he could, and +renewed his request that she would give Monckton a meeting. + +"Yes," said she, wearily--"it is no use trying to resist _him_; he can +come here." + +The lawyer demurred to that. "No," said he, "keep your own counsel, don't +let him know you are deserted and ruined; make a favor of coming, but +_come_: and a word in your ear--he can do more for you than Braham can, +or will ever do again. So don't you thwart him if you can help." + +She was quick enough to see there was something weighty behind, and she +consented. He took her back with him; only she was such a long time +removing the traces of tears, and choosing the bonnet she thought she +should look best in, that she made him twenty minutes late and rather +cross. It is a way women have of souring that honeycomb, a man. + +When the trio met at the office the husband was pale, the wife dull +and sullen. + +"It's the last time I shall trouble you, Lucy," said Monckton. + +"As you please, Leonard." + +"And I want you to make my fortune." + +"You have only to tell me how." (Quite incredulously.) + +"You must accompany me to Derbyshire, or else meet me at Derby, whichever +you please. Oh, don't be alarmed. I don't ask you to travel with me as +man and wife." + +"It doesn't much matter, I suppose," said Lucy, doggedly. + +"Well, you are accommodating; I'll be considerate." + +"No doubt you will," said Lucy; then turning her glorious eyes full +upon him, "WHAT'S THE CRIME?" + +"The crime!" said Monckton, looking all about the room to find it. +"What crime?" + +"The crime I'm wanted for; all your schemes are criminal, you know." + +"Well, you're complimentary. It's not a crime this time; it's only a +confession." + +"Ah! What am I to confess--bigamy?" + +"The idea! No. You are to confess--in a distant part of England, what you +can deny in London next day--that on a certain day you married a +gentleman called Walter Clifford." + +"I'll say that on the eleventh day of June, 1868, I married a gentleman +who was called Walter Clifford." + +This was Lucy's reply, and given very doggedly. + +"Bravo! and will you stand to it if the real Walter Clifford says it +is a lie?" + +Lucy reflected. "No, I will not." + +"Well, well, we shall have time to talk about that: when can you start?" + +"Give me three days." + +"All right." + +"You won't keep me there long after I have done this wicked thing?" + +"No, no. I will send you home with flying colors, and you shall have your +share of the plunder." + +"I'd rather go into service again and work my fingers to the bone." + +"Since you have such a contempt for money, perhaps you'll stand +fifty pounds?" + +"I have no money with me, but I'll ask Mr. Middleton to advance me some." + +She opened the door, and asked one of the clerks if she could see the +principal for a moment. He came to her directly. She then said to him, +"He wants fifty pounds; could you let me have it for him?" + +"Oh," said the lawyer, cheerfully, "I shall be happy to lend Mr. Monckton +fifty or a hundred pounds upon his own note of hand." + +They both stared at him a little; but a blank note of hand was +immediately produced, drawn and signed at six months' date for £52 10s., +and the lawyer gave Monckton his check for £50. Husband and wife then +parted for a time. Monckton telegraphed to his lodgings to say that his +sister would come down with him for country air, and would require good +accommodation, but would pay liberally. + +In most mining accidents the shafts are clear, and the débris that has to +be picked through to get to the entombed miners is attacked with this +advantage, that a great number of men have room to use their arms and +pickaxes, and the stuff has not to be sent up to the surface. But in this +horrible accident both gangs of workers were confined to a small area and +small cages, and the stuff had to be sent up to the surface. + +Bartley, who seemed to live only to rescue the sufferers by his own +fault, provided miles of rope, and had small cages knocked together, so +that the débris was continually coming up from both the shafts, and one +great source of delay was averted. But the other fatal cause of delay +remained, and so daylight came and went, and the stars appeared and +disappeared with incredible rapidity to poor Walter and the other gallant +workers, before they got within thirty feet of the pit: those who worked +in the old shafts, having looser stuff to deal with, gained an advance of +about seven feet upon the other working party, and this being reported to +Walter he went down the other shaft to inspire the men by words and +example. He had not been down two hours when one of the miners cried, +"Hold hard, they are working up to us," and work was instantly suspended +for a moment. Then sure enough the sounds of pickaxes working below were +just audible. + +There was a roar of exultation from the rescuing party, and a man was +sent up with his feet in a bucket, and clinging to a rope, to spread the +joyful tidings; but the work was not intermitted for more than a moment, +and in a few hours it became necessary to send the cage down and suspend +the work to avoid another accident. The thin remaining crust gave way, +the way was clear, lamps were sent down, and the saving party were soon +in the mine, with a sight before them never to be forgotten. + +The few men who stood erect with picks in their hands were men of rare +endurance; and even they began to fall, exhausted with fatigue and +hunger. Five times their number lay dotted about the mine, prostrated by +privation, and some others, alas! were dead. None of the poor fellows +were in a condition to give a rational answer, though Walter implored +them to say where Hope was and his daughter. These poor pale wretches, +the shadows of their former selves, were sent up in the cages with all +expedition, and received by Bartley, who seemed to forget nothing, for he +had refreshment tents ready at the pit mouth. + +Meantime, Walter and others, whose hearts were with him, ran wildly +through the works, and groped on their knees with their lamps to find +Hope and his daughter, but they were not to be found, and nine miners +beside them were missing, including Ben Burnley. Then Walter came wildly +up to the surface, wringing his hands with agony, and crying, "they are +lost! they are lost!" + +"No," cried Bartley, "they must not be lost; they shall not be lost. One +man has come to himself. I gave him port-wine and brandy." Then he +dragged the young man into the tent. There was stout Jim Davies propped +up and held, but with a great tumbler of brandy and port in his hand. + +"Now, my man," said, or rather screamed, Bartley, "tell him where Hope +is, and Mary--that I--Oh, God! oh, God!" + +"Master," said Jim, faintly, "I was in the hall with Mr. Hope and the +lady when the first explosion came. Most of us ran past the old shaft and +got clear. A few was caught by the falling shaft, for I looked back and +saw it. But I never saw Master Hope among them. If he was, he is buried +under the shaft; but I do really think that he was that taken up with his +girl, and that darned villain that fired the mine, as he's like to be in +the hall either alive or dead." + +He could say no more, but fell into a sort of doze, the result of the +powerful stimulant on his enfeebled frame and empty stomach. Then +Bartley, with trembling hands, brought out a map of the mine and showed +Walter where the second party had got to. + +"See," said he, "they are within twenty feet of the bottom, and the hall +is twenty-three feet high. Hope measured it. Give up working downward, +pick into the sides of that hall, for in that hall I see them at night; +sometimes they are alive, sometimes they are dead, sometimes they are +dying. I shall go mad, I shall go mad!" + +With this he went raging about, giving the wildest orders, with the looks +and tones of a madman. In a minute he had a cage ready for Walter, and +twenty fresh-lit lamps, and down went Walter with more men and pickaxes. +As soon as he got out of the cage he cried, wildly, "Stop that, men, and +do as I do." + +He took a sweep with his pick, and delivered a horizontal blow at the +clay on that side of the shaft Bartley had told him to attack. His +pickaxe stuck in it, and he extricated it with difficulty. + +"Nay, master," cried a miner who had fallen in love with him, "drive thy +pick at t' coal." + +Walter then observed that above the clay there was a narrow seam of coal; +he heaved his pick again, but instead of striking it half downward, as he +ought to have done, he delivered a tremendous horizontal blow that made +the coal ring like a church bell, and jarred his own stout arms so +terribly that the pick fell out of his numbed hand. + +Then the man who had advised him saw that he was disabled for a time, and +stepped into his place. + +But in that short interval an incident occurred so strange and thrilling +that the stout miners uttered treble cries, like women, and then one +mighty "Hah!" burst like a diapason from their manly bosoms. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +BURIED ALIVE.--THE THREE DEADLY PERILS. + + +Seven miners were buried under the ruins of the shaft; but although +masses of coal and clay fell into the hall from the side nearest to +the explosions, and blocked up some of the passages, nobody was +crushed to death there; only the smoke was so stifling that it seemed +impossible to live. + +That smoke was lighter than the air; its thick pall lifted by degrees and +revealed three figures. + +Grace Hope, by happy instinct, had sunk upon the ground to breathe in +that stifling smoke. Hope, who had collared Ben Burnley, had sunk to the +ground with him, but still clutched the assassin. These were the three +left alive in the hall, and this was their first struggle for life. + +As soon as it was possible to speak Hope took up his lamp, which had +fallen, and holding it up high, he cried, "Grace, my child, where are +you?" She came to him directly; he took her in his arms and thanked God +for this great preservation. + +Then he gave Burnley a kick, and ordered him to the right hand of the +hall. "You'll keep to that side," he said, "and think of what you have +done; your victims will keep this side, and comfort each other till +honest men undo your work, you villain." + +Burnley crouched, and wriggled away like a whipped hound, and flung +himself down in bitter despair. + +"Oh, papa," said Grace, "we have escaped a great danger, but shall we +ever see the light of day?" + +"Of course we shall, child; be sure that great efforts will be made to +save us. Miners have their faults, but leaving other men to perish is not +one of them; there are no greater heroes in the world than those rough +fellows, with all their faults. What you and I must do at once is to +search for provisions and lamps and tools; if there are no poisonous +gases set free, it is a mere question of time. My poor child has a hard +life before her; but only live, and we shall be rescued." + +These brave words comforted Grace, as they were intended to do, and she +accompanied her father down the one passage which was left open after the +explosion. Fortunately this led to a new working, and before he had gone +many yards Hope found a lamp that had been dropped by some miner who had +rushed into the hall as the first warning came. Hope extinguished the +light, and gave it to Grace. + +"That will be twenty-four hours' light to us," said he; "but, oh, what I +want to find is food. There must be some left behind." + +"Papa," said Grace, "I think I saw a miner throw a bag into an empty +truck when the first alarm was given." + +"Back! back! my child!" cried Hope, "before that villain finds it!" + +He did not wait for her but ran back, and he found Ben Burnley in the +neighborhood of that very truck: but Burnley sneaked off at his +approach. Hope, looking into the truck, found treasures--a dozen new +sacks, a heavy hammer, a small bag of nails, a can of tea, and a bag +with a loaf in it, and several broken pieces of bread. He put his lamp +out directly, for he had lucifer-matches in his pocket, and he hid the +bag of bread; then he lighted his lamp again and fastened it up by a +nail in the centre of the hall. + +"There," said he to Burnley, "that's to light us both equally; when it +goes out you must hang up yours in its place." + +"That's fair," said Burnley, humbly. + +There were two trucks on Hope's side of the hall--the empty one in +question, and one that was full of coal. Both stood about two yards from +Hope's side of the hall. Hope turned the empty truck and brought it +parallel to the other; then he nailed two sacks together, and fastened +them to the coal truck and the débris; then he laid sacks upon the ground +for Grace to lie on, and he kept two sacks for himself, and two in +reserve, and he took two and threw them to Ben Burnley. + +"I give you two, and I keep two myself," said he. "But my daughter shall +have a room to herself even here; and if you molest her I'll brain you +with this hammer." + +"I don't want to molest her," said Burnley. "It ain't my fault +she's here." + +Then there was a gloomy silence, and well there might be. The one lamp, +twinkling faintly against the wall, did but make darkness visible, and +revealed the horror of this dismal scene. The weary hours began to crawl +away, marked only by Hope's watch, for in this living tomb summer was +winter, and day was night. + +The horrors of entombment in a mine have, we think, been described +better than any other calamity which befalls living men. Inspired by +this subject novelists have gone beyond themselves, journalists have +gone beyond themselves; and, without any affectation, we say we do not +think we could go through the dismal scene before us in its general +details without falling below many gifted contemporaries, and adding +bulk without value to their descriptions. The true characteristic +feature of _this_ sad scene was not, we think, the alternations of hope +and despair, nor the gradual sinking of frames exhausted by hunger and +thirst, but the circumstance that here an assassin and his victims were +involved in one terrible calamity; and as one day succeeded to another, +and the hoped for rescue came not, the hatred of the assassin and his +victims was sometimes at odds with the fellowship that sprang out of a +joint calamity. About twelve hours after the explosion Burnley detected +Hope and his daughter eating, and moistening their lips with the tea and +a spoonful of brandy that Hope had poured into it out of his flask to +keep it from turning sour. + +"What, haven't you a morsel for me?" said the ruffian, in a +piteous voice. + +Hope gave a sort of snarl of contempt, but still he flung a crust to him +as he would to a dog. + +Then, after some slight hesitation, Grace rose quietly and took the +smaller can, and tilled it with tea, and took it across to him. + +"There," said she, "and may God forgive you." + +He took it and stared at her. + +"It ain't my fault that you are here," said he; but she put up her hand +as much as to say, "No idle words." + + * * * * * + +Two whole days had now elapsed. The food, though economized, was all +gone. Burnley's lamp was flickering, and utter darkness was about to be +added to the horrors which were now beginning to chill the hopes with +which these poor souls had entered on their dire probation. Hope took the +alarm, seized the expiring lamp, trimmed it, and carried it down the one +passage that was open. This time he did not confine his researches to the +part where he could stand upright, but went on his hands and knees down +the newest working. At the end of it he gave a shout of triumph, and in a +few minutes returned to his daughter exhausted, and blackened all over +with coal; but the lamp was now burning brightly in his hand, and round +his neck was tied a can of oil. + +"Oh, my poor father," said Grace, "is that all you have discovered?" + +"Thank God for it," said Hope. "You little know what it would be to pass +two more days here without light, as well as without food." + + * * * * * + +The next day was terrible. The violent pangs of hunger began to gnaw like +vultures, and the thirst was still more intolerable; the pangs of hunger +intermitted for hours at a time, and then returned to intermit again: +they exhausted but did not infuriate; but the rage of thirst became +incessant and maddening. Ben Burnley suffered the most from this, and the +wretch came to Hope for consolation. + +"Where's the sense of biding here," said he, "to be burned to deeth wi' +drought? Let's flood the mine, and drink or be drooned." + +"How can I flood the mine?" said Hope. + +"Yow know best, maister," said the man. "Why, how many tons of water did +ye draw from yon tank every day?" + +"We conduct about five tons into a pit, and we send about five tons up to +the surface daily." + +"Then how much water will there be in the tank now?" + +Hope looked at his watch and said, "There was a good deal of water in +the tank when you blew up the mine; there must be about thirty tons +in it now." + +"Well, then," said Burnley, "you that knows everything, help me brust the +wall o' tank; it's thin enow." + +Hope reflected. + +"If we let in the whole body of water," said he, "it would shatter us to +pieces, and crush us against the wall of our prison and drown us before +it ran away through the obstructed passages into the new workings. +Fortunately, we have no pickaxe, and can not be tempted to +self-slaughter." + +This silenced Burnley for the day, and he remained sullenly apart; still +the idea never left his mind. The next day, toward evening, he asked Hope +to light his own lamp, and come and look at the wall of the tank. + +"Not without me," whispered Grace. "I see him cast looks of hatred at +you." + +They went together, and Burnley bade Hope observe that the water was +trickling through in places, a drop at a time; it could not penetrate the +coaly veins, nor the streaks of clay, but it oozed through the porous +strata, certain strips of blackish earth in particular, and it trickled +down, a drop at a time. Hope looked at this feature with anxiety, for he +was a man of science, and knew by the fate of banked reservoirs, great +and small, the strange explosive power of a little water driven through +strata by a great body pressing behind it. + +"You'll see, it will brust itsen," said Burnley, exultantly, "and the +sooner the better for me; for I'll never get alive out on t' mine; yow +blowed me to the men, and they'll break every bone in my skin." + +Hope did not answer this directly. + +"There, don't go to meet trouble, my man," said he. "Give me the +can, Grace. Now, Burnley, hold this can, and catch every drop till +it is full." + +"Why, it will take hauf a day to fill it," objected Burnley, "and it will +be hauf mud when all is done." + +"I'll filter it," said Hope. "You do as you are bid." + +He darted to a part of the mine where he had seen a piece of charred +timber; he dragged it in with him, and asked Grace for a +pocket-handkerchief; she gave him a clean cambric one. He took his +pocket-knife and soon scraped off a little heap of charcoal; and then he +sewed the handkerchief into a bag--for the handy man always carried a +needle and thread. + +Slowly, slowly the muddy water trickled into the little can, and then the +bag being placed over the larger can, slowly, slowly the muddy water +trickled through Hope's filter, and dropped clear and drinkable into the +larger can. In that dead life of theirs, with no incidents but torments +and terrors, the hours passed swiftly in this experiment. Hope sat upon a +great lump of coal, his daughter kneeled in front of him, gazing at him +with love, confidence, reverence; and Burnley kneeled in front of him +too, but at a greater distance, with wolfish eyes full of thirst and +nothing else. + +At last the little can was two-thirds full of clear water. Hope took the +large iron spoon which he had found along with the tea, and gave a full +spoonful to his daughter. "My child," said he, "let it trickle very +slowly over your tongue and down your throat; it is the throat and the +adjacent organs which suffer most from thirst." He then took a spoonful +himself, not to drink after an assassin. He then gave a spoonful to +Burnley with the same instructions, and rose from his seat and gave the +can to Grace, and said, "The rest of this pittance must not be touched +for six hours at least." + +Burnley, instead of complying with the wise advice given him, tossed the +liquid down his throat with a gesture, and then dashing down the spoon, +said, "I'll have the rest on't if I die for it," and made a furious rush +at Grace Hope. + +She screamed faintly, and Hope met him full in that incautious rush, and +felled him like a log with a single blow. Burnley lay there with his +heels tapping the ground for a little while, then he got on his hands +and knees, and crawled away to the farthest corner of his own place, and +sat brooding. + +That night when Grace retired to rest Hope lay down at her feet, with his +hammer in his hand, and when one slept the other watched, for they feared +an attack. Toward the morning of the next day Grace's quick senses heard +a mysterious noise in Burnley's quarter; she woke her father. Directly he +went to the place, and he found Burnley at work on his knees tearing away +with his hands and nails at the ruins of the shaft. Apparently fury +supplied the place of strength, for he had raised quite a large heap +behind him, and he had laid bare the feet up to the knees of a dead +miner. Hope reported this in a hushed voice to Grace, and said, solemnly, +"Poor wretch, he's going mad, I fear." + +"Oh no," said Grace, "that would be too horrible. Whatever should we do?" + +"Keep him to his own side, that is all," said Hope. + +"But," objected Grace in dismay, "if he is mad, he won't listen, and he +will come here and attack me." + +"If he does," said Hope, simply, "I must kill him, that's all." + +Burnley, however, in point of fact, kept more and more aloof for many +hours; he never left his work till he laid bare the whole body of that +miner, and found a pickaxe in his dead hand. This he hid, and reserved it +for deadly uses; he was not clear in his mind whether to brain Hope with +it, and so be revenged on him for having shut him up in that mine, or +whether to peck a hole in the tank and destroy all three by a quicker +death than thirst or starvation. The savage had another and more horrible +reason for keeping out of sight; maddened by thirst he had recourse to +that last extremity better men have been driven to; he made a cut with +his clasp-knife in the breast of the dead miner, and tried to swallow +jellied blood. + +This horrible relief never lasts long, and the penalty follows in a few +hours; but in the meantime the savage obtained relief, and even vigor, +from this ghastly source, and seeing Hope and his daughter lying +comparatively weak and exhausted, he came and sat down at a little +distance in front of them: that was partly done to divert Hope from +examining his shambles and his unnatural work. + +"Maister," said he, "how long have we been here?" + +"Six days and more," said Hope. + +"Six days," said Grace, faintly, for her powers were now quite +exhausted--"and no signs of help, no hope of rescue." + +"Do not say so, Grace. Rescue in time is certain, and, therefore, while +we live there is hope." + +"Ay," said Burnley, "for you tew but not for me. Yow telt the men that I +fired t' mine, and if one of those men gets free they'll all tear me limb +from jacket. Why should I leave one grave to walk into another? But for +yow I should have been away six days agone." + +"Man," said Hope, "can not you see that my hand was but the instrument? +it was the hand of Heaven that kept you back. Cease to blame your +victims, and begin to see things as they are and to repent. Even if you +escape, could the white faces ever fade from your sight, or the dying +shrieks ever leave your ear, of the brave men you so foully murdered? +Repent, monster, repent!" + +Burnley was not touched, but he was scared by Hope's solemnity, and went +to his own corner muttering, and as he crouched there there came over his +dull brain what in due course follows the horrible meal he had made--a +feverish frenzy. + +In the meantime Grace, who had been lying half insensible, raised her +head slowly and said, in a low voice, "Water, water!" + +"Oh, my girl," said Hope, in despair, "I'll go and get enough to moisten +your lips; but the last scrap of food has gone, the last drop of oil is +burning away, and in an hour we shall be in darkness and despair." + +"No, no, father," said Grace, "not while there is water there, +beautiful water." + +"But you can not drink _that_ unfiltered; it is foul, it is poisonous." + +"Not that, papa," said Grace, "far beyond that--look! See that clear +river sparkling in the sunlight; how bright and beautiful it shines! Look +at the waving trees upon the other side, the green meadows and the bright +blue sky, and there--there--there--are the great white swans. No, no. I +forgot, they are not swans, they are ships sailing to the bright land you +told me of, where there is no suffering and no sorrow." + +Then Hope, to his horror, began to see that this must be the very +hallucination of which he had read, a sweet illusion of green fields and +crystal water, which often precedes actual death by thirst and +starvation. He trembled, he prayed secretly to God to spare her, and not +to kill his new-found child, his darling, in his arms. + +By-and-by Grace spoke again, but this time her senses were clear; "How +dark it's grown!" she said. "Ah, we are back again in that awful mine." +Then, with the patient fortitude of a woman when once she thinks the will +of the Almighty is declared, she laid her hand upon his shoulder, and she +said, soothingly, "Dear father, bow to Heaven's will;" then she held up +both her feeble arms to him--"kiss me, father--FOR WE ARE TO DIE!" + +With these firm and patient words, she laid her sweet head upon the +ground, and hoped and feared no more. + +But the man could not bow like the woman. He kissed her as she bade him, +and laid her gently down; but after that he sprang wildly to his feet in +a frenzy, and raged aloud, as his daughter could no longer hear him. +"No, no," he cried, "this thing can not be, they have had seven days to +get to us. + +"Ah, but there are mountains and rocks of earth and coal piled up between +us. We are buried alive in the bowels of the earth. + +"Well, and shouldn't I have blasted a hundred rocks, and picked through +mountains, to save a hundred lives, or to save one such life as this, no +matter whose child she was? + +"Ah! you poor scum, you came to me whenever you wanted me, and you never +came in vain. But now that I want you, you smoke your pipes, and walk +calmly over this living tomb I lie in. + +"Well, call yourselves men, and let your friends perish; I am a man, and +I can die." + +Then he threw himself wildly on his knees over his insensible daughter. + +"But my child! Oh God! look down upon my child! Do, pray, see the horror +of it. The horror and the hellish injustice! She has but just found her +father. She is just beginning life; it's not her time to die! Why, you +know, she only came here to save her father. Heaven's blessing is the +right of pious children; it's promised in God's Word. They are to live +long upon earth, not to be cut off like criminals." + +Then he rose wildly, and raged about the place, flinging his arms on +high, so that even Burnley, though his own reason was shaken, cowered +away from the fury of a stronger mind. + +"Men and angels cry out against it!" he screamed, in madness and despair. +"Can this thing be? Can Heaven and earth look calmly on and see this +horror? Are men all ingratitude? IS GOD ALL APATHY?" + +A blow like a hammer striking a church bell tinkled outside the wall, and +seemed to come from a great distance. + +To him who, like the rugged Elijah, had expostulated so boldly with his +Maker, and his Maker, who is not to be irritated, forgave him, that blow +seemed at first to ring from heaven. He stood still, and trembled like a +leaf; he listened; the sound was not repeated. + +"Ah," said he, "it was an illusion like hers." + + * * * * * + +But for all that he seized his hammer, and darted to the back of the +hall, and mounting on a huge fragment of coal struck the seam high above +his head. He gave two blows at longish intervals, and then three blows in +quick succession. + +Grace heard, and began to raise herself on her hands in wonder. + +Outside the wall came two leisurely blows that seemed a mile off, though +they were not ten feet, and then three blows in quick succession. + +"My signal echoed," yelled Hope. "Do you hear, child, my signal answered? +Thank God! thank God! thank God!" + +He fell on his knees and cried like a child. The next minute, burning +with hope and joy, he was by Grace's side, with his arms round her. + +"You can't give way now. Fight on a few minutes more. Death, I defy you; +I am a father; I tear my child from your clutches." With this he raised +her in his arms with surprising vigor. It was Grace's turn to shake off +all weakness, under the great excitement of the brain. + +"Yes, I'll live," she cried, "I'll live for you. Oh, the gallant men! +Hear, hear the pickaxes at work; an army is coming to our rescue, father; +the God you doubted sends them, and some hero leads them." + +The words had scarcely left her lips when Hope set her down in fresh +alarm. An enemy's pickaxe was at work to destroy them; Burnley was +picking furiously at the weak part of the tank, shrieking, "They will +tear me to pieces; there is no hope in this world nor the next for me." + +"Madman," cried Hope--"he'll let the water in before they can save us." +He rushed at Burnley and seized him; but his frenzy was gone, and +Burnley's was upon him; after a short struggle Burnley flung him off with +prodigious power. Hope flew at him again, but incautiously, and the +savage lowering his head, drove it with such fury into Hope's chest that +he sent him to a distance, and laid him flat on his back utterly +breathless. Grace flew to him and raised him. + +He was not a man to lose his wits. "To the truck," he gasped, "or we +are lost." + +"I'll flood the mine! I'll flood the mine!" yelled Burnley. + +Hope made his daughter mount a large fragment of coal we have already +mentioned, and from that she sprang to the truck, and with her excitement +and with her athletic power she raised herself into the full truck, and +even helped her father in after her. But just as she got him on to the +truck, and while he was still only on his knees, that section of the wall +we have called the tank rent and gaped under Burnley's pickaxe, and +presently exploded about six feet from the ground, and a huge volume of +water drove masses of earth and coal before it, and came roaring like a +solid body straight at the coal truck, and drove it against the opposite +wall, smashed the nearest side in, and would have thrown Grace off it +like a feather, but Hope, kneeling and clinging to the side, held her +like a vise. + +Grace screamed violently. Immediately there was a roar of exultation +outside from the hitherto silent workers; for that scream told that the +_woman_ was alive, too: the wife of the brave fellow who had won all +their hearts and melted away the icy barrier of class. + +Three gigantic waves struck the truck and made it quiver. + +The first came half-way up; the second came full two-thirds; the third +dashed the senseless body of Ben Burnley, with bleeding head and broken +bones, against the very edge of the truck, then surged back with him into +a whirling vortex. + +Grace screamed continuously; she gave herself up now for lost; and the +louder she screamed, the louder and the nearer the saving party shouted +and hurrahed. + +"No, do not fear," cried Hope; "you shall not die. Love is stronger +than death." + +The words were scarce out of his mouth when the point of a steel pick +came clean through the stuff; another followed above it; then another, +then another, and then another. Holes were made; then gaps, then larger +gaps, then a mass of coal fell in; furious picks--a portion of the mine +knocked away--and there stood in a red blaze of lamps held up, the +gallant band roaring, shouting, working, led by a stalwart giant with +bare arms, begrimed and bleeding, face smoked, hair and eyebrows black +with coal-dust, and eyes flaming like red coals. He sprang with one +fearless bound down to the coal-truck, and caught up his wife in his +arms, and held her to his panting bosom. Ropes, ladder, everything--and +they were saved; while the corpse of the assassin whirled round and round +in the subsiding eddies of the black water, and as that water ran away +into the mine, lay, coated with mud, at the feet of those who had saved +his innocent victims. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +STRANGE COMPLICATIONS. + + +Exert all the powers of your mind, and conceive, if you can, what that +mother felt whose only son sickened, and, after racking her heart with +hopes and fears, died before her eyes, and was placed in his coffin and +carried to his rest. Yet One in the likeness of a man bade the bearers +stand still, then, with a touch, made the coffin open, the dead come +back, blooming with youth and health, and handed him to his mother. + +That picture no mortal mind can realize; but the effort will take you +so far as this: you may imagine what Walter Clifford felt when, almost +at the climax of despair, he received from that living tomb the good +and beautiful creature who was the light of his eyes and the darling of +his heart. + +How he gloated on her! How he murmured words of comfort and joy over her +as the cage carried her and Hope and him up again into the blessed +sunshine! And there, what a burst of exultation and honest rapture +received them! + +Everybody was there. The news of Hope's signal had been wired to the +surface. An old original telegraph had been set up by Colonel Clifford, +and its arms set flying to tell him. That old campaigner was there, with +his spring break and mattresses, and an able physician. Bartley was +there, pale and old, and trembling, and crying. He fell on his knees +before Hope and Grace. She drew back from him with repulsion; but he +cried out, "No matter! no matter! They are saved! they are saved!" + +Walter carried her to his father, and left Bartley kneeling. Then he +dashed back for Hope, who did not move, and found him on his knees +insensible. A piece of coal, driven by one of the men's picks, had struck +him on the temple. The gallant fellow had tried to hide his hurt with his +handkerchief, but the handkerchief was soaked with blood, and the man, +exhausted by hunger, violent emotions, and this last blow, felt neither +his trouble nor his joy. He was lifted with tender pity into the break, +and the blood stanched, and stimulants applied by the doctor. But Grace +would have his head on her bosom, and her hand in Walter's. Fortunately, +the doctor was no other than that physician who had attended Colonel +Clifford in his dangerous attack of internal gout. We say fortunately, +for patients who have endured extremities of hunger have to be treated +with very great skill and caution. Gentle stimulants and mucilages must +precede solid food, and but a little of anything be taken at a time. +Doctor Garner began his treatment in the very break. The first spoonful +of egg and brandy told upon Grace Hope. Her deportment had been strange. +She had seemed confused at times, and now and then she would cast a look +of infinite tenderness upon Walter, and then again she would knit her +brow and seem utterly puzzled. + +But now she gave Walter a look that brought him nearer to her, and she +said, with a heavenly smile, "You love me best; better than the other." +Then she began to cry over her father. + +"Better than the other," said Walter, aloud. "What other?" + +"Be quiet," said the doctor. "Do you really think her stomach can be +empty for six days, and her head be none the worse? Come, my dear, +another spoonful. Good girl! Now et me look at you, Mr. Walter." + +"Why, what is the matter with _him_?" said the Colonel. "I never saw him +look better in all my life." + +"Indeed! Red spots on his cheek-bones, ditto on his temples, and his +eyes glaring." + +"Excitement and happiness," said Walter. + +The doctor took no notice of him. "He has been outraging nature," +said he, "and she will have her revenge. We are not out of the wood +yet, Colonel Clifford, and you had better put them all three under +my command." + +"I do, my good friend; I do," said Colonel Clifford, eagerly. "It is your +department, and I don't believe in two commanders." + +They drew up at the great door of Clifford Hall. It seemed to open of +itself, and there were all the servants drawn up in two lines. + +They all showed eager sympathy, but only John Baker and Mrs. Milton +ventured to express it. "God bless you all!" said Colonel Clifford. "But +it is our turn now. They are all in the doctor's hands. My whole +household obey him to the letter. It is my order. Doctor Garner, this is +Mrs. Milton, my housekeeper. You will find her a good lieutenant." + +"Mrs. Milton," said the doctor, sharply, "warm baths in three rooms, and +to bed with this lot. Carry Mr. Hope up; he is my first patient. Bring me +eggs, milk, brandy, new port-wine. Cook!" + +"Sir?" + +"Hammer three chickens to pieces with your rolling-pin, then mince them; +then chuck them into a big pot with cold water, stew them an hour, and +then boil them to a jelly, strain, and serve. Meantime, send up three +slices of mutton half raw; we will do a little chewing, not much." + +The patients submitted like lambs, only Walter grumbled a little, but at +last confessed to a headache and sudden weariness. + +Julia Clifford took special charge of Grace Hope, the doctor of William +Hope, and Colonel Clifford sat by Walter, congratulating, soothing, and +encouraging him, until he began to doze. + + * * * * * + +Doctor Garner's estimate of his patients proved correct. The next day +Walter was in a raging fever. + +Hope remained in a pitiable state of weakness, and Grace, who in theory +was the weaker vessel, began to assist Julia in nursing them both. To be +sure, she was all whip-cord and steel beneath her delicate skin, and had +always been active and temperate. And then she was much the youngest, and +the constitutions of such women are anything but weak. Still, it was a +most elastic recovery from a great shock. + +But the more her body recovered its strength, and her brain its +clearness, the more was her mind agitated and distressed. + +Her first horrible anxiety was for Walter's life. The doctor showed no +fear, but that might be his way. + +It was a raging fever, with all the varieties that make fever terrible to +behold. He was never left without two attendants; and as Hope was in no +danger now, though pitiably weak and slowly convalescent, Grace was often +one of Walter's nurses. So was Julia Clifford. He sometimes recognized +them for a little while, and filled their loving hearts with hope. But +the next moment he was off into the world of illusions, and sometimes +could not see them. Often he asked for Grace most piteously when she was +looking at him through her tears, and trying hard to win him to her with +her voice. On these occasions he always called her Mary. One unlucky day +that Grace and Julia were his only attendants he became very restless and +wild, said he had committed a great crime, and the scaffold was being +prepared for him. "Hark!" said he; "don't you hear the workmen? Curse +their hammers; their eternal tip-tapping goes through my brain. The +scaffold! What would the old man say? A Clifford hung! Never! I'll save +him and myself from that." + +Then he sprang out of bed and made a rush at the window. It was open, +unluckily, and he had actually got his knee through when Grace darted to +him and seized him, screaming to Julia to help her. Julia did her best, +especially in the way of screaming. Grace's muscle and resolution impeded +the attempt no more; slowly, gradually, he got both knees upon the +window-sill. But the delay was everything. In came a professional nurse. +She flung her arms round Walter's waist and just hung back with all her +weight. As she was heavy, though not corpulent, his more active strength +became quite valueless; weight and position defeated him hopelessly; and +at last he sank exhausted into the nurse's arms, and she and Grace +carried him to bed like a child. + +Of course, when it was all over, half a dozen people came to the rescue. +The woman told what had happened, the doctor administered a soothing +draught, the patient became very quiet, then perspired a little, then +went to sleep, and the cheerful doctor declared that he would be all the +better for what he called this little outbreak. But Grace sat there +quivering for hours, and Colonel Clifford installed two new nurses that +very evening. They were pensioners of his--soldiers who had been +invalided from wounds, but had long recovered, and were neither of them +much above forty. They had some experience, and proved admirable +nurses--quiet, silent, vigilant as sentinels. + +That burst of delirium was the climax. Walter began to get better +after that. But a long period of convalescence was before him; and the +doctor warned them that convalescence has its very serious dangers, +and that they must be very careful, and, above all, not irritate nor +even excite him. + +All this time torments of another kind had been overpowered but never +suppressed in poor Grace's mind; and these now became greater as Walter's +danger grew less and less. + +What would be the end of all this? Here she was installed, to her +amazement, in Clifford Hall, as Walter's wife, and treated, all of a +sudden, with marked affection and respect by Colonel Clifford, who had +hitherto seemed to abhor her. But it was all an illusion; the whole house +of cards must come tumbling down some day. + +Some days before the event last described Hope had said to her, + +"My child, this is no place for you and me." + +"No more it is, papa," said Grace. "I know that too well." + +"Then why did you let them bring us here?" + +"Papa," said Grace, "I forgot all about _that_." + +"Forgot it!" + +"It seems incredible, does it not? But what I saw and felt thrust what I +had only heard out of my mind. Oh, papa! you were insensible, poor dear; +but if you had only seen Walter Clifford when he saved us! I took him for +some giant miner. He seemed ever so much bigger than the gentleman I +loved--ay, and I shall love him to my dying day, whether or not he +has--But when he sprang to my side, and took me with his bare, bleeding +arms to his heart, that panted so, I thought his heart would burst, and +mine, too, could I feel another woman between us. All that might be true, +but it was unreal. That he loved me, and had saved me, _that_ was real. +And when we sat together in the carriage, your poor bleeding head upon my +bosom, and his hand grasping mine, and his sweet eyes beaming with love +and joy, what could I realize except my father's danger and my husband's +mighty love? I was all present anxiety and present bliss. His sin and my +alarms seemed hundreds of miles off, and doubtful. And even since I have +been here, see how greater and nearer things have overpowered me. Your +deadly weakness--you, who were strong, poor dear--oh, let me kiss you, +dear darling--till you had saved your child; Walter's terrible danger. +Oh, my dear father, spare me. How can a poor, weak woman think of such +different woes, and realize and suffer them all at once? Spare me, dear +father, spare me! Let me see you stronger; let me see _him_ safe, and +then let us think of that other cruel thing, and what we ought to say to +Colonel Clifford, and what we ought to do, and where we are to go." + +"My poor child," said Hope, faintly, with tears in his eyes, "I say no +more. Take your own time." + +Grace did not abuse this respite. So soon as the doctor declared Walter +out of immediate danger, and indeed safe, if cautiously treated, she +returned of her own accord to the miserable subject that had been +thrust aside. + +After some discussion, they both agreed that they must now confide their +grief to Colonel Clifford, and must quit his home, and make him master of +the situation, and sole depository of the terrible secret for a time. + +Hope wished to make the revelation, and spare his daughter that pain. She +assented readily and thankfully. + +This was a woman's first impulse--to put a man forward. + +But by-and-by she had one of her fits of hard thinking, and saw that +such a revelation ought not to be made by one straightforward man to +another, but with all a woman's soothing ways. Besides, she had already +discovered that the Colonel had a great esteem and growing affection for +her; and, in short, she felt that if the blow could be softened by +anybody, it was by her. + +Her father objected that she would encounter a terrible trial, from +which he could save her; but she entreated him, and he yielded to her +entreaty, though against his judgment. + +When this was settled, nothing remained but to execute it. + +Then the woman came uppermost, and Grace procrastinated for one +insufficient reason and another. + +However, at last she resolved that the very next day she would ask John +Baker to get her a private interview with Colonel Clifford in his study. + +This resolution had not been long formed when that very John Baker tapped +at Mr. Hope's door, and brought her a note from Colonel Clifford asking +her if she could favor him with a visit in his study. + +Grace said, "Yes, Mr. Baker, I will come directly." + +As soon as Baker was gone she began to bemoan her weak procrastination, +and begged her father's pardon for her presumption in taking the matter +out of his hands. "You would not have put it off a day. Now, see what I +have done by my cowardice." + +Hope did not see what she had done, and the quick-witted young lady +jumping at once at a conclusion, opened her eyes and said, + +"Why, don't you see? Some other person has told him what it was so +important he should hear first from me. Ah! it is the same gentleman that +came and warned me. He has heard that we are actually married, for it is +the talk of the place, and he told me she would punish him if he +neglected her warning. Oh, what shall I do?" + +"You go too fast, Grace, dear. Don't run before trouble like that. Come, +go to Colonel Clifford, and you will find it is nothing of the kind." + +Grace shook her head grandly. Experience had given her faith in her own +instincts, as people call them--though they are subtle reasonings the +steps of which are not put forward--and she went down to the study. + +"Grace, my dear," said the Colonel, "I think I shall have a fit of +the gout." + +"Oh no," said Grace. "We have trouble enough." + +"It gets less every day, my dear; that is one comfort. But what I meant +was that our poor invalids eclipse me entirely in your good graces. That +is because you are a true woman, and an honor to your sex. But I should +like to see a little more of you. Well, all in good time. I didn't send +for you to tell you that. Sit down, my girl; it is a matter of business." + +Grace sat down, keenly on her guard, though she did not show it in the +least. Colonel Clifford resumed, + +"You may be sure that nothing has been near my heart for some time but +your danger and my dear son's. Still, I owe something to other sufferers, +and the poor widows whose husbands have perished in that mine have cried +to me for vengeance on the person who bribed that Burnley. I am a +magistrate, too, and duty must never be neglected. I have got detectives +about, and I have offered five hundred guineas reward for the discovery +of the villain. One Jem Davies described him to me, and I put the +description on the placard and in the papers. But now I learn that +Davies's description is all second-hand. He had it from you. Now, I must +tell you that a description at second-hand always misses some part or +other. As a magistrate, I never encourage Jack to tell me what Jill says +when I can get hold of Jill. You are Jill, my dear, so now please verify +Jack's description or correct it. However, the best way will be to give +me your own description before I read you his." + +"I will," said Grace, very much relieved. "Well, then, he was a man not +over forty, thin, and with bony fingers; an enormous gold ring on the +little finger of his right hand. He wore a suit of tweed, all one color, +rather tight, and a vulgar neck-handkerchief, almost crimson. He had a +face like a corpse, and very thin lips. But the most remarkable things +were his eyes and his eyebrows. His eyes were never still, and his brows +were very black, and not shaped like other people's; they were neither +straight, like Julia Clifford's, for instance, nor arched like Walter's; +that is to say, they were arched, but all on one side. Each brow began +quite high up on the temple, and then came down in a slanting drop to the +bridge of the nose, and lower than the bridge. There, if you will give me +a pencil I will draw you one of his eyebrows in a minute." + +She drew the eyebrow with masterly ease and rapidity. + +"Why, that is the eyebrow of Mephistopheles." + +"And so it is," said Grace, naïvely. "No wonder it did not seem +human to me." + +"I am sorry to say it is human. You can see it in every convict jail. +But," said he, "how came this villain to sit to you for his portrait?" + +"He did not, sir. But when he was struggling with me to keep me from +rescuing my father--" + +"What! did the ruffian lay hands on you?" + +"That he did, and so did Mr. Bartley. But the villain was the leader of +it all; and while he was struggling with me--" + +"You were taking stock of him? Well, they talk of a Jew's eye; give me a +woman's. My dear, the second-hand description is not worth a button. I +must write fresh notices from yours, and, above all, instruct the +detectives. You have given me information that will lead to that man's +capture. As for the gold ring and the tweed suit, they disappeared into +space when my placard went up, you may be sure of that, and a felon can +paint his face. But his eyes and eyebrows will do him. They are the mark +of a jail-bird. I am a visiting justice, and have often noticed the +peculiarity. Draw me his eyebrows, and we will photograph them in Derby; +and my detectives shall send copies to Scotland Yard and all the convict +prisons. We'll have him." + +The Colonel paused suddenly in his triumphant prediction, and said, "But +what was that you let fall about Bartley? He was no party to this foul +crime. Why, he has worked night and day to save you and Hope. Indeed, you +both owe your lives to him." + +"Indeed!" + +"Yes. He set the men on to save you within ten minutes of the explosion. +He bought rope by the mile, and great iron buckets to carry up the débris +that was heaped up between you and the working party. He raved about the +pit day and night lamenting his daughter and his friend; and why I say he +saved you, 'twas he who advised Walter. I had this from Walter himself +before his fever came on. He advised and implored him not to attempt to +clear the whole shaft, but to pick sideways into the mine twenty feet +from the ground. He told Walter that he never really slept at night, and +in his dreams saw you in a part of the mine he calls the hall. Now, +Walter says that but for this advice they would have been two days more +getting to you." + +"We should have been dead," said Grace, gravely. Then she reflected. + +"Colonel Clifford," said she, "I listened to that villain and Mr. Bartley +planning my father's destruction. Certainly every word Mr. Bartley _said_ +was against it. He spoke of it with horror. Yet, somehow or other, that +wretched man obtained from him an order to send the man Burnley down the +mine, and what will you think when I tell you that he assisted the +villain to hinder me from going to the mine?" Then she told him the whole +scene, and how they shut her up in the house, and she had to go down a +curtain and burst through a quick-set hedge. But all the time she was +thinking of Walter's bigamy and how she was to reveal it; and she +related her exploits in such a cold, languid manner that it was hardly +possible to believe them. + +Colonel Clifford could not help saying, "My dear, you have had a great +shock; and you have dreamt all this. Certainly you are a fine girl, and +broad-shouldered. I admire that in man or woman--but you are so delicate, +so refined, so gentle." + +Grace blushed and said, languidly, "For all that, I am an athlete." + +"An athlete, child?" + +"Yes, sir. Mr. Bartley took care of that. He would never let me wear a +corset, and for years he made me do calisthenics under a master." + +"Calisthenics?" + +"That is a fine word for gymnastics." Then, with a double dose of +languor, "I can go up a loose rope forty feet, so it was nothing to me to +come down one. The hedge was the worst thing; but my father was in +danger, and my blood was up." She turned suddenly on the Colonel with a +flash of animation, "You used to keep race-horses, Walter told me." The +Colonel stared at this sudden turn. + +"That I did," said he, "and a pretty penny they cost me." + +"Well, sir, is not a race-horse a poor mincing thing until her blood gets +up galloping?" + +"By Jove! you are right," said he, "she steps like a cat upon hot bricks. +But the comparison is not needed. Whatever statement Mrs. Walter Clifford +makes to me seriously is gospel to me, who already know enough of her to +respect her lightest word. Pray grant me this much, that Bartley is a +true penitent, for I have proof of it in this drawer. I'll show it you." + +"No, no, please not," said Grace, in no little agitation. "Let me take +your word for that, as you have taken mine. Oh, sir, he is nothing to me +compared with what I thought you wished to say to me. But it is I who +must find the courage to say things that will wound you and me still +more. Colonel Clifford, pray do not be angry with me till you know all, +but indeed your house is not the place for my father or for me." + +"Why not, madam," said the Colonel, stiffly, "since you are my +daughter-in-law?" + +She did not reply. + +"Ah!" said he, coloring high and rising from his chair. He began to walk +the room in some agitation. "You are right," said he; "I once affronted +you cruelly, unpardonably. Still, pray consider that you passed for +Bartley's daughter; that was my objection to you, and then I did not know +your character. But when I saw you come out pale and resolved to +sacrifice yourself to justice and another woman, that converted me at +once. Ask Julia what I said about you." + +"I must interrupt you," said Grace. "I can not let such a man as you +excuse yourself to a girl of eighteen who has nothing but reverence for +you, and would love you if she dared." + +"Then all I can say is that you are very mysterious, my dear, and I wish +you would speak out." + +"I shall speak out soon enough," said Grace, solemnly, "now I have begun. +Colonel Clifford, you have nothing to reproach yourself with. No more +have I, for that matter. Yet we must both suffer." She hesitated a +moment, and then said, firmly, "You do me the honor to approve my conduct +in that dreadful situation. Did you hear all that passed? did you take +notice of all I said?" + +"I did," said Colonel Clifford. "I shall never forget that scene, nor the +distress, nor the fortitude of her I am proud to call my daughter." + +Grace put her hands before her face at these kind words, and he saw the +tears trickle between her white fingers. He began to wonder, and to feel +uneasy. But the brave girl shook off her tears, and manned herself, if +we may use such an expression. + +"Then, sir," said she, slowly and emphatically, though quietly, "did +you not think it strange that I should say to my father, 'I don't +know?' He asked me before you all, 'Are you a wife?' Twice I said to my +father--to him I thought was my father--'I don't know.' Can you account +for that, sir?" + +The Colonel replied, "I was so unable to account for it that I took Julia +Clifford's opinion on it directly, as we were going home." + +"And what did she say?" + +"Oh, she said it was plain enough. The fellow had forbidden you to own +the marriage, and you were an obedient wife; and, like women in general, +strong against other people, but weak against one." + +"So that is a woman's reading of a woman," said Grace. "She will +sacrifice her honor, and her father's respect, and court the world's +contempt, and sully herself for life, to suit the convenience of a +husband for a few hours. My love is great, but it is not slavish or +silly. Do you think, sir, that I doubted for one moment Walter Clifford +would own me when he came home and heard what I had suffered? Did I think +him so unworthy of my love as to leave me under that stigma? Hardly. Then +why should I blacken Mrs. Walter Clifford for an afternoon, just to be +unblackened at night?" + +"This is good sense," said the Colonel, "and the thing is a mystery. Can +you solve it?" + +"You may be sure I can--and woe is me--I must." + +She hung her head, and her hands worked convulsively. + +"Sir," said she, after a pause, "suppose I could not tell the truth to +all those people without subjecting the man I loved--and I love him now +dearer than ever--to a terrible punishment for a mere folly done years +ago, which now has become something much worse than folly--but how? +Through his unhappy love for me!" + +"These are dark words," said the Colonel. "How am I to understand them?" + +"Dark as they are," said Grace, "do they not explain my conduct in that +bitter trial better than Julia Clifford's guesses do, better than +anything that has occurred since?" + +"Mrs. Walter Clifford," said the Colonel, with a certain awe, "I see +there is something very grave here, and that it affects my son. I begin +to know you. You waited till he was out of danger; but now you do me the +honor to confide something to me which the world will not drag out of +you. So be it; I am a man and a soldier. I have faced cavalry, and I can +face the truth. What is it?" + +"Colonel Clifford," said Grace, trembling like a leaf, "the truth will +cut you to the heart, and will most likely kill me. Now that I have gone +so far, you may well say, 'Tell it me;' but the words once past my lips +can never be recalled. Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?" + +The struggle overpowered her, and almost for the first time in her life +she turned half faint and yet hysterical; and such was her condition that +the brave Colonel was downright alarmed, and rang hastily for his people. +He committed her to the charge of Mrs. Milton. It seemed cruel to demand +any further explanation from her just then; so brave a girl, who had gone +so far with him, would be sure to tell him sooner or later. Meantime he +sat sombre and agitated, oppressed by a strange sense of awe and mystery, +and vague misgiving. While he brooded thus, a footman brought him in a +card upon a salver: "The Reverend Alleyn Meredith." "Do I know this +gentleman?" said the Colonel. + +"I think not, sir," said the footman. + +"What is he like?" + +"Like a beneficed clergyman, sir." + +Colonel Clifford was not in the humor for company; but it was not his +habit to say not at home when he was at home; and being a magistrate, he +never knew when a stranger sent in his card, that it might not be his +duty to see him; so he told the footman to say, "that he was in point of +fact engaged, but was at this gentleman's service for a few minutes." + +The footman retired, and promptly ushered in a clergyman who seemed the +model of an archdeacon or a wealthy rector. Sleek and plump, without +corpulence, neat boots, clothes black and glossy, waistcoat up to the +throat, neat black gloves, a snowy tie, a face shaven like an egg, hair +and eyebrows grizzled, cheeks rubicund, but not empurpled, as one who +drank only his pint of port, but drank it seven days in the week. + +Nevertheless, between you and us, this sleek, rosy personage, archdeacon +or rural dean down to the ground was Leonard Monckton, padded to the +nine, and tinted as artistically as any canvas in the world. + + * * * * * + +The first visit Monckton had paid to this neighborhood was to the mine. +He knew that was a dangerous visit, so he came at night as a decrepit old +man. He very soon saw two things which discouraged farther visits. One +was a placard describing his crime in a few words, and also his person +and clothes, and offering 500 guineas reward. As his pallor was +specified, he retired for a minute behind a tent, and emerged the color +of mahogany; he then pursued his observations, and in due course fell in +with the second warning. This was the body of a man lying upon the slack +at the pit mouth; the slack not having been added to for many days was +glowing very hot, and fired the night. The body he recognized +immediately, for the white face stared at him; it was Ben Burnley +undergoing cremation. To this the vindictive miners had condemned him; +they had sat on his body and passed a resolution, and sworn he should not +have Christian burial, so they managed to hide his corpse till the slack +got low, and then they brought him up at night and chucked him like a dog +on to the smouldering coal; one-half of him was charred away when +Monckton found him, but his face was yet untouched. Two sturdy miners +walked to and fro as sentinels, armed with hammers, and firmly resolved +that neither law nor gospel should interfere with this horrible example. + +Even Monckton, the man of iron nerves, started back with a cry of dismay +at the sight and the smell. + +One of the miners broke into a hoarse, uneasy laugh. "Yow needn't to +skirl, old man." he cried. "Yon's not a man; he's nobbut a murderer. He's +fired t' mine and made widows and orphans by t' score," "Ay," said the +other, "but there's a worse villain behoind, that found t' brass for t' +job and tempted this one. We'll catch him yet; ah, then we'll not trouble +judge, nor jury, nor hangman neether." + +"The wretches!" said Monckton. "What! fire a mine! No punishment is +enough for them." With this sentiment he retired, and never went near the +mine again. He wired for a pal of his and established him at the Dun Cow. +These two were in constant communication. Monckton's friend was a very +clever gossip, and knew how to question without seeming curious, and the +gossiping landlady helped him. So, between them, Monckton heard that +Walter was down with a fever and not expected to live, and that Hope was +confined to his bed and believed to be sinking. Encouraged by this state +of things, Monckton made many artful preparations, and resolved to levy a +contribution upon Colonel Clifford. + +At this period of his manoeuvres fortune certainly befriended him +wonderfully; he found Colonel Clifford alone, and likely to be +alone; and, at the same time, prepared by Grace Clifford's half +revelation, and violent agitation, to believe the artful tale this +villain came to tell him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +RETRIBUTION. + + +Monckton, during his long imprisonment at Dartmoor, came under many +chaplains, and he was popular with them all; because when they inquired +into the state of his soul he represented it as humble, penitent, and +purified. Two of these gentlemen were High-Church, and he noticed their +peculiarities: one was a certain half-musical monotony in speaking which +might be called by a severe critic sing-song. Perhaps they thought the +intoning of the service in a cathedral could be transferred with +advantage to conversation. + +So now, to be strictly in character, this personage not only dressed +High-Church, but threw a sweet musical monotony into the communication he +made to Colonel Clifford. + +And if the reader will compare this his method of speaking with the +matter of his discourse, he will be sensible of a singular contrast. + +After the first introduction, Monckton intoned very gently that he had a +communication to make on the part of a lady which was painful to him, and +would be painful to Colonel Clifford; but, at all events, it was +confidential, and if the Colonel thought proper, would go no further. + +"I think, sir, you have a son whose name is Walter?" + +"I have a son, and his name is Walter," said the Colonel, stiffly. + +"I think, sir," said musical Monckton, "that he left your house about +fourteen years ago, and you lost sight of him for a time?" + +"That is so, sir." + +"He entered the service of a Mr. Robert Bartley as a merchant's clerk." + +"I doubt that, sir." + +"I fear, sir," sighed Monckton, musically, "that is not the only +thing he did which has been withheld from you. He married a lady +called Lucy Muller." + +"Who told you that?" cried the Colonel. "It's a lie!" + +"I am afraid not," said the meek and tuneful ecclesiastic. "I am +acquainted with the lady, a most respectable person, and she has shown me +the certificate of marriage." + +"The certificate of marriage!" cried the Colonel, all aghast. + +"Yes, sir, and this is not the first time I have given this information +in confidence. Mrs. Walter Clifford, who is a kind-hearted woman, and has +long ceased to suffer bitterly from her husband's desertion, requested me +to warn a young lady, whose name was Miss Mary Bartley, of this fact. I +did so, and showed her the certificate. She was very much distressed, and +no wonder, for she was reported to be engaged to Mr. Walter Clifford; but +I explained to Miss Bartley that there was no jealousy, hostility, or +bitterness in the matter; the only object was to save her from being +betrayed into an illegal act, and one that would bring ruin upon herself, +and a severe penalty upon Mr. Walter Clifford." + +Colonel Clifford turned very pale, but he merely said, in a hoarse voice, +"Go on, sir." + +"Well, sir," said Monckton, "I thought the matter was at an end, and, +having discharged a commission which was very unpleasant to me, I had at +all events saved an innocent girl from tempting Mr. Walter Clifford to +his destruction and ruining herself. I say, I thought and hoped so. But +it seems now that the young lady has defied the warning, and has married +your son after all. Mrs. Walter Clifford has heard of it in Derby, and +she is naturally surprised, and I am afraid she is now somewhat +incensed." + +"Before we go any further, sir," said Colonel Clifford, "I should like +to see the certificate you say you showed to Miss Bartley." + +"I did, sir," said Monckton, "and here it is--that is to say, an attested +copy; but of course sooner or later you will examine the original." + +Colonel Clifford took the paper with a firm hand, and examined it +closely. "Have you any objection to my taking a copy of this?" said +he, keenly. + +"Of course not," said Monckton; "indeed, I don't see why I should not +leave this document with you; it will be in honorable hands." + +The Colonel bowed. Then he examined the document. + +"I see, sir," said he, "the witness is William Hope. May I ask if you +know this William Hope?" + +"I was not present at the wedding, sir," said Monckton, "so I can say +nothing about the matter from my own knowledge; but if you please, I will +ask the lady." + +"Why didn't she come herself instead of sending you?" asked the Colonel, +distrustfully. + +"That's just what I asked her. And she said she had not the heart nor the +courage to come herself. I believe she thought as I was a clergyman, and +not directly interested, I might be more calm than she could be, and give +a little less pain." + +"That's all stuff! If she is afraid to come herself, she knows it's an +abominable falsehood. Bring her here with whatever evidence she has got +that this Walter Clifford is my son, and then we will go into this matter +seriously." + +Monckton was equal to the occasion. + +"You are quite right, sir," said he. "And what business has she to put me +forward as evidence of a transaction I never witnessed? I shall tell her +you expect to see her, and that it is her duty to clear up the affair in +person. Suppose it should be another Mr. Walter Clifford, after all? When +shall I bring her, supposing I have sufficient influence?" + +"Bring her to-morrow, as early as you can." + +"Well, you know ladies are not early risers: will twelve o'clock do?" + +"Twelve o'clock to-morrow, sir," said the Colonel. + +The sham parson took his leave, and drove away in a well-appointed +carriage and pair. For we must inform the reader that he had written to +Mr. Middleton for another £100, not much expecting to get it, and that it +had come down by return of post in a draft on a bank in Derby. + + * * * * * + +Stout Colonel Clifford was now a very unhappy man. The soul of honor +himself, he could not fully believe that his own son had been guilty of +perfidy and crime. But how could he escape _doubts_, and very grave +doubts too? The communication was made by a gentleman who did not seem +really to know more about it than he had been told, but then he was a +clergyman, with no appearance of heat or partiality. He had been easily +convinced that the lady herself ought to have come and said more about +it, and had left an attested copy of the certificate in his (Colonel +Clifford's) hands with a sort of simplicity that looked like one +gentleman dealing with another. One thing, however, puzzled him sore in +this certificate--the witness being William Hope. William Hope was not a +very uncommon name, but still, somehow, that one and the same document +should contain the names of Walter Clifford and William Hope, roused a +suspicion in his mind that this witness was the William Hope lying in his +own house so weak and ill that he did not like to go to him, and enter +upon such a terrible discussion as this. He sent for Mrs. Milton, and +asked her if Mrs. Walter Clifford was quite recovered. + +Mrs. Milton reported she was quite well, and reading to her father. The +Colonel went upstairs and beckoned her out. + +"My child," said he, "I am sorry to renew an agitating subject, but you +are a good girl, and a brave girl, and you mean to confide in me sooner +or later. Can you pity the agitation and distress of a father who for the +first time is compelled to doubt his son's honor?" + +"I can," said Grace. "Ah, something has happened since we parted; +somebody has told you: that man with a certificate!" + +"What, then," said the Colonel, "is it really true? Did he really show +you that certificate?" + +"He did." + +"And warned you not to marry Walter?" + +"He did, and told me Walter would be put into prison if I did, and would +die in prison, for a gentleman can not live there nowadays. Oh, sir, +don't let anybody know but you and me and my father. He won't hurt him +for my sake; he has wronged me cruelly, but I'll be torn to pieces before +I'll own my marriage, and throw him into a dungeon." + +"Come to my arms, you pearl of goodness and nobility and unselfish love!" +cried Colonel Clifford. "How can I ever part with you now I know you? +There, don't let us despair, let's fight to the last. I have one question +to submit to you. Of course you examined the certificate very carefully?" + +"I saw enough to break my heart. I saw that on a certain day, many years +ago, one Lucy Muller had married Walter Clifford." + +"And who witnessed the marriage?" asked the Colonel, eyeing her keenly. + +"Oh, I don't know that," said Grace. "When I came to Walter Clifford, +everything swam before my eyes; it was all I could do to keep from +fainting away. I tottered into my father's study, and, as soon as I came +to myself, what had I to do? Why, to creep out again with my broken +heart, and face such insults--All! it is a wonder I did not fall dead at +their feet." + +"My poor girl!" said Colonel Clifford. Then he reflected a moment. "Have +you the courage to read that document again, and to observe in particular +who witnessed it?" + +"I have," said she. + +He handed it to her. She took it and held it in both hands, though +they trembled. + +"Who is the witness?" + +"The witness," said Grace, "is William Hope." + +"Is that your father?" + +"It's my father's name," said Grace, beginning to turn her eyes inward +and think very hard. + +"But is it your father, do you think?" + +"No, sir, it is not." + +"Was he in that part of the world at the time? Did he know Bartley? the +clergyman who brought me this certificate--" + +"The clergyman!" + +"Yes, my dear, it was a clergyman, apparently a rector, and he told me--" + +"Are you sure he was a clergyman?" + +"Quite sure; he had a white tie, a broad-brimmed hat, a clergyman all +over; don't go off on that. Did your father and my son know each +other in Hull?" + +"That they did. You are right," said Grace, "this witness was my father; +see that, now. But if so--Don't speak to me; don't touch me; let me +think--there is something hidden here;" and Mrs. Walter Clifford showed +her father-in-law that which we have seen in her more than once, but it +was quite new and surprising to Colonel Clifford. There she stood, her +arms folded, her eyes turned inward, her every feature, and even her +body, seemed to think. The result came out like lightning from a cloud. +"It's all a falsehood," said she. + +"A falsehood!" said Colonel Clifford. + +"Yes, a falsehood upon the face of it. My father witnessed this +marriage, and therefore if the bridegroom had been our Walter he would +never have allowed our Walter to court me, for he knew of our courtship +all along, and never once disapproved of it." + +"Then do you think it is a mistake?" said the Colonel, eagerly. + +"No, I do not," said Grace. "I think it is an imposture. This man was not +a clergyman when he brought me the certificate; he was a man of business, +a plain tradesman, a man of the world; he had a colored necktie, and some +rather tawdry chains." + +"Did he speak in a kind of sing-song?" + +"Not at all; his voice was clear and cutting, only he softened it down +once or twice out of what I took for good feeling at the time. He's an +impostor and a villain. Dear sir, don't agitate poor Walter or my dear +father with this vile thing (she handed him back the certificate). It has +been a knife to both our hearts; we have suffered together, you and I, +and let us get to the bottom of it together." + +"We shall soon do that," said the Colonel, "for he is coming here +to-morrow again." + +"All the better." + +"With the lady." + +"What lady?" + +"The lady that calls herself Mrs. Walter Clifford." + +"Indeed!" said Grace, quite taken aback. "They must be very bold." + +"Oh, for that matter," said the Colonel, "I insisted upon it; the man +seemed to know nothing but from mere hearsay. He knew nothing about +William Hope, the witness, so I told him he must bring the woman; and, to +be just to the man, he seemed to think so too, and that she ought to do +her own business." + +"She will not come," said Grace, rather contemptuously. "He was obliged +to say she would, just to put a face upon it. To-morrow he'll bring an +excuse instead of her. Then have your detectives about, for he is a +villain; and, dear sir, please receive him in the drawing-room; then I +will find some way to get a sight of him myself." + +"It shall be done," said the Colonel. "I begin to think with you. At all +events, if the lady does not come, I shall hope it is all an imposture or +a mistake." + +With this understanding they parted, and waited in anxiety for the +morrow, but now their anxiety was checkered with hope. + + * * * * * + +To-morrow bade fair to be a busy day. Colonel Clifford, little dreaming +the condition to which his son and his guest would be reduced, had +invited Jem Davies and the rescuing parties to feast in tents on his own +lawn and drink his home-brewed beer, and they were to bring with them +such of the rescued miners as might be in a condition to feast and drink +copiously. When he found that neither Hope nor his son could join these +festivities, he was very sorry he had named so early a day; but he was so +punctilious and precise that he could not make up his mind to change one +day for another. So a great confectioner at Derby who sent out feasts was +charged with the affair, and the Colonel's own kitchen was at his service +too. That was not all. Bartley was coming to do business. This had been +preceded by a letter which Colonel Clifford, it may be remembered, had +offered to show Grace Clifford. The letter was thus worded: + +"COLONEL CLIFFORD,--A penitent man begs humbly to approach you, and offer +what compensation is in his power. I desire to pay immediately to Walter +Clifford the sum of £20,000 I have so long robbed him of, with five per +cent, interest for the use of it. It has brought me far more than that in +money, but money I now find is not happiness. + +"The mine in which my friend has so nearly been destroyed--and his +daughter, who now, too late, I find is the only creature in the world I +love--that mine is now odious to me. I desire by deed to hand it over to +Hope and yourself, upon condition that you follow the seams wherever they +go, and that you give me such a share of the profits during my lifetime +as you think I deserve for my enterprise. This for my life only, since I +shall leave all I have in the world to that dear child, who will now be +your daughter, and perhaps never deign again to look upon the erring man +who writes these lines. + +"I should like, if you please, to retain the farm, or at all events a +hundred acres round about the house to turn into orchards and gardens, so +that I may have some employment, far from trade and its temptations, for +the remainder of my days." + + * * * * * + +In consequence of this letter a deed was drawn and engrossed, and Bartley +had written to say he would come to Clifford Hall and sign it, and have +it witnessed and delivered. + +About nine o'clock in the evening one of the detectives called on Colonel +Clifford to make a private communication; his mate had spotted a swell +mobsman, rather a famous character, with the usual number of aliases, but +known to the force as Mark Waddy; he was at the Dun Cow; and possessing +the gift of the gab in a superlative degree, had made himself extremely +popular. They had both watched him pretty closely, but he seemed not to +be there for a job, but only on the talking lay, probably soliciting +information for some gang of thieves or other. He had been seen to +exchange a hasty word with a clergyman; but as Mark Waddy's acquaintances +were not amongst the clergy, that would certainly be some pal that was in +something or other with him. + +"What a shrewd girl that must be!" said the Colonel. + +"I beg your pardon, Colonel," said the man, not seeing the relevancy of +this observation. + +"Oh, nothing," said the Colonel, "only _I_ expect a visit to-morrow at +twelve o'clock from a doubtful clergyman; just hang about the lawn on the +chance of my giving you a signal." + +Thus while Monckton was mounting his batteries, his victims were +preparing defenses in a sort of general way, though they did not see +their way so clear as the enemy did. + +Colonel Clifford's drawing-room was a magnificent room, fifty feet long +and thirty feet wide. A number of French windows opened on to a noble +balcony, with three short flights of stone steps leading down to the +lawn. The central steps were broad, the side steps narrow. There were +four entrances to it: two by double doors, and two by heavily curtained +apertures leading to little subsidiary rooms. + +At twelve o'clock next day, what with the burst of color from the +potted flowers on the balcony, the white tents, and the flags and +streamers, and a clear sunshiny day gilding it all, the room looked a +"palace of pleasure," and no stranger peeping in could have dreamed +that it was the abode of care, and about to be visited by gloomy +Penitence and incurable Fraud. + +The first to arrive was Bartley, with a witness. He was received kindly +by Colonel Clifford and ushered into a small room. + +He wanted another witness. So John Baker was sent for, and Bartley and he +were closeted together, reading the deed, etc., when a footman brought in +a card, "The Reverend Alleyn Meredith," and written underneath with a +pencil, in a female hand, "Mrs. Walter Clifford." + +"Admit them," said the Colonel, firmly. + +At this moment Grace, who had heard the carriage drive up to the door, +peeped in through one of the heavy curtains we have mentioned. + +"Has she actually come?" said she. + +"She has, indeed," said the Colonel, looking very grave. "Will you stay +and receive her?" + +"Oh no," said Grace, horrified; "but I'll take a good look at her through +this curtain. I have made a little hole on purpose." Then she slipped +into the little room and drew the curtain. + +The servant opened the door, and the false rector walked in, supporting +on his arm a dark woman, still very beautiful; very plainly dressed, but +well dressed, agitated, yet self-possessed. + +"Be seated, madam," said the Colonel. After a reasonable pause he began +to question her. + +"You were married on the eleventh day of June, 1868, to a gentleman of +the name of Walter Clifford?" + +"I was, sir." + +"May I ask how long you lived with him?" + +The lady buried her face in her hands. The question took her by surprise, +and this was a woman's artifice to gain time and answer cleverly. + +But the ingenious Monckton gave it a happy turn. "Poor thing! Poor +thing!" said he. + +"He left me the next day," said Lucy, "and I have never seen him since." + +Here Monckton interposed; he fancied he had seen the curtain move. +"Excuse me," said he, "I think there is somebody listening!" and he went +swiftly and put his head through the curtain. But the room was empty; for +meantime Grace was so surprised by the lady's arrival, by her beauty, +which might well have tempted any man, and by her air of respectability, +that she changed her tactics directly, and she was gone to her father for +advice and information in spite of her previous determination not to +worry him in his present condition. What he said to her can be briefly +told elsewhere; what he ordered her to do was to return and watch the +man and not the woman. + +During Lucy's hesitation, which was somewhat long, a clergyman came to +the window, looked in, and promptly retired, seeing the Colonel had +company. This, however, was only a modest curate, _alias_ a detective. He +saw in half a moment that this must be Mark Waddy's pal; but as the +police like to go their own way he would not watch the lawn himself, but +asked Jem Davies, with whom he had made acquaintance, to keep an eye upon +that with his fellows, for there was a jail-bird in the house; then he +went round to the front door, by which he felt sure his bird would make +his exit. He had no earthly right to capture this ecclesiastic, but he +was prepared if the Colonel, who was a magistrate, gave him the order, +and not without. + +But we are interrupting Colonel Clifford's interrogatories. + +"Madam, what makes you think this disloyal person was my son?" + +"Indeed, sir, I don't know," said the lady, and looking around the room +with some signs of distress. "I begin to hope it was not your son. He was +a tall young man, almost as tall as yourself. He was very handsome, with +brown hair and brown eyes, and seemed incapable of deceit." + +"Have you any letters of his?" asked the Colonel. + +"I had a great many, sir," said she, "but I have not kept them all." + +"Have you one?" said the Colonel, sternly. + +"Oh yes, sir," said Lucy, "I think I must have nearer twenty; but what +good will they be?" said she, affecting simplicity. + +"Why, my dear madam," said Monckton, "Colonel Clifford is quite right; +the handwriting may not tell _you_ anything, but surely his own father +knows it. I think he is offering you a very fair test. I must tell you +plainly that if you don't produce the letters you say you possess, I +shall regret having put myself forward in this matter at all." + +"Gently, sir," said the Colonel; "she has not refused to produce them." + +Lucy put her hand in her pocket and drew out a packet of letters, but she +hesitated, and looked timidly at Monckton, after his late severity. "Am I +bound to part with them?" + +"Certainly not," said Monckton, "but you can surely trust them for a +minute to such a man as Colonel Clifford. I am of opinion," said he, +"that since you can not be confronted with this gentleman's son (though +that is no fault of yours), these letters (by-the-bye, it would have been +as well to show to me,) ought now at once to be submitted to Colonel +Clifford, that he may examine both the contents and the handwriting; then +he will know whether it is his son or not; and probably as you are fair +with him he will be fair with you and tell you the truth." + +Colonel Clifford took the letters and ran his eye hastily over two or +three; they were filled with the ardent protestations of youth, and a +love that evidently looked toward matrimony, and they were written and +signed in a handwriting he knew as well as his own. + +He said, solemnly, "These letters are written and were sent to Miss Lucy +Muller by my son, Walter Clifford." Then, almost for the first time in +his life, he broke down, and said, "God forgive him; God help him and me. +The honor of the Cliffords is an empty sound." + +Lucy Monckton rose from her chair in genuine agitation. Her better angel +tugged at her heartstrings. + +"Forgive me, sir, oh, forgive me!" she cried, bursting into tears. Then +she caught a bitter, threatening glance of her bad angel fixed upon her, +and she said to Monckton, "I can say no more, I can do no more. It was +fourteen years ago--I can't break people's hearts. Hush it up amongst +you. I have made a hero weep; his tears burn me. I don't care for the +man; I'll go no further. You, sir, have taken a deal of trouble and +expense. I dare say Colonel Clifford will compensate you; I leave the +matter with you. No power shall make me act in it any more." + +Monckton wrote hastily on his card, and said, quite calmly, "Well, I +really think, madam, you are not fit to take part in such a conference as +this. Compose yourself and retire. I know your mind in the matter better +than you do yourself at this moment, and I will act accordingly." + +She retired, and drove away to the Dun Cow, which was the place Monckton +had appointed when he wrote upon the card. + +"Colonel Clifford," said Monckton, "all that is a woman's way. When she +is out of sight of you, and thinks over her desertion and her unfortunate +condition--neither maid, wife, nor widow--she will be angry with me if I +don't obtain her some compensation." + +"She deserves compensation," said the Colonel, gravely. + +"Especially if she holds her tongue," said Monckton. + +"Whether she holds her tongue or not," said the Colonel. "I don't see +how I can hold mine, and you have already told my daughter-in-law. A +separation between her and my son is inevitable. The compensation +must be offered, and God help me, I'm a magistrate, if only to +compound the felony." + +"Surely," said Monckton, "it can be put upon a wider footing than that; +let me think," and he turned away to the open window; but when he got +there he saw a lot of miners clustering about. Now he had no fear of +their recognizing him, since he had not left a vestige of the printed +description. But the very sight of them, and the memory of what they had +done to his dead accomplice, made him shudder at them. Henceforth he +kept away from the window, and turned his back to it. + +"I think with you, sir," said he, mellifluously, "that she ought to have +a few thousands by way of compensation. You know she could claim alimony, +and be a very blister to you and yours. But on the other hand I do think, +as an impartial person, that she ought to keep this sad secret most +faithfully, and even take her maiden name again." + +Whilst Monckton was making this impartial proposal Bartley opened the +door, and was coming forward with his deed, when he heard a voice he +recognized; and partly by that, partly by the fellow's thin lips, he +recognized him, and said, "Monckton! That villain here!" + +"Monckton," said Colonel Clifford, "that is not his name. It is Meredith. +He is a clergyman." Bartley examined him very suspiciously, and Monckton, +during this examination, looked perfectly calm and innocent. Meantime a +note was brought to Colonel Clifford from Grace: "Papa was the witness. +He is quite sure the bridegroom was not our Walter. He thinks it must +have been the other clerk, Leonard Monckton, who robbed Mr. Bartley, and +put some of the money into dear Walter's pockets to ruin him, but papa +saved him. Don't let him escape." + +Colonel Clifford's eye flashed with triumph, but he controlled himself. + +"Say I will give it due attention," said he; "I'm busy now." + +And the servant retired. + +"Now, sir," said he, "is this a case of mistaken identity, or is your +name Leonard Monckton?" + +"Colonel Clifford," said the hypocrite, sadly, "I little thought that I +should be made to suffer for the past, since I came here only on an +errand of mercy. Yes, sir, in my unregenerate days I was Leonard +Monckton. I disgraced the name. But I repented, and when I adopted the +sacred calling of a clergyman I parted with the past, name and all. I +was that man's clerk; and so," said he, spitefully, and forgetting his +sing-song, "was your son Walter Clifford. Was that not so, Mr. Bartley?" + +"Don't speak to me, sir," said Bartley. "I shall say nothing to gratify +you nor to affront Colonel Clifford." + +"Speak the truth, sir," said Colonel Clifford; "never mind the +consequences." + +"Well, then," said Bartley, very unwillingly, "they _were_ clerks in my +office, and this one robbed me." + +"One thing at a time," said Monckton. "Did I rob you of twenty thousand +pounds, as you robbed Mr. Walter Clifford?" + +His voice became still more incisive, and the curtain of the little room +opened a little and two eyes of fire looked in. + +"Do you remember one fine day your clerk, Walter Clifford, asking you for +leave of absence--to be married?" + +Bartley turned his back on him contemptuously. + +But Colonel Clifford insisted on his replying. + +"Yes, he did," said Bartley, sullenly. + +"But," said the Colonel, quietly, "he thought better of it, and so--you +married her yourself." + +This bayonet thrust was so keen and sudden that the villain's +self-possession left him for once. His mouth opened in dismay, and his +eyes, roving to and fro, seemed to seek a door to escape. + +But there was worse in store for him. The curtains were drawn right and +left with power, and there stood Grace Clifford, beautiful, but pale and +terrible. She marched toward him with eyes that rooted him to the spot, +and then she stopped. + +"Now hear _me_; for he has tortured me, and tried to kill me. Look at his +white face turning ghastly beneath his paint at the sight of me; look at +his thin lips, and his devilish eyebrows, and his restless eyes. THIS IS +THE MAN THAT BRIBED THAT WRETCH TO FIRE THE MINE!" + +These last words, ringing from her lips like the trumpet of doom, were +answered, as swiftly as gunpowder explodes at a lighted torch, by a +furious yell, and in a moment the room seemed a forest of wild beasts. A +score of raging miners came upon him from every side, dragging, tearing, +beating, kicking, cursing, yelling. He was down in a moment, then soon up +again, then dragged out of the room, nails, fists, and heavy boots all +going, stripped to the shirt, screaming like a woman. A dozen assailants +rolled down the steps, with him in the midst of them. He got clear for a +moment, but twenty more rushed at him, and again he was torn and battered +and kicked. "Police! police!" he cried; and at last the detectives who +came to seize him rushed in, and Colonel Clifford, too, with the voice of +a stentor, cried, "The law! Respect the law, or you are ruined men." + +And so at last the law he had so dreaded raised what seemed a bag of +bones: nothing left on him but one boot and fragments of a shirt, +ghastly, bleeding, covered with bruises, insensible, and to all +appearance dead. + +After a short consultation, they carried him, by Colonel Clifford's +order, to the Dun Cow, where Lucy, it may be remembered, was awaiting his +triumphant return. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +STRANGE TURNS. + + +And yet this catastrophe rose out of a mistake. When the detective asked +Jem Davies to watch the lawn, he never suspected that the clergyman was +the villain who had been concerned in that explosion. But Davies, a man +of few ideas and full of his own wrong, took for granted, as such minds +will, that the policeman would not have spoken to him if this had not +been _his_ affair; so he and his fellows gathered about the steps and +watched the drawing-room. They caught a glimpse of Monckton, but that +only puzzled them. His appearance was inconsistent with the only +description they had got--in fact opposed to it. It was Grace Clifford's +denunciation, trumpet-tongued, that let loose savage justice on the +villain. Never was a woman's voice so fatal, or so swift to slay. She +would have undone her work. She screamed, she implored; but it was all in +vain. The fury she had launched she could not recall. As for Bartley, +words can hardly describe his abject terror. He crouched, he shivered, he +moaned, he almost swooned; and long after it was all over he was found +crouched in a corner of the little room, and his very reason appeared to +be shaken. Judge Lynch had passed him, but too near. The freezing shadow +of Retribution chilled him. + +Colonel Clifford looked at him with contemptuous pity, and sent him home +with John Baker in a close carriage. + + * * * * * + +Lucy Monckton was in the parlor of the Dun Cow waiting for her master. +The detectives and some outdoor servants of Clifford Hall brought a short +ladder and paillasses, and something covered with blankets, to the door. +Lucy saw, but did not suspect the truth. + +They had a murmured consultation with the landlady. During this Mark +Waddy came down, and there was some more whispering, and soon the +battered body was taken up to Mark Waddy's room and deposited on his +bed. The detectives retired to consult, and Waddy had to break the +calamity to Mrs. Monckton. He did this as well as he could; but it +little matters how such blows are struck. Her agony was great, and +greater when she saw him, for she resisted entirely all attempts to keep +her from him. She installed herself at once as his nurse, and Mark +Waddy retired to a garret. + +A surgeon came by Colonel Clifford's order and examined Monckton's +bruised body, and shook his head. He reported that there were no bones +broken, but there were probably grave internal injuries. These, however, +he could not specify at present, since there was no sensibility in the +body; so pressure on the injured parts elicited no groans. He prescribed +egg and brandy in small quantities, and showed Mrs. Monckton how to +administer it to a patient in that desperate condition. + +His last word was in private to Waddy. "If he ever speaks again, or even +groans aloud, send for me. Otherwise--" and he shrugged his shoulders. + +Some hours afterward Colonel Clifford called as a magistrate to see +if the sufferer had any deposition to make. But he was mute, and his +eyes fixed. + +As Colonel Clifford returned, one of the detectives accosted him and +asked him for a warrant to arrest him. + +"Not in his present condition," said Colonel Clifford, rather +superciliously. "And pray, sir, why did not you interfere sooner and +prevent this lawless act?" + +"Well, sir, unfortunately we were on the other side of the house." + +"Exactly; you had orders to be in one place, so you must be in another. +See the consequence. The honest men have put themselves in the wrong, and +this fellow in the right. He will die a sort of victim, with his guilt +suspected only, not proved." + +Having thus snubbed the Force, the old soldier turned his back on them +and went home, where Grace met him, all anxiety, and received his report. +She implored him not to proceed any further against the man, and declared +she should fly the country rather than go into a court of law as witness +against him. + +"Humph!" said the Colonel; "but you are the only witness." + +"All the better for him," said she; "then he will die in peace. My tongue +has killed the man once; it shall never kill him again." + +About six next morning Monckton beckoned Lucy. She came eagerly to him; +he whispered to her, "Can you keep a secret?" + +"You know I can," said she. + +"Then never let any one know I have spoken." + +"No, dear, never. Why?" + +"I dread the law more than death;" and he shuddered all over. "Save me +from the law." + +"Leonard, I will," said she. "Leave that to me." + +She wired for Mr. Middleton as soon as possible. + +The next day there was no change in the patient. He never spoke to +anybody, except a word or two to Lucy, in a whisper, when they were +quite alone. + +In the afternoon down came Lawyer Middleton. Lucy told him what he knew, +but Monckton would not speak, even to him. He had to get hold of Waddy +before he understood the whole case. + +Waddy was in Monckton's secret, and, indeed, in everybody's. He knew it +was folly to deceive your lawyer, so he was frank. Mr. Middleton learned +his client's guilt and danger, but also that his enemies had flaws in +their armor. + +The first shot he fired was to get warrants out against a dozen miners, +Jem Davies included, for a murderous assault; but he made no arrests, he +only summoned. So one or two took fright and fled. Middleton had counted +on that, and it made the case worse for those that remained. Then, by +means of friends in Derby, he worked the Press. + +An article appeared headed, "Our Savages." It related with righteous +indignation how Mr. Bartley's miners had burned the dead body of a miner +suspected of having fired the mine, and put his own life in jeopardy as +well as those of others; and then, not content with that monstrous act, +had fallen upon and beaten to death a gentleman in whom they thought they +detected a resemblance to some person who had been, or was suspected of +being that miner's accomplice; "but so far from that," said the writer, +"we are now informed, on sure authority, that the gentleman in question +is a large and wealthy landed proprietor, quite beyond any temptation to +crime or dishonesty, and had actually visited this part of the world only +in the character of a peace-maker, and to discharge a very delicate +commission, which it would not be our business to publish even if the +details had been confided to us." + +The article concluded with a hope that these monsters "would be taught +that even if they were below the standard of humanity they were not +above the law." + +Middleton attended the summonses, gave his name and address, and informed +the magistrate that his client was a large landed proprietor, and it +looked like a case of mistaken identity. His client was actually dying of +his injuries, but his wife hoped for justice. + +But the detectives had taken care to be present, and so they put in their +word. They said that they were prepared to prove, at a proper time, that +the wounded man was really the person who had been heard by Mrs. Walter +Clifford to bribe Ben Burnley to fire the mine. + +"We have nothing to do with that now," said the magistrate. "One thing at +a time, please. I can not let these people murder a convicted felon, far +less a suspected criminal that has not been tried. The wounded man +proceeds, according to law, through a respectable attorney. These men, +whom you are virtually defending, have taken the law into their own +hands. Are your witnesses here, Mr. Middleton?" + +"Not at present, sir; and when I was interrupted, I was about to ask +your worship to grant me an adjournment for that purpose. It will not be +a great hardship to the accused, since we proceed by summons. I fear I +have been too lenient, for two or three of them have absconded since the +summons was served." + +"I am not surprised at that," said the magistrate; "however, you know +your own business." + +Then the police applied for a warrant of arrest against Monckton. + +"Oh!" cried Middleton, with the air of a man thoroughly shocked and +scandalized. + +"Certainly not," said the magistrate; "I shall not disturb the course of +justice; there is not even an _exparte_ case against this gentleman at +present. Such an application must be supported by a witness, and a +disinterested one." So all the parties retired crest-fallen except Mr. +Middleton; as for him, he was imitating a small but ingenious specimen of +nature--the cuttle-fish. This little creature, when pursued by its +enemies, discharges an inky fluid which obscures the water all around, +and then it starts off and escapes. + +One dark night, at two o'clock in the morning, there came to the door of +the Dun Cow an invalid carriage, or rather omnibus, with a spring-bed and +every convenience. The wheels were covered thick with India-rubber; +relays had been provided, and Monckton and his party rolled along day and +night to Liverpool. The detectives followed, six hours later, and traced +them to Liverpool very cleverly, and, with the assistance of the police, +raked the town for them, and got all the great steamers watched, +especially those that were bound westward, ho! But their bird was at sea, +in a Liverpool merchant's own steamboat, hired for a two months' trip. +The pursuers found this out too, but a fortnight too late. + +"It's no go, Bill," said one to the other. "There's a lawyer and a pot +of money against us. Let it sleep awhile." + +The steamboat coasted England in beautiful weather; the sick man began to +revive, and to eat a little, and to talk a little, and to suffer a good +deal at times. Before they had been long at sea Mr. Middleton had a +confidential conversation with Mrs. Monckton. He told her he had been +very secret with her for her good. "I saw," said he, "this Monckton had +no deep regard for you, and was capable of turning you adrift in +prosperity; and I knew that if I told you everything you would let it out +to him, and tempt him to play the villain. But the time is come that I +must speak, in justice to you both. That estate he left your son half in +joke is virtually his. Fourteen years ago, when he last looked into the +matter, there _were_ eleven lives between it and him; but, strange to +say, whilst he was at Portland the young lives went one after the other, +and there were really only five left when he made that will. Now comes +the extraordinary part: a fortnight ago three of those lives perished in +a single steamboat accident on the Clyde; that left a woman of eighty-two +and a man of ninety between your husband and the estate. The lady was +related to the persons who were drowned, and she has since died; she had +been long ailing, and it is believed that the shock was too much for her. +The survivor is the actual proprietor, Old Carruthers; but I am the +London agent to his solicitor, and he was reported to me to be _in +extremis_ the very day before I left London to join you. We shall run +into a port near the place, and you will not land; but I shall, and +obtain precise information. In the meantime, mind, your husband's name is +Carruthers. Any communication from me will be to Mrs. Carruthers, and you +will tell that man as much, or as little, as you think proper; if you +make any disclosure, give yourself all the credit you can; say you shall +take him to his own house under a new name, and shield him against all +pursuers. As for me, I tell you plainly, my great hope is that he will +not live long enough to turn you adrift and disinherit your boy." + +To cut short for the present this extraordinary part of our story, Lewis +Carruthers, _alias_ Leonard Monckton, entered a fine house and took +possession of eleven thousand acres of hilly pasture, and the undivided +moiety of a lake brimful of fish. He accounted for his change of name by +the favors Carruthers, deceased, had shown him. Therein he did his best +to lie, but his present vein of luck turned it into the truth. Old +Carruthers had become so peevish that all his relations disliked him, and +he disliked them. So he left his personal estate to his heir-at-law +simply because he had never seen him. The personality was very large. The +house was full of pictures, and China, and cabinets, etc. There was a +large balance at the banker's, a heavy fall of timber not paid for, rents +due, and as many as two thousand four hundred sheep upon that hill, which +the old fellow had kept in his own hands. So, when the new proprietor +took possession as Carruthers, nobody was surprised, though many were +furious. Lucy installed him in a grand suite of apartments as an invalid, +and let nobody come near him. Waddy was dismissed with a munificent +present, and could be trusted to hold his tongue. By the advice of +Middleton, not a single servant was dismissed, and so no enemies were +made. The family lawyer and steward were also retained, and, in short, +all conversation was avoided. In a month or two the new proprietor began +to improve in health, and drive about his own grounds, or be rowed on his +lake, lying on soft beds. + +But in the fifth month of his residence local pains seized him, and he +began to waste. For some time the precise nature of the disorder was +obscure; but at last a rising surgeon declared it to be an abscess in the +intestines (caused, no doubt, by external violence). + +By degrees the patient became unable to take solid food, and the drain +upon his system was too great for a mere mucilaginous diet to sustain +him. Wasted to the bone, and yellow as a guinea, he presented a pitiable +spectacle, and would gladly have exchanged his fine house and pictures, +his heathery hills dotted with sheep, and his glassy lake full of spotted +trout, for a ragged Irishman's bowl of potatoes and his mug of +buttermilk--and his stomach. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +CURTAIN. + + +Striking incidents will draw the writer; but we know that our readers +would rather hear about the characters they can respect. It seems, +however, to be a rule in life, and in fiction, that interest flags when +trouble ceases. Now the troubles of our good people were pretty well +over, and we will put it to the reader whether they had not enough. + +Grace Clifford made an earnest request to Colonel Clifford and her father +never to tell Walter he had been suspected of bigamy. "Let others say +that circumstances are always to be believed and character not to be +trusted; but I, at least, had no right to believe certificates and things +against my Walter's honor and his love. Hide my fault from him, not for +my sake but for his; perhaps when we are both old people I may tell him." + +This was Grace Clifford's petition, and need we say she prevailed? + +Walter Clifford recovered under his wife's care, and the house was so +large that Colonel Clifford easily persuaded his son and daughter-in-law +to make it their home. Hope had also two rooms in it, and came there when +he chose; he was always welcome; but he was alone again, so to speak, +and not quite forty years of age, and he was ambitious. He began to rise +in the world, whilst our younger characters, contented with their +happiness and position, remained stationary. Master of a great mine, able +now to carry out his invention, member of several scientific +associations, a writer for the scientific press, etc., he soon became a +public and eminent man; he was consulted on great public works, and if he +lives will be one of the great lights of science in this island. He is +great on electricity, especially on the application of natural forces to +the lighting of towns. He denounces all the cities that allow powerful +streams to run past them and not work a single electric light. But he +goes further than that. He ridicules the idea that it is beyond the +resources of science to utilize thousands of millions of tons of water +that are raised twenty-one feet twice in every twenty-four hours by the +tides. It is the skill to apply the force that is needed; not the force +itself, which exceeds that of all the steam-engines in the nation. And he +says that the great scientific foible of the day is the neglect of +natural forces, which are cheap and inexhaustible, and the mania for +steam-engines and gas, which are expensive, and for coal, which is not to +last forever. He implores capital and science to work in this question. +His various schemes for using the tides in the creation of motive power +will doubtless come before the world in a more appropriate channel than a +work of fiction. If he succeeds it will be a glorious, as it must be a +difficult, achievement. + +His society is valued on social grounds; his well-stored mind, his powers +of conversation, and his fine appearance, make him extremely welcome at +all the tables in the county; he also accompanies his daughter with the +violin, and, as they play beauties together, not difficulties, they +ravish the soul and interrupt the torture, whose instrument the +piano-forte generally is. + +Bartley is a man with beautiful silvery hair and beard; he cultivates, +nurses, and tends fruit-trees and flowers with a love little short of +paternal. This sentiment, and the contemplation of nature, have changed +the whole expression of his face; it is wonderfully benevolent and sweet, +but with a touch of weakness about the lips. Some of the rough fellows +about the place call him a "softy," but that is much too strong a word; +no doubt he is confused in his ideas, but he reads all the great American +publications about fruit and flowers, and executes their instructions +with tact and skill. Where he breaks down--and who would believe +this?--is in the trade department. Let him succeed in growing apple-trees +and pear-trees weighed down to the ground with choice fruit; let him +produce enormous cherries by grafting, and gigantic nectarines upon his +sunny wall, and acres of strawberries too large for the mouth. After that +they may all rot where they grow; he troubles his head no more. This is +more than his old friend Hope can stand; he interferes, and sends the +fruit to market, and fills great casks with superlative cider and perry, +and keeps the account square, with a little help from Mrs. Easton, who +has returned to her old master, and is a firm but kind mother to him. + +Grace Clifford for some time could not be got to visit him. Perhaps she +is one of those ladies who can not get over personal violence; he had +handled her roughly, to keep her from going to her father's help. After +all, there may have been other reasons; it is not so easy to penetrate +all the recesses of the female heart. One thing is certain: she would +not go near him for months; but when she did go with her father--and he +had to use all his influence to take her there--the rapture and the +tears of joy with which the poor old fellow received her disarmed her +in a moment. + +She let him take her through hot-houses and show her his children--"the +only children I have now," said he--and after that she never refused to +visit this erring man. His roof had sheltered her many years, and he had +found out too late that he loved her, so far as his nature could love at +that time. + + * * * * * + +Percy Fitzroy had an elder sister. He appealed to her against Julia +Clifford. She cross-questioned him, and told him he was very foolish to +despair. She would hardly have slapped him if she was quite resolved to +part forever. + +"Let me have a hand in reconciling you," said she. + +"You shall have b-b-both hands in it, if you like," said he; "for I am at +my w-w-wit's end." + +So these two conspired. Miss Fitzroy was invited to Percy's house, and +played the mistress. She asked other young ladies, especially that fair +girl with auburn hair, whom Julia called a "fat thing." That meant, under +the circumstances, a plump and rounded model, with small hands and feet; +a perfect figure in a riding habit, and at night a satin bust and +sculptured arms. + +The very first ride Walter took with Grace and Julia they met the bright +cavalcade of Percy and his sister, and this red-haired Venus. + +Percy took off his hat with profound respect to Julia and Grace, but did +not presume to speak. + +"What a lovely girl!" said Grace. + +"Do you think so?" said Julia. + +"Yes, dear; and so do you." + +"What makes you fancy that?" + +"Because you looked daggers at her." + +"Because she is setting her cap at that little fool." + +"She will not have him without your consent, dear." + +And this set Julia thinking. + +The next day Walter called on Percy, and played the traitor. + +"Give a ball," said he. + +Miss Fitzroy and her brother gave a ball. Percy, duly instructed by his +sister, wrote to Julia as meek as Moses, and said he was in a great +difficulty. If he invited her, it would, of course, seem presumptuous, +considering the poor opinion she had of him; if he passed her over, and +invited Walter Clifford and Mrs. Clifford, he should be unjust to his own +feelings, and seem disrespectful. + +Julia's reply: + +"DEAR MR. FITZROY,--I am not at all fond of jealousy, but I am very fond +of dancing. I shall come. + +"Yours sincerely, + +"JULIA CLIFFORD." + +And she did come with a vengeance. She showed them what a dark beauty can +do in a blaze of light with a red rose, and a few thousand pounds' worth +of diamonds artfully placed. + +She danced with several partners, and took Percy in his turn. She was +gracious to him, but nothing more. + +Percy asked leave to call next day. + +She assented, rather coldly. + +His sister prepared Percy for the call. The first thing he did was to +stammer intolerably. + +"Oh," said Julia, "if you have nothing more to say than that, I +have--Where is my bracelet?" + +"It's here," said Percy, producing it eagerly. Julia smiled. + +"My necklace?" + +"Here!" + +"My charms?" + +"Here!" + +"My specimens of your spelling? Love spells, eh?" + +"Here--all here." + +"No, they are not," said Julia, snatching them, "they are here." And she +stuffed both her pockets with them. + +"And the engaged ring," said Percy, radiant now, and producing it, +"d-d-don't forget that." + +Julia began to hesitate. "If I put that on, it will be for life." + +"Yes, it will," said Percy. + +"Then give me a moment to think." + +After due consideration she said what she had made up her mind to say +long before. + +"Percy, you're a man of honor. I'll be yours upon one solemn +condition--that from this hour till death parts us, you promise to give +your faith where you give your love." + +"I'll give my faith where I give my love," said Percy, solemnly. + +Next month they were married, and he gave his confidence where he gave +his love, and he never had reason to regret it. + + * * * * * + +"John Baker." + +"Sir." + +"You had better mind what you are about, or you'll get fonder of her than +of Walter himself." + +"Never, Colonel, never! And so will you." + +Then, after a moment's reflection, John Baker inquired how they were to +help it. "Look here, Colonel," said he, "a man's a man, but a woman's a +woman. It isn't likely as Master Walter will always be putting his hand +round your neck and kissing of you when you're good, and pick a white +hair off your coat if he do but see one when you're going out, and shine +upon you in-doors more than the sun does on you out-of-doors; and 'taint +to be supposed as Mr. Walter will never meet me on the stairs without +breaking out into a smile to cheer an old fellow's heart, and showing +£2000 worth of ivory all at one time; and if I've a cold or a bit of a +headache he won't send his lady's maid to see after me and tell me what I +am to do, and threaten to come and nurse me himself if I don't mend." + +"Well," said the Colonel, "there's something in all this." + +"For all that," said John Baker, candidly, "I shall make you my +confession, sir. I said to Mr. Walter myself, said I, 'Here's a pretty +business,' said I; 'I've known and loved you from a child, and Mrs. +Walter has only been here six months, and now I'm afraid she'll make me +love her more than I do you.'" + +"Why, of course she will," said Mr. Walter. "Why, _I_ love her +better than I do myself, and you've got to follow suit, or else I'll +murder you." + +So that question was settled. + + * * * * * + +The five hundred guineas reward rankled in the minds of those detectives, +and, after a few months, with the assistance of the ordinary police in +all the northern towns, they got upon a cold scent, and then upon a warm +scent, and at last they suspected their bird, under the _alias_ of +Carruthers. So they came to the house to get sight of him, and make sure +before applying for a warrant. They got there just in time for his +funeral. Middleton was there and saw them, and asked them to attend it, +and to speak to him after the reading of the will. + +"Proceedings are stayed," said he; "but, perhaps, having acted +against me, you might like to see whether it would not pay better to +act with me." + +"And no mistake," said one of them; so they were feasted with the rest, +for it was a magnificent funeral, and after that Middleton squared them +with £50 apiece to hold their tongues--and more, to divert all suspicion +from the house and the beautiful woman who now held it as only trustee +for her son. + +Remembering that he had left the estate to another man's child, Monckton, +one fine day, bequeathed his personal estate on half a sheet of +note-paper to Lucy. This and the large allowance Middleton obtained from +the Court for her, as trustee and guardian to the heir, made her a rich +woman. She was a German, sober, notable, and provident; she kept her +sheep, and became a sort of squire. She wrote to her husband in the +States, and, by the advice of Middleton, told him the exact truth instead +of a pack of fibs, which she certainly would have done had she been left +to herself. Poverty had pinched Jonathan Braham by this time; and as he +saw by the tone of her letter she did not care one straw whether he +accepted the situation or not, he accepted it eagerly, and had to court +her as a stranger, and to marry her, and wear the crown matrimonial; for +Middleton drew the settlements, and neither Braham nor his creditors +could touch a half-penny. And then came out the better part of this +indifferent woman. Braham had been a good friend to her in time of need, +and she was a good and faithful friend to him now. She was generally +admired and respected; kind to the poor; bountiful, but not lavish; an +excellent manager, but not stingy. + +In vain shall we endeavor, with our small insight into the bosoms of men +and women, to divide them into the good and the bad. There are mediocre +intellects; there are mediocre morals. This woman was always more +inclined to good than evil, yet at times temptation conquered. She was +virtuous till she succumbed to a seducer whom she loved. Under his +control she deceived Walter Clifford, and attempted an act of downright +villainy; that control removed, she returned to virtuous and industrious +habits. After many years, solitude, weariness, and a gloomy future +unhinged her conscience again: comfort and affection offered themselves, +and she committed bigamy. Deserted by Braham, and once more fascinated by +the only man she had ever greatly loved, she joined him in an abominable +fraud, broke down in the middle of it by a sudden impulse of conscience, +and soon after settled down into a faithful nurse. She is now a faithful +wife, a tender mother, a kind mistress, and nearly everything that is +good in a medium way; and so, in all human probability, will pass the +remainder of her days, which, as she is healthy, and sober in eating and +drinking, will perhaps be the longer period of her little life. + +Well may we all pray against great temptations; only choice spirits +resist them, except when they are great temptations to somebody else, and +somehow not to the person tempted. + +It has lately been objected to the writers of fiction--especially to +those few who are dramatists as well as novelists--that they neglect +what Shakespeare calls "the middle of humanity," and deal in eccentric +characters above or below the people one really meets. Let those who +are serious in this objection enjoy moral mediocrity in the person of +Lucy Monckton. + +For our part we will never place Fiction, which was the parent of +History, below its child. Our hearts are with those superior men and +women who, whether in History or Fiction, make life beautiful, and +raise the standard of Humanity. Such characters exist even in this +plain tale, and it is these alone, and our kindly readers, we take +leave of with regret. + + +THE END. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Perilous Secret, by Charles Reade + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12470 *** diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..15f4454 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #12470 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12470) diff --git a/old/12470-8.txt b/old/12470-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..60b096a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12470-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12491 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Perilous Secret, by Charles Reade + +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: A Perilous Secret + +Author: Charles Reade + +Release Date: May 28, 2004 [EBook #12470] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PERILOUS SECRET *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + A PERILOUS SECRET + + BY CHARLES READE + +AUTHOR OF "HARD CASH" "PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE" "GRIFFITH GAUNT" "IT IS +NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND" ETC., ETC. + + 1884 + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +CHAPTER I. +THE POOR MAN'S CHILD + +CHAPTER II. +THE RICH MAN'S CHILD + +CHAPTER III. +THE TWO FATHERS + +CHAPTER IV. +AN OLD SERVANT + +CHAPTER V. +MARY'S PERIL + +CHAPTER VI. +SHARP PRACTICE + +CHAPTER VII. +THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE + +CHAPTER VIII. +THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE + +CHAPTER IX. +LOVERS PARTED + +CHAPTER X. +THE GORDIAN KNOT + +CHAPTER XI. +THE KNOT CUT.--ANOTHER TIED + +CHAPTER XII. +THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE + +CHAPTER XIII. +THE SERPENT LET LOOSE + +CHAPTER XIV. +THE SERPENT + +CHAPTER XV. +THE SECRET IN DANGER + +CHAPTER XVI. +REMINISCENCES.--THE FALSE ACCUSER.--THE SECRET EXPLODED + +CHAPTER XVII. +LOVERS' QUARRELS + +CHAPTER XVIII. +APOLOGIES + +CHAPTER XIX. +A WOMAN OUTWITS TWO MEN + +CHAPTER XX. +CALAMITY + +CHAPTER XXI. +BURIED ALIVE + +CHAPTER XXII. +REMORSE + +CHAPTER XXIII. +BURIED ALIVE.--THE THREE DEADLY PERILS + +CHAPTER XXIV. +STRANGE COMPLICATIONS + +CHAPTER XXV. +RETRIBUTION + +CHAPTER XXVI. +STRANGE TURNS + +CHAPTER XXVII. +CURTAIN + + + + +A PERILOUS SECRET. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE POOR MAN'S CHILD. + + +Two worn travellers, a young man and a fair girl about four years old, +sat on the towing-path by the side of the Trent. + +The young man had his coat off, by which you might infer it was very hot; +but no, it was a keen October day, and an east wind sweeping down the +river. The coat was wrapped tightly round the little girl, so that only +her fair face with blue eyes and golden hair peeped out; and the young +father sat in his shirt sleeves, looking down on her with a loving but +anxious look. Her mother, his wife, had died of consumption, and he was +in mortal terror lest biting winds and scanty food should wither this +sweet flower too, his one remaining joy. + +William Hope was a man full of talent; self-educated, and wonderfully +quick at learning anything: he was a linguist, a mechanic, a +mineralogist, a draughtsman, an inventor. Item, a bit of a farrier, and +half a surgeon; could play the fiddle and the guitar; could draw and +paint and drive a four-in-hand. Almost the only thing he could not do was +to make money and keep it. + +Versatility seldom pays. But, to tell the truth, luck was against him; +and although in a long life every deserving man seems to get a chance, +yet Fortune does baffle some meritorious men for a limited time. +Generally, we think, good fortune and ill fortune succeed each other +rapidly, like red cards and black; but to some ill luck comes in great +long slices; and if they don't drink or despair, by-and-by good luck +comes continuously, and everything turns to gold with him who has waited +and deserved. + +Well, for years Fortune was hard on William Hope. It never let him get +his head above-water. If he got a good place, the employer died or sold +his business. If he patented an invention, and exhausted his savings to +pay the fees, no capitalist would work it, or some other inventor +proved he had invented something so like it that there was no basis for +a monopoly. + +At last there fell on him the heaviest blow of all. He had accumulated +£50 as a merchant's clerk, and was in negotiation for a small independent +business, when his wife, whom he loved tenderly, sickened. + +For eight months he was distracted with hopes and fears. These gave way +to dismal certainty. She died, and left him broken-hearted and poor, +impoverished by the doctors, and pauperized by the undertaker. Then his +crushed heart had but one desire--to fly from the home that had lost its +sunshine, and the very country which had been calamitous to him. + +He had one stanch friend, who had lately returned rich from New Zealand, +and had offered to send him out as his agent, and to lend him money in +the colony. Hope had declined, and his friend had taken the huff, and +had not written to him since. But Hope knew he was settled in Hull, and +too good-hearted at bottom to go from his word in his friend's present +sad condition. So William Hope paid every debt he owed in Liverpool, took +his child to her mother's tombstone, and prayed by it, and started to +cross the island, and then leave it for many a long day. + +He had a bundle with one brush, one comb, a piece of yellow soap, and two +changes of linen, one for himself, and one for his little Grace--item, +his fiddle, and a reaping hook; for it was a late harvest in the north, +and he foresaw he should have to work his way and play his way, or else +beg, and he was too much of a man for that. His child's face won her many +a ride in a wagon, and many a cup of milk from humble women standing at +their cottage doors. + +Now and then he got a day's work in the fields, and the farmer's wife +took care of little Grace, and washed her linen, and gave them both clean +straw in the barn to lie on, and a blanket to cover them. Once he fell in +with a harvest-home, and his fiddle earned him ten shillings, all in +sixpences. But on unlucky days he had to take his fiddle under his arm, +and carry his girl on his back: these unlucky days came so often that +still as he travelled his small pittance dwindled. Yet half-way on this +journey fortune smiled on him suddenly. It was in Derbyshire. He went a +little out of his way to visit his native place--he had left it at ten +years old. Here an old maid, his first cousin, received Grace with +rapture, and Hope pottered about all day, reviving his boyish +recollections of people and places. He had left the village ignorant; he +returned full of various knowledge; and so it was that in a certain +despised field, all thistles and docks and every known weed, which field +the tenant had condemned as a sour clay unfit for cultivation, William +Hope found certain strata and other signs which, thanks to his +mineralogical studies and practical knowledge, sent a sudden thrill all +through his frame. "Here's luck at last!" said he. "My child! my child! +our fortune is made." + +The proprietor of this land, and indeed of the whole parish, was a +retired warrior, Colonel Clifford. Hope knew that very well, and hurried +to Clifford Hall, all on fire with his discovery. + +He obtained an interview without any difficulty. Colonel Clifford, though +proud as Lucifer, was accessible and stiffly civil to humble folk. He was +gracious enough to Hope; but, when the poor fellow let him know he had +found signs of coal on his land, he froze directly; told him that two +gentlemen in that neighborhood had wasted their money groping the bowels +of the earth for coal, because of delusive indications on the surface of +the soil; and that for his part, even if he was sure of success, he would +not dirty his fingers with coal. "I believe," said he, "the northern +nobility descend to this sort of thing; but then they have not smelled +powder, and seen glory, and served her Majesty. _I have_." + +Hope tried to reason with him, tried to get round him. But he was +unassailable as Gibraltar, and soon cut the whole thing short by +saying: "There, that's enough. I am much obliged to you, sir, for +bringing me information you think valuable. You are travelling--on +foot--short of funds perhaps. Please accept this trifle, +and--and--good-morning." He retreated at marching pace, and the hot +blood burned his visitor's face. An alms! + +But on second thoughts he said: "Well, I have offered him a fortune, and +he gives me ten shillings. One good turn deserves another." So he +pocketed the half-sovereign, and bought his little Grace a +neck-handkerchief, blue with white spots; and so this unlucky man and his +child fought their way from west to east, till they reached that place +where we introduced them to the reader. + +That was an era in their painful journey, because until then Hope's only +anxiety was to find food and some little comfort for his child. But this +morning little Grace had begun to cough, a little dry cough that struck +on the father's heart like a knell. Her mother had died of consumption: +were the seeds of that fatal malady in her child? If so, hardship, +fatigue, cold, and privation would develop them rapidly, and she would +wither away into the grave before his eyes. So he looked down on her in +an agony of foreboding, and shivered in his shirt sleeves, not at the +cold, but at the future. She, poor girl, was, like the animals, blessed +with ignorance of everything beyond the hour; and soon she woke her +father from his dire reverie with a cry of delight. + +"Oh, what's they?" said she, and beamed with pleasure. Hope followed the +direction of her blue eyes, open to their full extent; and lo! there was +a little fleet of swans coming round a bend of the river. Hope told her +all about the royal birds, and that they belonged to sovereigns in one +district, to cities in another. Meantime the fair birds sailed on, and +passed stately, arching their snowy necks. Grace gloated on them, and for +a day or two her discourse was of swans. + +At last, when very near the goal, misfortunes multiplied. They came into +a town on a tidal river, whence they could hope to drift down to their +destination for a shilling or two; but here Hope spent his last farthing +on Grace's supper at an eating-house, and had not wherewithal to pay for +bed or breakfast at the humble inn. Here, too, he took up the local +paper, praying Heaven there might be some employment advertised, however +mean, that so he might feed his girl, and not let the fiend Consumption +take her at a gift. + +No, there was nothing in the advertising column, but in the body of the +paper he found a paragraph to the effect that Mr. Samuelson, of Hull, +had built a gigantic steam vessel in that port, and was going out to New +Zealand in her on her trial trip, to sail that morning at high tide, 6.45 +A.M., and it was now nine. + +How a sentence in a newspaper can blast a man! Bereavement, Despair, Lost +Love--they come like lightning in a single line. Hope turned sick at +these few words, and down went his head and his hands, and he sat all of +a heap, cold at heart. Then he began to disbelieve in everything, +especially in honesty. For why? If he had only left Liverpool in debt and +taken the rail, he would have reached Hull in ample time, and would have +gone out to New Zealand in the new ship with money in both pockets. + +But it was no use fretting. Starvation and disease impended over his +child. He must work, or steal, or something. In truth he was getting +desperate. He picked himself up and went about, offering his many +accomplishments to humble shop-keepers. They all declined him, some +civilly. At last he came to a superior place of business. There were +large offices and a handsome house connected with it in the rear. At the +side of the offices were pulleys, cranes, and all the appliances for +loading vessels, and a yard with horses and vans, so that the whole +frontage of the premises was very considerable. A brass plate said, "R. +Bartley, ship-broker and commission agent"; but the man was evidently a +ship-owner and a carrier besides; so this miscellaneous shop roused hopes +in our versatile hero. He rapidly surveyed the outside, and then cast +hungry glances through the window of the man's office. It was a +bow-window of unusual size, through which the proprietor or his employees +could see a long way up and down the river. Through this window Hope +peered. Repulses had made him timid. He wanted to see the face he had to +apply to before he ventured. + +But Mr. Bartley was not there. The large office was at present occupied +by his clerks; one of these was Leonard Monckton, a pale young man with +dark hair, a nose like a hawk, and thin lips. The other was quite a young +fellow, with brown hair, hazel eyes, and an open countenance. "Many a +hard rub puts a point on a man." So Hope resolved at once to say nothing +to that pale clerk so like a kite, but to interest the open countenance +in him and his hungry child. + +There were two approaches to the large office. One, to Hope's right, +through a door and a lobby. This was seldom used except by the habitués +of the place. The other was to Hope's left, through a very small office, +generally occupied by an inferior clerk, who kept an eye upon the work +outside. However, this office had also a small window looking inward; +this opened like a door when the man had anything to say to Mr. Bartley +or the clerks in the large office. + +William Hope entered this outer office, and found it empty. The clerk +happened to be in the yard. Then he opened the inner door and looked in +on the two clerks, pale and haggard, and apprehensive of a repulse. He +addressed himself to the one nearest him; it was the one whose face had +attracted him. + +"Sir, can I see Mr. Bartley?" + +The young fellow glanced over the visitor's worn garments and dusty +shoes, and said, dryly, "Hum! if it is for charity, this is the +wrong shop." + +"I want no charity," said Hope, with a sigh; "I want employment. But I do +want it very badly; my poor little girl and I are starving." + +"Then that is a shame," said the young fellow, warmly. "Why, you are a +gentleman, aren't you?" + +"I don't know for that," said Hope. "But I am an educated man, and I +could do the whole business of this place. But you see I am down in +the world." + +"You look like it," said the clerk, bluntly. "But don't you be so green +as to tell old Bartley that, or you are done for. No, no; I'll show you +how to get in here. Wait till half past one. He lunches at one, and he +isn't quite such a brute after luncheon. Then you come in like Julius +Caesar, and brag like blazes, and offer him twenty pounds' worth of +industry and ability, and above all arithmetic, and he will say he has no +opening (and that is a lie), and offer you fifteen shillings, perhaps." + +"If he does, I'll jump at it," said Hope, eagerly. "But whether I succeed +with him or not, take my child's blessing and my own." + +His voice faltered, and Bolton, with a young man's uneasiness under +sentiment, stopped him. "Oh, come, old fellow, bother all that! Why, we +are all stumped in turn." Then he began to chase a solitary coin into a +corner of his waistcoat pocket. "Look here, I'll lend you a +shilling--pay me next week--it will buy the kid a breakfast. I wish I +had more, but I want the other for luncheon. I haven't drawn my screw +yet. It is due at twelve." + +"I'll take it for my girl," said Hope, blushing, "and because it is +offered me by a gentleman and like a gentleman." + +"Granted, for the sake of argument," said this sprightly youth; and so +they parted for the time, little dreaming, either of them, what a chain +they were weaving round their two hearts, and this little business the +first link. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE RICH MAN'S CHILD. + + +The world is very big, and contains hundreds of millions who are +strangers to each other. Yet every now and then this big world seems to +turn small; so many people whose acquaintance we make turn out to be +acquaintances of our acquaintances. This concatenation of acquaintances +is really one of the marvels of social life, if one considers the +chances against it, owing to the size and population of the country. As +an example of this phenomenon, which we have all observed, William Hope +was born in Derbyshire, in a small parish which belonged, nearly all of +it, to Colonel Clifford; yet in that battle for food which is, alas! the +prosaic but true history of men and nations, he entered an office in +Yorkshire, and there made friends with Colonel Clifford's son, Walter, +who was secretly dabbling in trade and matrimony under the name of +Bolton; and this same Hope was to come back, and to apply for a place to +Mr. Bartley; Mr. Bartley was brother-in-law to that same Colonel +Clifford, though they were at daggers drawn, the pair. + +Miss Clifford, aged thirty-two, had married Bartley, aged thirty-seven. +Each had got fixed habits, and they soon disagreed. In two years they +parted, with plenty of bitterness, but no scandal. Bartley stood on his +rights, and kept their one child, little Mary. He was very fond of her, +and as the mother saw her whenever she liked, his love for his child +rather tended to propitiate Mrs. Bartley, though nothing on earth would +have induced her to live with him again. + +Little Mary was two months younger than Grace Hope, and, like her, had +blue eyes and golden hair. But what a difference in her condition! She +had two nurses and every luxury. Dressed like a princess, and even when +in bed smothered in lace; some woman's eye always upon her, a hand always +ready to keep her from the smallest accident. + +Yet all this care could not keep out sickness. The very day that Grace +Hope began to cough and alarm her father, Mary Bartley flushed and paled, +and showed some signs of feverishness. + +The older nurse, a vigilant person, told Mr. Bartley directly; and the +doctor was sent for post-haste. He felt her pulse, and said there was +some little fever, but no cause for anxiety. He administered syrup of +poppies, and little Mary passed a tranquil night. + +Next day, about one in the afternoon, she became very restless, and was +repeatedly sick. The doctor was sent for, and combated the symptoms; but +did not inquire closely into the cause. Sickness proceeds immediately +from the stomach; so he soothed the stomach with alkaline mucilages, and +the sickness abated. But next day alarming symptoms accumulated, short +breathing, inability to eat, flushed face, wild eyes. Bartley telegraphed +to a first-rate London physician. He came, and immediately examined +the girl's throat, and shook his head; then he uttered a fatal +word--Diphtheria. + +They had wasted four days squirting petty remedies at symptoms, instead +of finding the cause and attacking it, and now he told them plainly he +feared it was too late--the fatal membrane was forming, and, indeed, had +half closed the air-passages. + +Bartley in his rage and despair would have driven the local doctor out of +the house, but this the London doctor would not allow. He even consulted +him on the situation, now it was declared, and, as often happens, they +went in for heroic remedies since it was too late. + +But neither powerful stimulants nor biting draughts nor caustic +applications could hinder the deadly parchment from growing and growing. + +The breath reduced to a thread, no nourishment possible except by baths +of beef tea, and similar enemas. Exhaustion inevitable. Death certain. + +Such was the hopeless condition of the rich man's child, surrounded by +nurses and physicians, when the father of the poor man's child applied to +the clerk Bolton for that employment which meant bread for his child, and +perhaps life for _her_. + +William Hope returned to his little Grace with a loaf of bread he +bought on the road with Bolton's shilling, and fresh milk in a +soda-water bottle. + +He found her crying. She had contrived, after the manner of children, to +have an accident. The room was almost bare of furniture, but my lady had +found a wooden stool that _could_ be mounted upon and tumbled off, and +she had done both, her parent being away. She had bruised and sprained +her little wrist, and was in the depths of despair. + +"Ah," said poor Hope, "I was afraid something or other would happen if I +left you." + +He took her to the window, and set her on his knee, and comforted her. He +cut a narrow slip off his pocket handkerchief, wetted it, and bound it +lightly and deftly round her wrist, and poured consolation into her ear. +But soon she interrupted that, and flung sorrow to the winds; she uttered +three screams of delight, and pointed eagerly through the window. + +"Here they be again, the white swans!" + +Hope looked, and there were two vessels, a brig and a bark, creeping +down the river toward the sea, with white sails bellying to a gentle +breeze astern. + +It is experience that teaches proportion. The eye of childhood is +wonderfully misled in that matter. Promise a little child the moon, and +show him the ladder to be used, he sees nothing inadequate in the means; +so Grace Hope was delighted with her swans. + +But Hope, who made it his business to instruct her, and not deceive her +as some thoughtless parents do, out of fun, the wretches, told her, +gently, they were not swans, but ships. + +She was a little disappointed at that, but inquired what they were doing. + +"Darling," said he, "they are going to some other land, where honest, +hard-working people can not starve, and, mark my words, darling," said +he--she pricked her little ears at that--"you and I shall have to go +with them, for we are poor." + +"Oh," said little Grace, impressed by his manner as well as his words, +and nodded her pretty head with apparent wisdom, and seemed greatly +impressed. + +Then her father fed her with bread and milk, and afterward laid her on +the bed, and asked her whether she loved him. + +"Dearly, dearly," said she. + +"Then if you do," said he, "you will go to sleep like a good girl, and +not stir off that bed till I come back." + +"No more I will," said she. + +However, he waited until she was in an excellent condition for keeping +her promise, being fast as a church. + +Then he looked long at her beautiful face, wax-like and even-tinted, but +full of life after her meal, and prayed to Him who loved little children, +and went with a beating heart to Mr. Bartley's office. + +But in the short time, little more than an hour and a half, which elapsed +between Hope's first and second visit, some most unexpected and +remarkable events took place. + +Bartley came in from his child's dying bed distracted with grief; but +business to him was the air he breathed, and he went to work as usual, +only in a hurried and bitter way unusual to him. He sent out his clerk +Bolton with some bills, and told him sharply not to return without the +money; and whilst Bolton, so-called, was making his toilette in the +lobby, his eye fell on his other clerk, Monckton. + +Monckton was poring over the ledger with his head down, the very picture +of a faithful servant absorbed in his master's work. + +But appearances are deceitful. He had a small book of his own nestled +between the ledger and his stomach. It was filled with hieroglyphics, and +was his own betting book. As for his brown-study, that was caused by his +owing £100 in the ring, and not knowing how to get it. To be sure, he +could rob Mr. Bartley. He had done it again and again by false accounts, +and even by abstraction of coin, for he had false keys to his employer's +safe, cash-box, drawers, and desk. But in his opinion he had played this +game often enough, and was afraid to venture it again so soon and on so +large a scale. + +He was so absorbed in these thoughts that he did not hear Mr. Bartley +come to him; to be sure, he came softly, because of the other clerk, who +was washing his hands and brushing his hair in the lobby. + +So Bartley's hand, fell gently, but all in a moment, on Monckton's +shoulder, and they say the shoulder is a sensitive part in conscious +rogues. Anyway, Monckton started violently, and turned from pale to +white, and instinctively clapped both hands over his betting book. + +"Monckton," said his employer, gravely, "I have made a very ugly +discovery." + +Monckton began to shiver. + +"Periodical errors in the balances, and the errors always against me." + +Monckton began to perspire. Not knowing what to say, he faltered, and at +last stammered out, "Are you sure, sir?" + +"Quite sure. I have long seen reason to suspect it, so last night I went +through all the books, and now I am sure. Whoever the villain is, I will +send him to prison if I can only catch him." + +Monckton winced and turned his head away, debating in his mind whether he +should affect indignation and sympathy, and pretend to court inquiry, or +should wait till lunch-time, and then empty the cash-box and bolt. + +Whilst thus debating, these words fell unexpectedly on his ear: + +"And you must help me." + +Then Monckton's eyes turned this way and that in a manner that is common +among thieves, and a sardonic smile curled his pale thin lip. + +"It is my duty," said the sly rogue, demurely. Then, after a pause, +"But how?" + +Then Mr. Bartley glanced at Bolton in the lobby, and not satisfied with +speaking under his breath, drew this ill-chosen confidant to the other +end of the office. + +"Why, suspect everybody, and watch them. Now there's this clerk Bolton: I +know nothing about him; I was taken by his looks. Have your eye on +_him_." + +"I will, sir," said Monckton, eagerly. He drew a long breath of +relief. For all that, he was glad when a voice in the little office +announced a visitor. + +It was a clear, peremptory voice, short, sharp, incisive, and decisive. +The clerk called Bolton heard it in the lobby, and scuttled into the +street with a rapidity that contrasted drolly enough with the composure +and slowness with which he had been brushing his hair and titivating his +nascent whiskers. + +A tall, stiff military figure literally marched into the middle of the +office, and there stood like a sentinel. + +Mr. Bartley could hardly believe his senses. + +"Colonel Clifford!" said he, roughly. + +"You are surprised to see me here?" + +"Of course I am. May I ask what brings you?" + +"That which composes all quarrels and squares all accounts--Death." + +Colonel Clifford said this solemnly, and with less asperity. He added, +with a glance at Monckton, "This is a very private matter." + +Bartley took the hint, and asked Monckton to retire into the inner +office. + +As soon as he and Colonel Clifford were alone, that warrior, still +standing straight as a dart, delivered himself of certain short +sentences, each of which seemed to be propelled, or indeed jerked out of +him, by some foreign power seated in his breast. + +"My sister, your injured wife, is no more." + +"Dead! This is very sudden. I am very, very sorry. I--" + +Colonel Clifford looked the word "Humbug," and continued to expel short +sentences. + +"On her death-bed she made me promise to give you my hand. There it is." + +His hand was propelled out, caught flying by Bartley, released, and drawn +back again, all by machinery it seemed. + +"She leaves you £20,000 in trust for the benefit of her child and +yours--Mary Bartley." + +"Poor, dear Eliza." + +The Colonel looked as less high-bred people do when they say "Gammon," +but proceeded civilly though brusquely. + +"In dealing with the funds you have a large discretion. Should the girl +die before you, or unmarried, the money lapses to your nephew, my son, +Walter Clifford. He is a scapegrace, and has run away from me; but I must +protect his just interests. So as a mere matter of form I will ask you +whether Mary Bartley is alive." + +Bartley bowed his head. + +Colonel Clifford had not heard she was ill, so he continued: "In that +case"--and then, interrupting himself for a moment, turned away to +Bartley's private table, and there emptied his pockets of certain +documents, one of which he wanted to select. + +His back was not turned more than half a minute, yet a most expressive +pantomime took place in that short interval. + +The nurse opened a door of communication, and stood with a rush at the +threshold: indeed, she would have rushed in but for the stranger. She was +very pale, and threw up her hands to Bartley. Her face and her gesture +were more expressive than words. + +Then Bartley, clinging by mere desperate instinct to money he could not +hope to keep, flew to her, drove her out by a frenzied movement of both +hands, though he did not touch her, and spread-eagled himself before the +door, with his face and dilating eyes turned toward Colonel Clifford. + +The Colonel turned and stepped toward him with the document he had +selected at the table. Bartley went to meet him. + +The Colonel gave it to him, and said it was a copy of the will. + +Bartley took it, and Colonel Clifford expelled his last sentences. + +"We have shaken hands. Let us forget our past quarrels, and respect the +wishes of the dead." + +With that he turned sharply on both heels, and faced the door of the +little office before he moved; then marched out in about seven steps, as +he had marched in, and never looked behind him for two hundred miles. + +The moment he was out of sight, Bartley, with his wife's will in his hand +and ice at his heart, went to his child's room. The nurse met him, +crying, and said, "A change"--mild but fatal words that from a nurse's +lips end hope. + +He came to the bedside just in time to see the breath hovering on his +child's lips, and then move them as the summer air stirs a leaf. + +Soon all was still, and the rich man's child was clay. + +The unhappy father burst into a passion of grief, short but violent. Then +he ordered the nurse to watch there, and let no one enter the room; then +he staggered back to his office, and flung himself down at his table and +buried his head. To do him justice, he was all parental grief at first, +for his child was his idol. + +The arms were stretched out across the table; the head rested on it; the +man was utterly crushed. + +Whilst he was so, the little office door opened softly, and a pale, worn, +haggard face looked in. It was the father of the poor man's child in +mortal danger from privation and hereditary consumption. That haggard +face was come to ask the favor of employment, and bread for his girl, +from the rich man whose child was clay. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE TWO FATHERS. + + +Hope looked wistfully at that crushed figure, and hesitated; it seemed +neither kind nor politic to intrude business upon grief. + +But if the child was Bartley's idol, money was his god, and soon in his +strange mind defeated avarice began to vie with nobler sorrow. His child +dead! his poor little flower withered, and her death robbed him of +£20,000, and indeed of ten times that sum, for he had now bought +experience in trade and speculation, and had learned to make money out of +money, a heap out of a handful. Stung by this vulgar torment in its turn, +he started suddenly up, and dashed his wife's will down upon the floor in +a fury, and paced the room excitedly. Hope still stood aghast, and +hesitated to risk his application. + +But presently Bartley caught sight of him, and stared at him, but +said nothing. + +Then the poor fellow saw it was no use waiting for a better opportunity, +so he came forward and carried out Bolton's instructions; he put on a +tolerably jaunty air, and said, cheerfully, "I beg your pardon, sir; can +I claim your attention for a moment?" + +"What do you want?" asked Bartley, but like a man whose mind was +elsewhere. + +"Only employment for my talent, sir. I hear you have a vacancy for +a manager." + +"Nothing of the sort. _I_ am manager." + +Hope drew back despondent, and his haggard countenance fell at such +prompt repulse. But he summoned courage, and, once more acting genial +confidence, returned to the attack. + +"But you don't know, sir, in how many ways I can be useful to you. A +grand and complicated business like yours needs various acquirements +in those who have the honor to serve you. For instance, I saw a small +engine at work in your yard; now I am a mechanic, and I can double +the power of that engine by merely introducing an extra band and a +couple of cogs." + +"It will do as it is," said Bartley, languidly, "and I can do without +a manager." + +Bartley's manner was not irritated but absorbed. He seemed in all his +replies to Hope to be brushing away a fly mechanically and languidly. The +poor fly felt sick at heart, and crept away disconsolate. But at the very +door he turned, and for his child's sake made another attempt. + +"Have you an opening for a clerk? I can write business letters in French, +German, and Dutch; and keep books by double entry." + +"No vacancy for a clerk," was the weary reply. + +"Well, then, a foreman in the yard. I have studied the economy of +industry, and will undertake to get you the greatest amount of labor out +of the smallest number of men." + +"I have a foreman already," said Bartley, turning his back on him +peevishly, for the first time, and pacing the room, absorbed in his own +disappointment. + +Hope was in despair, and put on his hat to go. But he turned at the +window and said: "You have vans and carts. I understand horses +thoroughly. I am a veterinary surgeon, and I can drive four-in-hand. I +offer myself as carman, or even hostler." + +"I do not want a hostler, and I have a carman." + +Bartley, when he had said this, sat down like a man who had finally +disposed of the application. + +Hope went to the very door, and leaned against it. His jaw dropped. He +looked ten years older. Then, with a piteous attempt at cheerfulness, he +came nearer, and said: "A messenger, then. I'm young and very active, +and never waste my employer's time." + +Even this humble proposal was declined, though Hope's cheeks burned +with shame as he made it. He groaned aloud, and his head dropped on +his breast. + +His eye fell on the will lying on the ground; he went and picked it up, +and handed it respectfully to Bartley. + +Bartley stared, took it, and bowed his head an inch or two in +acknowledgment of the civility. This gave the poor daunted father courage +again. Now that Bartley's face was turned to him by this movement, he +took advantage of it, and said, persuasively: + +"Give me some kind of employment, sir. You will never repent it." Then he +began to warm with conscious power. "I've intelligence, practicability, +knowledge; and in this age of science knowledge is wealth. Example: I saw +a swell march out of this place that owns all the parish I was born in. I +knew him in a moment--Colonel Clifford. Well, that old soldier draws his +rents when he can get them, and never looks deeper than the roots of the +grass his cattle crop. But _I_ tell _you_ he never takes a walk about his +grounds but he marches upon millions--coal! sir, coal! and near the +surface. I know the signs. But I am impotent: only fools possess the gold +that wise men can coin into miracles. Try me, sir; honor me with your +sympathy. You are a father--you have a sweet little girl, I +hear."--Bartley winced at that.--"Well, so have I, and the hole my +poverty makes me pig in is not good for her, sir. She needs the sea air, +the scent of flowers, and, bless her little heart, she does enjoy them +so! Give them to her, and I will give you zeal, energy, brains, and a +million of money." + +This, for the first time in the interview, arrested Mr. Bartley's +attention. + +"I see you are a superior man," said he, "but I have no way to utilize +your services." + +"You can give me no hope, sir?" asked the poor fellow, still lingering. + +"None--and I am sorry for it." + +This one gracious speech affected poor Hope so that he could not speak +for a moment. Then he fought for manly dignity, and said, with a +lamentable mixture of sham sprightliness and real anguish, "Thank you, +sir; I only trust that you will always find servants as devoted to your +interest as my gratitude would have made me. Good-morning, sir." He +clapped his hat on with a sprightly, ghastly air, and marched off +resolutely. + +But ere he reached the door, Nature overpowered the father's heart; +way went Bolton's instructions; away went fictitious deportment and +feigned cheerfulness. The poor wretch uttered a cry, indeed a scream, of +anguish, that would have thrilled ten thousand hearts had they heard it; +he dashed his hat on the ground, and rushed toward Bartley, with both +hands out--"FOR GOD'S SAKE DON'T SEND ME AWAY--MY CHILD IS STARVING!" + +Even Bartley was moved. "Your child!" said he, with some little feeling. +This slight encouragement was enough for a father. His love gushed forth. +"A little golden-haired, blue-eyed angel, who is all the world to me. We +have walked here from Liverpool, where I had just buried her mother. God +help me! God help us both! Many a weary mile, sir, and never sure of +supper or bed. The birds of the air have nests, the beasts of the field a +shelter, the fox a hole, but my beautiful and fragile girl, only four +years old, sir, is houseless and homeless. Her mother died of +consumption, sir, and I live in mortal fear; for now she is beginning to +cough, and I can not give her proper nourishment. Often on this fatal +journey I have felt her shiver, and then I have taken off my coat and +wrapped it round her, and her beautiful eyes have looked up in mine, and +seemed to plead for the warmth and food I'd sell my soul to give her." + +"Poor fellow," said Bartley; "I suppose I ought to pity you. But how can +I? Man--man--your child is alive, and while there is life there is hope; +but mine is dead--dead!" he almost shrieked. + +"Dead!" said Hope, horrified. + +"Dead," cried Bartley. "Cut off at four years old, the very age of yours. +There--go and judge for yourself. You are a father. I can't look upon my +blasted hopes, and my withered flower. Go and see _my_ blue-eyed, +fair-haired darling--clay, hastening to the tomb; and you will trouble me +no more with your imaginary griefs." He flung himself down with his head +on his desk. + +Hope, following the direction of his hand, opened the door of the house, +and went softly forward till he met the nurse. He told her Mr. Bartley +wished him to see the deceased. The nurse hesitated, but looked at him. +His sad face inspired confidence, and she ushered him into the chamber of +mourning. There, laid out in state, was a little figure that, seen in the +dim light, drew a cry of dismay from Hope. He had left his own girl +sleeping, and looking like tinted wax. Here lay a little face the very +image of hers, only this was pale wax. + +Had he looked more closely, the chin was unlike his own girl's, and there +were other differences. But the first glance revealed a thrilling +resemblance. Hope hurried away from the room, and entered the office pale +and disturbed. "Oh, sir! the very image of my own. It fills me with +forebodings. I pity you, sir, with all my heart. That sad sight +reconciles me to my lot. God help you!" and he was going away; for now he +felt an unreasoning terror lest his own child should have turned from +colored wax to pale. + +Mr. Bartley stopped him. "Are they so very like?" said he. + +"Wonderfully like." And again he was going, but Bartley, who had received +him so coldly, seemed now unwilling to part with him. + +"Stay," said he, "and let me think." The truth is, a daring idea had +just flashed through that brain of his; and he wanted to think it out. +He walked to and fro in silent agitation, and his face was as a book in +which you may read strange matter. At last he made up his mind, but +the matter was one he did not dare to approach too bluntly, so he went +about a little. + +"Stay--you don't know all my misfortunes. I am ambitious--like you. I +believe in science and knowledge--like you. And, if my child had +lived, you should have been my adviser and my right hand: I want such +a man as you." + +Hope threw up his hands. "My usual luck!" said he: "always a day too +late." Bartley resumed: + +"But my child's death robs me of the money to work with, and I can't help +you nor help myself." + +Hope groaned. + +Bartley hesitated. But after a moment he said, timidly, "Unless--" and +then stopped. + +"Unless what?" asked Hope, eagerly. "I am not likely to raise objections +my child's life is at stake." + +"Well, then, unless you are really the superior man you seem to be: a man +of ability and--courage." + +"Courage!" thought Hope, and began to be puzzled. However, he said, +modestly, that he thought he could find courage in a good cause. + +"Then you and I are made men," said Bartley. These were stout words; but +they were not spoken firmly; on the contrary, Mr. Bartley's voice +trembled, and his brow began to perspire visibly. + +His agitation communicated itself to Hope, and the latter said, in a +low, impressive voice, "This is something very grave, Mr. Bartley. Sir, +what is it?" + +Mr. Bartley looked uneasily all round the room, and came close to Hope. +"The very walls must not hear what I now say to you." Then, in a +thrilling whisper, "My daughter must not die." + +Hope looked puzzled. + +"Your daughter must take her place." + +Now just before this, two quick ears began to try and catch the +conversation. Monckton had heard all that Colonel Clifford said, that +warrior's tones were so incisive; but, as the matter only concerned Mr. +Bartley, he merely grinned at the disappointment likely to fall on his +employer, for he knew Mary Bartley was at death's door. He said as much +to himself, and went out for a sandwich, for it was his lunch-time. But +when he returned with stealthy foot, for all his movements were cat-like, +he caught sight of Bartley and Hope in earnest conversation, and felt +very curious. + +There was something so mysterious in Bartley's tones that Monckton drew +up against the little window, pushed it back an inch, and listened hard. + +But he could hear nothing at all until Hope's answer came to +Bartley's proposal. + +Then the indignant father burst out, so that it was easy enough to hear +every word. "I part with my girl! Not for the world's wealth. What! You +call yourself a father, and would tempt me to sell my own flesh and +blood? No! Poverty, beggary, anything, sooner than that. My darling, we +will thrive together or starve together; we will live together or die +together!" + +He snatched up his hat to leave. But Bartley found a word to make him +hesitate. He never moved, but folded his arms and said, "So, then, your +love for your child is selfish." + +"Selfish!" cried Hope; "so selfish that I would die for her any hour of +the day." For all that, the taunt brought him down a step, and Bartley, +still standing like a rock, attacked him again. "If it is not selfish, it +is blind." Then he took two strides, and attacked him with sudden power. +"Who will suffer most if you stand in her light? Your daughter: why, she +may die." Hope groaned. "Who will profit most if you are wise, and +really love her, not like a jealous lover, but like a father? Why, your +daughter: she will be taken out of poverty and want, and carried to +sea-breezes and scented meadows; her health and her comfort will be my +care; she will fill the gap in my house and in my heart, and will be my +heiress when I die." + +"But she will be lost to me," sighed poor Hope. + +"Not so. You will be my right hand; you will be always about us; you can +see her, talk to her, make her love you, do anything but tell her you are +her father. Do this one thing for me, and I will do great things for you +and for her. To refuse me will be to cut your own throat and hers--as +well as mine." + +Hope faltered a little. "Am I selfish?" said he. + +"Of course not," was the soothing reply. "No true father is--give him +time to think." + +Hope clinched his hands in agony, and pressed them against his brow. "It +is selfish to stand in her light; but part with her--I can't; I can't." + +"Of course not: who asks you? She will never be out of your sight; only, +instead of seeing her sicken, linger, and die, you will see her +surrounded by every comfort, nursed and tended like a princess, and +growing every day in health, wealth, and happiness." + +"Health, wealth, and happiness?" + +"Health, wealth, and happiness!" + +These words made a great impression on the still hesitating father; he +began to make conditions. They were all granted heartily. + +"If ever you are unkind to her, the compact is broken, and I claim my +own again." + +"So be it. But why suppose anything so monstrous; men do not ill-treat +children. It is only women, who adore them, that kill them and ill-use +them accordingly. She will be my little benefactress, God bless her! I +may love her more than I ought, being yours, for my home is desolate +without her; but that is the only fault you shall ever find with me. +There is my hand on it." + +Hope at the last was taken off his guard, and took the proffered hand. +That is a binding action, and somehow he could no longer go back. + +Then Bartley told him he should live in the house at first, to break the +parting. "And from this hour," said he, "you are no clerk nor manager, +but my associate in business, and on your own terms." + +"Thank you," said Hope, with a sigh. + +"Now lose no time; get her into the house at once while the clerks are +away, and meantime I must deal with the nurse, and overcome the many +difficulties. Stay, here is a five-pound note. Buy yourself a new suit, +and give the child a good meal. But pray bring her here in half an hour +if you can." + +Then Bartley took him to the lobby, and let him out in the street, whilst +he went into the house to buy the nurse, and make her his confidante. + +He had a good deal of difficulty with her; she was shocked at the +proposal, and, being a woman, it was the details that horrified her. She +cried a good deal. She stipulated that her darling should have Christian +burial, and cried again at the doubt. But as Bartley conceded everything, +and offered to settle a hundred pounds a year on her, so long as she +lived in his house and kept his secret, he prevailed at last, and found +her an invaluable ally. + +To dispose of this character for the present we must inform the reader +that she proved a woman can keep a secret, and that in a very short time +she was as fond of Grace Hope as she had been of Mary Bartley. + +We have said that Colonel Clifford's talk penetrated Monckton's ear, but +produced no great impression at the time. Not so, however, when he had +listened to Bartley's proposal, Hope's answer, and all that followed. +Then he put this and Colonel Clifford's communication together, and saw +the terrible importance of the two things combined. Thus, as a +congenital worm grew with Jonah's gourd, and was sure to destroy it, +Bartley's bold and elaborate scheme was furnished from the outset with a +most dangerous enemy. + +Leonard Monckton was by nature a schemer and by habit a villain, and he +was sure to put this discovery to profit. He came out of the little +office and sat down at his desk, and fell into a brown-study. + +He was not a little puzzled, and here lay his difficulty. Two attractive +villainies presented themselves to his ingenious mind, and he naturally +hesitated between them. One was to levy black-mail on Bartley; the other, +to sell the secret to the Cliffords. + +But there was a special reason why he should incline toward the +Cliffords, and, whilst he is in his brown-study, we will let the reader +into his secret. + +This artful person had immediately won the confidence of young Clifford, +calling himself Bolton, and had prepared a very heartless trap for him. +He introduced to him a most beautiful young woman--tall, dark, with oval +face and glorious black eyes and eyebrows, a slight foreign accent, and +ingratiating manners. He called this beauty his sister, and instructed +her to win Walter Clifford in that character, and to marry him. As she +was twenty-two, and Master Clifford nineteen, he had no chance with her, +and they were to be married this very day at the Register Office. + +Manoeuvring Monckton then inclined to let Bartley's fraud go on and +ripen, but eventually expose it for the benefit of young Walter and his +wife, who adored this Monckton, because, when a beautiful woman loves an +ugly blackguard, she never does it by halves. + +But he had no sooner thought out this conclusion than there came an +obstacle. Lucy Muller's heart failed her at the last moment, and she +came into the office with a rush to tell her master so. She uttered a cry +of joy at sight of him, and came at him panting and full of love. "Oh, +Leonard, I am so glad you are alone! Leonard, dear Leonard, pray do not +insist on my marrying that young man. Now it comes to the time, my heart +fails me." The tears stood in her glorious eyes, and an honest man would +have pitied her, and even respected her a little for her compunction, +though somewhat tardy. + +But her master just fixed his eyes coldly on his slave, and said, +brutally, "Never mind your heart; think of your interest." + +The weak woman allowed herself to be diverted into this topic. "Why, he +is no such great catch, I am sure." + +"I tell you he is, more than ever: I have just discovered another £20,000 +he is heir to, and not got to wait for that any longer than I choose." + +Lucy stamped her foot. "I don't care for his money. Till he came with +his money you loved me." + +"I love you as much as ever," said Monckton, coldly. + +Lucy began to sob. "No, you don't, or you wouldn't give me up to that +young fool." + +The villain made a cynical reply, that not every Newgate thief could +have matched. "You fool," said he, "can't you marry him, and go on +loving me? you won't be the first. It is done every day, to the +satisfaction of all parties." + +"And to their unutterable shame," said a clear, stern voice at their +back. Walter Clifford, coming rapidly in, had heard but little, but heard +enough; and there he stood, grim and pale, a boy no longer. These two +skunks had made a man of him in one moment. They recoiled in dismay, and +the woman hid her face. + +He turned upon the man first, you may be sure. "So you have palmed this +lady off on me as your sister, and trapped me, and would have destroyed +me." His lip quivered; for they had passed the iron through his heart. +But he manned himself, and carried it off like a soldier's son: + +"But if I was fool enough to leave my father, I am not fool enough to +present to the world your cast-off mistress as my wife." (Lucy hid her +face in her hands.) "Here, Miss Lucy Monckton--or whatever your name may +be--here is the marriage license. Take that and my contempt, and do what +you like with them." + +With these words he dashed into Bartley's private room, and there broke +down. It was a bitter cup, the first in his young life. + +The baffled schemers drank wormwood too; but they bore it differently. +The woman cried, and took her punishment meekly; the man raged and +threatened vengeance. + +"No, no," said Lucy; "it serves us right. I wish I had never seen the +fellow: then you would have kept your word, and married me." + +"I will marry you now, if you can obey me." + +"Obey you, Leonard? You have been my ruin; but only marry me, and I will +be your slave in everything--your willing, devoted, happy slave." + +"That is a bargain," said Monckton, coolly. "I'll be even with him; I +will marry you in his name and in his place." + +This puzzled Lucy. + +"Why in his name?" said she. + +He did not answer. + +"Well, never mind the name," said she, "so that it is the right man--and +that is you." + +Then Monckton's fertile brain, teeming with villainies, fell to hatching +a new plot more felonious than the last. He would rob the safe, and get +Clifford convicted for the theft; convicted as Bolton, Clifford would +never tell his real name, and Lucy should enter the Cliffords' house with +a certificate of his death and a certificate of his marriage, both +obtained by substitution, and so collar his share of the £20,000, and +off with the real husband to fresh pastures. + +Lucy looked puzzled. Hers was not a brain to disentangle such a +monstrous web. + +Monckton reflected a moment. "What is the first thing? Let me see. Humph! +I think the first thing is to get married." + +"Yes," said Lucy, with an eagerness that contrasted strangely with his +cynical composure, "that is the first thing, and the most +understandable." And she went dancing off with him as gay as a lark, and +leaning on him at an angle of forty-five; whilst he went erect and cold, +like a stone figure marching. + +Walter Clifford came out in time to see them pass the great window. He +watched them down the street, and cursed them--not loud but deep. + +"Mooning, as usual," said a hostile voice behind him. He turned round, +and there was Mr. Bartley seated at his own table. Young Clifford walked +smartly to the other side of the table, determined this should be his +last day in that shop. + +"There are the payments," said he. + +Bartley inspected them. + +"About one in five," said he, dryly. + +"Thereabouts," was the reply. (Consummate indifference.) + +"You can't have pressed them much." + +"Well, I am not good at dunning." + +"What _are_ you good at?" + +"Should be puzzled to say." + +"You are not fit for trade." + +"That is the highest compliment was ever paid me." + +"Oh, you are impertinent as well as incompetent, are you? Then take a +week's warning, Mr. Bolton." + +"Five minutes would suit me better, Mr. Bartley." + +"Oh! indeed! Say one hour." + +"All right, sir; just time for a city clerk's luncheon--glass of bitter, +sandwich, peep at _Punch_, cigarette, and a chat with the bar-maid." + +Mr. Walter Clifford was a gentleman, but we must do him the justice to +say that in this interview with his employer he was a very impertinent +one, not only in words, but in the delivery thereof. Bartley, however, +thought this impertinence was put on, and that he had grave reasons for +being in a hurry. He took down the numbers of the notes Clifford had +given him, and looked very grave and suspicious all the time. + +Then he locked up the notes in the safe, and just then Hope opened the +door of the little office and looked in. + +"At last," said Bartley. + +"Well, sir," said Hope, "I have only been half an hour, and I have +changed my clothes and stood witness to a marriage. She begged me so +hard: I was at the door. Such a beautiful girl! I could not take my +eyes off her." + +"The child?" said Bartley, with natural impatience. + +"I have hidden her in the yard." + +"Bring her this moment, while the clerks are out." + +Hope hurried out, and soon returned with his child, wrapped up in a nice +warm shawl he had bought her with Bartley's money. + +Bartley took the child from him, looked at her face, and said, "Little +darling, I shall love her as my own;" then he begged Hope to sit down in +the lobby till he should call him and introduce him to his clerks. "One +of them is a thief, I'm afraid." + +He took the child inside, and gave her to his confederate, the nurse. + +"Dear me," thought Hope, "only two clerks, and one of them dishonest. I +hope it is not that good-natured boy. Oh no! impossible." + +And now Bartley returned, and at the same time Monckton came briskly in +through the little office. + +At sight of him Bartley said, "Oh, Monckton, I gave that fellow Bolton a +week's notice. But he insists on going directly," Monckton replied, +slyly, that he was sorry to hear that. + +"Suspicious? Eh?" said Bartley. + +"So suspicious that if I were you--Indeed, Mr. Bartley, I think, in +justice to _me_, the matter ought to be cleared to the bottom." + +"You are right," said Bartley: "I'll have him searched before he goes. +Fetch me a detective at once." + +Bartley then wrote a line upon his card, and handed it to Monckton, +directing him to lose no time. He then rushed out of the house with an +air of virtuous indignation, and went to make some delicate arrangements +to carry out a fraud, which, begging his pardon, was as felonious, though +not so prosaic, as the one he suspected his young clerk of. Monckton was +at first a little taken aback by the suddenness of all this; but he was +too clear-headed to be long at fault. The matter was brought to a point. +Well, he must shoot flying. + +In a moment he was at the safe, whipped out a bunch of false keys, opened +the safe, took out the cash-box, and swept all the gold it contained into +his own pockets, and took possession of the notes. Then he locked up the +cash-box again, restored it to the safe, locked that, and sat down at +Bartley's table. He ran over the notes with feverish fingers, and then +took the precaution to examine Bartley's day-book. His caution was +rewarded--he found that the notes Bolton had brought in were _numbered_. +He instantly made two parcels--clapped the unnumbered notes into his +pocket. The numbered ones he took in his hand into the lobby. Now this +lobby must be shortly described. First there was a door with a glass +window, but the window had dark blue gauze fixed to it, so that nobody +could see into the lobby from the office; but a person in the lobby, by +putting his eye close to the gauze, could see into the office in a filmy +sort of way. This door opened on a lavatory, and there were also pegs on +which the clerks hung their overcoats. Then there was a swing-door +leading direct to the street, and sideways into a small room +indispensable to every office. + +Monckton entered this lobby, and inserted the numbered notes into young +Clifford's coat, and the false keys into his bag. Then he whipped back +hastily into the office, with his craven face full of fiendish triumph. + +He started for the detective. But it was bitter cold, and he returned to +the lobby for his own overcoat. As he opened the lobby door the +swing-door moved, or he thought so; he darted to it and opened it, but +saw nobody, Hope having whipped behind the open door of the little room. +Monckton then put on his overcoat, and went for the detective. + +He met Clifford at the door, and wore an insolent grin of defiance, for +which, if they had not passed each other rapidly, he would very likely +have been knocked down. As it was, Walter Clifford entered the office +flushed with wrath, and eager to leave behind him the mortifications and +humiliations he had endured. + +He went to his own little desk and tore up Lucy Mailer's letters, and his +heart turned toward home. He went into the lobby, and, feeling hot, which +was no wonder, bundled his office overcoat and his brush and comb into +his bag. He returned to the office for his penknife, and was going out +all in a hurry, when Mr. Bartley met him. + +Bartley looked rather stern, and said, "A word with you, sir." + +"Certainly, sir," said the young man, stiffly. + +Mr. Bartley sat down at his table and fixed his eyes upon the young man +with a very peculiar look. + +"You seem in a very great hurry to go." + +"Well, I _am_." + +"You have not even demanded your salary up to date." + +"Excuse the oversight; I was not made for business, you know." + +"There is something more to settle besides your salary." + +"Premium for good conduct?" + +"No, sir. Mr. Bolton, you will find this no jesting matter. There are +defalcations in the accounts, sir." + +The young man turned serious at once. "I am sorry to hear that, sir," +said he, with proper feeling. + +Bartley eyed him still more severely. "And even cash abstracted." + +"Good heavens!" said the young man, answering his eyes rather than his +words. "Why, surely you can't suspect me?" + +Bartley answered, sternly, "I know I have been robbed, and so I suspect +everybody whose conduct is suspicious." + +This was too much for a Clifford to bear. He turned on him like a lion. +"Your suspicions disgrace the trader who entertains them, not the +gentleman they wrong. You are too old for me to give you a thrashing, so +I won't stay here any longer to be insulted." + +He snatched up his bag and was marching off, when the door opened, and +Monckton with a detective confronted him. + +"No," roared Bartley, furious in turn; "but you will stay to be +examined." + +"Examined!" + +"Searched, then, if you like it better." + +"No, don't do that," said the young fellow. "Spare me such a +humiliation." + +Bartley, who was avaricious, but not cruel, hesitated. + +"Well," said he, "I will examine the safe before I go further." + +Mr. Bartley opened the safe and took out the cash-box. It was empty. He +uttered a loud exclamation. "Why, it's a clean sweep! A wholesale +robbery! Notes and gold all gone! No wonder you were in such a hurry to +leave! Luckily some of the notes were numbered. Search him." + +"No, no. Don't treat me like a thief!" cried the poor boy, almost +sobbing. + +"If you are innocent, why object?" said Monckton, satirically. + +"You villain," cried Clifford, "this is your doing! I am sure of it!" + +Monckton only grinned triumphantly; but Bartley fired up. "If there is a +villain here, it is you. _He_ is a faithful servant, who warned his +employer." He then pointed sternly at young Bolton, and the detective +stepped up to him and said, curtly, "Now, sir, if I _must_." + +He then proceeded to search his waistcoat pockets. The young man hung his +head, and looked guilty. He had heard of money being put into an innocent +man's pockets, and he feared that game had been played with him. + +The detective examined his waistcoat pockets and found--nothing. His +other pockets--nothing. + +The detective patted his breast and examined his stockings--nothing. + +"Try the bag," said Monckton. + +Then the poor fellow trembled again. + +The detective searched the bag--nothing. + +He took the overcoat and turned the pockets out--nothing. + +Bartley looked surprised. Monckton still more so. Meantime Hope had gone +round from the lobby, and now entered by the small office, and stood +watching a part of this business, viz., the search of the bag and the +overcoat, with a bitter look of irony. + +"But my safe must have been opened with false keys," cried Bartley. +"Where are they?" + +"And the numbered notes," said Monckton, "where are they?" + +"Gentlemen," said Hope, "may I offer my advice?" + +"Who the devil are you?" said Monckton. + +"He is my new partner, my associate in business," said the politic +Bartley. Then deferentially to Hope, "What do you advise?" + +"You have two clerks. I would examine them both." + +"Examine me?" cried Monckton. "Mr. Bartley, will you allow such an +affront to be put on your old and faithful servant?" + +"If you are innocent, why object?" said young Clifford, spitefully, +before Bartley could answer. + +The remark struck Bartley, and he acted on it. + +"Well, it is only fair to Mr. Bolton," said he. "Come, come, Monckton, it +is only a form." + +Then he gave the detective a signal, and he stepped up to Monckton, and +emptied his waistcoat pockets of eighty-five sovereigns. + +"There!" cried Walter Clifford, "There! there!" + +"My own money, won at the Derby," said Monckton, coolly; "and only a part +of it, I am happy to say. You will find the remainder in banknotes." + +The detective found several notes. + +Bartley examined the book and the notes. The Derby! He was beginning to +doubt this clerk, who attended that meeting on the sly. However, he was +just, though no longer confiding. + +"I am bound to say that not one of the numbered notes is here." + +The detective was now examining Monckton's overcoat. He produced a small +bunch of keys. + +"How did they come there?" cried Monckton, in amazement. + +It was an incautious remark. Bartley took it up directly, and pounced on +the keys. He tried them on the safe. One opened the safe, another opened +the cash-box. + +Meantime the detective found some notes in the pocket of the overcoat, +and produced them. + +"Great heavens!" cried Monckton, "how did they come there?" + +"Oh, I dare say you know," said the detective. + +Bartley examined them eagerly. They were the numbered notes. + +"You scoundrel," he roared, "these show me where your gold and your +other notes came from. The whole contents of my safe--in that +villain's pockets!" + +"No, no," cried Monckton, in agony. "It's all a delusion. Some rogue has +planted them there to ruin me." + +"Keep that for the beak," said the policeman; "he is sure to believe it. +Come, my bloke. I knew who was my bird the moment I clapped eyes on the +two. 'Tain't his first job, gents, you take my word. We shall find his +photo in some jail or other in time for the assizes." + +"Away with him!" cried Bartley, furiously. + +As the policeman took him off, the baffled villain's eye fell on Hope, +who stood with folded arms, and looked down on him with lowering brow and +the deep indignation of the just, and yet with haughty triumph. + +That eloquent look was a revelation to Monckton. + +"Ah," he cried, "it was _you_." + +Hope's only reply was this: "You double felon, false accuser and thief, +you are caught in your own trap." + +And this he thundered at him with such sudden power that the thief went +cringing out, and even those who remained were awed. But Hope never told +anybody except Walter Clifford that he had undone Monckton's work in the +lobby; and then the poor boy fell upon his neck, and kissed his hand. + +To run forward a little: Monckton was tried, and made no defense. He +dared not call Hope as his witness, for it was clear Hope must have seen +him commit the theft and attempt the other villainy. But the false +accusation leaked out as well as the theft. A previous conviction was +proved, and the indignant judge gave him fourteen years. + +Thus was Bartley's fatal secret in mortal peril on the day it first +existed; yet on that very day it was saved from exposure, and buried deep +in a jail. + +Bartley set Hope over his business, and was never heard of for months. +Then he turned up in Sussex with a little girl, who had been saved from +diphtheria by tracheotomy, and some unknown quack. + +There was a scar to prove it. The tender parent pointed it out +triumphantly, and railed at the regular practitioners of medicine. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +AN OLD SERVANT. + + +Walter Clifford returned home pretty well weaned from trade, and anxious +to propitiate his father, but well aware that on his way to +reconciliation he must pass through jobation. + +He slipped into Clifford Hall at night, and commenced his approaches by +going to the butler's pantry. Here he was safe, and knew it; a faithful +old butler of the antique and provincial breed is apt to be more +unreasonably paternal than Pater himself. + +To this worthy, then, Walter owed a good bed, a good supper, and good +advice: "Better not tackle him till I have had a word with him first." + +Next morning this worthy butler, who for seven years had been a very good +servant, and for the next seven years rather a bad one, and would now +have been a hard master if the Colonel had not been too great a Tartar to +stand it, appeared before his superior with an air slightly respectful, +slightly aggressive, and very dogged. + +"There is a young gentleman would be glad to speak to you, if you +will let him." + +"Who is he?" asked the Colonel, though by old John's manner he divined. + +"Can't ye guess?" + +"Don't know why I should. It is your business to announce my visitors." + +"Oh, I'll announce him, when I am made safe that he will be welcome." + +"What! isn't he sure of a welcome--good, dutiful son like him?" + +"Well, sir, he deserves a welcome. Why, he is the returning prodigal." + +"We are not told that _he_ deserved a welcome." + +"What signifies?--he got one, and Scripture is the rule of life for men +of our age, _now we are out of the army_." + +"I think you had better let him plead his own cause, John; and if he +takes the tone you do, he will get turned out of the house pretty quick; +as you will some of these days, Mr. Baker." + +"We sha'n't go, neither of us," said Mr. Baker, but with a sudden tone of +affectionate respect, which disarmed the words of their true meaning. He +added, hanging his head for the first time, "Poor young gentleman! afraid +to face his own father!" + +"What's he afraid of?" asked the Colonel, roughly. + +"Of you cursing and swearing at him," said John. + +"Cursing and swearing!" cried the Colonel--"a thing I never do now. +Cursing and swearing, indeed! You be ----!" + +"There you go," said old John. "Come, Colonel, be a father. What has the +poor boy done?" + +"He has deserted--a thing I have seen a fellow shot for, and he has left +me a prey to parental anxieties." + +"And so he has me, for that matter. But I forgive him. Anyway, I should +like to hear his story before I condemn him. Why, he's only nineteen and +four months, come Martinmas. Besides, how do we know?--he may have had +some very good reason for going." + +"His age makes that probable, doesn't it?" + +"I dare say it was after some girl, sir." + +"Call that a good reason?" + +"I call it a strong one. Haven't you never found it?" (the Colonel was +betrayed into winking). "From sixteen to sixty a woman will draw a man +where a horse can't." + +"Since that is _so_," said the Colonel, dryly, "you can tell him to come +to breakfast." + +"Am I to say that from you?" + +"No; you can take that much upon yourself. I have known you presume a +good deal more than that, John." + +"Well, sir," said John, hanging his head for a moment, "old servants are +like old friends--they do presume a bit; but then" (raising his head +proudly) "they care for their masters, young and old. New servants, +sir--why, this lot that we've got now, they would not shed a tear for you +if you was to be hanged." + +"Why should they?" said the Colonel. "A man is not hanged for building +churches. Come, beat a retreat. I've had enough of you. See there's a +good breakfast." + +"Oh," said John, "I've took care of that." + +When the Colonel came down he found his son leaning against the +mantel-piece; but he left it directly and stood erect, for the Colonel +had drilled him with his own hands. + +"Ugh!" said the Colonel, giving a snort peculiar to himself, but he +thought, "How handsome the dog is!" and was proud of him secretly, only +he would not show it. "Good-morning, sir," said the young man, with +civil respect. + +"Your most obedient, sir," said the old man, stiffly. + +After that neither spoke for some time, and the old butler glided about +like a cat, helping both of them, especially the young one, to various +delicacies from the side table. When he had stuffed them pretty well, he +retired softly and listened at the door. Neither of the gentlemen was in +a hurry to break the ice; each waited for the other. + +Walter made the first remark--"What delicious tea!" + +"As good as where you come from?" inquired Colonel Clifford, insidiously. + +"A deal better," said Walter. + +"By-the-bye," said the Colonel, "where _do_ you come from?" + +Walter mentioned the town. + +"You astonish me," said the Colonel. "I made sure you had been enjoying +the pleasures of the capital." + +"My purse wouldn't have stood that, sir." + +"Very few purses can," said Colonel Clifford. Then, in an off-hand way, +"Have you brought her along with you?" + +"Certainly not," said Walter, off his guard. "Her? Who?" + +"Why, the girl that decoyed you from your father's roof." + +"No girl decoyed me from here, sir, upon my honor." + +"Whom are we talking about, then? Who is _her_?" + +"Her? Why, Lucy Monckton." + +"And who is Lucy Monckton?" + +"Why, the girl I fell in love with, and she deceived me nicely; but I +found her out in time." + +"And so you came home to snivel?" + +"No, sir, I didn't; I'm not such a muff. I'm too much your son to love +any woman long when I have learned to despise her. I came home to +apologize, and to place myself under your orders, if you will forgive me, +and find something useful for me to do." + +"So I will, my boy; there's my hand. Now out with it. What did you go +away for, since it wasn't a petticoat?" + +"Well, sir, I am afraid I shall offend you." + +"Not a bit of it, after I've given you my hand. Come, now, what was it?" + +Walter pondered and hesitated, but at last hit upon a way to explain. + +"Sir," said he, "until I was six years old they used to give me peaches +from Oddington House; but one fine day the supply stopped, and I uttered +a small howl to my nurse. Old John heard me, and told me Oddington was +sold, house, garden, estate, and all." + +Colonel Clifford snorted. + +Walter resumed, modestly but firmly: + +"I was thirteen; I used to fish in a brook that ran near Drayton Park. +One day I was fishing there, when a brown velveteen chap stopped me, and +told me I was trespassing. 'Trespassing?' said I. 'I have fished here all +my life; I am Walter Clifford, and this belongs to my father.' 'Well,' +said the man, 'I've heerd it did belong to Colonel Clifford onst, but now +it belongs to Muster Mills; so you must fish in your own water, young +gentleman, and leave ourn to us as owns it.' Till I was eighteen I used +to shoot snipes in a rushy bottom near Calverley Church. One day a fellow +in black velveteen, and gaiters up to his middle, warned me out of that +in the name of Muster Cannon." + +Colonel Clifford, who had been drumming on the table all this time, +looked uneasy, and muttered, with some little air of compunction: "They +have plucked my feathers deucedly, that's a fact. Hang that fellow +Stevens, persuading me to keep race-horses; it's all his fault. Well, +sir, proceed with your observations." + +"Well, I inquired who could afford to buy what we were too poor to keep, +and I found these wealthy purchasers were all in _trade_, not one of them +a gentleman." + +"You might have guessed that," said Colonel Clifford: "it is as much as a +gentleman can do to live out of jail nowadays." + +"Yes, sir," said Walter. "Cotton had bought one of these estates, tallow +another, and lucifer-matches the other." + +"Plague take them all three!" roared the Colonel. + +"Well, then, sir," said Walter, "I could not help thinking there must be +some magic in trade, and I had better go into it. I didn't think you +would consent to that. I wasn't game to defy you; so I did a meanish +thing, and slipped away into a merchant's office." + +"And made your fortune in three months?" inquired the Colonel. + +"No, I didn't; and don't think trade is the thing for _me_. I saw a deal +of avarice and meanness, and a thief of a clerk got his master to suspect +me of dishonesty; so I snapped my fingers at them all, and here I am. +But," said the poor young fellow, "I do wish, father, you would put me +into something where I can make a little money, so that when _this_ +estate comes to be sold, I may be the purchaser." + +Colonel Clifford started up in great emotion. + +"Sell Clifford Hall, where I was born, and you were born, and everybody +was born! Those estates I sold were only outlying properties." + +"They were beautiful ones," said Walter. "I never see such peaches now." + +"As you did when you were six years old," suggested the Colonel. "No, nor +you never will. I've been six myself. Lord knows when it was, though!" + +"But, sir, I don't see any such trout, and no such haunts for snipe." + +"Do you mean to insult me?" cried the Colonel, rather suddenly. "This is +what we are come to now. Here's a brat of six begins taking notes against +his own father; and he improves on the Scotch poet--he doesn't print 'em. +No, he accumulates them cannily until he is twenty, but never says a +word. He loads his gun up to the muzzle, and waits, as the years roll on, +with his linstock in his hand, and one fine day _at breakfast_ he fires +his treble charge of grape-shot at his own father." + +This was delivered so loudly that John feared a quarrel, and to interrupt +it, put in his head, and said, mighty innocently: + +"Did you call, sir? Can I do anything for you, sir?" + +"Yes: go to the devil!" + +John went, but not down-stairs, as suggested--a mere lateral movement +that ended at the keyhole. + +"Well, but, sir," said Walter, half-reproachfully, "it was you elicited +my views." + +"Confound your views, sir, and--your impudence! You're in the right, +and I am in the wrong" (this admission with a more ill-used tone than +ever). "It's the race-horses. Ring the bell. What sawneys you young +fellows are! it used not to take six minutes to ring a bell when I was +your age." + +Walter, thus stimulated, sprang to the bell-rope, and pulled it all down +to the ground with a single gesture. + +The Colonel burst out laughing, and that did him good; and Mr. Baker +answered the bell like lightning; he quite forgot that the bell must have +rung fifty yards from the spot where he was enjoying the dialogue. + +"Send me the steward, John; I saw him pass the window." + +Meantime the Colonel marched up and down with considerable agitation. +Walter, who had a filial heart, felt very uneasy, and said, timidly, "I +am truly sorry, father, that I answered your questions so bluntly." + +"I'm not, then," said the Colonel. "I hold him to be less than a man who +flies from the truth, whether it comes from young lips or old. I have +faced cavalry, sir, and I can face the truth." + +At this moment the steward entered. "Jackson," said the Colonel, in the +very same tone he was speaking in, "put up my race-horses to auction by +public advertisement." + +"But, sir, Jenny has got to run at Derby, and the brown colt at +Nottingham, and the six-year-old gelding at a handicap at Chester, and +the chestnut is entered for the Syllinger next year." + +"Sell them with their engagements." + +"And the trainer, sir?" + +"Give him his warning." + +"And the jockey?" + +"Discharge him on the spot, and take him by the ear out of the premises +before he poisons the lot. Keep one of the stable-boys, and let my groom +do the rest." + +"But who is to take them to the place of auction, sir?" + +"Nobody. I'll have the auction here, and sell them where they stand. +Submit all your books of account to this young gentleman." + +The steward looked a little blue, and Walter remonstrated gently. "To +me, father?" + +"Why, you can cipher, can't ye?" + +"Rather; it is the best thing I do." + +"And you have been in trade, haven't ye?" + +"Why, yes." + +"Then you will detect plenty of swindles, if you find out one in ten. +Above all, cut down my expenditure to my income. A gentleman of the +nineteenth century, sharpened by trade, can easily do that. Sell Clifford +Hall? I'd rather live on the rabbits and the pigeons and the blackbirds, +and the carp in the pond, and drive to church in the wheelbarrow." + +So for a time Walter administered his father's estate, and it was very +instructive. Oh! the petty frauds--the swindles of agency--a term which, +to be sure, is derived from the Latin word "agere," _to do_--the cobweb +of petty commissions--the flat bribes--the smooth hush-money! + +Walter soon cut the expenses down to the income, which was ample, and +even paid off the one mortgage that encumbered this noble estate at five +per cent., only four per cent. of which was really fingered by the +mortgagee; the balance went to a go-between, though no go-between was +ever wanted, for any solicitor in the country would have found the money +in a week at four per cent. + +The old gentleman was delighted, and engaged his own son as steward at a +liberal salary; and so Walter Clifford found employment and a fair income +without going away from home again. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +MARY'S PERIL. + + +Whilst Mr. Bartley's business was improving under Hope's management, Hope +himself was groaning under his entire separation from his daughter. +Bartley had promised him this should not be; but among Hope's good +qualities was a singular fidelity to his employers, and he was also a man +who never broke his word. So when Bartley showed him that the true +parentage of Grace Hope--now called Mary Bartley--could never be +disguised unless her memory of him was interrupted and puzzled before she +grew older, and that she as well as the world must be made to believe +Bartley was her father, he assented, and it was two years before he +ventured to come near his own daughter. + +But he demanded to see her at a distance, himself unseen, and this was +arranged. He provided himself with a powerful binocular of the kind that +is now used at sea, instead of the unwieldy old telescope, and the little +girl was paraded by the nurse, who was in the secret. She played about in +the sight of this strange spy. She was plump, she was rosy, she was full +of life and spirit. Joy filled the father's heart; but then came a bitter +pang to think that he had faded out of her joyous life; by-and-by he +could see her no longer, for a mist came from his heart to his eyes; he +bowed his head and went back to his business, his prosperity, and his +solitude. These experiments were repeated at times. Moreover, Bartley had +the tact never to write to him on business without telling him something +about his girl, her clever sayings, her pretty ways, her quickness at +learning from all her teachers, and so on. When she was eight years old a +foreign agent was required in Bartley's business, and Hope agreed to +start this agency and keep it going till some more ordinary person could +be intrusted to work it. + +But he refused to leave England without seeing his daughter with his +own eyes and hearing her voice. However, still faithful to his pledge, +he prepared a disguise; he actually grew a mustache and beard for this +tender motive only, and changed his whole style of dress; he wore a +crimson neck-tie and dark green gloves with a plaid suit, which +combination he abhorred as a painter, and our respected readers +abominate, for surely it was some such perverse combination that made a +French dressmaker lift her hands to heaven and say, "_Quelle +immoralité_!" So then Bartley himself took his little girl for a walk, +and met Mr. Hope in an appointed spot not far from his own house. Poor +Hope saw them coming, and his heart beat high. "Ah!" said Bartley, +feigning surprise; "why, it's Mr. Hope. How do you do, Hope? This is my +little girl. Mary, my dear, this is an old friend of mine. Give him +your hand." + +The girl looked in Hope's face, and gave him her hand, and did not +recognize him. + +"Fine girl for her years, isn't she?" said Bartley. "Healthy and strong, +and quick at her lessons; and, what's better still, she is a good girl, a +very good girl." + +"Papa!" said the child, blushing, and hid her face behind Bartley's +elbow, all but one eye, with which she watched the effect of these +eulogies upon the strange gentleman. + +"She is all a father could wish," said Hope, tenderly. + +Instantly the girl started from her position, and stood wrapt in thought; +her beautiful eyes wore a strange look of dreamy intelligence, and both +men could see she was searching the past for that voice. + +Bartley drew back, that the girl might not see him, and held up his +finger. Hope gave a slight nod of acquiescence, and spoke no more. +Bartley invited him to take an early dinner, and talk business. Before he +left he saw his child more than once; indeed, Bartley paraded her +accomplishments. She played the piano to Hope; she rode her little +Shetland pony for Hope; she danced a minuet with singular grace for so +young a girl; she conversed with her governess in French, or something +very like it, and she worked a little sewing-machine, all to please the +strange gentleman; and whatever she was asked to do she did with a +winning smile, and without a particle of false modesty, or the real +egotism which is at the bottom of false modesty. + +Anybody who knew William Hope intimately might almost recognize his +daughter in this versatile little mind with its faculty of learning so +many dissimilar things. + +Hope left for the Continent with a proud heart, a joyful heart, and a +sore heart. She was lovely, she was healthy, she was happy, she was +accomplished, but she was his no longer, not even in name; her love was +being gained by a stranger, and there was a barrier of iron, as well as +the English Channel, between William Hope and his own Mary Bartley. + +It would weary the reader were we to detail the small events bearing on +the part of the story which took place during the next five years. They +might be summed up thus: That William Hope got a peep at his daughter now +and then; and, making a series of subtle experiments by varying his voice +as much as possible, confused and nullified her memory of that voice to +all appearance. In due course, however, father and daughter were brought +into natural contact by the last thing that seemed likely to do it, viz., +by Bartley's avarice. Bartley's legitimate business at home and abroad +could now run alone. So he invited Hope to England to guide him in what +he loved better than steady business, viz., speculation. The truth is, +Bartley could execute, but had few original ideas. Hope had plenty, and +sound ones, though not common ones. Hope directed the purchase of +convertible securities on this principle: Select good ones; avoid time +bargains, which introduce a distinct element of risk; and buy largely at +every panic not founded on a permanent reason or out of proportion. +Example: A great district bank broke. The shares of a great district +railway went down thirty per cent. Hope bade his employer and pupil +observe that this was rank delusion, the dividends of the railway were +not lowered one per cent. by the failure of that bank, nor could they be: +the shareholders of the bank had shares in the railway, and were +compelled to force them on the market; hence the fall in the shares. +"But," said Hope, "those depreciated shares are now in the hands of men +who can hold them, and will, too, until they return from this ridiculous +85 to their normal value, which is from 105 to 115. Invest every shilling +you have got; I shall." Bartley invested £30,000, and cleared twenty per +cent. in three months. + +Example 2: There was a terrible accident on another railway, and part of +the line broken up. Vast repairs needed. Shares fell twenty per cent. + +"Out of proportion," said Hope. "The sum for repairs will not deduct +from the dividends one-tenth of the annual sum represented by the fall, +and, in three months, fear of another such disaster will not keep a +single man, woman, child, bullock, pig, or coal truck off that line. Put +the pot on." + +Bartley put the pot on, and made fifteen per cent. + +Hope said to Bartley: + +"When an English speculator sends his money abroad at all, he goes wild +altogether. He rushes at obscure transactions, and lends to Peru, or +Guatemala, or Tierra del Fuego, or some shaky place he knows nothing +about. The insular maniac overlooks the continent of Europe, instead of +studying it, and seeking what countries there are safe and others risky. +Now, why overlook Prussia? It is a country much better governed than +England, especially as regards great public enterprises and monopolies. +For instance, the directors of a Prussian railway can not swindle the +shareholders by false accounts, and passing off loans for dividends. +Against the frauds of directors, the English shareholder has only a sham +security. He is invited to leave his home, and come two hundred miles to +the directors' home, and vote in person. He doesn't do it. Why should he? +In Prussia the Government protects the shareholder, and inspects the +accounts severely. So much for the superior system of that country. Now, +take a map. Here is Hamburg, the great port of the Continent, and Berlin, +the great Continental centre; and there is one railway only between the +two. What English railway can compare with this? The shares are at 150. +But they must go to 300 in time unless the Prussian Government allows +another railway, and that is not likely, and, if so, you will have two +years to back out. This is the best permanent investment of its class +that offers on the face of the globe." + +Bartley invested timidly, but held for years, and the shares went up over +300 before he sold. + +"Do not let your mind live in an island if your body does," was a +favorite saying of William Hope; and we recommend it impartially to +Britons and Bornese. + +On one of Hope's visits Bartley complained he had nothing to do. "I can +sit here and speculate. I want to be in something myself; I think I will +take a farm just to occupy me and amuse me." + +"It will not amuse you unless you make money by it," suggested Hope. + +"And nobody can do that nowadays. Farms don't pay." + +"Ploughing and sowing don't pay, but brains and money pay wherever found +together." + +"What, on a farm?" + +"Why not, sir? You have only to go with the times. Observe the condition +of produce: grain too cheap for a farmer because continents can export +grain with little loss; fruit dear; meat dear, because cattle can not be +driven and sailed without risk of life and loss of weight; agricultural +labor rising, and in winter unproductive, because to farm means to plough +and sow, and reap and mow, and lose money. But meet those conditions. +Breed cattle, sheep, and horses, and make the farm their feeding-ground. +Give fifty acres to fruit; have a little factory on the land for winter +use, and so utilize all your farm hands and the village women, who are +cheaper laborers than town brats, and I think you will make a little +money in the form of money, besides what you make in gratuitous eggs, +poultry, fruit, horses to ride, and cart things for the house--items +which seldom figure in a farmer's books as money, but we stricter +accountants know they are." + +"I'll do it," said Bartley, "if you'll be my neighbor, and work it with +me, and watch the share market at home and abroad." + +Hope acquiesced joyfully to be near his daughter; and they found a farm +in Sussex, with hills for the sheep, short grass for colts, plenty of +water, enough arable land and artificial grasses for their purpose, and a +grand sunny slope for their fruit trees, fruit bushes, and strawberries, +with which last alone they paid the rent. + +"Then," said Hope, "farm laborers drink an ocean of beer. Now look at the +retail price of beer: eighty per cent. over its cost, and yet +deleterious, which tells against your labor. As an employer of labor, the +main expense of a farm, you want beer to be slightly nourishing, and very +inspiriting, not somniferous." + +So they set up a malt-house and a brew-house, and supplied all their own +hands with genuine liquor on the truck system at a moderate but +remunerative price, and the grains helped to feed their pigs. Hope's +principle was this: Sell no produce in its primitive form; if you change +its form you make two profits. Do you grow barley? Malt it, and infuse +it, and sell the liquor for two small profits, one on the grain, and one +on the infusion. Do you grow grass? Turn it into flesh, and sell for two +small profits, one on the herb, and one on the animal. + +And really, when backed by money, the results seemed to justify his +principle. + +Hope lived by himself, but not far from his child, and often, when she +went abroad, his loving eyes watched her every movement through his +binocular, which might be described as an opera-glass ten inches long, +with a small field, but telescopic power. + +Grace Hope, whom we will now call Mary Bartley, since everybody but her +father, who generally avoided _her name_, called her so, was a well-grown +girl of thirteen, healthy, happy, beautiful, and accomplished. She was +the germ of a woman, and could detect who loved her. She saw in Hope an +affection she thought extraordinary, but instinct told her it was not +like a young man's love, and she accepted it with complacency, and +returned it quietly, with now and then a gush, for she could gush, and +why not? "Far from us and from our friends be the frigid philosophy"--of +a girl who can't gush. + +Hope himself was loyal and guarded, and kept his affection within bounds; +and a sore struggle it was. He never allowed himself to kiss her, though +he was sore tempted one day, when he bought her a cream-colored pony, and +she flung her arms round his neck before Mr. Bartley and kissed him +eagerly; but he was so bashful that the girl laughed at him, and said, +half pertly, "Excuse the liberty, but if you will be such a duck, why, +you must take the consequences." + +Said Bartley, pompously, "You must not expect middle-aged men to be as +demonstrative as very young ladies; but he has as much real affection +for you as you have for him." + +"Then he has a good deal, papa," said she, sweetly. Both the men +were silent, and Mary looked to one and the other, and seemed a +little puzzled. + +The great analysts that have dealt microscopically with commonplace +situations would revel in this one, and give you a curious volume of +small incidents like the above, and vivisect the father's heart with +patient skill. But we poor dramatists, taught by impatient audiences to +move on, and taught by those great professors of verbosity, our female +novelists and nine-tenths of our male, that it is just possible for +"masterly inactivity," _alias_ sluggish narrative, creeping through sorry +flags and rushes with one lily in ten pages, to become a bore, are driven +on to salient facts, and must trust a little to our reader's intelligence +to ponder on the singular situation of Mary Bartley and her two fathers. + +One morning Mary Bartley and her governess walked to a neighboring town +and enjoyed the sacred delight of shopping. They came back by a +short-cut, which made it necessary to cross a certain brook, or rivulet, +called the Lyn. This was a rapid stream, and in places pretty deep; but +in one particular part it was shallow, and crossed by large +stepping-stones, two-thirds of which were generally above-water. The +village girls, including Mary Bartley, used all to trip over these +stones, and think nothing of it, though the brook went past at a fine +rate, and gradually widened and deepened as it flowed, till it reached a +downright fall; after that, running no longer down a decline, it became +rather a languid stream. + +Mary and her governess came to this ford and found it swollen by recent +rains, and foaming and curling round the stepping-stones, and their tops +only were out of the water now. + +The governess objected to pass this current. + +"Well, but," said Mary, "the other way is a mile round, and papa expects +us to be punctual at meals, and I am, oh, so hungry! Dear Miss Everett, I +have crossed it a hundred times." + +"But the water is so deep." + +"It is deeper than usual; but see, it is only up to my knee. I could +cross it without the stones. You go round, dear, and I'll explain against +you come home." + +"Not until I've seen you safe over." + +"That you will soon see," said the girl, and, fearing a more +authoritative interference, she gathered up her skirts and planted one +dainty foot on the first stepping-stone, another on the next, and so on +to the fourth; and if she had been a boy she would have cleared them all. +But holding her skirts instead of keeping her arms to balance herself, +and wearing idiotic shoes, her heels slipped on the fifth stone, which +was rather slimy, and she fell into the middle of the current with a +little scream. + +To her amazement she found that the stream, though shallow, carried her +off her feet, and though she recovered them, she could not keep them, but +was alternately up and down, and driven along, all the time floundering. +Oh, then she screamed with terror, and the poor governess ran screaming +too, and making idle clutches from the bank, but powerless to aid. + +Then, as the current deepened, the poor girl lost her feet altogether, +and was carried on toward the deep water, flinging her arms high and +screaming, but powerless. At first she was buoyed up by her clothes, and +particularly by a petticoat of some material that did not drink water. +But as her other clothes became soaked and heavy, she sank to her chin, +and death stared her in the face. + +She lost hope, and being no common spirit, she gained resignation; she +left screaming, and said to Everett, "Pray for me." + +But the next moment hope revived, and fear with it--this is a law of +nature--for a man, bare-headed and his hair flying, came galloping on a +bare-backed pony, shouting and screaming with terror louder than both the +women. He urged the pony furiously to the stream; then the beast planted +his feet together, and with the impulse thus given Hope threw himself +over the pony's head into the water, and had his arm round his child in a +moment. He lashed out with the other hand across the stream. But it was +so powerful now as it neared the lasher that they made far more way +onward to destruction than they did across the stream; still they did +near the bank a little. But the lasher roared nearer and nearer, and the +stream pulled them to it with iron force. They were close to it now. Then +a willow bough gave them one chance. Hope grasped it, and pulled with +iron strength. From the bough he got to a branch, and finally clutched +the stem of the tree, just as his feet were lifted up by the rushing +water, and both lives hung upon that willow-tree. The girl was on his +left arm, and his right arm round the willow. + +"Grace," said he, feigning calmness. "Put your arm around my neck, Mary." + +"Yes, dear," said she, firmly. + +"Now don't hurry yourself--_there's no danger_; move slowly across me, +and hold my right arm very tight." + +She did so. + +"Now take hold of the bank with your left hand; but don't let go of me." + +"Yes, dear," said the little heroine, whose fear was gone now she had +Hope to take care of her. + +Then Hope clutched the tree with his left hand, pushed Mary on shore with +his right, and very soon had her in his arms on _terra firma_. + +But now came a change that confounded Mary Bartley, to whom a man was a +very superior being; only not always intelligible. + +The brave man fell to shaking like an aspen leaf; the strong man +to sobbing and gasping, and kissing the girl wildly. "Oh, my child! +my child!" + +Then Mary, of course, must gulp and cry a little for sympathy; but her +quick-changing spirit soon shook it off, and she patted his cheek and +kissed him, and then began to comfort him, if you please. "Good, dear, +kind Mr. Hope," said she. "La! don't go on like that. You were so brave +in the water, and now the danger is over. I've had a ducking, that is +all. Ha! ha! ha!" and the little wretch began to laugh. + +Hope looked amazed; neither his heart nor his sex would let him change +his mood so swiftly. + +"Oh, my child," said he, "how can you laugh? You have been near eternity, +and if you had been lost, what should I--O God!" + +Mary turned very grave. "Yes," said she, "I have been near eternity. It +would not have mattered to you--you are such a good man--but I should +have caught it for disobedience. But, dear Mr. Hope, let me tell you that +the moment you put your arm round me I felt just as safe in the water as +on dry land; so you see I have had longer to get over it than you have; +that accounts for my laughing. No, it doesn't; I am a giddy, giggling +girl, with _no depth of character_, and not worthy of all this affection. +Why does everybody love _me_? They ought to be ashamed of themselves." + +Hope told her she was a little angel, and everybody was right to love +her; indeed, they deserved to be hanged if they did not. + +Mary fixed on the word angel. "If I was an angel," she said, "I shouldn't +be hungry, and I am, awfully. Oh, please come home; papa is so punctual. +Mr. Hope, are you going to tell papa? Because if you _are_, just you take +me and throw me in again. I'd rather be drowned than scolded." (This with +a defiant attitude and flashing eyes.) + +"No, no," said Hope. "I will not tell him, to vex him, and get +you scolded." + +"Then let us run home." + +She took his hand, and he ran with her like a playmate, and oh! the +father's heart leaped and glowed at this sweet companionship after danger +and terror. + +When they got near the house Mary Bartley began to walk and think. She +had a very thinking countenance at times, and Hope watched her, and +wondered what were her thoughts. She was very grave, so probably she was +thinking how very near she had been to the other world. + +Standing on the door-step, whilst he stood on the gravel, she let him +know her thoughts. All her life, and even at this tender age, she had +very searching eyes; they were gray now, though they had been blue. +She put her hands to her waist, and bent those searching eyes on +William Hope. + +"Mr. Hope," said she, in a resolute sort of way. + +"My dear," said he, eagerly. + +"YOU LOVE ME BETTER THAN PAPA DOES, THAT'S ALL." + +And having administered this information as a dry fact that might be +worth looking into at leisure, she passed thoughtfully into the house. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +SHARP PRACTICE. + + +Hope paid a visit to his native place in Derbyshire, and his poor +relations shared his prosperity, and blessed him, and Mr. Bartley upon +his report; for Hope was one of those choice spirits who praise the +bridge that carries them safe over the stream of adversity. + +He returned to Sussex with all the news, and, amongst the rest, that +Colonel Clifford had a farm coming vacant. Walter Clifford had +insisted on a higher rent at the conclusion of the term, but the +tenant had demurred. + +Bartley paid little attention at the time; but by-and-by he said, "Did +you not see signs of coal on Colonel Clifford's property?" + +"That I did, and on this very farm, and told him so. But he is behind the +age. I have no patience with him. Take one of those old iron ramrods that +used to load the old musket, and cover that ramrod with prejudices a foot +and a half deep, and there you have Colonel Clifford." + +"Well, but a tenant would not be bound by his prejudices." + +"A tenant! A tenant takes no right to mine, under a farm lease; he would +have to propose a special contract, or to ask leave, and Colonel Clifford +would never grant it." + +There the conversation dropped. But the matter rankled in Bartley's mind. +Without saying any more to Hope, he consulted a sharp attorney. + +The result was that he took Mary Bartley with him into Derbyshire. + +He put up at a little inn, and called at Clifford Hall. + +He found Colonel Clifford at home, and was received stiffly, but +graciously. He gave Colonel Clifford to understand that he had +left business. + +"All the better," said Colonel Clifford, sharply. + +"And taken to farming." + +"Ugh!" said the other, with his favorite snort. + +At this moment, who should walk into the room but Walter Clifford. + +Bartley started and stared. Walter started and stared. + +"Mr. Bolton," said Bartley, scarcely above a whisper. + +But Colonel Clifford heard it, and said, brusquely: "Bolton! No. Why, +this is Walter Clifford, my son, and my man of business.--Walter, this is +Mr. Bartley." + +"Proud to make your acquaintance, sir," said the astute Bartley, +ignoring the past. + +Walter was glad he took this line before Colonel Clifford: not that he +forgave Mr. Bartley that old affront the reader knows of. + +The judicious Bartley read his face, and, as a first step toward +propitiation, introduced him to his daughter. Walter was amazed at her +beauty and grace, coming from such a stock. He welcomed her courteously, +but shyly. She replied with rare affability, and that entire absence of +mock-modesty which was already a feature in her character. To be sure, +she was little more than fifteen, though she was full grown, and looked +nearer twenty. + +Bartley began to feel his way with Colonel Clifford about the farm. He +told him he was pretty successful in agriculture, thanks to the +assistance of an experienced friend, and then he said, half carelessly, +"By-the-bye, they tell me you have one to let. Is that so?" + +"Walter," said Colonel Clifford, "have you a farm to let?" + +"Not at present, sir; but one will be vacant in a month, unless the +present tenant consents to pay thirty per cent. more than he has done." + +"Might I see that farm, Mr. Walter?" asked Bartley. + +"Certainly," said Walter; "I shall be happy to show you over it." Then he +turned to Mary. "I am afraid it would be no compliment to you. Ladies are +not interested in farms." + +"Oh, but _I_ am, since papa is, and Mr. Hope: and then on _our_ farm +there are so many dear little young things: little calves, little lambs, +and little pigs. Little pigs are ducks--_very_ little ones, I mean; and +there is nearly always a young colt about, that eats out of my hand. Not +like a farm? The idea!" + +"Then I will show you all over ours, you and your papa," said Walter, +warmly. He then asked Mr. Bartley where he was to be found; and when +Bartley told him at the "Dun Cow," he looked at Mary and said, "Oh!" + +Mary understood in a moment, and laughed and said: "We are very +comfortable, I assure you. We have the parlor all to ourselves, and +there are samplers hung up, and oh! such funny pictures, and the landlady +is beginning to spoil me already." + +"Nobody can spoil you, Mary," said Mr. Bartley. + +"You ought to know, papa, for you have been trying a good many years." + +"Not very many, Miss Bartley," said Colonel Clifford, graciously. Then he +gave half a start and said: "Here am I calling her miss when she is my +own niece, and, now I think of it, she can't be half as old as she looks. +I remember the very day she was born. My dear, you are an impostor." + +Bartley changed color at this chance shaft. But Colonel Clifford +explained: + +"You pass for twenty, and you can't be more than--Let me see." + +"I am fifteen and four months," said Mary, "and I do take people +in--_cruelly_." + +"Well," said Colonel Clifford, "you see you can't take me in. I know your +date. So come and give your old ruffian of an uncle a kiss." + +"That I will," cried Mary, and flew at Colonel Clifford, and flung both +arms round his neck and kissed him. "Oh, papa," said she, "I have got an +uncle now. A hero, too; and me that is so fond of heroes! Only this is my +first--out of books." + +"Mary, my dear," said Bartley, "you are too impetuous. Please excuse her, +Colonel Clifford. Now, my dear, shake hands with your cousin, for we must +be going." + +Mary complied; but not at all impetuously. She lowered her long lashes, +and put out her hand timidly, and said, "Good-by, Cousin Walter." + +He held her hand a moment, and that made her color directly. "You will +come over the farm. Can you ride? Have you your habit?" + +"No, cousin; but never mind that. I can put on a long skirt." + +"A skirt! But, after all, it does not matter a straw what _you_ wear." + +Mary was such a novice that she did not catch the meaning of this on the +spot, but half-way to the inn, and in the middle of a conversation, her +cheeks were suddenly suffused with blushes. A young man had admired her +and _said_ so. Very likely that was the way with young men. _No_ doubt +they were bolder than young women; but somehow it was not so very +objectionable _in them_. + +That short interview was a little era in Mary's young life. Walter had +fixed his eyes on her with delight, had held her hand some seconds, and +admired her to her face. She began to wonder a little, and flutter a +little, and to put off childhood. + +Next day, punctual to the minute, Walter drove up to the door in an open +carriage drawn by two fast steppers. He found Mr. Bartley alone, and why? +because, at sight of Walter, Mary, for the first time in her life, had +flown upstairs to look at herself in the glass before facing the visitor, +and to smooth her hair, and retouch a bow, etc., underrating, as usual, +the power of beauty, and overrating nullities. Bartley took this +opportunity, and said to young Clifford: + +"I owe you an apology, and a most earnest one. Can you ever forgive me?" + +Walter changed color. Even this humble allusion to so great an insult was +wormwood to him. He bit his lip, and said: + +"No man can do more than say he is sorry. I will try to forget it, sir." + +"That is as much as I can expect," said Bartley, humbly. "But if you only +knew the art, the cunning, the apparent evidence, with which that villain +Monckton deluded me--" + +"That I can believe." + +"And permit me one observation before we drop this unhappy subject +forever. If you had done me the honor to come to me as Walter Clifford, +why, then, strong and misleading as the evidence was, I should have said, +'Appearances are deceitful, but no Clifford was ever disloyal.'" + +This artful speech conquered Walter Clifford. He blushed, and bowed a +little haughtily at the compliment to the Cliffords. But his sense of +justice was aroused. + +"You are right," said he. "I must try and see both sides. If a man +sails under false colors, he mustn't howl if he is mistaken for a +pirate. Let us dismiss the subject forever. I am Walter Clifford +now--at your service." + +At that moment Mary Bartley came in, beaming with youth and beauty, and +illumined the room. The cousins shook hands, and Walter's eyes glowed +with admiration. + +After a few words of greeting he handed Mary into the drag. Her father +followed, and he was about to drive off, when Mary cried out, "Oh, I +forgot my skirt, if I am to ride." + +The skirt was brought down, and the horses, that were beginning to fret, +dashed off. A smart little groom rode behind, and on reaching the farm +they found another with two saddle-horses, one of them, a small, gentle +Arab gelding, had a side-saddle. They rode all over the farm, and +inspected the buildings, which were in excellent repair, thanks to +Walter's supervision. Bartley inquired the number of acres and the rent +demanded. Walter told him. Bartley said it seemed to him a fair rent; +still, he should like to know why the present tenant declined. + +"Perhaps you had better ask him," said Walter. "I should wish you to hear +both sides." + +"That is like you," said Bartley; "but where does the shoe pinch, in +your opinion?" + +"Well, he tells me, in sober earnest, that he loses money by it as it is; +but when he is drunk he tells his boon companions he has made seven +thousand pounds here. He has one or two grass fields that want draining, +but I offer him the pipes; he has only got to lay them and cut the +drains. My opinion is that he is the slave of habit; he is so used to +make an unfair profit out of these acres that he can not break himself of +it and be content with a fair one." + +"I dare say you have hit it," said Bartley. "Well, I am fond of farming; +but I don't live by it, and a moderate profit would content me." + +Walter said nothing. The truth is, he did not want to let the farm +to Bartley. + +Bartley saw this, and drew Mary aside. + +"Should not you like to come here, my child?" + +"Yes, papa, if you wish it; and you know it's dear Mr. Hope's +birth-place." + +"Well, then, tell this young fellow so. I will give you an opportunity." + +That was easily managed, and then Mary said, timidly, "Cousin Walter, we +should all three be so glad if we might have the farm." + +"Three?" said he. "Who is the third?" + +"Oh, somebody that everybody likes and I love. It is Mr. Hope. Such a +duck! I am sure you would like him." + +"Hope! Is his name William?" + +"Yes, it is. Do you know him?" asked Mary, eagerly. + +"I have reason to know him: he did me a good turn once, and I shall never +forget it." + +"Just like him!" cried Mary. "He is always doing people good turns. He +is the best, the truest, the cleverest, the dearest darling dear that +ever stepped, and a second father to me; and, cousin, this village is his +birth-place, and he didn't say much, but it was he who told us of this +farm, and he would be so pleased if I could write and say, 'We are to +have the farm--Cousin Walter says so.'" + +She turned her lovely eyes, brimming with tenderness, toward her cousin +Walter, and he was done for. + +"Of course you shall have it," he said, warmly. "Only you will not be +angry with me if I insist on the increased rent. You know, cousin, I +have a father, too, and I must be just to him." + +"To be sure, you must, dear," said Mary, incautiously; and the word +penetrated Walter's heart as if a woman of twenty-five had said it all of +a sudden and for the first time. + +When they got home, Mary told Mr. Bartley he was to have the farm if he +would pay the increased rent. + +"That is all right," said Bartley. "Then to-morrow we can go home." + +"So soon!" said Mary, sorrowfully. + +"Yes," said Bartley, firmly; "the rest had better be done in writing. +Why, Mary, what is the use of staying on now? We are going to live here +in a month or two." + +"I forgot that," said Mary, with a little sigh. It seemed so ungracious +to get what they wanted, and then turn their backs directly. She hinted +as much, very timidly. + +But Bartley was inexorable, and they reached home next day. + +Mary would have liked to write to Walter, and announce their safe +arrival, but nature withheld her. She was a child no longer. + +Bartley went to the sharp solicitor, and had a long interview with him. +The result was that in about ten days he sent Walter Clifford a letter +and the draft of a lease, very favorable to the landlord on the whole, +but cannily inserting one unusual clause that looked inoffensive. + +It came by post, and Walter read the letter, and told his father whom +it was from. + +"What does the fellow say?" grunted Colonel Clifford. + +"He says: 'We are doing very well here, but Hope says a bailiff can now +carry out our system; and he is evidently sweet on his native place, and +thinks the proposed rent is fair, and even moderate. As for me, my life +used to be so bustling that I require a change now and then; so I will be +your tenant. Hope says I am to pay the expense of the lease, so I have +requested Arrowsmith & Cox to draw it. I have no experience in leases. +They have drawn hundreds. I told them to make it fair. If they have not, +send it back with objections.'" + +"Oh! oh!" said Colonel Clifford. "He draws the lease, does he? Then look +at it with a microscope." + +Walter laughed. + +"I should not like to encounter him on his own ground. But here he is a +fish out of water; he must be. However, I will pass my eye over it. +Where the farmer generally over-reaches us, if he draws the lease, is in +the clauses that protect him on leaving. He gets part possession for +months without paying rent, and he hampers and fleeces the incoming +tenant, so that you lose a year's rent or have to buy him out. Now, let +me see, that will be at the end of the document--No; it is exceedingly +fair, this one." + +"Show it to our man of business, and let him study every line. Set an +attorney to catch an attorney." + +"Of course I shall submit it to our solicitor," said Walter. + +This was done, and the experienced practitioner read it very carefully. +He pronounced it unusually equitable for a farmer's lease. + +"However," said he, "we might suggest that he does _all_ the repairs and +draining, and that you find the materials; and also that he insures all +the farm buildings. But you can hardly stand out for the insurance if he +objects. There's no harm trying. Stay! here is one clause that is +unusual: the tenant is to have the right to bore for water, or to +penetrate the surface of the soil, and take out gravel or chalk or +minerals, if any. I don't like that clause. He might quarry, and cut the +farm in pieces. Ah, there's a proviso, that any damage to the surface or +the agricultural value shall be fully compensated, the amount of such +injury to be settled by the landlord's valuer or surveyor. Oh, come, if +you can charge your own price, that can't kill you." + +In short, the draft was approved, subject to certain corrections. These +were accepted. The lease was engrossed in duplicate, and in due course +signed and delivered. The old tenant left, abusing the Cliffords, and +saying it was unfair to bring in a stranger, for _he_ would have given +all the money. + +Bartley took possession. + +Walter welcomed Hope very warmly, and often came to see him. He took a +great interest in Hope's theories of farming, and often came to the farm +for lessons. But that interest was very much increased by the +opportunities it gave him of seeing and talking to sweet Mary Bartley. +Not that he was forward or indiscreet. She was not yet sixteen, and he +tried to remember she was a child. + +Unfortunately for that theory she looked a ripe woman, and this very +Walter made her more and more womanly. Whenever Walter was near she had +new timidity, new blushes, fewer gushes, less impetuosity, more reserve. +Sweet innocent! She was set by Nature to catch the man by the surest way, +though she had no such design. + +Oh, it was a pretty, subtle piece of nature, and each sex played its +part. Bold advances of the man, with internal fear to offend, mock +retreats of the girl, with internal throbs of complacency, and life +invested with a new and growing charm to both. Leaving this pretty little +pastime to glide along the flowery path that beautifies young lives to +its inevitable climax, we go to a matter more prosaic, yet one that +proved a source of strange and stormy events. + +Hope had hardly started the farm when Bartley sent him off to Belgium--TO +STUDY COAL MINES. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE. + + +Mr. Hope left his powerful opera-glass with Mary Bartley. One day that +Walter called she was looking through it at the landscape, and handed it +to him. He admired its power. Mary told him it had saved her life once. + +"Oh," said he, "how could that be?" + +Then she told him how Hope had seen her drowning, a mile off, with it, +and ridden a bare-backed steed to her rescue. + +"God bless him!" cried Walter. "He is our best friend. Might I borrow +this famous glass?" + +"Oh," said Mary, "I am not going into any more streams; I am not so brave +now as I used to be." + +"Please lend it me, for all that." + +"Of course I will, if you wish it." + +Strange to say, after this, whether Mary walked out or rode out, she very +often met Mr. Walter Clifford. He was always delighted and surprised. She +was surprised three times, and said so, and after that she came to lower +her lashes and blush, but not to start. Each meeting was a pure accident, +no doubt, only she foresaw the inevitable occurrence. + +They talked about everything in the world except what was most on their +minds. Their soft tones and expressive eyes supplied that little +deficiency. + +One day he caught her riding on her little Arab. The groom fell +behind directly. After they had ridden some distance in silence, +Walter broke out: + +"How beautifully you ride!" + +"Me!" cried Mary. "Why, I never had a lesson in my life." + +"That accounts for it. Let a lady alone, and she does everything more +gracefully than a man; but let some cad undertake to teach her, she +distrusts herself and imitates the snob. If you could only see the women +in Hyde Park who have been taught to ride, and compare them with +yourself!" + +"I should learn humility." + +"No; it would make you vain, if anything could." + +"You seem inclined to do me that good turn. Come, pray, what do these +poor ladies do to offend you so?" + +"I'll tell you. They square their shoulders vulgarly; they hold the reins +in their hands as if they were driving, and they draw the reins to their +waists in a coarse, absurd way. They tighten both these reins equally, +and saw the poor devil's mouth with the curb and the snaffle at one time. +Now you know, Mary, the snaffle is a mild bit, and the curb is a sharp +one; so where is the sense of pulling away at the snaffle when you are +tugging at the curb? Why, it is like the fellow that made two holes at +the bottom of the door--a big one for the cat to come through and a +little one for the kitten. But the worst of all is they show the caddess +so plainly." + +"Caddess! What is that; goddess you mean, I suppose?" + +"No; I mean a cad of the feminine gender. They seem bursting with +affectation and elated consciousness that they are on horseback. That +shows they have only just made the acquaintance of that animal, and in a +London riding-school. Now you hold both reins lightly in the left hand, +the curb loose, since it is seldom wanted, the snaffle just feeling the +animal's mouth, and you look right and left at the people you are talking +to, and don't seem to invite one to observe that you are on a horse: that +is because you are a lady, and a horse is a matter of course to you, just +as the ground is when you walk upon it." + +The sensible girl blushed at his praise, but she said, dryly, "How +meritorious! Cousin Walter, I have heard that flattery is poison. I won't +stay here to be poisoned--so." She finished the sentence in action; and +with a movement of her body she started her Arab steed, and turned her +challenging eye back on Walter, and gave him a hand-gallop of a mile on +the turf by the road-side. And when she drew bridle her cheeks glowed so +and her eyes glistened, that Walter was dazzled by her bright beauty, +and could do nothing but gaze at her for ever so long. + +If Hope had been at home, Mary would have been looked after more +sharply. But if she was punctual at meals, that went a long way with +Robert Bartley. + +However, the accidental and frequent meetings of Walter and Mary, and +their delightful rides and walks, were interfered with just as they began +to grow into a habit. There arrived at Clifford Hall a formidable +person--in female eyes, especially--a beautiful heiress. Julia Clifford, +great-niece and ward of Colonel Clifford; very tall, graceful, with dark +gray eyes, and black eyebrows the size of a leech, that narrowed to a +point and met in finer lines upon the bridge of a nose that was gently +aquiline, but not too large, as such noses are apt to be. A large, +expressive mouth, with wonderful rows of ivory, and the prettiest little +black down, fine as a hair, on her upper lip, and a skin rather dark but +clear, and glowing with the warm blood beneath it, completed this noble +girl. She was nineteen years of age. + +Colonel Clifford received her with warm affection and old-fashioned +courtesy; but as he was disabled by a violent fit of gout, he deputed +Walter to attend to her on foot and horseback. + +Miss Clifford, accustomed to homage, laid Walter under contribution every +day. She was very active, and he had to take her a walk in the morning, +and a ride in the afternoon. He winced a little under this at first; it +kept him so much from Mary. But there was some compensation. Julia +Clifford was a lady-like rider, and also a bold and skillful one. + +The first time he rode with her he asked her beforehand what sort of a +horse she would like. + +"Oh, anything," said she, "that is not vicious nor slow." + +"A hack or a hunter?" + +"Oh, a hunter, if I _may_." + +"Perhaps you will do me the honor to look at them and select." + +"You are very kind, and I will." + +He took her to the stables, and she selected a beautiful black mare, with +a coat like satin. + +"There," said Walter, despondingly. "I was afraid you would fix on _her_. +She is impossible, I can't ride her myself." + +"Vicious?" + +"Not in the least." + +"Well, then--" + +Here an old groom touched his hat, and said, curtly, "Too hot and +fidgety, miss. I'd as lieve ride of a boiling kettle." + +Walter explained: "The poor thing is the victim of nervousness." + +"Which I call them as rides her the victims," suggested the +ancient groom. + +"Be quiet, George. She would go sweetly in a steeple-chase, if she didn't +break her heart with impatience before the start. But on the road she is +impossible. If you make her walk, she is all over lather in five minutes, +and she'd spoil that sweet habit with flecks of foam. My lady has a way +of tossing her head, and covering you all over with white streaks." + +"She wants soothing," suggested Miss Clifford. + +"Nay, miss. She wants bleeding o' Sundays, and sweating over the fallows +till she drops o' week-days. But if she was mine I'd put her to work a +coal-cart for six months; that would larn her." + +"I will ride her," said Miss Clifford, calmly; "her or none." + +"Saddle her, George," said Walter, resignedly. "I'll ride Goliah. Black +Bess sha'n't plead a bad example. Goliah is as meek as Moses, Miss +Clifford. He is a gigantic mouse." + +"I'd as lieve ride of a dead man," said the old groom. + +"Mr. George," said the young lady, "you seem hard to please. May I ask +what sort of animal you do like to ride?" + +"Well, miss, summat between them two. When I rides I likes to be at +peace. If I wants work, there's plenty in the yard. If I wants fretting +and fuming, I can go home: I'm a married man, ye know. But when I crosses +a horse I looks for a smart trot and a short stepper, or an easy canter +on a bit of turf, and not to be set to hard labor a-sticking my heels +into Goliah, nor getting a bloody nose every now and then from Black Bess +a-throwing back her uneasy head when I do but lean forward in the saddle. +I be an old man, miss, and I looks for peace on horseback if I can't get +it nowhere else." + +All this was delivered whilst saddling Black Bess. When she was ready, +Miss Clifford asked leave to hold the bridle, and walk her out of the +premises. As she walked her she patted and caressed her, and talked to +her all the time--told her they all misunderstood her because she was +a female; but now she was not to be tormented and teased, but to have +her own way. + +Then she asked George to hold the mare's head as gently as he could, and +Walter to put her up. She was in the saddle in a moment. The mare +fidgeted and pranced, but did not rear. Julia slackened the reins, and +patted and praised her, and let her go. She made a run, but was checked +by degrees with the snaffle. She had a beautiful mouth, and it was in +good hands at last. + +When they had ridden a few miles they came to a very open country, and +Julia asked, demurely, if she might be allowed to try her off the road. +"All right," said Walter; and Miss Julia, with a smart decision that +contrasted greatly with the meekness of her proposal, put her straight at +the bank, and cleared it like a bird. They had a famous gallop, but this +judicious rider neither urged the mare nor greatly checked her. She +moderated her. Black Bess came home that day sweating properly, but with +a marked diminution of lather and foam. Miss Clifford asked leave to ride +her into the stable-yard, and after dismounting talked to her, and patted +her, and praised her. An hour later the pertinacious beauty asked for a +carrot from the garden, and fed Black Bess with it in the stable. + +By these arts, a very light hand, and tact in riding, she soothed Black +Bess's nerves, so that at last the very touch of her habit skirt, or her +hand, or the sound of her voice, seemed to soothe the poor nervous +creature; and at last one day in the stable Bess protruded her great lips +and kissed her fair rider on the shoulder after her manner. + +All this interested and amused Walter Clifford, but still he was +beginning to chafe at being kept from Miss Bartley, when one morning her +servant rode over with a note. + +"DEAR COUSIN WALTER,--Will you kindly send me back my opera glass? +I want to see what is going on at Clifford Hall. + +"Yours affectionately, + +"MARY BARTLEY." + +Walter wrote back directly that he would bring it himself, and tell her +what was going on at Clifford Hall. + +So he rode over and told her of Julia Clifford's arrival, and how his +father had deputed him to attend on her, and she took up all his time. It +was beginning to be a bore. + +"On the contrary," said Mary, "I dare say she is very handsome." + +"That she is," said Walter. + +"Please describe her." + +"A very tall, dark girl, with wonderful eyebrows; and she has broken in +Black Bess, that some of us men could not ride in comfort." + +Mary changed color. She murmured, "No wonder the Hall is more attractive +than the farm!" and the tears shone in her eyes. + +"Oh, Mary," said Walter, reproachfully, "how can you say that? What is +Julia Clifford to me?" + +"I can't tell," said Mary, dryly. "I never saw you together _through my +glasses, you know_." + +Walter laughed at this innuendo. + +"You shall see us together to-morrow, if you will bless one of us with +your company." + +"I might be in the way." + +"That is not very likely. Will you ride to Hammond Church to-morrow at +about ten, and finish your sketch of the tower? I will bring Miss +Clifford there, and introduce you to each other." + +This was settled, and Mary was apparently quite intent on her sketch when +Walter and Julia rode up, and Walter said: + +"That is my cousin, Mary Bartley. May I introduce her to you?" + +"Of course. What a sweet face!" + +So the ladies were introduced, and Julia praised Mary's sketch, and Mary +asked leave to add her to it, hanging, with pensive figure, over a +tombstone. Julia took an admirable pose, and Mary, with her quick and +facile fingers, had her on the paper in no time. Walter asked her, in a +whisper, what she thought of her model. + +"I like her," said Mary. "She is rather pretty." + +"Rather pretty! Why, she is an acknowledged beauty." + +"A beauty? The idea! Long black thing!" + +Then they rode all together to the farm. There Mary was all innocent +hospitality, and the obnoxious Julia kissed her at parting, and begged +her to come and see her at the Hall. + +Mary did call, and found her with a young gentleman of short stature, who +was devouring her with his eyes, but did not overflow in discourse, +having a slight impediment in his speech. This was Mr. Percy Fitzroy. +Julia introduced him. + +"And where are you staying, Percy?" inquired she. + +"At the D--D--Dun Cow." + +"What is that?" + +Walter explained that it was a small hostelry, but one that was +occasionally honored by distinguished visitors. Miss Bartley staid there +three days. + +"I h--hope to st--ay more than that," said little Percy, with an amorous +glance at Julia. + +Miss Clifford took Mary to her room, and soon asked her what she thought +of him; then, anticipating criticism, she said there was not much of him, +but he was such a duck. + +"He dresses beautifully," was Mary's guarded remark. + +However, when Walter rode home with her, being now relieved of his +attendance on Julia, she was more communicative. Said she: "I never knew +before that a man could look like fresh cambric. Dear me! his head and +his face and his little whiskers, his white scarf, his white waistcoat, +and all his clothes, and himself, seem just washed and ironed and +starched. _I looked round for the bandbox_." + +"Never mind," said Walter. "He is a great addition. My duties devolve on +him. And I shall be free to--How her eyes shone and her voice mellowed +when she spoke to him! Confess, now, love is a beautiful thing." + +"I can not say. Not experienced in beautiful things." And Mary looked +mighty demure. + +"Of course not. What am I thinking of? You are only a child." + +"A little more than that, _please_." + +"At all events, love beautified _her_." + +"I saw no difference. She was always a lovely girl." + +"Why, you said she was 'a long black thing.'" + +"Oh, that was before--she looked engaged." + +After this young Fitzroy was generally Miss Clifford's companion in her +many walks, and Walter Clifford had a delightful time with Mary Bartley. + +Her nurse discovered how matters were going. But she said nothing. From +something Bartley let fall years ago she divined that Bartley was robbing +Walter Clifford by substituting Hope's child for his own, and she thought +the mischief could be repaired and the sin atoned for if he and Mary +became man and wife. So she held her tongue and watched. + +The servants at the Hall watched the whole game, and saw how the young +people were pairing, and talked them over very freely. + +The only person in the dark was Colonel Clifford. He was nearly always +confined to his room. However, one day he came down, and found Julia and +Percy together. She introduced Percy to him. The Colonel was curt, but +grumpy, and Percy soon beat a retreat. + +The Colonel sent for Walter to his room. He did not come for some time, +because he was wooing Mary Bartley. + +Colonel Clifford's first word was, "Who was that little stuttering dandy +I caught spooning _your_ Julia?" + +"Only Percy Fitzroy." + +"Only Percy Fitzroy! Never despise your rivals, sir. Always remember that +young women are full of vanity, and expect to be courted all day long. I +will thank you not to leave the field open a single day till you have +secured the prize." + +"What prize, sir?" + +"What prize, you ninny? Why, the beautiful girl that can buy back +Oddington and Drayton, peaches and fruit and all. They are both to be +sold at this moment. What prize? Why, the wife I have secured for you, if +you don't go and play the fool and neglect her." + +Walter Clifford looked aghast. + +"Julia Clifford!" said he. "Pray don't ask me to marry _her_." + +"Not ask you?--but I do ask you; and what is more, I command you. Would +you revolt again against your father, who has forgiven you, and break my +heart, now I am enfeebled by disease? Julia Clifford is your wife, or you +are my son no more." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE. + + +The next time Walter Clifford met Mary Bartley he was gloomy at +intervals. The observant girl saw he had something on his mind. She taxed +him with it, and asked him tenderly what it was. + +"Oh, nothing," said he. + +"Don't tell me!" said she. "Mind, nothing escapes my eye. Come, tell me, +or we are not friends." + +"Oh, come, Mary. That is hard." + +"Not in the least. I take an interest in you." + +"Bless you for saying so!" + +"And so, if you keep your troubles from me, we are not friends, +nor cousins." + +"Mary!" + +"Nor anything else." + +"Well, dear Mary, sooner than not be anything else to you I will tell +you, and yet I don't like. Well, then, if I must, it is that dear old +wrong-headed father of mine. He wants me to marry Julia Clifford." + +Mary turned pale directly. "I guessed as much," said she. "Well, she is +young and beautiful and rich, and it is your duty to obey your father." + +"But I can't." + +"Oh yes, you can, if you try." + +"But I can't try." + +"Why not?" + +"Can't you guess?" + +"No." + +"Well, then, I love another girl. As opposite to her as light is to +darkness." + +Mary blushed and looked down. "Complimentary to Julia," she said. "I pity +her opposite, for Julia is a fine, high-minded girl." + +"Ah, Mary, you are too clever for me; of course I mean the opposite in +appearance." + +"As ugly as she is pretty?" + +"No; but she is a dark girl, and I don't like dark girls. It was a dark +girl that deceived me so heartlessly years ago." + +"Ah!" + +"And made me hate the whole sex." + +"Or only the brunettes?" + +"The whole lot." + +"Cousin Walter, I thank you in the name of that small company." + +"Until I saw you, and you converted me in one day." + +"Only to the blondes?" + +"Only to one of them. My sweet Mary, the situation is serious. You, whose +eye nothing escapes--you must have seen long ago how I love you." + +"Never mind what I have seen, Walter," said Mary, whose bosom was +beginning to heave. + +"Very well," said Walter; "then I will tell you as if you didn't know it. +I admired you at first sight; every time I was with you I admired you, +and loved you more and more. It is my heaven to see you and to hear you +speak. Whether you are grave or gay, saucy or tender, it is all one +charm, one witchcraft. I want you for my wife, and my child, and my +friend. Mary, my love, my darling, how could I marry any woman but you? +and you, could you marry any man but me, to break the heart that beats +only for you?" + +This and the voice of love, now ardent, now broken with emotion, were +more than sweet, saucy Mary could trifle with; her head drooped slowly +upon his shoulder, and her arm went round his neck, and the tremor of her +yielding frame and the tears of tenderness that flowed slowly from her +fair eyes told Walter Clifford without a word that she was won. + +He had the sense not to ask her for words. What words could be so +eloquent as this? He just held her to his manly bosom, and trembled with +love and joy and triumph. + +She knew, too, that she had replied, and treated her own attitude like a +sentence in rather a droll way. "But _for all that_," said she, "I don't +mean to be a wicked girl if I can help. This is an age of wicked young +ladies. I soon found that out in the newspapers; that and science are the +two features. And I have made a solemn vow not to be one of +them"--(query, a science or a naughty girl)--"making mischief between +father and son." + +"No more you shall, dear," said Walter. "Leave it to me. We must be +patient, and all will come right." + +"Oh, I'll be true to you, dear, if that is all," said Mary. + +"And if you would not mind just temporizing a little, for my sake, who +love you?" + +"Temporize!" said Mary, eagerly. "With all my heart. I'll temporize till +we are all dead and buried." + +"Oh, that will be too long for me," said Walter. + +"Oh, never do things by halves," said the ready girl. + +If his tongue had been as prompt as hers, he might have said that +"temporizing" was doing things by halves; but he let her have the +last word. And perhaps he lost nothing, for she would have had that +whether or no. + +So this day was another era in their love. Girls after a time are not +content to see they are beloved; they must hear it too; and now Walter +had spoken out like a man, and Mary had replied like a woman. They were +happy, and walked hand in hand purring to one another, instead of +sparring any more. + +On his return home Walter found Julia marching swiftly and haughtily up +and down upon the terrace of Clifford Hall, and he could not help +admiring the haughty magnificence of her walk. The reason soon appeared. +She was in a passion. She was always tall, but now she seemed lofty, and +to combine the supple panther with the erect peacock in her ireful march. +Such a fine woman as Julia really awes a man with her carriage at such a +time. The poor soul thinks he sees before him the indignation of the +just; when very likely it is only what in a man would be called +Petulance. + +"Anything the matter, Miss Clifford?" said he, obsequiously. + +"No, sir" (very stiffly). + +"Can I be of any service?" + +"No, you can not." And then, swifter than any weather-cock ever turned: +"You are a good creature: why should I be rude to you? I ought to be +ashamed of myself. It is that little wretch." + +"Not our friend Fitzroy?" + +"Why, what other little wretch is there about? We are all Grenadiers and +May-poles in this house except him. Well, let him go. I dare say somebody +else--hum--and Uncle Clifford has told me more than once I ought to look +higher. I couldn't well look lower than five feet nothing. Ha! ha! ha! I +told him so." + +"That was cruel." + +"Don't scold _me_. I won't be lectured by any of you. Of course it was, +_dear_. Poor little Percy. Oh! oh! oh!" + +And after all this thunder there was a little rain, by a law that governs +Atmosphere and Woman impartially. + +Seeing her softened, and having his own reasons for wishing to keep +Fitzroy to his duty, Walter begged leave to mediate, if possible, and +asked if she would do him the honor to confide the grievance to him. + +"Of course I will," said Julia. "He is angry with Colonel Clifford for +not wishing him to stay here, and he is angry with me for not making +Uncle Clifford invite him. As if I _could_! I should be ashamed to +propose such a thing. The truth is, he is a luxurious little fellow, and +my society out-of-doors does not compensate him for the cookery at the +Dun Cow. There! let him go." + +"But I want him to stay." + +"Then that is very kind of you." + +"Isn't it?" said Walter, slyly. "And I must make him stay somehow. Now +tell me, isn't he a little jealous?" + +"A little jealous! Why, he is eaten up with it; he is _pétrie de +jalousie_." + +"Then," said Walter, timidly, and hesitating at every word, "you can't be +angry if I work on him a little. Would there be any great harm if I were +to say that nobody can see you without admiring you; that I have always +respected his rights, but that if he abandons them--" + +Julia caught it in a moment. She blushed, and laughed heartily. "Oh, you +good, sly Thing!" said she; "and it is the truth, for I am as proud as he +is vain; and if he leaves me I will turn round that moment and make you +in love with me." + +Walter looked queer. This was a turn he had not counted on. + +"Do you think I couldn't, sir?" said she, sharply. + +"It is not for me to limit the power of beauty," said Walter, meekly. + +"Say the power of flattery. I could cajole any man in the world--if +I chose." + +"Then you are a dangerous creature, and I will make Fitzroy my shield. +I'm off to the Dun Cow." + +"You are a duck," said this impetuous beauty. "So there!" She took him +round the neck with both hands, and gave him a most delicious kiss. + +"Why, he must be mad," replied the recipient, bluntly. She laughed at +that, and he went straight to the Dun Cow. He found young Fitzroy sitting +rather disconsolate, and opened his errand at once by asking him if it +was true that they were to lose him. + +Percy replied stiffly that it was true. + +"What a pity!" said Walter. + +"I d--don't think I shall be m--much m--missed," said Percy, +rather sullenly. + +"I know two people who will miss you." + +"I d--don't know one." + +"Two, I assure you--Miss Clifford and myself. Come, Mr. Fitzroy, I will +not beat about the bush. I am afraid you are mortified, and I must say, +justly mortified, at the coolness my father has shown to you. But I +assure you that it is not from any disrespect to you personally." + +"Oh, indeed!" said Percy, ironically. + +"No; quite the reverse--he is afraid of you." + +"That is a g--g--good joke." + +"No; let me explain. Fathers are curious people. If they are ever so +disinterested in their general conduct, they are sure to be a little +mercenary for their children. Now you know Miss Clifford is a beauty who +would adorn Clifford Hall, and an heiress whose money would purchase +certain properties that join ours. You understand?" + +"Yes," said the little man, starting up in great wrath. "I understand, +and it's a--bom--inable. I th--thought you were my friend, and a m--man +of h--honor." + +"So I am, and that is why I warn you in time. If you quarrel with Miss +Clifford, and leave this place in a pet, just see what risks we both run, +you and I. My father will be always at me, and I shall not be able to +insist on your prior claim; he will say you have abandoned it. Julia will +take the huff, and you know beautiful women will do strange things--mad +things--when once pique enters their hearts. She might turn round and +marry me." + +"You forget, sir, you are a man of honor." + +"But not a man of stone. Now, my dear Fitzroy, be reasonable. Suppose +that peerless creature went in for female revenge; why, the first thing +she would do would be to _make_ me love her, whether I chose or no. She +wouldn't give _me_ a voice in the matter. She would flatter me; she would +cajole me; she would transfix my too susceptible heart with glances of +fire and bewitching languor from those glorious eyes." + +"D--d----! Ahem!" cried Percy, turning green. + +Walter had no mercy. "I heard her say once she could make any man love +her if she chose." + +"So she could," said Percy, ruefully. "She made me. I had an awful +p--p--prejudice against her, but there was no resisting." + +"Then don't subject _me_ to such a trial. Stick to her like a man." + +"So I will; b--but it is a m--m--mortifying position. I'm a man of +family. We came in with the C--Conquest, and are respected in our +c--county; and here I have to meet her on the sly, and live at the +D--Dun Cow." + +"Where the _cuisine_ is wretched." + +"A--b--b--bominable!" + +Having thus impregnated his mind with that soothing sentiment, jealousy, +Walter told him he had a house to let on the estate--quite a gentleman's +house, only a little dilapidated, with a fine lawn and garden, only +neglected into a wilderness. "But all the better for you," said he. "You +have plenty of money, and no occupation. Perhaps that is what leads to +these little quarrels. It will amuse you to repair the crib and restore +the lawn. Why, there is a brook runs through it--it isn't every lawn has +that--and there used to be water-lilies floating, and peonies nodding +down at them from the bank: a paradise. She adores flowers, you know. Why +not rent that house from me? You will have constant occupation and +amusement. You will become a rival potentate to my governor. You will +take the shine out of him directly; you have only to give a ball, and +then all the girls will worship you, Julia Clifford especially, for she +could dance the devil to a stand-still." + +Percy's eyes flashed. "When can I have the place?" said he, eagerly. + +"In half an hour. I'll draw you a three months' agreement. Got any +paper? Of course not. Julia is so near. What are those? Playing-cards. +What do you play? 'Patience,' all by yourself. No wonder you are +quarrelsome! Nothing else to bestow your energy on." + +Percy denied this imputation. The cards were for pistol practice. He shot +daily at the pips in the yard. + +"It is the fiend _Ennui_ that loads your pistols, and your temper too. +Didn't I tell you so?" + +Walter then demanded the ace of diamonds, and on its face let him the +house and premises on a repairing lease for three years, rent £5 a year: +which was a good bargain for both parties, since Percy was sure to lay +out a thousand pounds or two on the property, and to bind Julia more +closely to him, who was worth her weight in gold ten times over. + +Walter had brought the keys with him, so he drove Percy over at once and +gave him possession, and, to do the little fellow justice, the moisture +of gratitude stood in his eyes when they parted. + +Walter told Julia about it the same night, and her eyes were +eloquent too. + +The next day he had a walk with Mary Bartley, and told her all about it. +She hung upon him, and gazed admiringly into his eyes all the time, and +they parted happy lovers. + +Mr. Bartley met her at the gate, "Mary," said he, gravely, "who was that +I saw with you just now?" + +"Cousin Walter." + +"I feared so. You are too much with him." + +Mary turned red and white by turns, but said nothing. + +Bartley went on: "You are a good child, and I have always trusted you. I +am sure you mean no harm. But you must be more discreet. I have just +heard that you and that young man are looked upon as engaged lovers. They +say it is all over the village. Of course a father is the last to hear +these things. Does Mrs. Easton know of this?" + +"Oh yes, papa, and approves it." + +"Stupid old woman! She ought to be ashamed of herself." + +"Oh, papa!" said Mary, in deep distress; "why, what objection can there +be to Cousin Walter?" + +"None whatever as a cousin, but every objection to intimacy. Does he +court you?" + +"I don't know, papa. I suppose he does." + +"Does he seek your love?" + +"He does not say so exactly." + +"Come, Mary, you have never deceived me. Does he love you?" + +"I am afraid he does; and if you reject him he will be very unhappy. And +so shall I." + +"I am truly sorry to hear it, Mary, for there are reasons why I can not +consent to an engagement between him and you." + +"What reasons, papa?" + +"It would not be proper to disclose my reasons; but I hope, Mary, that it +will be enough to say that Colonel Clifford has other views for his son, +and I have other views for my daughter. Do you think a blessing will +attend you or him if you defy both fathers?" + +"No, no," said poor Mary. "We have been hasty and very foolish. But, oh, +papa, have you not seen from the first? Oh, why did you not warn me in +time? Then I could have obeyed you easily. Now it will cost me the +happiness of my life. We are very unfortunate. Poor Walter! He left me so +full of hope. What shall I do? what shall I do?" + +It was Mary Bartley's first grief. She thought all chance of happiness +was gone forever, and she wept bitterly for Walter and herself. + +Bartley was not unmoved, but he could not change his nature. The sum he +had obtained by a crime was dearer to him than all his more honest gains. +He was kind on the surface, but hard as marble. + +"Go to your room, my child," said he, "and try and compose yourself. I +am not angry with you. I ought to have watched you. But you are so young, +and I trusted to that woman." + +Mary retired, sobbing, and he sent for Mrs. Easton. + +"Mrs. Easton," said he, "for the first time in all these years I have a +fault to find with you." + +"What is that, sir, if you please?" + +"Young Clifford has been courting that child, and you have +encouraged it." + +"Nay, sir," said the woman, "I have not done that. She never spoke to me, +nor I to her." + +"Well, then, you never interfered." + +"No, sir; no more than you did." + +"Because I never observed it till to-day." + +"How could I know that, sir? Everybody else observed it. Mr. Hope would +have been the first to see it, if he had been in your place." This sudden +thrust made Bartley wince, and showed him he had a tougher customer to +deal with than poor Mary. + +"You can't bear to be found fault with, Easton," said he, craftily, "and +I don't wonder at it, after fourteen years' fidelity to me." + +"I take no credit for that," said the woman, doggedly. "I have been +paid for it." + +"No doubt. But I don't always get the thing I pay for. Then let by-gones +be by-gones; but just assist me now to cure the girl of this folly." + +"Sir," said the woman, firmly, "it is not folly; it is wisest and best +for all; and I can't make up my mind to lift a finger against it." + +"Do you mean to defy me, then?" + +"No, sir. I don't want to go against you, nor yet against my own +conscience, what's left on't. I have seen a pretty while it must come to +this, and I have written to my sister Sally. She keeps a small hotel at +the lakes. She is ready to have me, and I'm not too old to be useful to +her. I'm worth my board. I'll go there this very day, if you please. I'm +as true to you as I can be, sir. For I see by Miss Mary crying so you +have spoken to her, and so now she is safe to come to me for comfort; and +if she does, I shall take her part, you may be sure, for I love her like +my own child." Here the dogged voice began to tremble; but she recovered +herself, and told him she would go at once to her sister Gilbert, that +lived only ten miles off, and next day she would go to the little hotel +at the lakes, and leave him to part two true lovers if he could and break +both their hearts; she should wash her hands of it. + +Bartley asked a moment to consider. + +"Shall we be friends still if you leave me like that? Surely, after all +these years, you will not tell your sister? You will not betray me?" + +"Never, sir," said she. "What for? To bring those two together? Why, it +would part them forever. I wonder at you, a gentleman, and in business +all your life, yet you don't seem to see through the muddy water as I do +that is only a plain woman." + +She then told him her clothes were nearly all packed, and she could start +in an hour. + +"You shall have the break and the horses," said he, with great alacrity. + +Everything transpires quickly in a small house, and just as she had +finished packing, in came Mary in violent distress. "What, is it true? +Are you going to leave me, now my heart is broken? Oh, nurse! nurse!" + +This was too much even for stout-hearted Nancy Easton. + +"Oh, my child! my child!" she cried, and sat down on her box sobbing +violently, Mary infolded in her arms, and then they sat crying and +rocking together. + +"Papa does not love me as I do him," sobbed Mary, turning bitter for the +first time. "He breaks my heart, and sends you away the same day, for +fear you should comfort me." + +"No, my dear," said Mrs. Easton; "you are wrong. He does not send me +away; I go by my own wish." + +"Oh, nurse, you desert me! then you don't know what has happened." + +"Oh yes, I do; I know all about it; and I'm leaving because I can't do +what he wishes. You see it is this way, Miss Mary--your father has been +very good to me, and I am his debtor. I must not stay here and help you +to thwart him--that would be ungrateful--and yet I can't take his side +against you. Master has got reasons why you should not marry Walter +Clifford, and--" + +"He told me so himself," said Mary. + +"Ah, but he didn't tell you his reasons." + +"No." + +"No more must I. But, Miss Mary, I'll tell you this. I know his reasons +well; his reasons why you should not marry Walter Clifford are my reasons +why you should marry no other man." + +"Oh, nurse! oh, you dear, good angel!" + +"So when friends differ like black and white, 'tis best to part. I'm +going to my sister Gilbert this afternoon, and to-morrow to my sister +Sally, at her hotel." + +"Oh, nurse, must you? must you? I shall have not a friend to advise or +console me till Mr. Hope comes back. Oh, I hope that won't be long now." + +Mrs. Easton dropped her hands upon her knees and looked at Mary Bartley. + +"What, Miss Mary, would you go to Mr. Hope in such a matter as this? +Surely you would not have the face?" + +"Not take my breaking heart to Mr. Hope!" cried Mary, with a sudden +flood of tears. "You might as well tell me not to lay my trouble before +my God. Dear, dear Mr. Hope, who saved my life in those deep waters, and +then cried over me, darling dear! I think more of that than of his +courage. Do you think I am blind? He loves me better than my own father +does; and it is not a young man's love; it is an angel's. Not cry to +_him_ when I am in the deep waters of affliction? I could not write of +such a thing to him for blushing, but the moment he returns I shall +find some way to let him know how happy I have been, how broken-hearted +I am, and that papa has reasons against _him_, and they are your reasons +for him, and that you are both afraid to let _me_ know these _curious_ +reasons--me, the poor girl whose heart is being made a foot-ball of in +this house. Oh! oh! oh!" + +"Don't cry, Miss Mary," said Nurse Easton, tenderly; "and pray don't +excite yourself so. Why, I never saw you like this before." + +"Had I ever the same reason? You have only known the happy, thoughtless +child. They have made a woman of me now, and my peace is gone. I _must_ +not defy my father, and I _will_ not break poor Walter's heart--the +truest heart that ever beat. Not tell dear Mr. Hope? I'll tell him +everything, if I'm cut in pieces for it." And her beautiful eyes flashed +lightning through her tears. + +"Hum!" said Mrs. Easton, under her breath, and looking down at her own +feet. + +"And pray what does 'hum' mean?" asked Mary, fixing her eyes with +prodigious keenness on the woman's face. + +"Well, I don't suppose 'hum' means anything," said Mrs. Easton, still +looking down. + +"Doesn't it?" said Mary. "With such a face as _that_ it means a volume. +And I'll make it my business to read that volume." + +"Hum!" + +"And Mr. Hope shall help me." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +LOVERS PARTED. + + +Walter, little dreaming the blow his own love had received, made Percy +write Julia an apology, and an invitation to visit his new house if he +was forgiven. Julia said she could not forgive him, and would not go. +Walter said, "Put on your bonnet, and take a little drive with me." + +"Oh, with pleasure," said Julia, slyly. + +So then Walter drove her to the new house, without a word of remonstrance +on her part, and Fitzroy met her radiant, and Walter slipped away round a +corner, and when he came back the quarrel had dissolved. He had brought a +hamper with all the necessaries of life--table-cloth, napkins, knives, +forks, spoons, cold pie, salad, and champagne. They lunched beside the +brook on the lawn. The lovers drank his health, and Julia appointed him +solemnly to the post of "peace-maker," "for," said she, "you have shown +great talent that way, and I foresee we shall want one, for we shall be +always quarrelling; sha'n't we, Percy?" + +"N--o; n--never again." + +"Then you mustn't be jealous." + +"I'm not. I d--despise j--jealousy. I'm above it." + +"Oh, indeed," said Julia, dryly. + +"Come, don't begin again, you two," said Walter, "or--no champagne." + +"Now what a horrid threat!" said Julia. "I'll be good, for one." + +In short they had a merry time, and Walter drove Julia home. Both were in +high spirits. + +In the hall Walter found a short note from Mary Bartley: + +"DEAR, DEAR WALTER,--I write with a bleeding heart to tell you that papa +has only just discovered our attachment, and I am grieved to say he +disapproves of it, and has forbidden me to encourage your love, that is +dearer to me than all the world. It is very hard. It seems so cruel. But +I must obey. Do not make obedience too difficult, dear Walter. And pray, +pray do not be as unhappy as I am. He says he has reasons, but he has not +told me what they are, except that your father has other views for you; +but, indeed, with both parents against us what can we do? Forgive me the +pain this will give you. Ask yourself whether it gives me any less. You +were all the world to me. Now everything is dull and distasteful. What a +change in one little day! We are very unfortunate. But it can not be +forever. And if you will be constant to me, you know I shall to you. I +_could not_ change. Ah, Walter, I little thought when I said I would +temporize, how soon I should be called on to do it. I can't write any +more for crying. I do nothing but cry ever since papa was so cruel; but I +must obey. Your loving, sorrowful + +"MARY." + +This letter was a chilling blow to poor Walter. He took it into his own +room and read it again and again. It brought the tears into his own eyes, +and discouraged him deeply for a time. But, of course, he was not so +disposed to succumb to authority as the weaker vessel was. He wrote back: + +"My own Love,--Don't grieve for me. I don't care for anything so long as +you love me. I shall resist, of course. As for my father, I am going to +marry Julia to Percy Fitzroy, and so end my governor's nonsense. As for +your father, I do not despair of softening him. It is only a check; it is +not a defeat. Who on earth can part us if we are true to each other? God +bless you, dearest! I did not think you loved me so much. Your letter +gives me comfort forever, and only disappointment for a time. Don't fret, +sweet love. It will be all right in the end. + +"Your grateful, hopeful love, till death, WALTER." + +Mary opened this letter with a beating heart. She read it with tears and +smiles and utter amazement. She knew so little about the male character +that this way of receiving a knockdown blow astonished and charmed her. +She thought to herself, no wonder women look up to men. They _will_ have +their own way; they resist, _of course_. How sensible! We give in, right +or wrong. What a comfort I have got a man to back me, and not a poor +sorrowing, despairing, obeying thing like myself! + +So she was comforted for the minute, and settled in her own mind that she +would be good and obedient, and Walter should do all the fighting. But +letters soon cease to satisfy the yearning hearts of lovers unnaturally +separated. Walter and Mary lived so near each other, yet now they never +met. Bartley took care of that. He told Mary she must not walk out +without a maid or ride without a servant; and he gave them both special +orders. He even obliged her with his own company, though that rather +bored him. + +Under this severe restraint Mary's health and spirits suffered, and she +lost some of her beautiful color. + +Walter's spirits were kept up only by anger. Julia Clifford saw he was in +trouble, and asked him what was the matter. + +"Oh, nothing that would interest you," said he, rather sullenly. + +"Excuse me," said she. "I am always interested in the troubles of my +friends, and you have been a good friend to me." + +"It is very good of you to think so. Well, then, yes, I am unhappy. I am +crossed in love." + +"Is it that fair girl you introduced me to when out riding?" + +"Yes." + +"She is lovely." + +"Miss Clifford, she is an angel." + +"Ha! ha! We are all angels till we are found out. Who is the man?" + +"What man?" + +"That she prefers to my good Walter. She deserves a good whipping, +your angel." + +"Much obliged to you, Miss Clifford; but she prefers no man to your good +Walter, though I am not worthy to tie her shoes. Why, we are devoted to +each other." + +"Well, you needn't fly out at _me_. I am your friend, as you will see. +Make me your confidante. Explain, please. How can you be crossed in love +if there's no other man?" + +"It's her father. He has discovered our love, and forbids her to +speak to me." + +"Her father!" said Julia, contemptuously. "Is that all? _That_ for her +father! You shall have her in spite of fifty fathers. If it had been a +lover, now." + +"I should have talked to him, not to you," said Walter, with his +eyes flashing. + +"Be quiet, Walter; as it is not a lover, nor even a mother, you shall +have the girl; and a very sweet girl she is. Will you accept me for +your ally? Women are wiser than men in these things, and understand +one another." + +"Oh, Miss Clifford," said Walter, "this is good of you! Of course it will +be a great blessing to us both to have your sympathy and assistance." + +"Well, then," said Julia, "begin by telling me--have you spoken to +her father?" + +"No." + +"Then that is the very first thing to be done. Come, order our horses. We +will ride over directly. I will call on _Miss_ Bartley, and you on +_Mister_. Now mind, you must ignore all that has passed, and just ask his +permission to court his daughter. Whilst you are closeted with him, the +young lady and I will learn each other's minds with a celerity you poor +slow things have no idea of." + +"I see one thing," said Walter, "that I am a child in such matters +compared with you. What decision! what promptitude!" + +"Then imitate it, young man. Order the horses directly;" and she stamped +her foot impatiently. + +Walter turned to the stables without another word, and Julia flew +upstairs to put on her riding-habit. + + * * * * * + +Bartley was in his study with a map of the farm before him, and two +respectable but rather rough men in close conference over it. These were +practical men from the county of Durham, whom he had ferreted out by +means of an agent, men who knew a great deal about coal. They had already +surveyed the farm, and confirmed Hope's opinion that coal lay below the +surface of certain barren fields, and the question now was as to the +exact spot where it would be advisable to sink the first shaft. + +Bartley was heart and soul in this, and elevated by love of gain far +above such puny considerations as the happiness of Mary Bartley and her +lover. She, poor girl, sat forlorn in her little drawing-room, and tried +to draw a bit, and tried to read a bit, and tried to reconcile a new +German symphony to her ear as well as to her judgment, which told her it +was too learned not to be harmonious, though it sounded very discordant. +But all these efforts ended in a sigh of despondency, and in brooding on +innocent delights forbidden, and a prospect which, to her youth and +inexperience, seemed a wilderness robbed of the sun. + +Whilst she sat thus pensive and sad there came a sudden rush and clatter +of hoofs, and Miss Clifford and Walter Clifford reined up their horses +under the very window. + +Mary started up delighted at the bare sight of Walter, but amazed and +puzzled. The next moment her quick intelligence told her this was some +daring manoeuvre or other, and her heart beat high. + +Walter opened the door and stood beside it, affecting a cold ceremony. + +"Miss Bartley, I have brought Miss Clifford to call on you at her +request. My own visit is to your father. Where shall I find him?" + +"In his study," murmured Miss Bartley. + +Walter returned, and the two ladies looked at each other steadily for one +moment, and took stock of one another's dress, looks, character, and +souls with supernatural rapidity. Then Mary smiled, and motioned her +visitor to a seat, and waited. + +Miss Clifford made her approaches obliquely at first. + +"I ought to apologize to you for not returning your call before this. At +any rate, here I am at last." + +"You are most welcome, Miss Clifford," said Mary, warmly. + +"Now the ice is broken, I want you to call me Julia." + +"May I?" + +"You may, and you must, if I call you Mary. Why, you know we are cousins; +at least I suppose so. We are both cousins of Walter Clifford, so we must +be cousins to each other." + +And she fixed her eyes on her fair hostess in a very peculiar way. + +Mary returned this fixed look with such keen intelligence that her gray +eyes actually scintillated. + +"Mary, I seldom waste much time before I come to the point. Walter +Clifford is a good fellow; he has behaved well to me. I had a quarrel +with mine, and Walter played the peace-maker, and brought us together +again without wounding my pride. By-and-by I found out Walter himself was +in grief about you. It was my turn, wasn't it? I made him tell me all. He +wasn't very willing, but I would know. I see his love is making him +miserable, and so is yours, dear." + +"Oh yes." + +"So I took it on me to advise him. I have made him call on your father. +Fathers sometimes pooh-pooh their daughters' affections; but when the son +of Colonel Clifford comes with a formal proposal of marriage, Mr. Bartley +can not pooh-pooh _him_." + +Mary clasped her hands, but said nothing. + +Julia flowed on: + +"And the next thing is to comfort you. You seem to want a good +cry, dear." + +"Yes, I d--do." + +"Then come here and take it." + +No sooner said than done. Mary's head on Julia's shoulder, and Julia's +arm round Mary's waist. + +"Are you better, dear?" + +"Oh, so much." + +"It is a comfort, isn't it? Well, now, listen to me. Fathers sometimes +delay a girl's happiness; but they don't often destroy it; they don't go +and break her heart as some mothers do. A mother that is resolved to have +her own way brings another man forward; fathers are too simple to see +that is the only way. And then a designing mother cajoles the poor girl +and deceives her, and does a number of things a man would call +villainies. Don't you fret your heart out for so small a thing as a +father's opposition. You are sure to tire him out if he loves you, and if +he doesn't love you, or loves money better, why, then, he is not a worthy +rival to my cousin Walter, for that man really loves you, and would marry +you if you had not a penny. So would Percy Fitzroy marry me. And that is +why I prefer him to the grenadiers and plungers with silky mustaches, and +half an eye on me and an eye and a half on my money." + +Many other things passed between these two, but what we have endeavored +to repeat was the cream of Julia's discourse, and both her advice and +her sympathy were for the time a wonderful comfort to the love-sick, +solitary girl. + +But our business is with Walter Clifford. As soon as he was announced, +Mr. Bartley dismissed his rugged visitors, and received Walter affably, +though a little stiffly. + +Walter opened his business at once, and told him he had come to ask his +permission to court his daughter. He said he had admired her from the +first moment, and now his happiness depended on her, and he felt sure he +could make her happy; not, of course, by his money, but by his devotion. +Then as to making a proper provision for her-- + +Here Bartley stopped him. + +"My young friend," said he, "there can be no objection either to your +person or your position. But there are difficulties, and at present they +are serious ones. Your father has other views." + +"But, Mr. Bartley," said Walter, eagerly, "he must abandon them. The lady +is engaged." + +"Well, then," said Bartley, "it will be time to come to me when he has +abandoned those views, and also overcome his prejudices against me and +mine. But there is another difficulty. My daughter is not old enough to +marry, and I object to long engagements. Everything, therefore, points to +delay, and on this I must insist." + +Bartley having taken this moderate ground, remained immovable. He +promised to encourage no other suitor; but in return he said he had a +right to demand that Walter would not disturb his daughter's peace of +mind until the prospect was clearer. In short, instead of being taken by +surprise, the result showed Bartley quite prepared for this interview, +and he baffled the young man without offending him. He was cautious not +to do that, because he was going to mine for coal, and feared +remonstrances, and wanted Walter to take his part, or at least to be +neutral, knowing his love for Mary. So they parted good friends; but when +he retailed the result to Julia Clifford she shook her head, and said the +old fox had outwitted him. Soon after, knitting her brows in thought for +some time, she said, "She is very young, much younger than she looks. I +am afraid you will have to wait a little, and watch." + +"But," said Walter, in dismay, "am I not to see her or speak to her all +the time I am waiting?" + +"I'd see both fathers hanged first, if I was a man," said Julia. + +In short, under the courageous advice of Julia Clifford, Walter began to +throw himself in Mary's way, and look disconsolate; that set Mary pining +directly, and Julia found her pale, and grieving for Walter, and +persuaded her to write him two or three lines of comfort; she did, and +that drew pages from him. Unfortunately he did not restrain himself, but +flung his whole heart upon paper, and raised a tumult in the innocent +heart of her who read his passionate longings. + +She was so worked upon that at last one day she confided to Julia that +her old nurse was going to visit her sister, Mrs. Gilbert, who lived only +ten miles off, and she thought she should ride and see her. + +"When?" asked Julia, carelessly. + +"Oh, any day next week," said Mary, carelessly. "Wednesday, if it is +fine. She will not be there till Monday." + +"Does she know?" asked Julia. + +"Oh yes; and left because she could not agree with papa about it; and, +dear, she said a strange thing--a very strange thing: she knew papa's +reasons against him, and they were her reasons for him." + +"Fancy that!" said Julia. "Your father told you what the reasons were?" + +"No; he wouldn't. They both treat me like a child." + +"You mean they pretend to," she added. + +"I see one thing; there is some mystery behind this. I wonder what it +is?" + +"Ten to one, it is money. I am only twenty, but already I have found out +that money governs the world. Let me see--your mother was a Clifford. She +must have had money. Did she settle any on you?" + +"I am sure I don't know." + +"Ten to one she did, and your father is your trustee; and when you +marry, he must show his accounts and cash up. There, that is where the +shoe pinches." + +Mary was distressed. + +"Oh, don't say so, dear. I can't bear to think that of papa. You make me +very unhappy." + +"Forgive me, dear," said Julia. "I am too bitter and suspicious. Some +day I will tell you things in my own life that have soured me. Money--I +hate the very word," she said, clinching her teeth. + +She urged her view no more, but in her own heart she felt sure that she +had read Mr. Bartley aright. Why, he was a trader, into the bargain. + +As for Mary, when she came to think over this conversation, her own +subtle instinct told her that stronger pressure than ever would now be +brought on her. Her timidity, her maiden modesty, and her desire to do +right set her on her defense. She determined to have loving but impartial +advice, and so she overcame her shyness, and wrote to Mr. Hope. Even then +she was in no hurry to enter on such a subject by letter, so she must +commence by telling him that her father had set a great many people, most +of them strangers, to dig for coal. That cross old thing, Colonel +Clifford, had been heard to sneer at her dear father, and say unkind and +disrespectful things--that the love of money led to loss of money, and +that papa might just as well dig a well and throw his money into that. +She herself was sorry he had not waited for Mr. Hope's return before +undertaking so serious a speculation. Warmed by this preliminary, she +ventured into the delicate subject, and told him the substance of what we +have told the reader, only in a far more timid and suggestive way, and +implored him to advise her by return of post if possible--or why not +come home? Papa had said only yesterday, "I wish Hope was here." She got +an answer by return of post. It disappointed her, on the whole. Mr. Hope +realized the whole situation, though she had sketched it faintly instead +of painting it boldly. He was all sympathy, and he saw at once that he +could not himself imagine a better match for her than Walter Clifford. +But then he observed that Mr. Bartley himself offered no personal +objection, but wished the matter to be in abeyance until she was older, +and Colonel Clifford's objection to the connection should be removed or +softened. That might really be hoped for should Miss Clifford marry Mr. +Fitzroy; and really in the mean time he (Hope) could hardly take on him +to encourage her in impatience and disobedience. He should prefer to talk +to Bartley first. With him he should take a less hesitating line, and set +her happiness above everything. In short, he wrote cautiously. He +inwardly resolved to be on the spot very soon, whether Bartley wanted him +or not; but he did not tell Mary this. + +Mary was disappointed. "How kind and wise he is!" she said to +Julia--"too wise." + +Next Wednesday morning Mary Bartley rode to Mrs. Gilbert, and was +received by her with courtesy, but with a warm embrace by Mrs. +Easton. After a while the latter invited her into the parlor, saying +there is somebody there; but no one knows. This, however, though +hardly unexpected, set Mary's heart beating, and when the parlor +door was opened, Mrs. Easton stepped back, and Mary was alone with +Walter Clifford. + +Then might those who oppose an honest and tender affection have learned a +lesson. It was no longer affection only. It was passion. Walter was pale, +agitated, eager; he kissed her hands impetuously, and drew her to his +bosom. She sobbed there; he poured inarticulate words over her, and still +held her, panting, to his beating heart. Even when the first gush of love +subsided a little he could not be so reasonable as he used to be. He was +wild against his own father, hers, and every obstacle, and implored her +to marry him at once by special license, and leave the old people to +untie the knot if they could. + +Then Mary was astonished and hurt. + +"A clandestine marriage, Mr. Clifford!" said she. "I thought you had +more respect for me than to mention such a thing." + +Then he had to beg her pardon, and say the separation had driven him mad. + +Then she forgave him. + +Then he took advantage of her clemency, and proceeded calmly to show her +it was their only chance. + +Then Mary forgot how severely she had checked him, and merely said that +was the last thing she would consent to, and bound him on his honor never +to mention to Julia Clifford that he had proposed such a thing. Walter +promised that readily enough, but stuck to his point; and as Mary's pride +was wounded, and she was a girl of great spirit though love-sick, she +froze to him, and soon after said she was very sorry, but she must not +stay too long or papa would be angry. She then begged him not to come out +of the parlor, or the servant would see him. + +"That is a trifle," said Walter. "I am going to obey you in greater +things than that. Ah! Mary, Mary, you don't love me as I love you!" + +"No, Walter," said Mary, "I do not love you as you love me, for I respect +you." Then her lip trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. + +Walter fell on his knees, and kissed her skirt several times; then ended +with her hand. "Oh, don't harbor such a thought as that!" said he. + +She sobbed, but made no reply. + +They parted good friends, but chilled. + +That made them both unhappy to think of. + +It was only two, or at the most three, days after this that, as Mary was +walking in the garden, a nosegay fell at her feet. She picked it up, and +immediately found a note half secreted in it. The next moment it was +entirely secreted in her bosom. She sauntered in-doors, and scudded +upstairs to her room to read it. + +The writer told her in a few agitated words that their fathers had met, +and he must speak to her directly. Would she meet him for a moment at the +garden gate at nine o'clock that evening? + +"No, no, no!" cried Mary, as if he was there. She was frightened. Suppose +they should be caught. The shame--the disgrace. But oh, the temptation! +Well, then, how wrong of him to tempt her! She must not go. There was no +time to write and refuse; but she must not go. She would not go. And in +this resolution she persisted. Nine o'clock struck, and she never moved. +Then she began to picture Walter's face of disappointment and his +unhappiness. At ten minutes past nine she tied a handkerchief round her +head and went. + +There he was at the gate, pale and agitated. He did not give her time to +scold him. + +"Pray forgive me," he said; "but I saw no other way. It is all over, +Mary, unless you love me as I love you." + +"Don't begin by doubting me," she said. "Tell me, dear." + +"It is soon told. Our fathers have met at that wretched pit, and the +foreman has told me what passed between them. My father complained that +mining for coal was not husbandry, and it was very unfair to do it, and +to smoke him out of house and home. (Unfortunately the wind was west, and +blew the smoke of the steam-engine over his lawn.) Your father said he +took the farm under that express stipulation. Colonel Clifford said, 'No; +the condition was smuggled in.' 'Then smuggle it out,' said Mr. Bartley." + +"Oh!" + +"If it had only ended there, Mary. But they were both in a passion, and +must empty their hearts. Colonel Clifford said he had every respect for +you, but had other views for his son. Mr. Bartley said he was thankful to +hear it, for he looked higher for his daughter. 'Higher in trade, I +suppose,' said my father; 'the Lord Mayor's nephew.' 'Well,' said Mr. +Bartley, 'I would rather marry her to money than to mortgages.' And the +end of it was they parted enemies for life." + +"No, no; not for life!" + +"For life, Mary. It is an old grudge revived. Indeed, the first quarrel +was only skinned over. Don't deceive yourself. We have nothing to do but +disobey them or part." + +"And you can say that, Walter? Oh, have a little patience!" + +"So I would," said Walter, "if there was any hope. But there is none. +There is nothing to wait for but the death of our parents, and by that +time I shall be an elderly man, and you will have lost your bloom and +wasted your youth--for what? No; I feel sometimes this will drive me mad, +or make me a villain. I am beginning to hate my own father, and everybody +else that thwarts my love. How can they earn my hate more surely? No, +Mary; I see the future as plainly as I see your dear face, so pale and +shocked. I can't help it. If you will marry me, and so make sure, I will +keep it secret as long as you like; I shall have got you, whatever they +may say or do; but if you won't, I'll leave the country at once, and get +peace if I can't get love." + +"Leave the country?" said Mary, faintly. "What good would that do?" + +"I don't know. Perhaps bring my father to his senses for one thing; +and--who knows?--perhaps you will listen to reason when you see I can't +wait for the consent of two egotists--for that is what they both +are--that have no real love or pity for you or me." + +"Ah," said Mary, with a deep sigh, "I see even men have their faults, and +I admired them so. They are impatient, selfish." + +"Yes, if it is selfish to defend one's self against brutal selfishness, I +am selfish; and that is better than to be a slave to egotists, and lie +down to be trodden on as you would do. Come, Mary, for pity's sake, +decide which you love best--your father, who does not care much for you, +or me, who adore you, and will give you a life of gratitude as well as +love, if you will only see things as they are and always will be, and +trust yourself to me as my dear, dear, blessed, adored wife!" + +"I love you best," said Mary, "and I hope it is not wicked. But I love +him too, though he does say 'wait.' And I respect _myself_, and I dare +not defy my parent, and I will not marry secretly; that is degrading. +And, oh, Walter, think how young I am and inexperienced, and you that are +so much older, and I hoped would be my guide and make me better; is it +you who tempt me to clandestine meetings that I blush for, and a +clandestine marriage for which I should despise myself?" + +Walter turned suddenly calm, for these words pricked his conscience. + +"You are right," said he. "I am a blackguard, and you are an angel of +purity and goodness. Forgive me, I will never tempt nor torment you +again. For pity's sake forgive me. You don't know what men's passions +are. Forgive me!" + +"With all my heart, dear," said Mary, crying gently. + +He put both arms suddenly round her neck and kissed her wet eyes with a +sigh of despair. Then he seemed to tear himself away by a great effort, +and she leaned limp and powerless on the gate, and heard his footsteps +die away into the night. They struck chill upon her foreboding heart, for +she felt that they were parted. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE GORDIAN KNOT. + + +Walter, however, would not despair until he had laid the alternative +before his father. He did so, firmly but coolly. + +His father, irritated by the scene with Bartley, treated Walter's +proposal with indignant scorn. + +Walter continued to keep his temper, and with some reluctance asked him +whether he owed nothing, not even a sacrifice of his prejudices, to a son +who had never disobeyed him, and had improved his circumstances. + +"Come, sir," said he; "when the happiness of my life is at stake I +venture to lay aside delicacy, and ask you whether I have not been a good +son, and a serviceable one to you?" + +"Yes, Walter," said the Colonel, "with this exception." + +"Then now or never give me my reward." + +"I'll try," said the grim Colonel; "but I see it will be hard work. +However, I'll try and save you from a _mésalliance_." + +"A _mésalliance_, sir? Why, she is a Clifford." + +"The deuce she is!" + +"As much a Clifford as I am." + +"That is news to me." + +"Why, one of her parents was a Clifford, and your own sister. And one of +mine was an Irish woman." + +"Yes; an O'Ryan; not a trader; not a small-coal man." + +"Like the Marquis of Londonderry, sir, and the Earl of Durham. Come, +father, don't sacrifice your son, and his happiness and his love for +you, to notions the world has outlived. Commerce does not lower a +gentleman, nor speculation either, in these days. The nobility and the +leading gentry of these islands are most of them in business. They are +all shareholders, and often directors of railways, and just as much +traders as the old coach proprietors were. They let their land, and so do +you, to the highest bidder, not for honor or any romantic sentiment, but +for money, and that is trade. Mr. Bartley is his own farmer; well, so was +Mr. Coke, of Norfolk, and the Queen made him a peer for it--what a +sensible sovereign! Are Rothschild and Montefiore shunned for their +speculations by the nobility? Whom do their daughters marry? Trade rules +the world, and keeps it from stagnation. Genius writes, or paints, or +plays Hamlet--for money; and is respected in exact proportion to the +amount of money it gets. Charity holds bazars, and sells at one hundred +per cent. profit, and nearly every new church is a trade speculation. Is +my happiness and hers to be sacrificed to the chimeras and crotchets that +everybody in England but you has outlived?" + +"All this," replied the unflinching sire, "I have read in the papers, and +my son shall not marry the daughter of a trader and cad who has insulted +me grossly; but that, I presume, you don't object to." + +This stung Walter so that he feared to continue the discussion. + +"I will not reply," said he. "You drive me to despair. I leave you to +reflect. Perhaps you will prize me when you see me no more." + +With this he left the room, packed up his clothes, went to the nearest +railway, off to London, collected his funds, crossed the water, and did +not write one word to Clifford Hall, except a line to Julia. "Left +England heart-broken, the victim of two egotists and my sweet Mary's weak +conscientiousness. God forgive me, I am angry even with her, but I don't +doubt her love." + +This missive and the general consternation at Clifford Hall brought Julia +full gallop to Mary Bartley. + +They read the letter together, and Julia was furious against Colonel +Clifford. But Mary interposed. + +"I am afraid," said she, "that I am the person who was most to blame." + +"Why, what have you done?" + +"He said our case was desperate, and waiting would not alter it; and he +should leave the country unless--" + +"Unless what? How can I advise you if you have any concealments from me?" + +"Well, then, it was unless I would consent to a clandestine marriage." + +"And you refused--very properly." + +"And I refused--very properly one would think--and what is the +consequence? I have driven the man I love away from his friends, as well +as from me, and now I begin to be very sorry for my properness." + +"But you don't blush for it as you would for the other. The idea! To be +married on the sly and to have to hide it from everybody, and to be found +out at last, or else be suspected of worse things." + +"What worse things?" + +"Never you mind, child; your womanly instinct is better than knowledge or +experience, and it has guided you straight. If you had consented, I +should have lost my respect for you." + +And then, as the small view of a thing is apt to enter the female head +along with the big view, she went on, with great animation: + +"And then for a young lady to sneak into a church without her friends, +with no carriages, no favors, no wedding cake, no bishop, no proper +dress, not even a bridal veil fit to be seen! Why, it ought to be the +great show of a girl's life, and she ought to be a public queen, at all +events for that one day, for ten to one she will be a slave all the rest +of her life if she loves the fellow." + +She paused for breath one moment. + +"And it isn't as if you were low people. Why, it reminds me of a thing I +read in some novel: a city clerk, or some such person, took a walk with +his sweetheart into the country, and all of a sudden he said, 'Why, there +is something hard in my pocket. What is it, I wonder? A plain gold ring. +Does it fit you? Try it on, Polly. Why, it fits you, I declare; then keep +it till further orders.' Then they walked a little further. 'Why, what is +this? Two pairs of white gloves. Try the little pair on, and I will try +the big ones. Stop! I declare here's a church, and the bells beginning +to ring. Why, who told them that I've got a special license in my pocket? +Hallo! there are two fellows hanging about; best men, witnesses, or some +such persons, I should not wonder. I think I know one of them; and here +is a parson coming over a stile! What an opportunity for us now just to +run in and get married! Come on, old girl, lend me that wedding ring a +minute, I'll give it you back again in the church.' No, thank you, Mr. +Walter; we love you very dearly, but we are ladies, and we respect +ourselves." + +In short, Julia confirmed Mary Bartley in her resolution, but she could +not console her under the consequences. Walter did not write a line +even to her; she couldn't but fear that he was really in despair, and +would cure himself of his affection if he could. She began to pine; the +roses faded gradually out of her cheeks, and Mr. Bartley himself began +at last to pity her, for though he did not love her, he liked her, and +was proud of her affection. Another thing, Hope might come home now any +day, and if he found the girl sick and pining, he might say this is a +breach of contract. + +He asked Mary one day whether she wouldn't like a change. "I could take +you to the sea-side," said he, but not very cordially. + +"No, papa," said Mary; "why should you leave your mine when everything is +going so prosperously? I think I should like to go to the lakes, and pay +my old nurse a visit." + +"And she would talk to you of Walter Clifford?" + +"Yes, papa," said Mary, firmly, "she would; and that's the only thing +that can do me any good." + +"Well, Mary," said Bartley, "if she could be content with praising him, +and regretting the insuperable obstacles, and if she would encourage you +to be patient--There, let me think of it." + +Things went hard with Colonel Clifford. He felt his son's desertion very +bitterly, though he was too proud to show it; he now found out that +universally as he was _respected_, it was Walter who was the most beloved +both in the house and in the neighborhood. + +One day he heard a multitude shouting, and soon learned the reason. +Bartley had struck a rich vein of coal, and tons were coming up to the +surface. Colonel Clifford would not go near the place, but he sent old +Baker to inquire, and Baker from that day used to bring him back a number +of details, some of them especially galling to him. By degrees, and rapid +ones, Bartley was becoming a rival magnate; the poor came to him for the +slack, or very small coal, and took it away gratis; they flattered him, +and to please him, spoke slightingly of Colonel Clifford, which they had +never ventured to do before. But soon a circumstance occurred which +mortified the old soldier more than all. He was sole proprietor of the +village, and every house in it, with the exception of a certain +beer-house, flanked by an acre and a half of ground. This beer-house was +a great eye-sore to him; he tried to buy this small freeholder out; but +the man saw his advantage, and demanded £1500--nearly treble the real +value. Walter, however, by negotiating in a more friendly spirit, had +obtained a reduction, and was about to complete the purchase for £1150. +But when Walter left the country the proprietor never dreamed of going +again to the haughty Colonel. He went to Bartley, and Bartley bought the +property in five minutes for £1200, and paid a deposit to clinch the +contract. He completed the purchase with unheard-of rapidity, and set an +army of workmen to raise a pit village, or street of eighty houses. They +were ten times better built than the Colonel's cottages; not one of them +could ever be vacant, they were too great a boon to the miners; nor could +the rent be in arrears, with so sharp a hand as the mine-owner; the +beer-house was to be perpetuated, and a nucleus of custom secured from +the miners, partly by the truck system, and partly by the superiority of +the liquor, for Bartley announced at once that he should brew the beer. + +All these things were too much for a man with gout in his system; Colonel +Clifford had a worse attack of that complaint than ever; it rose from his +feet to other parts of his frame, and he took to his bed. + +In that condition a physician and surgeon visited him daily, and his +lawyer also was sent for, and was closeted with him for a long time on +more than one occasion. + +All this caused a deal of speculation in the village, and as a system +of fetch and carry was now established by which the rival magnates also +received plenty of information, though not always accurate, about each +other, Mr. Bartley heard what was going on, and put his own +construction upon it. + + * * * * * + +Just when Mr. Hope was expected to return came a letter to Mary to say +that he should be detained a day or two longer, as he had a sore throat +and fever, but nothing alarming. Three or four days later came a letter +only signed by him, to say he had a slight attack of typhoid fever, and +was under medical care. + +Mary implored Mr. Bartley to let her go to him. He refused, and gave his +reasons, which were really sufficient, and now he became more unwilling +than ever to let her visit Mrs. Easton. + +This was the condition of affairs when one day an old man with white +hair, dressed in black, and looking almost a gentleman, was driven up to +the farm by Colonel Clifford's groom, and asked, in an agitated voice, if +he might see Miss Mary Bartley. + +Her visitors were so few that she was never refused on speculation, so +John Baker was shown at once into her drawing-room. He was too much +agitated to waste time. + +"Oh, Miss Bartley," said he, "we are in great distress at the Hall. Mr. +Walter has gone, and not left his address, and my poor master is dying!" + +Mary uttered an unfeigned exclamation of horror. + +"Ah, miss," said the old man, "God bless you; you feel for us, I'm not on +the old man's side, miss; I'm on Mr. Walter's side in this as I was in +the other business, but now I see my poor old master lying pale and +still, not long for this world, I do begin to blame myself. I never +thought that he would have taken it all to heart like this. But, there, +the only thing now is to bring them together before he goes. We don't +know his address, miss; we don't know what country he is in. He sent a +line to Miss Clifford a month ago from Dover, but that is all; but, in +course, he writes to you--_that_ stands to reason; you'll give me his +address, miss, won't you? and we shall all bless you." + +Mary turned pale, and the tears streamed down her eyes. "Oh, sir," said +she, "I'd give the world if I could tell you. I know who you are; my poor +Walter has often spoken of you to me, Mr. Baker. One word from you would +have been enough; I would have done anything for you that I could. But he +has never written to me at all. I am as much deserted as any of you, and +I have felt it as deeply as any father can, but never have I felt it as +now. What! The father to die, and his son's hand not in his; no looks of +love and forgiveness to pass between them as the poor old man leaves this +world, its ambitions and its quarrels, and perhaps sees for the first +time how small they all are compared with the love of those that love us, +and the peace of God!" Then this ardent girl stretched out both her +hands. "O God, if my frivolous life has been innocent, don't let me be +the cause of this horrible thing; don't let the father die without +comfort, nor the son without forgiveness, for a miserable girl who has +come between them and meant no harm!" + +This eloquent burst quite overpowered poor old John Baker. He dropped +into a chair, his white head sunk upon his bosom, he sobbed and trembled, +and for the first time showed his age. + +"What on earth is the matter?" said Mr. Bartley's voice, as cold as an +icicle, at the door. Mary sprang toward him impetuously. "Oh, papa!" she +cried, "Colonel Clifford is dying, and we don't know where Walter is; we +can't know." + +"Wait a little," said Bartley, in some agitation. "My letters have just +come in, and I thought I saw a foreign postmark." He slipped back into +the hall, brought in several letters, selected one, and gave it to Mary, +"This is for you, from Marseilles." + +He then retired to his study, and without the least agitation or the +least loss of time returned with a book of telegraph forms. + +Meanwhile Mary tore the letter open, and read it eagerly to John Baker. + +"GRAND HÔTEL, NOAILLES, MARSEILLES, _May_ 16. + +"MY OWN DEAR LOVE,--I have vowed that I will not write again to tempt you +to anything you think wrong; but it looks like quarrelling to hide my +address from you. Only I do beg of you, as the only kindness you can do +me now, never to let it be known by any living creature at Clifford Hall. + +"Yours till death, WALTER." + +Mr. Bartley entered with the telegraph forms, and said to Mary, sharply, +"Where is he?" Mary told him. "Well, write him a telegram. It shall be at +the railway in half an hour, at Marseilles theoretically in one hour, +practically in four." + +Mary sat down and wrote her telegram: "Pray come to Clifford Hall. Your +father is dangerously ill." + +"Show it to me," said Bartley. And on perusing it: "A woman's telegram. +Don't frighten him too much; leave him the option to come or stay." + +He tore it up, and said, "Now write a business telegram, and make sure of +the thing you want." + +"Come home directly--your father is dying." + +Old Baker started up. "God bless you, sir," says he, "and God bless you, +miss, and make you happy one day. I'll take it myself, as my trap is at +the door." He bustled out, and his carriage drove away at a great rate. + +Mr. Bartley went quietly to his study to business without another word, +and Mary leaned back a little exhausted by the scene, but a smile almost +of happiness came and tarried on her sweet face for the first time these +many days; as for old John Baker, he told his tale triumphantly at the +Hall, and not without vanity, for he was proud of his good judgment in +going to Mary Bartley. + +To the old housekeeper, a most superior woman of his own age, and almost +a lady, he said something rather remarkable which he was careful not to +bestow on the young wags in the servants' hall: "Mrs. Milton," says he, +"I am an old man, and have knocked about at home and abroad, and seen a +deal of life, but I've seen something to-day that I never saw before." + +"Ay, John, surely; and what ever was that?" + +"I've seen an angel pray to God, and I have seen God answer her." + +From that day Mary had two stout partisans in Clifford Hall. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Bartley's views about Mary now began to waver. It occurred to him +that should Colonel Clifford die and Walter inherit his estates, he could +easily come to terms with the young man so passionately devoted to his +daughter. He had only to say: "I can make no allowance at present, but +I'll settle my whole fortune upon Mary and her children after my death, +if you'll make a moderate settlement at present," and Walter would +certainly fall into this, and not demand accounts from Mary's trustee. So +now he would have positively encouraged Mary in her attachment, but one +thing held him back a little: he had learned by accident that the last +entail of Clifford Hall and the dependent estates dated two generations +back, so that the entail expired with Colonel Clifford, and this had +enabled the Colonel to sell some of the estates, and clearly gave him +power now to leave Clifford Hall away from his son. Now the people who +had begun to fetch and carry tales between the two magnates told him of +the lawyer's recent visits to Clifford Hall, and he had some misgivings +that the Colonel had sent for the lawyer to alter his will and +disinherit, in whole or in part, his absent and rebellious son. All this +taken together made Mr. Bartley resolve to be kinder to Mary in her love +affair than he ever had been, but still to be guarded and cautious. + +"Mary, my dear," said he, "I am sure you'll be on thorns till this young +man comes home; perhaps now would be a good time to pay your visit to +Mrs. Easton." + +"Oh, papa, how good of you! but it's twenty miles, I believe, to where +she is staying at the lakes." + +"No, no," said Mr. Bartley; "she's staying with her sister Gilbert; quite +within a drive." + +"Are you sure, papa?" + +"Quite sure, my dear; she wrote to me yesterday about her little pension; +the quarter is just due." + +"What! do you allow her a pension?" + +"Certainly, my dear, or rather I pay her little stipend as before: how +surprised you look, Mary! Why, I'm not like that old Colonel, intolerant +of other people's views, when they advance them civilly. That woman +helped me to save your life in a very great danger, and for many years +she has been as careful as a mother, and we are not, so to say, at +daggers drawn about Walter Clifford. Why, I only demand a little +prudence and patience both from you and from her. Now tell me. Is there +proper accommodation for you in Mrs. Gilbert's house?" + +"Oh yes, papa; it is a farm-house now, but it was a grand place. There's +a beautiful spare room with an oriel-window." + +"Well, then, you secure that, and write to-day to have a blazing fire, +and the bed properly aired as well as the sheets, and you shall go +to-morrow in the four-wheel; and you can take her her little stipend in +a letter." + +This sudden kindness and provision for her health and happiness filled +Mary's heart to overflowing, and her gratitude gushed forth upon Mr. +Bartley's neck. The old fox blandly absorbed it, and took the opportunity +to say, "Of course it is understood that matters are to go no further +between you and Walter Clifford. Oh, I don't mean that you're to make him +unhappy, or drive him to despair; only insist upon his being patient like +yourself. Everything comes sooner or later to those that can wait." + +"Oh, papa," cried Mary, "you've said more to comfort me than Mrs. Easton +or anybody can; but I feel the change will do me good. I am, oh, so +grateful!" + +So Mary wrote her letter, and went to Mrs. Easton next day. After the +usual embraces, she gave Mrs. Easton the letter, and was duly installed +in the state bedroom. She wrote to Julia Clifford to say where she was, +and that was her way of letting Walter Clifford know. + +Walter himself arrived at Clifford Hall next day, worn, anxious, and +remorseful, and was shown at once to his father's bedside. The Colonel +gave him a wasted hand, and said: + +"Dear boy, I thought you'd come. We've had our last quarrel, Walter." + +Walter burst into tears over his father's hand, and nothing was said +between them about their temporary estrangement. + +The first thing Walter did was to get two professional nurses from +Derby, and secure his father constant attention night and day, and, above +all, nourishment at all hours of the night when the patient would take +it. On the afternoon after his arrival the Colonel fell into a sound +sleep. Then Walter ordered his horse, and in less than an hour was at +Mrs. Gilbert's place. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE KNOT CUT.--ANOTHER TIED. + + +The farm-house the Gilberts occupied had been a family mansion of great +antiquity with a moat around it. It was held during the civil war by a +stout royalist, who armed and garrisoned it after a fashion with his own +servants. This had a different effect to what he intended. It drew the +attention of one of Cromwell's generals, and he dispatched a party with +cannon and petards to reduce the place, whilst he marched on to join +Cromwell in enterprises of more importance. The detachment of Roundheads +summoned the place. The royalist, to show his respect for their +authority, made his kitchen wench squeak a defiance from an upper +window, from which she bolted with great rapidity as soon as she had +thus represented the valor of the establishment, and when next seen it +was in the cellar, wedged in between two barrels of beer. The men went +at it hammer and tongs, and in twenty-four hours a good many +cannon-balls traversed the building, a great many stuck in the walls +like plums in a Christmas pudding, the doors were blown in with petards, +and the principal defenders, with a few wounded Roundheads, were carried +off to Cromwell himself; whilst the house itself was fired, and blazed +away merrily. + +Cromwell threatened the royalist gentleman with death for defending an +untenable place. + +"I didn't know it was untenable," said the gentleman. "How could I till +I had tried?" + +"You had the fate of fortified places to instruct you," said Cromwell, +and he promised faithfully to hang him on his own ruins. + +The gentleman turned pale and his lips quivered, but he said, "Well, Mr. +Cromwell, I've fought for my royal master according to my lights, and I +can die for him." + +"You shall, sir," said Mr. Cromwell. + +About next morning Mr. Cromwell, who had often a cool fit after a hot +one, and was a very big man, take him altogether, gave a different order. +"The fool thought he was doing his duty; turn him loose." + +The fool in question was so proud of his battered house that he left it +standing there, bullets and all, and built him a house elsewhere. + +King Charles the Second had not landed a month before he made him a +baronet, and one tenant after another occupied a portion of the old +mansion. Two state-rooms were roofed and furnished with the relics of the +entire mansion, and these two rooms the present baronet's surveyor +occupied at rare intervals when he was inspecting the large properties +connected with the baronet's estate. + +Mary Bartley now occupied these two rooms, connected by folding-doors, +and she sat pensive in the oriel-window of her bedroom. Young ladies +cling to their bedrooms, especially when they are pretty and airy. +Suddenly she heard a scurry and patter of a horse's hoof, reined up at +the side of the house. She darted from the window and stood panting in +the middle of the room. The next minute Mrs. Easton entered the +sitting-room all in a flutter, and beckoned her. Mary flew to her. + +"He is here." + +"I thought he would be." + +"Will you meet him down-stairs?" + +"No, here." + +Mrs. Easton acquiesced, rapidly closed the folding-doors, and went out, +saying, "Try and calm yourself, Miss Mary." + +Miss Mary tried to obey her, but Walter rushed in impetuously, pale, +worn, agitated, yet enraptured at the first sight of her, and Mary threw +herself round his neck in a moment, and he clasped her fluttering bosom +to his beating heart, and this was the natural result of the restraint +they had put upon a passionate affection: for what says the dramatist +Destouches, improving upon Horace, so that in England his immortal line +is given to Molière. "_Chassez le naturel, il revient au galop_." + +The next thing was, they held each other at arm's-length, and mourned +over each other. + +"Oh, my poor Mary, how ill you look!" + +"Oh, my poor Walter, how pale and worn!" + +"It's all my fault," said Mary. + +"No; it's all mine," said Walter. + +And so they blamed themselves, and grieved over each other, and vowed +that come what might they would never part again. But, lo and behold! +Walter went on from that to say: + +"And that we may never part again let us marry at once, and put our +happiness out of the reach of accidents." + +"What!" said Mary. "Defy your father upon his dying bed." + +"Oh no," said Walter, "that I could not do. I mean marry secretly, and +announce it after his decease, if I am to lose him." + +"And why not wait till after his decease?" said Mary. + +"Because, then, the laws of society would compel us to wait six months, +and in that six months some infernal obstacle or other would be sure to +occur, and another would be sure to follow. I am a great deal older than +you, and I see that whoever procrastinates happiness, risks it; and +whoever shilly-shallies with it deserves to lose it, and generally does." + +Where young ladies are concerned, logic does not carry all before it, +and so Mary opposed all manner of feminine sentiments, and ended by +saying she could not do such a thing. + +Then Walter began to be mortified and angry; then she cunningly shifted +the responsibility, and said she would consult Mrs. Easton. + +"Then consult her in my presence," said Walter. + +Mary had not bargained for that; she had intended to secure Mrs. Easton +on her side, and then take her opinion. However, as Walter's proposal was +fair, she called Mrs. Easton, and they put the case to her, and asked her +to give her candid opinion. + +Mrs. Easton, however, took alarm at the gravity of the proposal, and told +them both she knew things that were unknown to both of them, and it was +not so easy for her to advise. + +"Well, but," said Walter, "if you know more than we do, you are the very +person that can advise. All I know is that if we are not married now, I +shall have to wait six months at least, and if I stay here Mr. Bartley +and I shall quarrel, and he will refuse me Mary; and if I go abroad again +I shall get knocked on the head, or else Mary will pine away again, and +Bartley will send her to Madeira, and we shall lose our happiness, as all +shilly-shallying fools do." + +Mrs. Easton made no reply to this, though she listened attentively to it. +She walked to the window and thought quietly to herself; then she came +back again and sat down, and after a pause she said, very gravely, +"Knowing all I know, and seeing all I see, I advise you two to marry at +once by special license, and keep it secret from every one who knows +you--but myself--till a proper time comes to reveal it; and it's borne in +upon me that that time will come before long, even if Colonel Clifford +should not die this bout, which everybody says he will." + +"Oh, nurse," said Mary, faintly, "I little thought that you'd be +against me." + +"Against you, Miss Mary!" said Mrs. Eastern, with much feeling. "I admire +Mr. Walter very much, as any woman must with eyes in her head, and I love +him for loving of you so truly, and like a man, for it does not become a +man to shilly-shally, but I never saw him till he _was_ a man, but you +are the child I nursed, and prayed over, and trembled for in sickness, +and rejoiced over in health, and left a good master because I saw he did +not love you so well as I did." + +These words went to Mary's heart, and she flew to her nurse, and hung +weeping round her neck. Her tears made the manly but tender-hearted +Walter give a sort of gulp. Mary heard it, and put her white hand out to +him. He threw himself upon his knees, and kissed it devotedly, and the +coy girl was won. + +From this hour Walter gave her no breathing-time; he easily talked over +old Baker, and got him to excuse his short absence; he turned his hunters +into roadsters, and rode them very hard; he got the special license; he +squared a clergyman at the head of the lake, who was an old friend of his +and fond of fees, and in three days after her consent, Mary and Mrs. +Easton drove a four-wheeled carriage Walter had lent them to the little +hotel at the lakes. Walter had galloped over at eleven o'clock, and they +all three took a little walk together. Walter Clifford and Mary Bartley +returned from that walk MAN AND WIFE. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE. + + +Walter Clifford and Mary sat at a late breakfast in a little inn that +looked upon a lake, which appeared to them more lovely than the lake of +Thun or of Lucerne. He beamed steadily at her with triumphant rapture; +she stole looks at him of wonder, admiration, and the deepest love. + +As they had nothing now to argue about, they only spoke a few words at a +time, but these were all musical with love. + +To them, as we dramatists say, entered Mrs. Easton, with signs of hurry. + +"Miss Mary--" said she. + +"Mrs. Mary," suggested Walter, meekly. + +Mrs. Mary blew him a kiss. + +"Ay, ay," said Mrs. Easton, smiling. "Of course you will both hate me, +but I have come to take you home, Mistress Mary." + +"Home!" said Mary; "why, this feels like home." + +"No doubt," said Mrs. Easton, "but, for all that, in half an hour we +must start." + +The married couple remonstrated with one accord, but Mrs. Easton was +firm. "I dreamed," said she, "that we were all found out--and that's a +warning. Mr. Walter, you know that you'll be missed at Clifford Hall, and +didn't ought to leave your father another day. And you, Miss Mary, do but +think what a weight I have taken upon my shoulders, and don't put off +coming home, for I am almost shaking with anxiety, and for sure and +certain my dream it was a warning, and there's something in the wind." + +They were both so indebted to this good woman that they looked at each +other piteously, but agreed. Walter rang the bell, and ordered the +four-wheeler and his own nag. + +"Mary, one little walk in that sweet garden." + +"Yes, dear," said Mary, and in another moment they were walking in the +garden, intertwined like the ivy and the oak, and purring over their +present delights and glowing prospects. + +In the mean time Mrs. Easton packed up their things: Walter's were +enrolled in a light rug with straps, which went upon his saddle. They +left the little inn, Mary driving. When they had gone about two miles +they came to cross-roads. + +"Please pull up," said Mrs. Easton; then turning to Walter, who was +riding ridiculously close to Mary's whip hand, "Isn't that the way to +Clifford Hall?" + +"It's one way," said he; "but I don't mean to go that way. How can I? +It's only three miles more round by your house." + +"Nurse," said Mary, appealingly. + +"Ay, ay, poor things," said Mrs. Easton. "Well, well, don't loiter, +anyway. I shall not be my own woman again till we're safe at the farm." + +So they drove briskly on, and in about an hour more they got to a long +hill, whence they could see the Gilberts' farm. + +"There, nurse," said Mary, pouting a little, "now I hope you're content, +for we have got safe home, and he and I shall not have a happy day +together again." + +"Oh yes, you will, and many happy years," said Mrs. Easton. "Well, yes, I +don't feel so fidgety now." + +"Oh!" cried Mary, all of a sudden. "Why, there's our gray mare coming +down the hill with the dog-cart! Who's that driving her? It's not papa. I +declare it's Mr. Hope, come home safe and sound. Dear Mr. Hope! Oh, now +my happiness is perfect!" + +"Mr. Hope!" screamed Mrs. Easton. "Drive faster, for Heaven's sake! Turn +your horse, sir, and gallop away from us as hard as you can!" + +"Well, but, Mrs. Easton--" objected Walter. + +Mrs. Easton stood up in the carriage. "Man alive!" she screamed, "you +know nothing, and I know a deal; begone, or you are no friend of mine: +you'll make me curse the hour that I interfered." + +"Go, darling," said Mary, kindly, and so decidedly that he turned his +horse directly, gave her one look of love and disappointment, and +galloped away. + +Mary looked pale and angry, and drove on in sullen silence. + +Mrs. Easton was too agitated to mind her angry looks. She kept wiping +the perspiration from her brow with her handkerchief, and speaking in +broken sentences: "If we could only get there first--fool not to teach +my sister her lesson before we went, she's such a simpleton!--can't you +drive faster?" + +"Why, nurse," said Mary, "don't be so afraid of Mr. Hope. It's not him +I'm afraid of; it's papa." + +"Yon don't know what you're talking about, child. Mr. Bartley is easily +blinded; I won't tell you why. It isn't so with Mr. Hope. Oh, if I could +only get in to have one word with my simple sister before he turns her +inside out!" + +This question was soon decided. Hope drove up to the door whilst Mary and +Mrs. Eastern were still some distance off and hidden by a turn in the +road. When they emerged again into sight of the farm they just caught +sight of Hope's back, and Mrs. Gilbert curtseying to him and ushering him +into the house. + +"Drive into the stable-yard," said Mrs. Easton, faintly. "He mustn't see +your travelling basket, anyway." + +She told the servant to put the horse into the stable immediately, and +the basket into the brew-house. Then she hurried Mary up the back +stairs to her room, and went with a beating heart to find Mr. Hope and +her sister. + +Mrs. Gilbert, though a simple and unguarded woman, could read faces like +the rest, and she saw at once that her sister was very much put out by +this visit of Mr. Hope, and wanted to know what had passed between her +and him. This set the poor woman all in a flutter for fear she should +have said something injudicious, and there-upon she prepared to find out, +if possible, what she ought to have said. + +"What! Mr. Hope!" said Mrs. Easton. "Well, Mary will be glad. And have +you been long home, sir?" + +"Came last night," said Hope. "She hasn't been well, I hear. What is the +matter?" And he looked very anxious. + +"Well, sir," said Mrs. Easton, very guardedly, "she certainly gave me a +fright when she came here. She looked quite pale; but whether it was +that she wanted a change--but whatever it was, it couldn't be very +serious. You shall judge for yourself. Sister, go to Miss Mary's room, +and tell her." + +Mrs. Easton, in giving this instruction, frowned at her sister as much as +to say, "Now don't speak, but go." + +When she was gone, the next thing was to find out if the woman had made +any foolish admission to Mr. Hope; so she waited for him. + +She had not long to wait. + +Hope said: "I hardly expected to see you; your sister said you were +from home." + +"Well, sir," said Mrs. Easton, "we were not so far off, but we did come +home a little sooner than we intended, and I am rare glad we did, for +Miss Mary wouldn't have missed you for all the _views_ in the county." + +With that she made an excuse, and left him. She found her sister in +Mary's room: they were comparing notes. + +"Now," said she to Mrs. Gilbert, "you tell me every word you said to Mr. +Hope about Miss Mary and me." + +"Well, I said you were not at home, and that is every word; he didn't +give me time to say any more for questioning of me about her health." + +"That's lucky," said Mrs. Easton, dryly. "Thank Heaven, there's no harm +done; he sha'n't see the carriage." + +"Dear me, nurse," said Mary, "all this time I'm longing to see him." + +"Well, you shall see him, if you won't own to having been a night +from home." + +Mary promised, and went eagerly to Mr. Hope. It did not come natural to +her to be afraid of him, and she was impatient for the day to come when +she might tell him the whole story. The reception he gave her was not of +a nature to discourage this feeling; his pale face--for he had been very +ill--flushed at sight of her, his eyes poured affection upon her, and he +held out both hands to her. "This the pale girl they frightened me +about!" said he. "Why, you're like the roses in July." + +"That's partly with seeing of you, sir," said Mrs. Easton, quietly +following, "but we do take some credit to ourselves too; for Miss Mary +_was_ rather pale when she came here a week ago; but la, young folks want +a change now and then." + +"Nurse," said Mary, "I really was not well, and you have done wonders for +me, and I hope you won't think me ungrateful, but I _must_ go home with +Mr. Hope." + +Hope's countenance flushed with delight, and Mrs. Easton saw in a moment +that Mary's affection was co-operating with her prudence. "I thought that +would be her first word, sir," said she. "Why, of course you will, miss. +There, don't you take any trouble; we'll pack up your things and put them +in the dog-cart; but you must eat a morsel both of you before you go. +There's a beautiful piece of beef in the pot, not oversalted, and some +mealy potatoes and suet dumplings. You sit down and have your chat, +whilst Polly and I get everything ready for you." + +Then Mary asked Mr. Hope so many questions with such eager affection that +he had no time to ask her any, and then she volunteered the home news, +especially of Colonel Clifford's condition, and then she blushed and +asked him if he had said anything to her father about Walter Clifford. + +"Not much," said Mr. Hope. "You are very young, Mary, and it's not for me +to interfere, and I won't interfere. But if you want my opinion, why, I +admire the young man extremely. I always liked him; he is a +straightforward, upright, manly, good-hearted chap, and has lots of +plain good sense--Heaven knows where he got it!" + +This eulogy was interrupted by Mary putting a white hand and a perfect +nose upon Hope's shoulder, and kissing the cloth thereon. + +"What," said Hope, tenderly, and yet half sadly--for he knew that all +middle-aged men must now be second--"have I found the way to your heart?" + +"You always knew that, Mr. Hope," said Mary, softly; "especially since my +escapade in that horrid brook." + +Their affectionate chat was interrupted by a stout servant laying a snowy +cloth, and after her sailed in Mrs. Gilbert, with a red face, and pride +unconcealed and justifiable, carrying a grand dish of smoking hot boiled +beef, set in a very flower bed, so to speak, of carrots, turnips, and +suet dumplings; the servant followed with a brown basin, almost as big as +a ewer, filled with mealy potatoes, whose jackets hung by a thread. +Around this feast the whole party soon collected, and none of them sighed +for Russian soups or French ragouts; for the fact is that under the title +of boiled beef there exist two things, one of which, without any great +impropriety, might be called junk; but this was the powdered beef of our +ancestors, a huge piece just slightly salted in the house itself, so that +the generous juice remained in it, but the piquant slices, with the mealy +potatoes, made a delightful combination. The glasses were filled with +home-brewed ale, sparkling and clear and golden as the finest Madeira. +They all ate manfully, stimulated by the genial hostess. Even Mary +outshone all her former efforts, and although she couldn't satisfy Mrs. +Gilbert, she declared she had never eaten so much in all her life. This +set good Mrs. Gilbert's cheeks all aglow with simple, honest +satisfaction. + +Hope drove Mary home in the dog-cart. He was a happy man, but she could +hardly be called a happy woman. She was warm and cold by turns. She had +got her friend back, and that was a comfort, but she was not treating him +with confidence; indeed, she was passively deceiving him, and that +chilled her; but then it would not be for long, and that comforted her, +and yet even when the day should come for the great doors of Clifford +Hall to fly open to her, would not a sad, reproachful look from dear Mr. +Hope somewhat imbitter her cup of happiness? Deceit, and even reticence, +did not come so natural to her as they do to many women: she was not +weak, and she was frank, though very modest. + +Mr. Bartley met them at the door, and, owing to Hope's presence, was more +demonstrative than usual. He seemed much pleased at Mary's return, and +delighted at her appearance. + +"Well," said he, "I am glad I sent you away for a week. We have all +missed you, my dear, but the change has set you up again, I never saw you +look better. Now you are well, we must try and keep you well." + + * * * * * + +We must leave the reader to imagine the mixed feelings with which Mrs. +Walter Clifford laid her head upon the pillow that night, and we +undertake to say that the female readers, at all events, will supply this +blank in our narrative much better than we could, though we were to fill +a chapter with that subject alone. + + * * * * * + +Passion is a terrible enemy to mere affection. Walter Clifford loved his +father dearly, yet for twenty-four hours he had almost forgotten him. +But the moment he turned his horse's head toward Clifford Hall, +uneasiness and something very like remorse began to seize him. Suppose +his father had asked for him, and wondered where he was, and felt +himself deserted and abandoned in his dying moments. He spurred his +horse to a gallop, and soon reached Clifford Hall. As he was afraid to +go straight to his father's room, he went at once to old Baker, and +said, in an agitated voice, + +"One word, John--is he alive?" + +"Yes, sir, he is," said John, gravely, and rather sternly. + +"Has he asked for me?" + +"More than once or twice, sir." + +Walter sank into a chair, and covered his face with his hands. This +softened the old servant, whose manner till then had been sullen +and grim. + +"You need not fret, Mr. Walter," said he; "it's all right. In course I +know where you have been." + +Walter looked up alarmed. + +"I mean in a general way," said the old man. "You have been a-courting of +an angel. I know her, sir, and I hope to be her servant some day; and if +you was to marry any but her, I'd leave service altogether, and so would +Rhoda Milton; but, Mr. Walter, sir, there's a time for everything: I hope +you'll forgive me for saying so. However you are here now, and I was +wide-awake, and I have made it all right, sir." + +"That's impossible," said Walter. "How could you make it right with my +poor dear father, if in his last moments he felt himself neglected?" + +"But he didn't feel himself neglected." + +"I don't understand you," said Walter. + +"Well, sir," said old Baker, "I'm an old servant, and I have done my duty +to father and son according to my lights: I told him a lie." + +"A lie, John!" said Walter. + +"A thundering lie," said John, rather aggressively. "I don't know as I +ever told a greater lie in all my life. I told him you was gone up to +London to fetch a doctor." + +Walter grasped John Baker's hand. "God bless you, old man," said he, "for +taking that on your conscience! Well, you sha'n't have yourself to +reproach for my fault. I know a first-class gout doctor in London; he has +cured it more than once. I'll wire him down this minute; you'll dispatch +the message, and I'll go to my father." + +The message was sent, and when the Colonel awoke from an uneasy slumber +he saw his son at the foot of the bed, gazing piteously at him. + +"My dear boy," said he, faintly, and held out a wasted hand. Walter was +pricked to the heart at this greeting: not a word of remonstrance at +his absence. + +"I fear you missed me, father," said he, sadly. + +"That I have," said the old man; "but I dare say you didn't forget me, +though you weren't by my side." + +The high-minded old soldier said no more, and put no questions, but +confided in his son's affection, and awaited the result of it. From that +hour Walter Clifford nursed his father day and night. Dr. Garner arrived +next day. He examined the patient, and put a great many questions as to +the history and progress of the disorder up to that date, and inquired +in particular what was the length of time the fits generally endured. +Here he found them all rather hazy. "Ah," said he, "patients are seldom +able to assist their medical adviser with precise information on this +point, yet it's very important. Well, can you tell me how long this +attack has lasted?" + +They told him that within a day or two. + +"Then now," said he, "the most important question of all: What day did +the pain leave his extremities?" + +The patient and John Baker had to compare notes to answer this question, +and they made it out to be about twenty days. + +"Then he ought to be as dead as a herring," whispered the doctor. + +After this he began to walk the room and meditate, with his hands +behind him. + +"Open those top windows," said he. "Now draw the screen, and give his +lungs a chance; no draughts must blow upon him, you know." Then he drew +Walter aside. "Do you want to know the truth? Well, then, his life hangs +on a thread. The gout is creeping upward, and will inevitably kill him +if we can't get it down. Nothing but heroic remedies will do that, and +it's three to five against them. What do you say?" + +"I dare not--I dare not. Pray put the question to _him_." + +"I will," said the doctor; and accordingly he did put it to him with a +good deal of feeling and gentleness, and the answer rather surprised him. + +Weak as he was, Colonel Clifford's dull eye flashed, and he half raised +himself on his elbow. "What a question to put to a soldier!" said he. +"Why, let us fight, to be sure. I thought it was twenty to one--five to +three? I have often won the rubber with five to three against me." + +"Ah!" said Dr. Garner, "these are the patients that give the doctor a +chance." Then he turned to Baker. "Have you any good champagne in the +house--not sweet, and not too dry, and full of fire?" + +"Irroy's Carte d'Or," suggested the patient, entering into the business +with a certain feeble alacrity that showed his gout had not always been +unconnected with imprudence in diet. + +Baker was sent for the champagne. It was brought and opened, and the +patient drank some of it fizzing. When he had drank what he could, his +eyes twinkled, and he said, + +"That's a hair of a dog that has often bitten me." + +The wine soon got into his weakened head, and he dropped asleep. + +"Another draught when he wakes," said the doctor, "but from a +fresh bottle." + +"We'll finish this one to your health in the servants' hall," said honest +John Baker. + +Dr. Garner staid there all night, keeping up the patient's strength with +eggs and brandy, and everything, in short, except medicine; and he also +administered champagne, but at much longer intervals. + +At one o'clock next day the patient gave a dismal groan; Walter and the +others started up in alarm. + +"Good!" said the doctor, calmly; "now I'll go to bed. Call me if there's +any fresh symptom." + +At six o'clock old Baker burst in the room: "Sir, sir, he have swore at +me twice. The Lord be praised!" + +"Excellent!" said the doctor. "Now tell me what disagrees with him most +after champagne?" + +"Why, Green Chartreuse, to be sure," said old Baker. + +"Then give him a table-spoonful," said the doctor. "Get me some +hot water." + +"Which first?" inquired Baker. + +"The patient, to be sure," said Dr. Garner. + +Soon after this the doctor stood by his patient's side, and found him +writhing, and, to tell the truth, he was using bad language occasionally, +though he evidently tried not to. + +Dr. Garner looked at his watch. "I think there's time to catch the +evening train." + +"Why," said Walter, "surely you would not desert us; this is the crisis, +is it not?" + +"It's something more than that," said the doctor; "the disease knows its +old place; it has gone back to the foot like a shot; and if you can keep +it there, the patient will live; he's not the sort of patient that +strikes his colors while there's a bastion left to defend." + +These words pleased the old Colonel so that he waved a feeble hand above +his head, then groaned most dismally, and ground his teeth to avoid +profanity. + +The doctor, with exquisite gentleness, drew the clothes off his feet, and +sent for a lot of fleecy cotton or wool, and warned them all not to touch +the bed, nor even to approach the lower part of it, and then he once more +proposed to leave, and gave his reasons. + +"Now, look here, you know, I have done my part, and if I give special +instructions to the nurses, they can do the rest. I'm rather dear, and +why should you waste your money?" + +"Dear!" said Walter, warmly; "you're as cheap as dirt, and as good as +gold, and the very sight of you is a comfort to us. There's a fast train +at ten; I'll drive you to the station after breakfast myself. Your +fees--they are nothing to us. We love him, and we are the happiest house +in Christendom; we, that were the saddest." + +"Well," said the doctor, "you north countrymen are hearty people. I'll +stay till to-morrow morning--indeed, I'll stay till the afternoon, for my +London day will be lost anyway." + +He staid accordingly till three o'clock, left his patient out of all +present danger, and advised Walter especially against allowing colchicum +to be administered to him until his strength had recovered. + +"There is no medicinal cure for gout," said he; "pain is a mere symptom, +and colchicum soothes that pain, not by affecting the disease, but by +stilling the action of the heart. Well, if you still the action of that +heart there, you'll kill him as surely as if you stilled it with a pistol +bullet. Knock off his champagne in three or four days, and wheel him into +the sun as soon as you can with safety, fill his lungs with oxygen, and +keep all worry and disputes and mental anxiety from him, if you can. +Don't contradict him for a month to come." + +The Colonel had a terrible bout of it so far as pain was concerned, but +after about a fortnight the paroxysms intermitted, the appetite +increased. Everybody was his nurse; everybody, including Julia Clifford, +humored him; Percy Fitzroy was never mentioned, and the name of Bartley +religiously avoided. The Colonel had got a fright, and was more prudent +in his diet, and always in the open air. + +Walter left him only at odd times, when he could hope to get a hasty word +with Mary, and tell her how things were going, and do all that man could +do to keep her heart up, and reconcile her to the present situation. + +Returning from his wife one day, and leaving her depressed by their +galling situation, though she was never peevish, but very sad and +thoughtful, he found his father and Julia Clifford in the library. +Julia had been writing letters for him; she gave Walter a deprecatory +look, as much as to say, "What I am doing is by compulsion, and you +won't like it." Colonel Clifford didn't leave the young man in any +doubt about the matter. He said: "Walter, you heard me speak of Bell, +the counsel who leads this circuit. I was once so fortunate as to do +him a good turn, and he has not forgotten it; he will sleep here the +day after to-morrow, and he will go over that black-guard's lease: he +has been in plenty of mining cases. I have got a sort of half opinion +out of him already; he thinks it contrary to the equity of contracts +that minerals should pass under a farm lease where the surface of the +soil is a just equivalent to the yearly payment; but the old fox won't +speak positively till he has read every syllable of the lease. However, +it stands to reason that it's a fraud; it comes from a man who is all +fraud; but thank God I am myself again." + +He started up erect as a dart. "I'll have him off my lands; I'll drag him +out of the bowels of the earth, him and all his clan." + +With this and other threats of the same character he marched out of the +room, striking the floor hard with his stick as he went, and left Julia +Clifford amazed, and Walter Clifford aghast, at his vindictive fury. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +THE SERPENT LET LOOSE. + + +Walter Clifford was so distressed at this outburst, and the prospect of +actual litigation between his father and his sweetheart's father, that +Julia Clifford pitied him, and, after thinking a little, said she would +stop it for the present. She then sat down, and in five minutes the +docile pen of a female letter-writer produced an ingratiating composition +impossible to resist. She apologized for her apparent insincerity, but +would be candid, and confide the whole truth to Mr. Bell. Then she told +him that Colonel Clifford "had only just been saved from death by a +miracle, and a relapse was expected in case of any great excitement or +irritation, such as a doubtful lawsuit with a gentleman he disliked would +certainly cause. The proposed litigation was, _for various reasons_, most +distressing to his son and successor, Walter Clifford, and would Mr. Bell +be so very kind as to put the question off as long as possible by any +means he thought proper?" + +Walter was grateful, and said, "What a comfort to have a lady on +one's side!" + +"I would rather have a gentleman on mine," said Julia, laughing. + +Mr. Bell wrote a discreet reply. He would wait till the Assizes--six +weeks' delay--and then write to the Colonel, postponing his visit. This +he did, and promised to look up cases meantime. + +But these two allies not only baffled their irascible chief; they also +humored him to the full. They never mentioned the name of Bartley, and +they kept Percy Fitzroy out of sight in spite of his remonstrances, and, +in a word, they made the Colonel's life so smooth that he thought he was +going to have his own way in everything, and he improved in health and +spirits; for you know it is an old saying, "Always get your own way, and +you'll never die in a pet." + +And then what was still a tottering situation was kept on its legs by the +sweet character and gentle temper of Mary Bartley. + +We have already mentioned that she was superior to most women in the +habit of close attention to whatever she undertook. This was the real key +to her facility in languages, history, music, drawing, and calisthenics, +as her professor called female gymnastics. The flexible creature's limbs +were in secret steel. She could go thirty feet up a slack rope hand over +hand with wonderful ease and grace, and hang by one hand for ten minutes +to kiss the other to her friends. So the very day she was surprised into +consenting to marry Walter secretly she sat down to the Marriage Service +and learned it all by heart directly, and understood most of it. + +By this means she realized that now she had another man to obey as well +as her father. So now, when Walter pressed her for secret meetings, she +said, submissively, "Oh yes, if you insist." She even remarked that she +concluded clandestine meetings were the natural consequence of a +clandestine marriage. + +She used to meet her husband in the day when she could, and often for +five minutes under the moon. And she even promised to spend two or three +days with him at the lakes if a safe opportunity should occur. But for +that she stipulated that Mr. Hope must be absent. + +Walter asked her why she was more afraid of Mr. Hope than of her father. + +Her eyes seemed to look inward dimly, and at first she said she +didn't know. But after pondering the matter a little she said, +"Because he watches me more closely than papa, and that is +because--You won't tell anybody?" + +"No." + +"Not a soul, upon your honor?" + +"Not a soul, dearest, upon my honor." + +"Well, then, because he loves me more." + +"Oh, come!" said Walter, incredulously. + +But Mary would neither resign her opinion nor pursue a subject which +puzzled and grieved her. + +We have now indicated the peaceful tenor of things in Derbyshire for a +period of some months. We shall have to show by-and-by that elements of +discord were accumulating under the surface; but at present we must leave +Derbyshire, and deal very briefly with another tissue of events, +beginning years ago, and running to a date three months, at least, ahead +of Colonel Clifford's recovery. The reader will have no reason to regret +this apparent interruption. Our tale hitherto has been rather sluggish; +but it is in narrative as it is in nature, when two streams unite their +forces the current becomes broader and stronger. + +Leonard Monckton was sent to Pentonville, and after some years +transferred to Portland. In both places he played the game of an old +hand; always kept his temper and carnied everybody, especially the +chaplain and the turnkeys. These last he treated as his only masters; and +if they gave him short weight in bread or meat, catch him making matters +worse by appealing to the governor! Toward the end of his time at +Pentonville he had some thought of suicide, but his spirits revived at +Portland, where he was cheered by the conversation of other villains. +Their name was legion; but as he never met one of them again, except Ben +Burnley, all those miscreants are happily irrelevant. And the reader need +not fear an introduction to them, unless he should find himself garroted +in some dark street or suburb, or his home rifled some dark and windy +night. As for Ben Burnley, he was from the North country, imprisoned for +conspiracy and manslaughter in an attack upon non-union miners. Toward +the end of his time he made an attack upon a warder, and got five years +more. Then Monckton showed him he was a fool, and explained to him his +own plan of conduct, and bade him observe how popular he was with the +warders, and reaped all the favor they dared to show him. + +"He treated me like a dog," said the man, sullenly. + +"I saw it," said Leonard. "And if I had been you I would have said +nothing, but waited till my time was out, and then watched for him till +he got his day out, and settled his hash. That is the way for your sort. +As for me, killing is a poor revenge; it is too soon over. Do you think I +don't mean to be revenged on that skunk Bartley, and, above all, on that +scoundrel Hope, who planted the swag in my pockets, and let me into this +hole for fourteen years?" Then, with all his self-command, he burst into +a torrent of curses, and his pale face was ghastly with hate, and his +eyes glared with demoniac fire, for hell raged in his heart. + +Just then a warder approached, and to Burnley's surprise, who did not see +him coming, Monckton said, gently, "And therefore, my poor fellow, do +just consider that you have broken the law, and the warders are only +doing their duty and earning their bread, and if you were a warder +to-morrow, you'd have to do just what they do." + +"Ay," said the warder, in passing, "you may lecture the bloke, but you +will not make a silk purse out of a sow's ear." + +That was true, but nevertheless the smooth villain Monckton obtained a +great ascendency over this rough, shock-headed ruffian Burnley, and he +got into no more scrapes. He finished his two sentences, and left before +Monckton. This precious pair revealed to each other certain passages in +their beautiful lives. Monckton's were only half-confidences, but Burnley +told Monckton he had been concerned with others in a burglary at +Stockton, and also in the death of an overseer in a mine in Wales, and +gave the particulars with a sort of quaking gusto, and washing his hands +nervously in the tainted air all the time. To be sure the overseer had +earned his fate; he had himself been guilty of a crime--he had been true +to his employer. + +The grateful Burnley left Portland at last, and promised faithfully to +send word to a certain friend of Monckton's, in London, where he was, +and what he was doing. Meantime he begged his way northward from +Portland, for the southern provinces were a dead letter to him. + +Monckton's wife wrote to him as often as the rules of the jail permitted, +and her letters were full of affection, and of hope that their separation +would be shortened. She went into all the details of her life, and it was +now a creditable one. Young women are educated practically in Germany; +and Lucy was not only a good scholar, and almost a linguist, but +excellent at all needlework, and, better still, could cut dresses and +other garments in the best possible style. After one or two inferior +places, she got a situation with an English countess; and from that time +she was passed as a treasure from one member of the aristocracy to +another, and received high stipends, and presents of at least equal +value. Being a German, she put by money, and let her husband know it. But +in the seventh year of her enforced widowhood her letters began to +undergo subtle changes, one after another. + +First there were little exhibitions of impatience. Then there were signs +of languor and a diminution of gush. + +Then there were stronger protestations of affection than ever. + +Then there were mixed with these protestations queries whether the +truest affection was not that which provided for the interests of the +beloved person. + +Then in the eighth year of Monckton's imprisonment she added to remarks +of the above kind certain confessions that she was worn out with +anxieties, and felt her lonely condition; that youth and beauty did not +last forever; that she had let slip opportunities of doing herself +substantial service, and him too, if he could look at things as coolly +now as he used to; and she began to think she had done wrong. + +This line once adopted was never given up, though it was accompanied +once or twice with passionate expressions of regret at the vanity of +long-cherished hopes. Then came a letter, or two more in which the fair +writer described herself as torn this way and that way, and not knowing +what to do for the best, and inveighed against Fate. + +Then came a long silence. + +Then came a short letter imploring him, if he loved her as she loved him, +to try and forget her, except as one who would always watch over his +interests, and weep for him in secret. + +"Crocodile!" said Monckton, with a cold sneer. + +All this showed him it was his interest not to lose his hold on her. So +he always wrote to her in a beautiful strain of faith, affection, and +constancy. + +But this part of the comedy was cut short by the lady discontinuing the +correspondence and concealing her address for years. + +"Ah!" said Monckton, "she wants to cure me. That cock won't fight, my +beauty. A month before he was let loose upon society came a surprise--a +letter from his wife, directing him to call at the office of a certain +solicitor in Serjeant's Inn, Fleet Street, when he would receive £50 upon +his personal receipt, and a similar sum from time to time, provided he +made no attempt to discover her, or in any way disturb her life. 'Oh, +Leonard,' said she, 'you ruined me once. Pray do not destroy me again. +You may be sure I am not happy; but I am in peace and comfort, and I am +old enough to know their value. Dear Leonard, I offer them both to you. +Pray, pray do not despise them, and, whatever you do, do not offend +against the law again. You see how strong it is.'" + +Monckton read this with calm indifference. He did not expect a woman to +give him a pension unconditionally, or without some little twaddle by way +of drawback. He called on the lawyer, and sent in his name. He was +received by the lawyer in person, and eyed very keenly. "I am directed +to call here for £50, sir," said he. + +"Yes, Mr. Monckton. I believe the payment is conditional." + +"No, sir; not the first £50. It is the future payments that are to depend +upon my conniving at my wife's infidelity;" and with that he handed him +the letter. + +The lawyer perused it, and said: "You are right, sir. The £50 shall be +paid to you immediately; but we must request you to consider that our +client is your friend, and acts by our advice, and that it will not be +either graceful or delicate to interpret her conduct to her discredit." + +"My good sir," said Monckton, with one of his cynical sneers, "every time +your client pays me £50, put on the receipt that black is white in +matters of conjugal morality, and I'll sign the whole acknowledgment." + +Finding he had such a serpent to deal with, the lawyer cut the dialogue +short, and paid the money. However, as Monckton was leaving, he said: +"You can write to us when you want any more, and would it be discreet of +me to ask where we can address you?" + +"Why not?" said Monckton. "I have nothing to conceal. However, all I can +tell you at present is that I am going to Hull to try and find a couple +of rogues." + +To Hull he went, breathing avarice and vengeance. This dangerous villain +was quite master of Bartley's secret, and Hope's. To be sure, when Hope +first discovered him in Bartley's office, he was puzzled at the sudden +interference of that stranger. He had only seen Hope's back until this, +and, moreover, Hope had been shabbily dressed in black cloth hard worn, +whereas he was in a new suit of tweed when he exposed Monckton's +villainy. But this was explained at the trial, and Monckton instructed +his attorney to cross-examine Hope about his own great fraud; but counsel +refused to do so, either because he disbelieved his client, or thought +such a cross-examination would be stopped, or set the court still more +against his client. + +Monckton raged at this, and, of course, said he had been bought by the +other side. But now he was delighted that his enemies' secret had never +been inquired into, and that he could fall on them both like a +thunder-bolt. + +He was at Hull next day, and rambled about the old shop, and looked in at +the windows. All new faces, and on the door-plate, "Atkinson & Co." + +Then he went in, and asked for Mr. Bartley. + +Name not known. + +"Why, he used to be here. I was in his employ." + +No; nobody knew Mr. Bartley. + +Could he see Mr. Atkinson? + +Certainly. Mr. Atkinson would be there at two o'clock. + +Monckton, after some preamble, asked whether he had not succeeded in this +business to Mr. Robert Bartley. + +No. He had bought the business from Mrs. Duplex, a widow residing in this +town, and he happened to know that her husband had taken it from +Whitaker, a merchant at Boston. + +"Is he alive, sir?" + +"I believe so, and very well known." + +Monckton went off to Whitaker, and learned from him that he had bought +the business from Bartley, but it was many years ago, and he had never +heard of the purchaser since that day. + +Monckton returned to London baffled. What was he to do? Go to a +secret-inquiry office? Advertise that if Mr. Robert Bartley, late of +Hull, would write to a certain agent, he would hear of something to his +advantage? He did not much fancy either of these plans. He wanted to +pounce on Bartley, or Hope, or both. + +Then he argued thus: "Bartley has got lots of money now, or he would not +have given up business. Ten to one he lives in London, or visits it. I +will try the Park." + +Well, he did try the Park, both at the riding hour and the driving hour. +He saw no Bartley at either time. + +But one day in the Lady's Mile, as he listlessly watched the carriages +defile slowly past him, with every now and then a jam, there crawled +past him a smart victoria, and in it a beautiful woman with glorious +dark eyes, and a lovely little boy, the very image of her. It was his +wife and her son. + +Monckton started, but the lady gave no sign of recognition. She bowed, +but it was to a gentleman at Monckton's side, who had raised his hat to +her with marked respect. + +"What a beautiful crechaar!" said a little swell to the gentleman in +question. "You know her?" + +"Very slightly." + +"Who is she? A duchess?" + +"No; a stock-broker's wife, Mrs. Braham. Why, she is a known beauty." + +That was enough for Monckton. He hung back a little, and followed the +carriage. He calculated that if it left the Park at Hyde Park corner, or +the Marble Arch, he could take a hansom and follow it. + +When the victoria got clear of the crowd at the corner, Mrs. Braham +leaned forward a moment and whispered a word to her coachman. Instantly +the carriage dashed at the Chesterfield Gate and into Mayfair at such a +swift trot that there was no time to get a cab and keep it in sight. + +Monckton lighted a cigarette. "Clever girl!" said he, satirically. "She +knew me, and never winked." + +The next day he went to the lawyer and said, "I have a little favor to +ask you, sir." + +The lawyer was on his guard directly, but said nothing. + +"An interview--in this office--with Mrs. Braham." + +The lawyer winced, but went on his guard again directly. + +"Client of ours?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Braham? Braham?" said the lawyer, affecting to search the caverns of +professional memory. + +"Stock-broker's wife." + +"Where do they live?" + +"What! don't you know? Place of _business_--Threadneedle Street. Place of +_bigamy_--Portman Square." + +"I have no authority to grant a personal interview with any such person." + +"But you have no power to hinder one, and it is her interest the meeting +should take place here, and the stock-broker be out of it." + +The lawyer reflected. + +"Will you promise me it shall be a friendly interview? You will never go +to her husband?" + +"Her stock-broker, you mean. Not I. If she comes to me here when I +want her." + +"Will that be often?" + +"I think not. I have a better card to play than Mrs. Braham. I only want +her to help me to find certain people. Shall we say twelve o'clock +to-morrow?" + +The lawyer called on Mrs. Braham, and after an agitated and tearful +interview, persuaded her to keep the appointment. + +"Consider," said he, "what you gain by making our office the place of +meeting. Establish that at once. It's a point of defense." + +The meeting took place in the lawyer's private room, and Mrs. Braham was +so overcome that she nearly fainted. Then she was hysterical, and finally +tears relieved her. + +When she came to this point, Monckton, who had looked upon the whole +exhibition as a mere preliminary form observed by females, said, + +"Come, Lucy, don't be silly. I am not here to spoil your little game, but +to play my own. The question is, will you help me to make my fortune?" + +"Oh, that I will, if you will not break up my home." + +"Not such a fool, my dear. Catch me killing a milk-cow! You give me a +percentage on your profits, and I'm dumb." + +"Then all you want is more money?" + +"That is all; and I shall not want that in a month's time." + +"I have brought £100, Leonard," she said, timidly. + +"Sensible girl. Hand it over." + +Two white hands trembled at the strings of a little bag, and took out ten +crisp notes. + +Leonard took them with satisfaction. + +"There," said he. "This will last me till I have found Bartley and Hope, +and made my fortune." + +"Hope!" said Mrs. Braham. "Oh, pray keep clear of him! Pray don't attack +_him_ again. He is such an able man!" + +"I will not attack him again to be defeated. Forewarned, forearmed. +Indeed, if I am to bleed Bartley, I don't know how I can be revenged on +Hope. _That is the cruel thing_. But don't you trouble about my business, +Lucy, unless," said he, with a sneer, "you can tell me where to find +them, and so save me a lot of money." + +"Well, Leonard," said Lucy, "it can't be so very hard to find Hope. You +know where that young man lives that you--that I--" + +"Oh, Walter Clifford! Yes, of course I know where _he_ lives. At Clifford +Hall, in Derbyshire." + +"Well, Leonard, Hope saved him from prison, and ruined you. That young +man had a good heart. He would not forget such a kindness. He may not +know where Mr. Bartley lives, but surely he will know where Hope is." + +"Lucy," said Leonard, "you are not such a fool as you were. It is a +chance, at all events. I'll go down to that neighborhood directly. I'll +have a first-rate disguise, and spy about, and pick up all I can." + +"And you will never say anything or do anything to--Oh, Leonard, I'm +a bad wife. I never can be a good one now to anybody. But I'm a good +mother; and I thought God had forgiven me, when he sent me my little +angel. You will never ruin his poor mother, and make her darling +blush for her!" + +"Curse me if I do!" said Leonard, betrayed into a moment's warmth. But he +was soon himself again. "There," said he, "I'll leave the little bloke my +inheritance. Perhaps you don't know I'm heir to a large estate in +Westmoreland; no end of land, and half a lake, _and only eleven lives +between the estate and me_. I will leave my 'great expectations' to that +young bloke. What's his Christian name?" + +"Augustus." + +"And what's his father's name?" + +"Jonathan." + +Leonard then left all his property, real and personal, and all that +should ever accrue to him, to Augustus Braham, son of Jonathan Braham, +and left Lucy Braham sole executrix and trustee. + +Then he hurried into the outer office, signed this document, and got it +witnessed. The clerks proposed to engross it. + +"What for?" said he. "This is the strongest form. All in the same +handwriting as the signature; forgery made easy are your engrossed +wills." + +He took it in to Mrs. Braham, and read it to her, and gave it her. He +meant it all as a joke; he read it with a sneer. But the mother's heart +over-flowed. She put it in her bosom, and kissed his hand. + +"Oh, Leonard," said she, "God bless you! Now I see you mean no ill to me +and mine. _You don't love me enough to be angry with me_. But it all +comes back to _me_. A woman can't forget her first. Now promise me one +thing; don't give way to revenge or avarice. You are so wise when you are +cool, but no man can give way to his passions and be wise. Why run any +more risks? He is liberal to me, and I'm not extravagant. I can allow you +more than I said, and wrong nobody." + +Monckton interrupted her, thus: "There, old girl, you are a good sort; +you always were. But not bleed that skunk Bartley, and not be revenged on +that villain Hope? I'd rather die where I stand, for they have turned my +blood to gall, and lighted hell in my heart this many a year of misery." + +He held out his hand to her; it was cold. She grasped it in her warm, +soft palm, and gave him one strange, searching look with her glorious +eyes; and so they parted. + +Next day, at dusk, there arrived at the Dun Cow an elderly man with a +large carpet-bag and a strapped bundle of patterns--tweed, kersey, +velveteen, and corduroys. He had a short gray mustache and beard, very +neat; and appeared to be a commercial traveller. + +In the evening he asked for brandy, old rum, lemons, powdered sugar, a +kettle, and a punch-bowl. A huge one, relic of a past age, was produced. +He mixed delicious punch, and begged the landlady to sit down and taste +it. She complied, and pronounced it first-rate. He enticed her into +conversation. + +She was a rattling gossip, and told him first her own grievances. Here +was the village enlarging, and yet no more custom coming to her because +of the beer-house. The very mention of this obnoxious institution moved +her bile directly. "A pretty gentleman," said she, "to brew his own beer +and undersell a poor widow that have been here all her days and her +father before her! But the Colonel won't let me be driven out altogether, +no more will Mr. Walter: he do manage for the old gentleman now." + +Monckton sipped and waited for the name of Hope, but it did not come. +The good lady deluged him with the things that interested her. She was +to have a bit of a farm added on to the Dun Cow. It was to be grass +land, and not much labor wanted. She couldn't undertake that; was it +likely? But for milking of cows and making butter or cheese, that she +was as good at as here and there one; and if she could have the custom +of the miners for her milk. "But, la, sir," said she, "I'll go bail as +that there Bartley will take and set up a dairy against me, as he have a +beer shop." + +"Bartley?" said Monckton, inquiringly. + +"Ay, sir; him as owns the mine, and the beer shop, and all, worse +luck for me." + +"Bartley? Who is he?" + +"Oh, one of those chaps that rise from nothing nowadays. Came here to +farm; but that was a blind, the Colonel says. Sunk a mine, he did, and +built a pit village, and turns everything into brass [money]. But there, +you are a stranger, sir; what is all this to you?" + +"Why, it is very interesting," said Monckton. "Mistress, I always like to +hear the whole history of every place I stop at, especially from a +sensible woman like you, that sees to the bottom of things. Do have +another glass. Why, I should be as dull as ditch-water, now, if I had not +your company." + +"La, sir, I'm sure you are welcome to my company in a civil way; and for +the matter of that you are right; life is life, and there's plenty to be +learned in a public--do but open your eyes and ears." + +"Have another glass with me. I am praised for my punch." + +"You deserve it, sir. Better was never brewed." + +She sipped and sipped, and smacked her lips, till it was all gone. + +This glass colored her cheeks, brightened her eyes, and even loosened her +tongue, though that was pretty well oiled by nature. + +"Well, sir," said she, "you are a bird of passage, here to-day and gone +to-morrow, and it don't matter much what I tell you, so long as I don't +tell no lies. _There will be a row in this village_." + +Having delivered this formidable prophecy, the coy dame pushed her glass +to her companion for more, and leaning back cozily in the old-fashioned +high-backed chair, observed the effect of her thunder-bolt. + +Monckton rubbed his hands. "I'm glad of it," said he, genially; "that is +to say, provided my good hostess does not suffer by it." + +"I'm much beholden to you, sir," said the lady. "You are the +civilest-spoken gentleman I have entertained this many a day. Here's your +health, and wishing you luck in your business, and many happy days well +spent. My service to you, sir." + +"The same to you, ma'am." + +"Well, sir, in regard to a row between the gentlefolks--not that I call +that there Bartley one--judge for yourself. You are a man of the world +and a man of business, and an elderly man apparently." + +"At all events, I am older than you, madam." + +"That is as may be," said Mrs. Dawson, dryly. "We hain't got the parish +register here, and all the better for me. So once more I say, judge for +yourself." + +"Well, madam," said Monckton, "I will try, if you will oblige me with +the facts." + +"That is reasonable," said Mrs. Dawson, loftily, but after some little +consideration. "The facts I will declare, and not a lie among 'em." + +"That will be a novelty," thought her cynical hearer, but he held his +tongue, and looked respectfully attentive. + +"Colonel Clifford," said Mrs. Dawson, "hates Bartley like poison, and +Bartley him. The Colonel vows he will have him off the land and out +of the bowels of the earth, and he have sent him a lawyer's letter; +for everything leaks out in this village, along of the servants' +chattering. Bartley he don't value a lawyer's letter no more than +that. He defies the Colonel, and they'll go at it hammer and tongs at +the 'Sizes, and spend a mint of money in law. That's one side of the +question. But there's another. Master Walter is deep in love with +Miss Mary." + +"Who is she?" + +"Who is she? Why, Bartley's daughter, to be sure; not as I'd believe it +if I hadn't known her mother, for she is no more like him in her looks or +her ways than a tulip is to a dandelion. She is the loveliest girl in the +county, and better than she's bonny. You don't catch _her_ drawing bridle +at her papa's beer-house, and she never passes my picture. It's 'Oh, Mrs. +Dawson, I _am_ so thirsty, a glass of your good cider, please, and a +little hay and water for Deersfoot.' That's her way, bless your silly +heart! _She_ ain't dry; and Deersfoot, he's full of beans, and his coat's +like satin; but that's Miss Mary's way of letting me know that she's my +customer, and nobody else's in the town. God bless her, and send her many +happy days with the man of her heart, and that is Walter Clifford, for +she is just as fond of him as he is of her. I seen it all from the first +day. 'Twas love at first sight, and still a-growing to this day. Them old +fogies may tear each other to pieces, but they won't part such lovers as +those. There's not a girl in the village that doesn't run to look at +them, and admire them, and wish them joy. Ay, and you mark my words, they +are young, but they have got a spirit, both of them. Miss Mary, she looks +you in the face like a lion and a dove all in one. They may lead her, but +they won't drive her. And Walter, he's a Clifford from top to toe. +Nothing but death will part them two. Them's the facts, sir, without a +lie, which now I'm a-waiting for judgment." + +"Mrs. Dawson," said Monckton, solemnly, "since you do me the honor to ask +my opinion, I say that out of these facts a row will certainly arise, and +a deadly one." + +"It must, sir; and Will Hope will have to take a side. 'Tis no use his +trying to be everybody's friend this time, though that's his natural +character, poor chap." + +Monckton's eyes flashed fire, but he suppressed all appearance of +excitement, and asked who Mr. Hope was. + +Mrs. Dawson brightened at the very name of her favorite, and said, "Who +is Will Hope? Why, the cleverest man in Derbyshire, for one thing; but he +is that Bartley's right-hand man, worse luck. He is inspector of the mine +and factotum. He is the handiest man in England. He invents machines, and +makes fiddles and plays 'em, and mends all their clocks and watches and +wheel-barrows, and charges 'em naught. He makes hisself too common. I +often tell him so. Says I, 'Why dost let 'em all put on thee so? Serve +thee right if I was to send thee my pots and pans to mend.' 'And so do,' +says he, directly. 'There's no art in it, if you can make the sawder, and +I can do that, by the Dick and Harry!' And one day I said to him, 'Do +take a look at this fine new cow of mine as cost me twenty-five good +shillings and a quart of ale. What ever is the matter with her? She looks +like the skin of a cow flattened against the board.' So says he, 'Nay, +she's better drawn than nine in ten; but she wants light and shade. Send +her to my workshop.' 'Ay, ay,' says I; 'thy workshop is like the +church-yard; we be all bound to go there one day or t'other.' Well, sir, +if you believe me, when they brought her home and hung her again she +almost knocked my eye out. There was three or four more women looking on, +and I mind all on us skreeked a bit, and our hands went up in the air as +if one string had pulled the lot; and says Bet Morgan, the carter's wife, +'Lord sake, gie me a bucket somebody, and let me milk her!' 'Nay, but +thou shalt milk me,' said I, and a pint of fourpenny I gave her, then and +there, for complimenting of my cow. Will Hope, he's everybody's friend. +He made the Colonel a crutch with his own hands, which the Colonel can +use no other now. Walter swears by him. Miss Mary dotes on him: he saved +her life in the river when she was a girl. The very miners give him a +good word, though he is very strict with them; and as for Bartley, it's +my belief he owes all his good luck to Will Hope. And to think he was +born in this village, and left it a poor lad; ay, and he came back here +one day as poor as Job, seems but t'other day, with his bundle on his +back and his poor little girl in his hand. I dare say I fed them both +with whatever was going, poor bodies." + +"What was she like?" + +"A poor little wizened thing. She had beautiful golden hair, though." + +"Like Miss Bartley's?" + +"Something, but lighter." + +"Have you ever seen her since?" + +"No; and I never shall." + +"Who knows?" + +"Nay, sir. I asked him after her one day when he came home for good. He +never answered me, and he turned away as if I had stung him. She has +followed her mother, no doubt. And so now she is gone he's well-to-do; +and that is the way of it, sir. God sends mouths where there is no meat, +and meat where there's no mouths. But He knows best, and sees both worlds +at once. We can only see this one--that's full of trouble." + +Monckton now began to yawn, for he wanted to be alone and think over the +schemes that floated before him now. + +"You are sleepy, sir," said Mrs. Dawson. "I'll go and see your bed is +all right." + +He thanked her and filled her glass. She tossed it off like a man this +time, and left him to doze in his chair. + +Doze, indeed! Never did a man's eyes move to and fro more restlessly. +Every faculty was strung to the utmost. + +At first as all the _dramatis personae_ he was in search of came out one +after another from that gossip's tongue, he was amazed and delighted to +find that instead of having to search for one of them in one part of +England, and another in another, he had got them all ready to his hand. +But soon he began to see that they were too near each other, and some of +them interwoven, and all the more dangerous to attack. + +He saw one thing at a glance. That it would be quite a mistake to settle +a plan of action. That is sometimes a great advantage in dealing with the +unguarded. But it creates a stiffness. Here all must be supple and fitted +with watchful tact to the situation as it rose. Everything would have to +be shot flying. + +Then as to the immediate situation, Reader, did ever you see a careful +setter run suddenly into the middle of a covey who were not on their feet +nor close together, but a little dispersed and reposing in high cover in +the middle of the day? No human face is ever so intense or human form +more rigid. He knows that one bird is three yards from his nose, another +the same distance from either ear, and, in short, that they are all about +him, and to frighten one is to frighten all. + +His tail quivers, and then turns to steel, like his limbs. His eyes +glare; his tongue fears to pant; it slips out at one side of his teeth +and they close on it. Then slowly, slowly, he goes down, noiseless as a +cat, and crouches on the long covert, whether turnips, rape, or clover. + +Even so did this designing cur crouch in the Dun Cow. + +The loyal quadruped is waiting for his master, and his anxiety is +disinterested. The biped cur was waiting for the first streak of dawn to +slip away to some more distant and safe hiding-place and sally-port than +the Dun Cow, kept by a woman who was devoted to Hope, to Walter, and to +Mary, and had all her wits about her--mother-wit included. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE SERPENT. + + +Monckton slipped away at the dawn, and was off to Derby to prepare +first-rate disguises. + +At Derby, going through the local papers, he found lodgings offered at a +farm-house to invalids, fresh milk and eggs, home-made bread, etc. The +place was within a few miles of Clifford Hall. Monckton thought this +would suit him much better than being too near. When his disguises were +ready, he hired a horse and dog-cart by the month, and paid a deposit, +and drove to the place in question. He put some shadow under his eyes to +look more like an invalid. He had got used to his own cadaverous tint, so +that seemed insufficient. + +The farmer's wife looked at him, and hesitated. + +"Well, sir," said she, with a blush, "we takes 'em in to cure, not to--" + +"Not to bury," said Monckton. "Don't you be alarmed. I have got no time +to die; I'm too busy. Why, I have been much worse than this. I am +convalescent now." + +"Ye don't say so, sir!" said she. "Well, I see your heart is good" (the +first time he had ever been told that), "and so I've a mind to risk it." + +Then she quickly clapped on ten shillings a week more for color, and he +was installed. He washed his face, and then the woman conceived hopes of +him, and expressed them in rustic fashion. "Well," said she, "dirt is a +disguise. Now I look at you, you have got more mischief to do in the +world yet, I do believe." + +"A deal more, I hope," said he. + +It now occurred to him, all of a sudden, that really he was not in good +health, and that he had difficulties before him which required calm +nerves, and that nerves are affected by the stomach. So, not to throw a +chance away, he had the sense and the resolution to devote a few days to +health and unwholesome meditation. + +This is a discordant world: even vices will not always pull the same +way. Here was a sinister villain distracted between avarice and revenge, +and sore puzzled which way to turn. Of course he could expose the real +parentage of Mary Bartley, and put both Bartley and Hope to shame, and +then the Cliffords would make Bartley disgorge the £20,000. But he, +Monckton, would not make a shilling by that, and it would be a weak +revenge on Bartley, who could now spare £20,000, and no revenge at all on +Hope, for Hope was now well-to-do, and would most likely be glad to get +his daughter back. Then, on the other hand, he could easily frighten +Bartley into giving him £5000 to keep dark, but in that case he must +forego his vengeance on Hope. + +This difficulty had tormented Monckton all along; but now Mrs. Dawson had +revealed another obstacle. Young Clifford and Mary in love with each +other. What Mrs. Easton saw as a friend, with her good mother-wit, this +man saw in a moment as an enemy, viz., that this new combination dwarfed +the £20,000 altogether. Monckton had no idea that his unknown antagonist +Nurse Easton had married the pair, but the very attachment, as the +chatter-box of the Dun Cow described it, was a bitter pill to him. "Who +could have foreseen this?" said he. "It's devilish." We did not ourselves +intend our readers to feel it so, or we would not have spent so much time +over it. But as regards that one adjective, Mr. Monckton is a better +authority than we are. He had a document with him that, skillfully used, +might make mischief for a time between these lovers. But he foresaw there +could be no permanent result without the personal assistance of Mrs. +Braham. That he could have commanded fourteen years ago, but now he felt +how difficult it would be. He would have to threaten and torment her +almost to madness before she would come down to Derbyshire and declare +that this Walter Clifford was the Walter Clifford of the certificate, and +that she was his discarded wife. But Monckton was none the less resolved +she should come if necessary. Leaving him _varius distractum vitiis_, and +weighing every scheme, with its pros and cons, and, like a panther +crouching and watching before he would make his first spring, we will now +bring our other characters up to the same point, and that will not take +us long, for during the months we have skipped there were not many +events, and Mrs. Dawson has told the readers some of them, and the rest +were only detached incidents. + +The most important in our opinion were: + +1. That Colonel Clifford resumed his determination to marry Julia +Clifford to Walter, and pooh-poohed Fitzroy entirely, declaring him to be +five feet nothing, and therefore far below the military standard. + +2. That Hope rented a cottage of Walter about three hundred yards +from the mine, and not upon the land that was leased to Bartley; that +there was a long detached building hard by, which Walter divided for +him, and turned into an office with a large window close to the +ground, and a workshop with a doorway and an aperture for a window, +but no window nor door. + +3. That Hope got more and more uneasy about the £20,000, and observed to +Bartley that they must be robbing _somebody_ of it without the excuse +they once had. He, for his part, would work to disgorge his share. +Bartley replied that the money would have gone to a convent if he had not +saved it from so vile a fate. This said the astute Bartley because one +day Hope, who had his opinions on everything, inveighed against a +convent, and said no private prisons ought to exist in a free country. So +Bartley's ingenious statement stunned Hope for a minute, but did not +satisfy his conscience. + +4. Hope went to London for a week, and Mary spent four days with her +husband at a hotel near the lake; but not the one held by Mrs. Easton's +sister. This change was by advice of Mrs. Easton. On this occasion Mary +played the woman. She requested Walter to get her some orange blossoms, +and she borrowed a diamond bracelet of Julia, and sat down to dinner with +her husband in evening dress, and dazzled him with her lovely arms and +bust, and her diamond bracelet and eyes that outshone it. She seemed ever +so much larger as well as lovelier, and Walter gazed at her with a sort +of loving awe, and she smiled archly at him, and it was the first time +she had really enjoyed her own beauty, or even troubled her head much +about it. They condensed a honey-moon into these four days, and came home +compensated for their patience, and more devoted than ever. But whilst +they were away Colonel Clifford fired his attorney at Mr. Bartley, and +when Mary came home, Bartley, who had lately connived at the love affair, +told Mary this, and forbade her strictly to hold any more intercourse +with Walter Clifford. + +This was the state of things when "the hare with many friends," and only +one enemy, returned to his cottage late in the afternoon. But before +night everybody knew he had come home, and next morning they were all at +him in due order. No sooner was he seated in his workshop, studying the +lines of a new machine he was trying to invent, than he was startled from +intense thought into the attitude of Hogarth's enraged musician by cries +of "Mr. Hope! Mr. Hope! Mr. Hope!" and there was a little lot of eager +applicants. First a gypsy boy with long black curls and continuous +genuflections, and a fiddle, and doleful complaints that he could not +play it, and that it was the fiddle's fault. + +"Well, it is for once," said Hope. "Why, you little duffer, don't you see +the bridge is too low?" + +He slackened the string, removed the bridge, fitted on a higher one, +tuned it, and handed it over. + +"There," said he, "play us one of the tunes of Egypt. 'The Rogue's +March,' eh? and mizzle." + +The supple Oriental grinned and made obeisances, pretended not to know +"The Rogue's March" (to the hen-house), and went off playing "Johnny +Comes Marching Home." (Bridewell to wit.) + +Then did Miss Clifford's French maid trip forward smirking with a parasol +to mend: _Désolée de vous déranger, Monsieur Hope, mais notre demoiselle +est au désespoir: oh, ces parasols Anglais_! + +"_Connu_," said Hope, "_voyons çà_;" and in a minute repaired the +article, and the girl spread it, and went off wriggling and mincing with +it, so that there was a pronounced horse-laugh at her minauderies. + +Then advanced a rough young English nurse out of a farm-house with a +child that could just toddle. She had left an enormous doll with Hope for +repairs, and the child had given her no peace for the last week. Luckily +the doll was repaired, and handed over. The mite, in whose little bosom +maternal feelings had been excited, insisted on carrying her child. The +consequence was that at about the third step they rolled over one +another, and to spectators at a little distance it was hard to say which +was the parent and which the offspring. Them the strapping lass in charge +seized roughly, and at the risk of dislocating their little limbs, tossed +into the air and caught, one on each of her own robust arms, and carried +them off stupidly irritated--for want of a grain of humor--at the +good-natured laugh this caused, and looking as if she would like to knock +their little heads together. + +Under cover of this an old man in a broad hat, and seemingly infirm, +crept slowly by and looked keenly at Hope, but made no application. Only +while taking stock of Hope his eyes flashed wickedly, and much too +brightly for so old a man as he appeared. He did not go far; he got +behind a tree, and watched the premises. Then a genuine old man and +feeble came and brought Hope his clock to mend. Hope wound it up, and it +went to perfection. The old man had been a stout fellow when Hope was a +boy, but now he was weak, especially in the upper story. Hope saw at +once that the young folk had sent him there for a joke, and he did not +approve it. + +"Gaffer," said he, "this will want repairing every eight days; but don't +you come here any more; I'll call on you every week, and repair it for +auld lang syne." + +Whilst he toddled away, and Hope retired behind his lathe to study his +model in peace, Monckton raged at the sight of him and his popularity. + +"Ay," said he, "you are a genius. You can model a steam-engine or mend a +doll, and you outwitted me, and gave me fourteen years. But you will find +me as ingenious as you at one thing, and that's revenge." + +And now a higher class of visitors began to find their way to the general +favorite. The first was a fair young lady of surpassing beauty. She +strolled pensively down the green turf, cast a hasty glance in at the +workshop, and not seeing Hope, concluded he was a little tired after his +journey, and had not yet arrived. She strolled slowly down then, and +seated herself in a large garden chair, stuffed, that Hope had made, and +placed there for Colonel Clifford. That worthy frequented the spot +because he had done so for years, and because it was a sweet turfy slope; +and there was a wonderful beech-tree his father had made him plant when +he was five years old. It had a gigantic silvery stem, and those giant +branches which die crippled in a beech wood but really belong to the +isolated tree, as one Virgil discovered before we were born. Mary Bartley +then lowered her parasol, and settled into the Colonel's chair under the +shade _patulae fagi_--of the wide-spreading beech-tree. + +She sat down and sighed. Monckton eyed her from his lurking-place, and +made a shrewd guess who she was, but resolved to know. + +Presently Hope caught a glimpse of her, and came forward and leaned out +of the window to enjoy the sight of her. He could do that unobserved, for +he was a long way behind her at a sharp angle. + +He was still a widower and this his only child, and lovely as an angel; +and he had seen her grow into ripe loveliness from a sick girl. He had +sinned for her and saved her; he had saved her again from a more terrible +death. He doted on her, and it was always a special joy to him when he +could gloat on her unseen. Then he had no need to make up an artificial +face and hide his adoration from her. + +But soon a cloud came over his face and his paternal heart. He knew she +had a lover; and she looked like a girl who was waiting pensively for +him. She had not come there for him whom she knew only as her devoted +friend. At this thought the poor father sighed. + +Mary's quick senses caught that, and she turned her head, and her sweet +face beamed. + +"You _are_ there, after all, Mr. Hope." + +Hope was delighted. Why, it was him she had come to see, after all. He +came down to her directly, radiant, and then put on a stiff manner he +often had to wear, out of fidelity to Bartley, who did not deserve it. + +"This is early for you to be out, Miss Bartley." + +"Of course it is," said she. "But I know it is the time of day when you +are kind to anybody that comes, and mend all their rubbish for them, and +I could kill them for their impudence in wasting your time so. And I am +as bad as the rest. For here I am wasting your time in my turn. Yes, dear +Mr. Hope, you are so kind to everybody and mend their things, I want you +to be kind to me and mend--my prospects for me." + +Hope's impulse was to gather into his arms and devour with kisses this +sweet specimen of womanly tenderness, frank inconsistency, naïveté, +and archness. + +As he could not do that, he made himself extra stiff. + +"Your prospects. Miss Bartley! Why, they are brilliant. Heiress to all +the growing wealth and power around you." + +"Wealth and power!" said the girl. "What is the use of them, if our +hearts are to be broken? Oh, Mr. Hope, papa is so unkind. He has +forbidden me to speak to him." Then, gravely, "That command comes +too late." + +"I fear it does," said Hope. "I have long suspected something." + +"Suspected?" said Mary, turning pale. "What?" + +"That you and Walter Clifford--" + +"Yes," said Mary, trembling inwardly, but commanding her face. + +"Are--engaged." + +Mary drew a long breath. "What makes you think so?" said she, +looking down. + +"Well, there is a certain familiarity--no, that is too strong a word; but +there is more ease between you than there was. Ever since I came back +from Belgium I have seen that the preliminaries of courtship were over, +and you two looked on yourselves as one." + +"Mr. Hope," said this good, arch girl, and left off panting, "you are +a terrible man. Papa is eyes and no eyes. You frighten me; but not +very much, for you would not watch me so closely if you did not love +me--a little." + +"Not a little, Miss Bartley." + +"Mary, please." + +"Mary. I have seen you a sickly child; I have been anxious--who would +not? I have seen you grow in health and strength, and every virtue." + +"And seen me tumble into the water and frighten you out of your senses, +and there's nothing one loves like a downright pest, especially if she +loves us; and I do love you, Mr. Hope, dearly, dearly, and I promise to +be a pest to you all your days. Ah, here he comes at last." She made two +eager steps to meet him, then she said, "Oh! I forgot," and came back +again and looked prodigiously demure and innocent. + +Walter came on with his usual rush, crying, "Mary, how good of you!" + +Mary put her fingers in her ears. "No, no, no; we are forbidden to +communicate." Then, imitating a stiff man of business--for she was a +capital mimic when she chose--"any communication you may wish to honor me +with must be addressed to this gentleman, Mr. Hope; he will convey it to +me, and it shall meet with all the attention it deserves." + +Walter laughed, and said, "That's ingenious." + +"Of course it is ingenuous," said Mary, subtly. "That's my character +to a fault." + +"Well, young people," said Hope, "I am not sure that I have time to +repeat verbal communications to keen ears that heard them. And I think I +can make myself more useful to you. Walter, your father has set his +lawyer on to Mr. Bartley, and what is the consequence? Mr. Bartley +forbids Mary to speak to you, and the next thing will be a summons, +lawsuit, and a great defeat, and loss to your father and you. Mr. Bartley +sent me the lawyer's letter. He hopes to get out of a clear contract by +pleading a surprise. Now you must go to the lawyer--it is no use arguing +with your father in his present heat--and you must assure him there has +been no surprise. Why, I called on Colonel Clifford years ago, and told +him there was coal on that farm; and I almost went on my knees to him to +profit by it." + +"You don't say that, Mr. Hope?" + +"I do say it, and I shall have to swear it. You may be sure Mr. Bartley +will subpoena me, if this wretched squabble gets into court." + +"But what did my father say to you?" + +"He was kind and courteous to me. I was poor as a rat, and dusty with +travel--on foot; and he was a fine gentleman, as he always is, when he is +not in too great a passion. He told me more than one land-owner had +wasted money in this county groping for coal. He would not waste his +money nor dirty his fingers. But he thanked me for my friendly zeal, and +rewarded me with ten shillings." + +"Oh!" cried Walter, and hid his face in his hands. As for Mary, she put +her hand gently but quietly on Hope's shoulder, as if to protect him from +such insults. + +"Why, children," said Hope, pleased at their sympathy, but too manly to +hunt for it, "it was more than he thought the information worth, and I +assure you it was a blessed boon to me. I had spent my last shilling, and +there I was trapesing across the island on a wild-goose chase with my +reaping-hook and my fiddle; and my poor little Grace, that I--that I--" + +Mary's hand went a moment to his other shoulder, and she murmured through +her tears, "You have got _me_." + +Then Hope was happy again, and indeed the simplest woman can find in a +moment the very word that is balm of Gilead to a sorrowful man. + +However, Hope turned it off and continued his theme. The jury, he said, +would pounce on that ten shillings as the Colonel's true estimate of his +coal, and he would figure in the case as a dog in the manger who grudged +Bartley the profits of a risky investment he had merely sneered at and +not opposed, until it turned out well; and also disregarded the interests +of the little community to whom the mine was a boon. "No," said Hope; +"tell your lawyer that I am Bartley's servant, but love equity. I have +proposed to Bartley to follow a wonderful seam of coal under Colonel +Clifford's park. We have no business there. So if the belligerents will +hear reason I will make Bartley pay a royalty on every ton that comes to +the surface from any part of the mine; and that will be £1200 a year to +the Cliffords. Take this to the lawyer and tell him to unfix that hero's +bayonet, or he will charge at the double and be the death of his own +money--and yours." + +Walter threw up his hands with amazement and admiration. "What a +head!" said he. + +"Fiddledee!" said Mary; "what a heart!" + +"In a word, a phoenix," said Hope, dryly. "Praise is sweet, especially +behind one's back. So pray go on, unless you have something better to +say to each other;" and Hope retired briskly into his office. But when +the lovers took him at his word, and began to strut up and down hand in +hand, and murmur love's music into each other's ears, he could not take +his eyes off them, and his thoughts were sad. She had only known that +young fellow a few months, yet she loved him passionately, and he would +take her away from her father before she even knew all that father had +done and suffered for her. When the revelation did come she would +perhaps be a wife and a mother, and then even that revelation would fall +comparatively flat. + +Besides his exceptional grief, he felt the natural pang of a father at +the prospect of resigning her to a husband. Hard is the lot of parents; +and, above all, of a parent with one child whom he adores. Many other +creatures love their young tenderly, and their young leave them. But then +the infancy and youth of those creatures are so short. In a few months +the young shift for themselves, forgetting and forgotten. But with our +young the helpless periods of infancy and youth are so long. Parental +anxiety goes through so many trials and so various, and they all strike +roots into the parent's heart. Yet after twenty years of love and hope +and fear comes a handsome young fellow, a charming highwayman to a +parent's eye, and whisks her away after two months' courtship. Then, oh, +ye young, curb for a moment your blind egotism, and feel a little for the +parents who have felt so much for you! You rather like William Hope, so +let him help you to pity your own parents. See his sad face as he looks +at the love he is yet too unselfish to discourage. To save that tender +root, a sickly child, he transplanted it from his own garden, and still +tended it with loving care for many a year. Another gathers the flower. +He watched and tended and trembled over the tender nestling. The young +bird is trying her wings before his eyes; soon she will spread them, and +fly away to a newer nest and a younger bosom. + +In this case, however, the young people had their troubles too, and their +pretty courtship was soon interrupted by an unwelcome and unexpected +visitor, who, as a rule, avoided that part, for the very reason that +Colonel Clifford frequented it. However, he came there to-day to speak to +Hope. Mr. Bartley, for he it was, would have caught the lovers if he had +come silently; but he was talking to a pitman as he came, and Mary's +quick ears heard his voice round the corner. + +"Papa!" cried she. "Oh, don't let him see us! Hide!" + +"Where?" + +"Anywhere--in here--quick!" and she flew into Hope's workshop, which +indeed offered great facilities for hiding. However, to make sure, they +crouched behind the lathe and a huge plank of beautiful mahogany Hope was +very proud of. + +As soon as they were hidden, Mary began to complain in a whisper. "This +comes of our clandestine m--. Our very life is a falsehood; concealment +is torture--and degradation." + +"I don't feel it. I call this good fun." + +"Oh, Walter! Good fun! For shame! Hush!" + +Bartley bustled on to the green, called Hope out, and sat down in Colonel +Clifford's chair. Hope came to him, and Bartley, who had in his hand some +drawings of the strata in the coal mine, handed the book to Hope, and +said, "I quite agree with you. That is the seam to follow: there's a +fortune in it." + +"Then you are satisfied with me?" + +"More than satisfied." + +"I have something to ask in return." + +"I am not likely to say no, my good friend," was the cordial reply. + +"Thank you. Well, then, there is an attachment between Mary and young +Clifford." + +Bartley was on his guard directly. + +"Her happiness is at stake. That gives me a right to interfere, and say, +'be kind to her.'" + +"Am I not kind to her? Was any parent ever kinder? But I must be wise as +well as kind. Colonel Clifford can disinherit his son." + +At this point the young people ventured to peep and listen, taking +advantage of the circumstance that both Hope and Bartley were at some +distance, with their backs turned to the workshop. + +So they both heard Hope say, + +"Withdraw your personal opposition to the match, and the other difficulty +can be got over. If you want to be kind to a young woman, it is no use +feeding her ambition and her avarice, for these are a man's idols. A +woman's is love." + +Mary wafted the speaker a furtive kiss. + +"To enrich that dear child after your death, thirty years hence, and +break her heart in the flower of her youth, is to be unkind to her; and +if you are unkind to her, our compact is broken." + +"Unkind to her," said Bartley. "What male parent has ever been more kind, +more vigilant? Sentimental weakness is another matter. My affection is +more solid. Can I oblige you in anything that is business?" + +"Mr. Bartley," said Hope, "you can not divert me from the more important +question: business is secondary to that dear girl's happiness. However, I +have more than once asked you to tell me who is the loser of that large +sum, which, as you and I have dealt with it, has enriched you and given +me a competence." + +"That's my business," said Bartley, sharply, "for you never fingered a +shilling of it. So if the pittance I pay you for conducting my business +burns your pocket, why, send it to Rothschild." + +And having made this little point, Bartley walked away to escape further +comment, and Hope turned on his heel and walked into his office, and out +at the back door directly, and proceeded to his duties in the mine; but +he was much displeased with Bartley, and his looks showed it. + +The coast lay clear. The lovers came cautiously out, and silently too, +for what they had heard puzzled them not a little. + +Mary came out first, and wore a very meditative look. She did not say a +word till they got to some little distance from the workshop. Then she +half turned her head toward Walter, who was behind her, and said, "I +suppose you know we have done a contemptible thing--listening?" + +"Well," said Walter, "it wasn't good form; but," added he, "we could +hardly help it." + +"Of course not," said Mary. "We have been guilty of a concealment that +drives us into holes and corners, and all manner of meannesses must be +expected to follow. Well, we _have_ listened, and I am very glad of it; +for it is plain we are not the only people who have got secrets. Now +tell me, please, what does it all mean?" + +"Well, Mary," said Walter, "to tell the truth, it is all Greek to +me, except about the money. I think I could give a guess where that +came from." + +"There, now!" cried Mary; "that is so like you gentlemen. +Money--money--money! Never mind the money part; leave that to take care +of itself. Can you explain what Mr. Hope said to papa about _me_? Mr. +Hope is a very superior man, and papa's adviser _in business_. But, after +all, he is in papa's employment. Papa _pays_ him. Then how comes he to +care more about my happiness than papa does--and say so?" + +"Why, you begged him to intercede." + +"Yes," said Mary, "but not to threaten papa; not to say, 'If you are +unkind to Mary, our compact is broken.'" + +Then she pondered awhile; then she turned to Walter, and said: + +"What sort of compact is that? A compact between a father and another +gentleman that a father shall not be unkind to his own daughter? Did you +ever hear of such a thing?" + +"I can't say I ever did." + +"Did you ever hear tell of such a thing?" + +"Well, now you put it to me, I don't think I ever did." + +"And yet you could run off about money. What's money! This compact is a +great mystery. It's my business from this hour to fathom that mystery. +Please let me think." + +Mary's face now began to show great power and intensity; her eyes seemed +to veil themselves, and to turn down their glances inward. + +Walter was struck with the intensity of that fair brow, those remarkable +eyes, and that beautiful face; they seemed now to be all strung up to +concert pitch. He kept silent and looked at his wife with a certain +reverence, for to tell the truth she had something of the Pythian +priestess about her, when she concentrated her whole mind on any one +thing in this remarkable manner. At last the oracle spoke: + +"Mr. Hope has been deceiving me with some good intention. He pretends to +be subservient to papa, but he is the master. How he comes to be master I +don't know, but so it is, Walter. If it came to a battle royal, Mr. Hope +would side, not with papa, but with me." + +"That's important, if true," said Walter, dryly. + +"It's true," said Mary, "and it's important." Then she turned suddenly +round on him. "How did you feel when you ran into that workshop, and we +both crouched, and hid like criminals or slaves?" + +"Well," said Walter, hanging his head, "to tell the truth, I took a comic +view of the business." + +"I can't do that," said Mary. "I respect my husband, and can't bear him +to hide from the face of any mortal man; and I am proud of my own love, +and indignant to think that I have condescended to hide it." + +"It is a shame," said Walter, "and I hope we sha'n't have to hide it +much longer. Oh, bother, how unfortunate! here's my father. What are +we to do?" + +"I'll tell you," said Mary, resolutely. "You must speak to him at once, +and win him over to our side. Tell him Julia is going to marry Percy +Fitzroy on the first of next month, then tell him all that Mr. Hope said +you were to tell the lawyer, and then tell him what you have made me +believe, that you love me better than your life, and that I love you +better still; and that no power _can_ part us. If you can soften him, Mr. +Hope shall soften papa." + +"But if he is too headstrong to be softened?" faltered Walter. + +"Then," said Mary, "you must defy my papa, and I shall defy yours." + +After a moment's thought she said: "Walter, I shall stay here till he +sees me and you together; then he won't be able to run off about his +mines, and his lawsuits, and such rubbishy things. His attention will be +attracted to our love, and so you will have it out with him, whilst I +retire a little way--not far--and meditate upon Mr. Hope's strange words, +and ponder over many things that have happened within my recollection." + +True to this policy, the spirited girl waited till Colonel Clifford came +on the green, and then made Walter as perfect a courtesy as ever graced a +minuet at the court of Louis le Grand. + +Walter took off his hat to her with chivalric grace and respect. Colonel +Clifford drew up in a stiff military attitude, which flavored rather of +the parade or the field of battle than the court either of the great +monarch or of little Cupid. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE SECRET IN DANGER. + + +"Hum!" said the Colonel, dryly; "a petticoat!" + +"Et cetera," suggested Walter, meekly; and we think he was right, for a +petticoat has never in our day been the only garment worn by females, +nor even the most characteristic: fishermen wear petticoats, and don't +wear bonnets. + +"Who is she, sir?" asked the grim Colonel. + +"Your niece, father," said Walter, mellifluously, "and the most beautiful +girl in Derbyshire." + +The Colonel snorted, but didn't condescend to go into the question +of beauty. + +"Why did my niece retire at sight of me?" was his insidious inquiry. + +"Well," said Walter, meekly, "the truth is, some mischief-making fool has +been telling her that you have lost all natural affection for your dead +sister's child." + +The stout Colonel staggered for a moment, snorted, and turned it off. +"You and she are very often together, it seems." + +"All the better for me," said Walter, stoutly. + +"And all the worse for me," retorted the Colonel. And as men gravitate +toward their leading grievance, he went off at a tangent, "What do you +think my feelings must be, to see my son, my only son, spooning the +daughter of my only enemy; of a knave who got on my land on pretense of +farming it, but instead of that he burrowed under the soil like a mole, +sir; and now the place is defiled with coal dust, the roads are black, +the sheep are black, the daisies and buttercups are turning black. +There's a smut on your nose, Walter. I forbid you to spoon his daughter, +upon pain of a father's curse. My real niece, Julia, is a lady and an +heiress, and the beauty of the county. She is the girl for you." + +"And how about the seventh commandment?" inquired Walter, putting his +hands in his pockets. + +"Oh," said the Colonel, indifferently, "you must mind your eye, like +other husbands. But in our walk of life it's the man's fault if the woman +falls out of the ranks." + +"That's not what I mean," said Walter. + +"What do you mean, then, if you mean anything at all?" + +"I mean this, father. She marries Percy Fitzroy in three weeks; so if I +fix my affections on her up to the date of the wedding, shall I not be +tempted to continue, and will not a foolish attachment to another man's +sweetheart end in a vicious attachment to another man's wife?" + +Once more was the Colonel staggered for a moment, and, oh--as the ladies +say--is it not gratifying to find that where honest reasons go for +nothing, humbug can obtain a moment's hearing? The Colonel admitted there +was something in that; but even humbug could not divert him long from +his mania. "The only thing to be done," said he, "is to cut him out +between this and then. Why, he stands five feet nothing." + +"That's the advantage he has over me," suggested Walter; "she is five +feet eight or thereabouts, so he is just the height of her heart." + +The Colonel burst out laughing. "You are no fool," said he; "that's the +second good thing you have said these three years. I forget what the +other was, but I remember it startled me at the time. You are a wit, and +you will cut out that manikin or you are no son of mine." + +"Don't say that, father," said Walter; "and cutting out, why, that's a +naval operation, not military. I am not the son of an admiral." + +"No equivocation, sir; the forces assist one another at a pinch." + +"How can I cut him out?--there's no room, he is tied to her apron +strings." + +"Untie him, then." + +At this moment, whether because Hope attracted everybody in the course of +the day, or because talking about people draws them to the place by some +subtle agency, who should appear in sight but Miss Julia Clifford, and +little Fitzroy wooing her so closely that really he did seem tied to her +apron strings. + +"There," said Walter, "now use your eyes, father; look at this amorous +pair. Do you really think it possible for a fellow to untie those two?" + +"Quite possible," said the Colonel. "Walter," said he, sententiously, +"there's a little word in the English language which is one of the +biggest. I will spell it to you, T--R--Y. Nobody knows what he can do +till he gives that word a fair trial. It was far more impossible to scale +the rock of Gibraltar; but our infantry did it; and there we are, with +all Europe grinding their teeth at us. What's a woman compared with +Gibraltar? However, as you seem to be a bit of a muff, I'll stand +sentinel whilst you cut him out." + +The Colonel then retired into a sort of ambuscade--at least he mingled +with a small clump of three Scotch firs, and stood amongst them so +rectilinear he might have passed for the fourth stump. Walter awaited the +arrival of the foe, but in a spirit which has seldom conducted men to +conquest and glory, for if the English infantry had deviated so far from +their insular habits as to admire the Spaniards, you may be sure that +Gibraltar rock at this day would be a part of the Continent, and not a +detached fragment of Great Britain. In a word, Walter, at sight of the +lovers, was suddenly seized with sentimental sympathy; they both seemed +to him so beautiful in their way. The man was small, but his heart was +not; he stuck to the woman like a man, and poured hot love into her ears, +and almost lost the impediment in his speech. The woman pretended to be +cooler, but she half turned her head toward him, and her half-closed eyes +and heightened color showed she was drinking every word. Her very gayety, +though it affected nonchalance, revealed happiness to such as can read +below the surface of her sex. The Colonel's treacherous ally, after +gazing at them with marked approval, and saying, "I couldn't do it better +myself," which was surely a great admission for a lover to make, slipped +quietly into Hope's workshop not to spoil sport--a juvenile idea which we +recommend to older persons, and to such old maids as have turned sour. +The great majority of old maids are match-makers, whatever cant may keep +saying and writing to the contrary. + +"No wonder at all," said Percy, who was evidently in the middle of some +amorous speech; "you are the goddess of my idolatry." + +"What ardent expressions you do use!" said Julia, smiling. + +"Of c-course I do; I'm over head and ears in love." + +Julia surveyed his proportions, and said, "That's not very deep." + +But Percy had got used to this kind of wit, and did not mind it now. +He replied with dignity: "It's as deep--as the ocean, and as +imp-per-t-t-tur-bable. Confound it! there's your cousin." + +"You are not jealous of him, Mr. Imperturbable, are you?" asked +Julia, slyly. + +"Jealous?" said Percy, changing color rather suspiciously; "certainly +not. Hang him!" + +Walter, finding he was discovered, and feeling himself in the way, came +out at the back behind them, and said, "Never mind me, you two; far be it +from me to deprive the young of their innocent amusements." + +Whilst making this little speech he was going off on the points of his +toes, intending to slip off to Clifford Hall, and tell his father that +both cutting out and untying had proved impossible, but, to his horror, +the Colonel emerged from his ambuscade and collared him. Then took place +two short contemporaneous dialogues: + +_Julia_. "I'd never marry a jealous man." + +_Percy_. "I never could be jealous. I'm above it. Impossible for a nature +like mine to be jealous." + +_Colonel Clifford._ "Well, why don't you cut him out?" + +_Walter_. "They seem so happy without it." + +_Colonel Clifford._ "You are a muff. I'll do it for you. Forward!" + +Colonel Clifford then marched down and seated himself in the chair Hope +had made for him. + +Julia saw him, and whispered Percy: "Ah! here's Uncle Clifford. He is +going to marry me to Walter. Never mind--you are not jealous." + +Percy turned yellow. + +"Well," said Colonel Clifford to all whom it might concern, "this +certainly is the most comfortable chair in England. These fools of +upholsterers never make the bottom of the chair long enough, but Mr. +Hope has made this to run under a gentleman's knees and support him. He's +a clever fellow. Julia, my dear, there's a garden chair for you; come and +sit down by me." + +Julia gave a sly look at Percy, and went to Colonel Clifford. She kissed +him on the forehead to soften the coming negative, and said: "To tell you +the truth, dear uncle, I have promised to go down a coal mine. See! I'm +dressed accordingly." + +"Go down a coal mine!" said the Colonel, contemptuously. "What fool put +that idea in your head?" + +Fitzroy strutted forward like a bantam-cock. "I did, sir. Coal is a very +interesting product." + +"Ay, to a cook." + +"To every English g-gentleman." + +"I disown that imputation for one." + +"Of being an English g-gentleman?" + +There was a general titter at this sly hit. + +"No, sir," said the Colonel, angrily--"of taking an interest in coal." + +"Well, but," said Percy, with a few slight hesitations, "not to t-take an +interest in c-coal is not to take an interest in the n-nation, for this +n-nation is g-great, not by its p-powerful fleet, nor its little b-b-bit +of an army--" + +A snort from the Colonel. + +"--nor its raw m-militia, but by its m-m-manufactures; these depend on +machines that are driven by steam-power, and the steam-engines are +coal-fed, and were made in coal-fed furnaces; our machines do the work of +five hundred million hands, and you see coal keeps them going. The +machinery will be imitated by other nations, but those nations can not +create coal-fields. Should those ever be exhausted, our ingenuity will be +imitated by larger nations, our territory will remain small, and we shall +be a second-rate power; so I say that every man who reads and thinks +about his own c--country ought to be able to say, 'I have been +d--d--down a coal mine.'" + +"Well," said the Colonel, loftily, "and can't you say you have been down +a coal mine? I could say that and sit here. Well, sir, you have been +reading the newspapers, and learning them off by heart as if they were +the Epistle and Gospel; of course _you_ must go down a coal mine; but if +you do, have a little mercy on the fair, and go down by yourself. In the +mean while, Walter, you can take your cousin and give her a walk in the +woods, and show her the primroses." + +Now Julia was surprised and pleased at Percy's good sense, and she did +not care whether he got it from the newspapers or where he got it from; +it was there; so she resisted, and said, coldly and firmly, "Thank you, +uncle, but I don't want the primroses, and Walter does not want me. Come, +Percy _dear_;" and so she marched off; but she had not gone many steps +before, having a great respect for old age, she ordered Percy, in a +whisper, to make some apology to her uncle. + +Percy did not much like the commission. However, he went back, and said, +very civilly, "This is a free country, but I am afraid I have been a +little too free in expressing my opinion; let me hope you are not +annoyed with me." + +"I am never annoyed with a fool," said the implacable Colonel. + +This was too much for any little man to stand. + +"That is why you are always on such good terms with yourself," said +Percy, as red as a turkey-cock. + +The Colonel literally stared with amazement. Hitherto it had been for him +to deliver bayonet thrusts, not to receive them. + +Julia pounced on her bantam-cock, and with her left hand literally pulled +him off the premises, and shook her right fist at him till she got him +out of sight of the foe; then she kissed him on both cheeks, and burst +out laughing; and, indeed, she was so tickled that she kept laughing at +intervals, whether the immediate subject of the conversation was grave or +gay. It is hard not to laugh when a very little fellow cheeks a very big +one. Even Walter, though he admired as well as loved his father, hung his +head, and his shoulders shook with suppressed risibility. Colonel +Clifford detected him in this posture, and in his wrath gave his chair a +whack with his staff that brought Master Walter to the position of a +private soldier when the drill-sergeant cries "ATTENTION!" + +"Did you hear that, sir?" said he. + +"I did," said Walter: "cheeky little beggar. But you know, father, you +were rather hard upon him before his sweetheart, and a little pot is +soon hot." + +"There was nothing to be hot about," said the Colonel, naively; "but that +is neither here nor there. You are ten times worse than he is. He is only +a prating, pedantic puppy, but you are a muff, sir, a most unmitigated +muff, to stand there mum-chance and let such an article as that carry off +the prize." + +"Oh, father," said Walter, "why will you not see that the prize is a +living woman, a woman with a will of her own, and not a French eagle, or +the figure-head of a ship? Now do listen to reason." + +"Not a word," said the Colonel, marching off. + +"But excuse me," said Walter, "I have another thing far more important to +speak to you about: this unhappy lawsuit." + +"That's no business of yours, and I don't want your opinion of it; +there is no more fight in you than there is in a hen-sparrow. I decline +your company and your pacific twaddle; I have no patience with a muff;" +and the Colonel marched off, leaving his son planted there, as the +French say. + +Walter, however, was not long alone; the interview had been watched +from a distance by Mary. She now stole noiselessly on the scene, and +laid her white hand upon her husband's shoulder before he was aware of +her. The sight of her was heaven to him, but her first question clouded +his happy face. + +"Well, dear, have you propitiated him?" + +Walter hung his head sorrowfully, and said hardly anything. + +"He has been blustering at me all the time, and insists upon my +cutting out Percy whether I can or not, and marrying Julia whether she +chooses or not." + +"Then we must do what I said. Indeed there is no other course. We must +own the truth; concealment and deceit will not mend our folly." + +"Oh, hang it, Mary, don't call it folly." + +"Forgive me, dear, but it was the height of folly. Not that I mean to +throw the blame on you--that would be ungenerous; but the truth is you +had no business to marry me, and I had no business to marry you. Only +think--me--Mary Bartley--a clandestine marriage, and then our going to +the lakes again, and spending our honey-moon together just like other +couples--the recklessness--the audacity! Oh, what happiness it was!" + +Walter very naturally pounced upon this unguarded and naive conclusion of +Mary's self-reproaches. "Yes," said he, eagerly; "let us go there again +next week." + +"Not next week, not next month, not next year, nor ever again until we +have told all the world." + +"Well, Mary," said Walter, "it's for you to command and me to obey. I +said so before, and I say so now, if you are not ashamed of me, how can I +be ashamed of you; you say the word, and I will tell my father at +dinner-time, before Julia Clifford and John Baker, and request them to +tell everybody they know, that I am married to a woman I adore, and there +is nobody I care for on earth as I do for her, and nothing I value +compared with her love and her esteem." + +Mary put her arm tenderly around her husband's neck; and now it was +with her as it is often with generous and tender-hearted women, when +all opposition to their wishes is withdrawn, they begin to see the +other side. + +"My dearest," said Mary, "I couldn't bear you to sacrifice your +prospects for me." + +"Why, Mary," said Walter, "what would my love be worth if it shrank from +self-sacrifice? I really think I should feel more pleasure than pain if I +gave up friends, kindred, hope, everything that is supposed to make life +pleasant for you." + +"And so would I for you," said Mary; "and oh, Walter, women have +presentiments, and something tells me that fate has great trials in store +for you or for me, perhaps for both. Yes, you are right, the true measure +of love must be self-sacrifice, and if there is to be self-sacrifice, oh, +let the self-sacrifice fall on me; for I can not think any man can love a +woman quite so deeply as I love you--my darling." + +He had only time to draw her sweet forehead to his bosom, whilst her arm +encircled his neck, when in came an ordinary love by way of contrast. + +Julia Clifford and Percy came in, walking three yards apart: Percy had +untied the apron strings without Walter's assistance. + +"Ah," said she, "you two are not like us. I am ashamed to interrupt you; +but they would not let us go down the mine without an order from Mr. +Hope. Really, I think Mr. Hope is king of this country. Not that we have +wasted our time, for he has been quarrelling with me all the way there +and back." + +"Oh, Mr. Fitzroy!" said Mary Bartley. + +"Miss Bartley," said Percy, very civilly, "I never q-q-quarrel, I merely +dis-distin-guished between right and wrong. I shall make you the judge. +I gave her a di-dia-mond br-bracelet which came down from my ancestors; +she did me the honor to accept it, and she said it should never leave her +day nor night." + +"Oh," cried Julia, "that I never did. I can not afford to stop my +circulation altogether; it's much too little." Then she flew at him +suddenly. "Your ancestors were pigmies." + +Percy drew himself up to his full height, and defied the insinuation. +"They were giants, in chain armor," said he. + +"What," said Julia, without a moment's hesitation, "the ladies? Or was it +the knights that wore bracelets?" + +Some French writer says, "The tongue of a woman is her sword," and Percy +Fitzroy found it so. He could no more answer this sudden thrust than he +could win the high leap at Lillie Bridge. He stood quivering as if a +polished rapier had really been passed clean through him. + +Mary was too kind-hearted to laugh in his face, but she could not help +turning her head away and giggling a little. + +At last Percy recovered himself enough to say, + +"The truth is you have gone and given it to somebody else." + +"Oh, you wicked--bad-hearted--you that couldn't be jealous!" + +By this time Percy was himself again, and said, with some reason, that +"invectives were not arguments. Produce the bracelet." + +"And so I can," said Julia, stoutly. "Give me time." + +"Oh," said Percy, "if it's a mere question of time, there is no more to +be said. You'll find the bracelet in time, and in time I shall feel once +more that confidence in you which induced me to confide to you as to +another self that precious family relic, which I value more than any +other material object in the world." Then Percy, whose character seemed +to have changed, retired with stiff dignity and an air of indomitable +resolution. + +Neither Julia nor Mary had ever seen him like that before. Julia was +unaffectedly distressed. + +"Oh, Mary, why did I ever lend it to you?" + +Now Mary knew very well where the bracelet was, but she was ashamed to +say; she stammered and said, "You know, dear, it is too small, much too +small, and my arm is bigger than yours." + +"There!" said Julia; "you have broken the clasp!" + +Mary colored up to the eyes at her own disingenuousness, and said, +hastily, "But I'll have it mended directly; I'll return it to-morrow at +the latest." + +"I shall be wretched till you do," said Julia, eagerly. "I suppose you +know what I want it for now?" + +"Why," said Mary, "of course I do: to soothe his wounded feelings." + +"Soothe _his_ feelings!" cried Julia, scornfully; "and how about mine? +No; the only thing I want it for now is to fling it in his face. His +soul is as small as his body: he's a little, mean, suspicious, jealous +fellow, and I'm very glad to have lost him." She flounced off all on +fire, looking six feet high, and got quite out of sight before she +began to cry. + +Then the truth came out. Mary, absorbed in conjugal bliss, had left it at +the hotel by the lakes. She told Walter. + +"Oh, hang it!" said Walter; "that's unlucky; you will never see it +again." + +"Oh yes, I shall," said Mary; "they are very honest people at that inn; +and I have written about it, and told them to keep it safe, unless they +have an opportunity of sending it." + +Walter reflected a moment. "Take my advice, Mary," said he. "Let me +gallop off this afternoon and get it." + +"Oh yes, Walter," said Mary. "Thank you so much. That will be the +best way." + +At this moment loud and angry voices were heard coming round the corner, +and Mary uttered a cry of dismay, for her discriminating ear recognized +both those voices in a moment. She clutched Walter's shoulder. + +"Oh, Walter, it's your father and mine quarrelling. How unfortunate that +they should have met! What shall we do?" + +"Hide in Hope's office. The French window is open." + +"Quick, then!" cried Mary, and darted into the office in a moment. Walter +dashed in after her. + +When she got safe into cover she began to complain. + +"This comes of concealment--we are always being driven into holes +and corners." + +"I rather like them with you," said the unabashed Walter. + +It matters little what had passed out of sight between Bartley and +Colonel Clifford, for what the young people heard now was quite enough to +make what Sir Lucius O'Trigger calls a very pretty quarrel. Bartley, +hitherto known to Mary as a very oily speaker, shouted at the top of his +voice in arrogant defiance, "You're not a child, are you? You are old +enough to read papers before you sign them." + +The Colonel shouted in reply, "I am old, sir, but I am old in honor. I +did not expect that any decent tradesman would slip a clause into a farm +lease conveying the minerals below the surface to a farmer. It was a +fraud, sir; but there's law for fraud. My lawyer shall be down on you +to-morrow. Your chimneys disgorge smoke all over my fields. You shall +disgorge your dishonest gains. I'll have you off my land, sir; I'll tear +you out of the bowels of the earth. You are a sharper and a knave." + +At this Bartley roared at him louder still, so that both the young people +winced as they crouched in the recess of the window. "You foul-mouthed +slanderer, I'll indict you for defamation, and give you twelve months in +one of her Majesty's jails." + +"No, you won't," roared the Colonel; "I know the law. My comments on +your character are not written and signed like your knavish lease; it's a +privileged communication--VILLAIN! there are no witnesses--SHARPER! By +Jupiter, there are, though!" + +He had caught sight of a male figure just visible at the side of +the window. + +"Who is it? MY SON!" + +"My DAUGHTER!" cried Bartley, catching sight of Mary. + +"Come out, sir," said the Colonel, no longer loudly, but trembling +with emotion. + +"Come here, Mary," said Bartley, sternly. + +At this moment who should open the back door of the office but +William Hope! + +"Walter," said the Colonel, with the quiet sternness more formidable than +all his bluster, "have not I forbidden you to court this man's daughter?" + +Said Bartley to Mary: "Haven't I forbidden you to speak to this +ruffian's son?" + +Then, being a cad who had lost his temper, he took the girl by the wrist +and gave her a rough pull across him that sent her effectually away from +Walter. She sank into the Colonel's seat, and burst out crying with +shame, pain, and fright. + +"Brute!" said the Colonel. But the thing was not to end there. Hope +strode in amongst them, with a pale cheek and a lowering brow as black as +thunder; his first words were, "Do YOU CALL YOURSELF A FATHER?" Not one +of them had ever seen Hope like that, and they all stood amazed, and +wondered what would come next. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +REMINISCENCES.--THE FALSE ACCUSER.--THE SECRET EXPLODED. + + +The secret hung on a thread. Hope, after denouncing Bartley, as we have +described, was rushing across to Mary, and what he would have said or +done in the first impulse of his wrath, who can tell? + +But the quick-witted Bartley took the alarm, and literally collared him. +"My good friend," said he, "you don't know the provocation. It is the +affront to her that has made me forget myself. Affronts to myself from +the same quarter I have borne with patience. But now this insolent man +has forbidden his son to court her, and that to her face; as if we wanted +his son or him. Haven't I forbidden the connection?" + +"We are agreed for once," said the Colonel, and carried his son off +bodily, sore against his will. + +"Yes," shrieked Bartley after him; "only _I_ did it like a gentleman, and +did not insult the young man to his face for loving my daughter." + +"Let me hear what Mary says," was Hope's reply. + +"Mr. Hope," said Mary, "did you ever know papa to be hard on me before? +He is vexed because he feels I am lowered. We have both been grossly +insulted, and he may well be in a passion. But I am very unhappy." And +she began to cry again. + +"My poor child," said Bartley, coaxingly, "talk it all over with Mr. +Hope. He may be able to comfort you, and, indeed, to advise me. For what +can I do when the man calls me a sharper, a villain, and a knave, before +his son and my daughter?" + +"Is it possible?" said Hope, beginning to relent a little. + +"It is true," replied Mary. + +Bartley then drew Hope aside, and said, "See what confidence I place in +you. Now show me my trust is not misplaced." Then he left them together. + +Hope came to Mary and said, tenderly, "What can I say or do to +comfort you?" + +Mary shook her head. "I asked you to mend my prospects; but you can't do +that. They are desperate. You can do nothing for me now but comfort me +with your kind voice. And mend my poor wrist--ha! ha! ha! oh! oh!" +(Hysterical.) + +"What?" cried Hope, in sudden alarm; "is it hurt? Is it sprained?" + +Mary recovered her composure. "Oh no," said she; "only twisted a little. +Papa was so rough." + +Hope went into a rage again. "Perdition!" cried he. "I'll go and end this +once for all." + +"You will do nothing of the kind," said the quick-witted girl. "Oh, Mr. +Hope, would you break my heart altogether, quarrelling with papa? Be +reasonable. I tell you he couldn't help it, that old monster insulted him +so. It hurts, for all that," said she, naively, and held him out a lovely +white wrist with a red mark on it. + +Hope inspected it. "Poor little wrist," said he. "I think I can cure it." +Then he went into his office for something to bind it with. + +But he had spoken those few words as one speaks to an afflicted child. +There was a mellow softness and an undisguised paternity in his +tones--and what more natural, the girl being in pain? + +But Mary's ear was so acute that these tones carried her out of the +present situation, and seemed to stir the depths of memory. She fell into +a little reverie, and asked herself had she not heard a voice like that +many years ago. + +She was puzzling herself a little over this when Hope returned with a +long thin band of white Indian cotton, steeped in water, and, taking her +hand gently, began to bind her wrist with great lightness and delicacy. +And as he bound it he said, "There, the pain will soon go." + +Mary looked at him full, and said, slowly, "I believe it will." Then, +very thoughtfully, "It did--before." + +These three simple words struck Hope as rather strange. + +"It did before?" said he, and stared at her. "Why, when was that?" + +Mary said, in a hopeless sort of way, "I don't know when, but long +before your time." + +"Before my time, Mary? What, are you older than me?" And he smiled +sweetly on her. + +"One would think not. But let me ask you a question, Mr. Hope?" + +"Yes, Mary." + +"Have you lived _two lives_?" + +Said Hope, solemnly, "I have lived through great changes, but only +one life." + +"Well, then," said Mary, "I have lived two; or more likely it was one +life, only some of it in another world--my other world, I mean." + +Hope left off binding her wrist, and said, "I don't understand you." But +his heart began to pant. + +The words that passed between them were now so strange that both their +voices sank into solemnity, and had an acute observer listened to them he +would have noticed that these two mellow voices had similar beauties, and +were pitched exactly in the same key, though there was, of course, an +octave between them. + +"Understand me? How should you? It is all so strange, so mysterious: I +have never told a soul; but I will tell you. You won't laugh at me?" + +"Laugh at you? Only fools laugh at what they don't understand. Why, Mary, +I hang on every word you say with breathless interest." + +"Dear Mr. Hope! Well, then, I will tell you. Sometimes in the silent +night, when the present does not glare at one, the past comes back to me +dimly, and I seem to have lived two lives: one long, one short--too +short. My long life in a comfortable house, with servants and carriages +and all that. My short life in different places; not comfortable places, +but large places; all was free and open, and there was always a kind +voice in my ear--like yours; and a tender touch--like yours." + +Hope was restraining himself with difficulty, and here he could not help +uttering a faint exclamation. + +To cover it he took her wrist again, and bending his head over it, he +said, almost in a whisper, "And the face?" + +Mary's eyes turned inward, and she seemed to scan the past. + +"The face?" said she--"the face I can not recall. But one thing I do +remember clearly. This is not the first time my wrist--yes--and it was my +right wrist too--has been bound up so tenderly. He did it for me in that +other world, just as you do in this one." + +Hope now thrilled all over at this most unexpected revelation. But though +he glowed with delight and curiosity, he put on a calm voice and manner, +and begged her to tell him everything else she could remember that had +happened in that other life. + +Finding him so serious, so sympathetic, and so interested, put this +remarkable girl on her mettle. She began to think very hard, and show +that intense power of attention she had always in reserve for great +occasions. + +"Then you must not touch me nor speak to me," said she. "The past is +such a mist." + +He obeyed, and left off binding her wrist; and now he literally hung upon +her words. + +Then she took one step away from him; her bright eyes veiled themselves, +and seemed to see nothing external, but looked into the recesses of the +brain. Her forehead, her hand, her very body, thought, and we must try, +though it is almost hopeless, to convey some faint idea of her manner and +her words. + +"Let--me--see." + +Then she paused. + +"I remember--WHITE SWANS." + +A pause. + +"Were they swans?" + +"Or ships?" + +"They floated down the river to the sea." + +She paused. + +"And the kind voice beside me said, 'Darling!' Papa never calls me +'darling.'" + +"Yes, yes," whispered Hope, almost panting. + +"'Darling, we must go with them to some other land, for we are poor.'" +She paused and thought hard. "Poor we must have been; very poor. I can +see that now that I am rich." She paused and thought hard. "But all was +peace and love. There were two of us, yet we seemed one." + +Then in a moment Mary left the past, her eyes resigned the film of +thought, and shone with the lustre of her great heart, and she burst at +once into that simple eloquence which no hearer of hers from John Baker +to William Hope ever resisted. "Ah! sweet memories, treasures of the +past, why are you so dim and wavering, and this hard world so clear and +glaring it seems cut out of stone? Oh, if I had a fairy's wand, I'd say, +'Vanish fine house and servants--vanish wealth and luxury and strife; and +you come back to me, sweet hours of peace--and poverty--and love.'" + +Her arms were stretched out with a grace and ardor that could embellish +even eloquence, when a choking sob struck her ear. She turned her head +swiftly, and there was William Hope, his hands working, his face +convulsed, and the tears running down his cheeks like the very rain. + +It was no wonder. Think of it! The child he adored, yet had parted with +to save her from dire poverty, remembered that sad condition to ask for +it back again, because of his love that made it sweet to her after all +these years of comfort. And of late he had been jealous, and saw, or +thought, he had no great place in her heart, and never should have. + +Ah, it is a rarity to shed tears of joy! The thing is familiarly spoken +of, but the truth is that many pass through this world of tears and never +shed one such tear. The few who have shed them can congratulate William +Hope for this blissful moment after all he had done and suffered. + +But the sweet girl who so surprised that manly heart, and drew those +heavenly tears, had not the key. She was shocked, surprised, distressed. +She burst out crying directly from blind womanly sympathy; and then she +took herself to task. "Oh, Mr. Hope! what have I done? Ah! I have +touched some chord of memory. Wicked, selfish girl, to distress you with +my dreams." + +"Distress me!" cried Hope. "These tears you have drawn from me are pearls +of memory and drops of balm to my sore, tried heart. I, too, have lived +and struggled in a by-gone world. I had a lovely child; she made me rich +in my poverty, and happy in my homelessness. She left me--" + +"Poor Mr. Hope!" + +"Then I went abroad, drudged in foreign mines, came home and saw my child +again in you. I need no fairy's wand to revive the past; you are my +fairy--your sweet words recall those by-gone scenes; and wealth, +ambition, all I live for now, vanish into smoke. The years themselves +roll back, and all is once more peace--and poverty--and love." + +"Dear Mr. Hope!" said Mary, and put her forehead upon his shoulder. + +After a while she said, timidly, "Dear Mr. Hope, now I feel I can trust +you with anything." Then she looked down in charming confusion. "My +reminiscences--they are certainly a great mystery. But I have another +secret to confide to you, if I am permitted." + +"Is the consent of some other person necessary?" + +"Not exactly necessary, Mr. Hope." + +"But advisable." + +Mary nodded her head. + +"Then take your time," said Hope. He took out his watch, and said: "I +want to go to the mine. My right-hand man reports that a ruffian has been +caught lighting his pipe in the most dangerous part after due warning. I +must stop that game at once, or we shall have a fatal accident. But I +will be back in half an hour. You can rest in my office if you are here +first. It is nice and cool." + +Hope hurried away on his errand, and Mary was still looking after him, +when she heard horses' feet, and up came Walter Clifford, escaped from +his father. He slipped off his horse directly at sight of Mary, and they +came together like steel and magnet. + +"Oh, Walter," said Mary, "we are not so unfortunate as we were just now. +We have a powerful friend. Where are you going in such hurry?" + +"That is a good joke. Why, did you not order me to the lakes?" + +"Oh yes, for Julia's bracelet. I forgot all about that." + +"Very likely; but it is not my business to forget your orders." + +"Dear Walter! But, dearest, things of more importance have happened since +then. We have been insulted. Oh, how we have been insulted!" + +"That we have," said Walter. + +"And nobody knows the truth." + +"Not yet." + +"And our secret oppresses me--torments me--degrades me." + +"Pray don't say that." + +"Forgive me. I can't help saying it, I feel it so bitterly. Now, dear, I +will walk a little way with you, and tell you what I want you to do this +very day; and you will be a darling, as you always are, and consent." + +Then Mary told how Mr. Hope had just shown her singular affection; next +she reminded him of the high tone Mr. Hope had taken with her father in +their hearing. "Why," said she, "there is some mysterious compact about +me between papa and him. I don't think I shall ever have the courage to +ask him about that compact, for then I must confess that I listened; but +it is clear we can depend upon Mr. Hope, and trust him. So now, dear, I +want you to indulge your little wife, and let me take Mr. Hope into our +confidence." + +To Mary's surprise and disappointment, Walter's countenance fell. + +"I don't know," said he, after a pause. "Unfortunately it's not Mr. +Bartley only that's against us." + +"Well, but, dear," said Mary, "the more people there are against us, the +more we need one powerful friend and champion. Now you know Mr. Hope is a +man that everybody loves and respects, even your father." + +Walter just said, gloomily, "I see objections, for all that; but do as +you please." + +Mary's tender heart and loving nature couldn't accept an unwilling +assent. She turned her eyes on Walter a little reproachfully. "That's the +way to make me do what you please." + +"I don't intend it so," said Walter. "When a husband and wife love each +other as we do, they must give in to each other." + +"That's not what we said at the altar." + +"Oh, the marriage service is rather one-sided. I promised very different +things to get you to marry me, and I mean to stand by them. If you are +impatient at all of this secrecy, tell Mr. Hope." + +"I can't now," said Mary, a little bitterly. + +"Why not, since I consent?" + +"An unwilling consent is no consent." + +"Mary, you are too tyrannical. How can I downright like a thing I don't +like? I yield my will to yours; there's a certain satisfaction in that. I +really can say no more." + +"Then say no more," said Mary, almost severely. + +"At all events give me a kiss at parting." + +Mary gave him that directly, but it was not a warm one. + +He galloped away upon his errand, and as she paced slowly back toward Mr. +Hope's office she was a good deal put out. What should she say to Mr. +Hope now? She could not defy Walter's evident wishes, and make a clean +breast of the matter. Then she asked herself what was Walter's +objection; she couldn't conceive why he was afraid to trust Mr. Hope. It +was a perfect puzzle to her. + +Indeed this was a most unfortunate dialogue between her and Walter, for +it set her mind speculating and guessing at Walter's mind, and thinking +all manner of things just at the moment when an enemy, smooth as the old +serpent, was watching for an opportunity to make mischief and poison her +mind. Leonard Monckton, who had long been hanging about, waiting to catch +her alone, met her returning from Walter Clifford, and took off his hat +very respectfully to her, and said: + +"Miss Bartley, I think." + +Mary lifted her eyes, and saw an elderly man with a pale face and dark +eyebrows and a cast of countenance quite unlike that of any of her +friends. His face repelled her directly, and she said, very coldly: + +"Yes, sir; but I have not the pleasure of knowing you." + +And she quietly passed on. + +Monckton affected not to see that she was declining to communicate with +him. He walked on quietly, and said: + +"And I have not seen you since you were a child, but I had the honor of +knowing your mother." + +"You knew my mother, sir?" + +"Knew her and respected her." + +"What was she like, sir?" + +"She was tall and rather dark, not like you." + +"So I have heard," said Mary. "Well, sir," said she, for his voice was +ingratiating, and had modified the effect of his criminal countenance, +"as you knew my mother, you are welcome to me." + +The artist in deceit gave a little sigh, and said, "That's more than I +dare hope. For I am here upon a most unpleasant commission; but for my +respect for your mother I would not have undertaken it, for really my +acquaintance with the other lady is but slight." + +Mary looked a little surprised at this rigmarole, and said, "But this +commission, what is it?" + +"Miss Bartley," said he, solemnly, yet gravely, "I have been requested to +warn you against a gentleman who is deceiving you." + +"Who is that?" said Mary, on her guard directly. + +"It is a Mr. Walter Clifford." + +"Walter Clifford!" said Mary. "You are a slanderer; he is incapable +of deceit." + +The rogue pretended to brighten up. + +"Well, I hope so," said he, "and I told the lady as much; he comes from a +most honorable stock. So then he has _told_ you about Lucy Monckton?" + +"Lucy Monckton!" cried Mary. "No; who is she?" + +"Miss Bartley," said the villain, very gravely and solemnly, "she is +his wife." + +"His wife, sir?" cried Mary, contemptuously--"his wife? You must be mad. +I'll hear no more against him behind his back." Then, threatening her +tormentor: "He will be home again this evening; he has only ridden to the +Lake Hotel; you shall repeat this to his face, if you dare." + +"It will be my painful duty," said the serpent, meekly. + +"His wife!" said Mary, scornfully, but her lips trembled. + +"His wife," replied Monckton, calmly; "a respectable woman whom, it +seems, he has deserted these fourteen years. My acquaintance with her is +slight, but she is in a good position, and, indeed, wealthy, and has +never troubled him. However, she heard somehow he was courting you, and +as I often visit Derby upon business, she requested me to come over here +and warn you in time." + +"And do you think," said Mary, scornfully, "I shall believe this from a +stranger?" + +"Hardly," said Monckton, with every appearance of candor. "Mrs. Walter +Clifford directed me to show you his marriage certificate and hers." + +"The marriage certificate!" cried Mary, turning pale. + +"Yes," said Monckton; "they were married at the Registry Office on the +11th June, 1868," and he put his hand in his breast pocket to search for +the certificate. He took this opportunity to say, "You must not fancy +that there is any jealousy or ill feeling after fourteen years' +desertion, but she felt it her duty as a woman--" + +"The certificate!" said Mary--"the certificate!" + +He showed her the certificate; she read the fatal words, "Walter +Clifford." The rest swam before her eyes, and to her the world seemed at +an end. She heard, as in a dream, the smooth voice of the false accuser, +saying, with a world of fictitious sympathy, "I wish I had never +undertaken this business. Mrs. Walter Clifford doesn't want to distress +you; she only felt it her duty to save you. Don't give way. There is no +great harm done, unless you were to be deluded into marrying him." + +"And what then?" inquired Mary, trembling. + +Monckton appeared to be agitated at this question. + +"Oh, don't speak of it," said he. "You would be ruined for life, and he +would get seven years' penal servitude; and that is a sentence few +gentlemen survive in the present day when prisons are slaughter-houses. +There, I have discharged the most disagreeable office I ever undertook in +my life; but at all events you are warned in time." + +Then he bowed most respectfully to her, and retired, exhaling his pent-up +venom in a diabolical grin. + +She, poor victim, stood there stupefied, pierced with a poisoned arrow, +and almost in a state of collapse; then she lifted her hands and eyes for +help, and saw Hope's study in front of her. Everything swam confusedly +before her; she did not know for certain whether he was there or not; +she cried to that true friend for help. + +"Mr. Hope--I am lost--I am in the deep waters of despair--save me _once +more_, save me!" Thus speaking she tottered into the office, and sank all +limp and powerless into a chair, unable to move or speak, but still not +insensible, and soon her brow sank upon the table, and her hands spread +themselves feebly out before her. + +It was all villainous spite on Monckton's part. He did not for a moment +suppose that his lie could long outlive Walter Clifford's return; but he +was getting desperate, and longing to stab them all. Unfortunately fate +befriended the villain's malice, and the husband and wife did not meet +again till that diabolical poison had done its work. + +Monckton retired, put off his old man's disguise behind the fir-trees, +and went toward another of his hiding-places, an enormous oak-tree which +stood in the hedge of Hope's cottage garden. The subtle villain had made +this hollow tree an observatory, and a sort of sally-port, whence he +could play the fiend. + +The people at the hotel were, as Mary told Julia Clifford, very +honest people. + +They showed Percy Fitzroy's bracelet to one or two persons, and found it +was of great value. This made them uneasy, lest something should happen +to it under their charge; so the woman sent her husband to the +neighborhood of Clifford Hall to try and find out if there was a lady of +that name who had left it. The husband was a simple fellow, very unfit to +discharge so delicate a commission. He went at first, as a matter of +course, to the public-house; they directed him to the Hall, but he missed +it, and encountered a gentleman, whose quick eye fell upon the bracelet, +for the foolish man had shown it to so many people that now he was +carrying it in his hand, and it blazed in the meridian sun. This +gentleman said, "What have you got there?" + +"Well, sir," said the man, "it was left at our hotel by a young couple +from these parts. Handsome couple they were, sir, and spending their +honey-moon." + +"Let me see it," said Mr. Bartley, for he was the gentleman. He had come +back in some anxiety to see whether Hope had pacified Mary, or whether +he must exert himself to make matters smooth with her again. Whilst he +was examining the bracelet, who should appear but Percy Fitzroy, the +owner. Not that he came after the bracelet; on the contrary, that +impetuous young gentleman had discovered during the last two hours that +he valued Miss Clifford's love a great deal more than all the bracelets +in the world, for all that he was delighted at the unexpected sight of +his property. + +"Why, that's mine," said he. "It's an heirloom. I lent it to Miss Julia +Clifford, and when I asked her for it to-day she could not produce it." + +"Oho!" said Mr. Bartley. "What, do the ladies of the house of Clifford go +in for clandestine marriages?" + +"Certainly not, sir," said Fitzroy. "Don't you know the difference +between a wedding ring and a bracelet?" Then he turned to the man, "Here +is a sovereign for your trouble, my man. Now give me my bracelet." + +To his surprise the hotel-keeper put it behind his back instead of giving +it to him. + +"Nay," said he, shaking his head knowingly, "you are not the gentleman +that spent the honey-moon with the lady as owns it. My mistress said I +was not to give it into no hands but hers." + +This staggered Percy dreadfully, and he looked from one to another to +assist him in solving the mystery. + +Bartley came to the assistance of his understanding, but with no regard +to the feelings of his heart. "It's clear enough what it means, sir; your +sweetheart is playing you false." + +That went through the true-lover's heart like a knife, and poor little +Percy leaned in despair against Hope's workshop window transfixed by the +poisoned arrow of jealousy. + +At this moment the voice of Colonel Clifford was heard, loud and ringing +as usual. Julia Clifford had decoyed him there in hopes of falling in +with Percy and making it up; and to deceive the good Colonel as to her +intentions she had been running him down all the way; so the Colonel was +heard to say, in a voice for all the village to hear, "Jealous is he, and +suspicious? Then you take my advice and give him up at once. You will +easily find a better man and a bigger." After delivering this, like the +word of command upon parade, the Colonel was crossing the turf, a yard or +two higher up than Hope's workshop, when the spirit of revenge moved +Bartley to retort upon his insulter. + +"Hy, Colonel Clifford!" + +The Colonel instantly halted, and marched down with Julia on his arm, +like a game-cock when another rooster crows defiance. + +"And what can you have to say to me, sir?" was his haughty inquiry. + +"To take you down a peg. You rode the high horse pretty hard to-day. The +spotless honor of the Cliffords, eh?" + +Then it was fixed bayonets and no quarter. + +"Have the Cliffords ever dabbled in trade or trickery? Coal merchants, +coal heavers, and coal whippers may defile our fields with coal dust and +smoke, but they can not defile our honor." + +"The men are brave as lions, and the women as chaste as snow?" +sneered Bartley. + +"I don't know about lions and snow. I have often seen a lion turn tail, +and the snow is black slush wherever you are. But the Cliffords, being +gentlemen, are brave, and being ladies, are chaste." + +"Oh, indeed!" hissed Bartley. "Then how comes it that your niece +there--whose name is _Miss_ Clifford, I believe--spent what this good man +calls a honey-moon, with a young gentleman, at this good man's inn?" + +Here the good man in question made a faint endeavor to interpose, but the +gentlefolks by their impetuosity completely suppressed him. + +"It's a falsehood!" cried Julia, haughtily. + +"You scurrilous cad!" roared the Colonel, and shook his staff at him, and +seemed on the point of charging him. + +But Bartley was not to be put down this time. He snatched the bracelet +from the man, and held it up in triumph. + +"And left this bracelet there to prove it was no falsehood." + +Then Julia got frightened at the evidence and the terrible nature of the +accusation. "Oh!" cried she, in great distress, "can any one here believe +that I am a creature so lost? I have not seen the bracelet these two +months. I lent it--to--ah, here she is! Mary, save me from shame; you +know I am innocent." + +Mary, who was standing at the window in Hope's study, came slowly +forward, pale as death with her own trouble, to do an act of womanly +justice. "Miss Clifford," said she, languidly, as one to whom all human +events were comparatively indifferent--"Miss Clifford lent the bracelet +to me, and I left it at that man's inn." This she said right in the +middle of them all. + +The hotel-keeper took the bracelet from the unresisting hand of Bartley, +touched his hat, and gave it to her. + +"There, mistress," said he. "I could have told them you was the lady, but +they would not let a poor fellow get a word in edgeways." He retired with +an obeisance. + +Mary handed the bracelet to Julia, and then remained passive. + +A dead silence fell upon them all, and a sort of horror crept over Mary +Bartley at what must follow; but come what might, no power should +induce her to say the word that should send Walter Clifford to jail for +seven years. + +Bartley came to her; she trembled, and her hands worked. + +"What are you saying, you fool?" he whispered. "The lady that left the +bracelet was there with a gentleman." + +Mary winced. + +Then Bartley said, sternly, "Who was your companion?" + +"I must not say." + +"You will say one thing," said Bartley, "or I shall have no mercy on you. +Are you secretly married?" + +Then a single word flashed across Mary's almost distracted +mind--SELF-SACRIFICE. She held her tongue. + +"Can't you speak? Are you a wife?" He now began to speak so loud in his +anger that everybody heard it. + +Mary crouched a little and worked her hands convulsively under the +torture, but she answered with such a doggedness that evidently she would +have let herself be cut to pieces sooner than said more. + +"I--don't--know." + +"You don't know?" roared Bartley. + +Mary paused, and then, with iron doggedness, "I--don't--know." + +This apparent insult to his common-sense drove Bartley almost mad. "You +have given these cursed Cliffords a triumph over me," he cried; "you have +brought shame to my door; but it shall never pass the threshold." Here +the Colonel uttered a contemptuous snort. This drove Bartley wild +altogether; he rushed at the Colonel, and shook his fist in his face. +"You stand there sneering at my humiliation; now see the example I can +make." Then he was down upon Mary in a moment, and literally yelled at +her in his fury. "Go to your paramour, girl; go where you will. You never +enter my door again." And he turned his back furiously upon her. + +This terrible denunciation overpowered poor Mary's resolution; she clung +to him in terror. "Oh, mercy, mercy, papa! I'll explain to _you_, have +pity on your child!" + +Bartley flung her so roughly from him that she nearly fell, "You are my +child no more." + +But at that moment in strode William Hope, looking seven feet high, and +his eyes blazing. "Liar and hypocrite," he roared, "_she never was your +child_!" Then, changing to a tone of exquisite love, and stretching out +both his hands to Mary, "SHE IS MINE!" + +Mary, being now between the two men, turned swiftly first to one, then to +the other, and with woman's infallible eye knew her own flesh and blood +in that half-moment. She uttered a cry of love and rapture that went +through every heart that heard it; and she flung herself in a moment upon +her father's bosom. + +He whirled her round like a feather on to his right arm, then faced both +her enemies, Clifford and Bartley, with haughty defiance, head thrown +back, and eyes that flashed black lightning in defense of his child. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +LOVERS' QUARRELS. + + +It was a living picture. The father protecting his child like an eagle; +Bartley cooled in a moment, and hanging his head apart, gloomy and +alarmed at the mad blunder rage had betrayed him into; Colonel Clifford +amazed and puzzled, and beginning to see the consequences of all this; +Julia clasping her hands in rapture and thrilling interest at so +romantic an incident; Fitzroy beaming with delight at his sweetheart +being cleared; and, to complete the picture, the villainous face of +Leonard Monckton, disguised as an old man, showed itself for a moment +sinister and gloomy; for now all hope of pecuniary advantage to him was +gone, and nothing but revenge was on the cards, and he could not see his +way clear to that. + +But Hope was no posture-maker; he turned the next moment and said a word +or two to all present. + +"Yes, this is Grace Hope, my daughter. We were very poor, and her life +was in danger; I saw nothing else but that; my love was stronger than my +conscience; I gave her to that man upon a condition which he has now +broken. He saved her life and was kind to her. I thanked him; I thank him +still, and I did my best to repay him. But now he has trusted to +appearances, and not to her; he has belied and outraged her publicly. But +I am as proud of her as ever, and don't believe appearances against her +character and her angel face and--" + +"No more do I," cried Julia Clifford, eagerly. "I know her. She's purity +itself, and a better woman than I shall ever be." + +"Thank you, Miss Clifford," said Hope, in a broken voice; "God bless you. +Come, Grace, and share my humble home. At all events, it will shelter you +from insult." + +And so the pair went lovingly away, Grace clinging to her father, +comforted for the moment, but unable to speak, and entered Hope's little +cottage. It was but a stone's-throw from where they stood. + +This broke up the party. + +"And my house is yours," said Colonel Clifford to Julia. "I did not +believe appearances against a Clifford." With these words he took two +steps toward his niece and held out his arm. She moved toward him. Percy +came forward radiant to congratulate her. She drew up with a look of +furious scorn that made him recoil, and she marched proudly away with +her uncle. He bestowed one parting glance of contempt upon the +discomfited Bartley, and marched his niece proudly off, more determined +than ever that she should be his daughter. But for once he was wise +enough not to press that topic: he let her indignation work alone. +Moreover, though he was a little wrong-headed and not a little +pig-headed, he was a noble-minded man, and nothing noble passed him +unobserved or unappreciated. + +"_That_ Bartley's daughter!" said he to Julia. "Ay, when roses spring +from dunghills, and eagles are born of sparrow-hawks. Brave +girl!--brave girl!" + +"Oh, uncle," said Julia, "I am so glad you appreciate her!" + +"Appreciate her!" said the Colonel; "what should I be worth if I did not? +Why, these are the women that win Waterloo in the persons of their sons. +That girl could never breed a coward nor a cheat." Then his incisive +voice mellowed suddenly. "Poor young thing," said he, with manly emotion, +"I saw her come out of that room pale as death to do another woman +justice. She's no fool, though that ruffian called her one. She knew what +she was doing, yet for all her woman's heart she faced disgrace as +unflinchingly as if it was, only death. It was a great action, a noble +action, a just action, and a manly action, but done like a very woman. +Where the two sexes meet like that in one brave deed it's grand. I +declare it warms an old soldier's heart, and makes him thank God there +are a few creatures in the world that do humanity honor." + +As the Colonel was a man that stuck to a topic when he got upon it, this +was the main of his talk all the way to Clifford Hall. He even remarked +to his niece that, so far as his observations of the sex extended, great +love of justice was not the leading feature of the female mind; other +virtues he ventured to think were more prominent. + +"So everybody says," was Julia's admission. + +"Everybody is right for once," said the Colonel. + +They entered the house together, and Miss Clifford went up to her room; +there she put on a new bonnet and a lovely shawl, recently imported from +Paris. Who could this be for? She sauntered upon the lawn till she found +herself somehow near the outward boundary, where there was a gate leading +into the Park. As she walked to and fro by this gate she observed, out of +the tail of her eye of course, the figure of a devoted lover creeping +toward her. Whether this took her by surprise, or whether the lovely +creature was playing the part of a beautiful striped spider waiting for +her fly, the reader must judge for himself. + +Percy came to the gate; she walked past him twice, coming and going with +her eyes fixed upon vacancy. She passed him a third time. He murmured in +a pleading voice, + +"Julia!" + +She neither saw nor heard, so attractive had the distant horizon become. + +Percy opened the gate and came inside, and stood before her the next time +she passed. She started with _surprise_. + +"What do you want here?" said she. + +"To speak to you." + +"How dare you speak to me after your vile suspicions?" + +"Well, but, Julia--" + +"How dare you call me Julia?" + +"Well, Miss Clifford, won't you even hear me?" + +"Not a word. It's through you poor dear Mary and I have both been +insulted by that wretch of a father of hers." + +"Which father?" + +"I said wretch. To whom does that term apply except to Mr. Bartley, and" +(with sudden vigor) "to you." + +"Then you think I am as bad as old Bartley," said Percy, firing up. + +"No, I don't." + +"Ah," said Percy, glad to find there was a limit. + +But Julia explained: "I think you are a great deal worse. You pretend to +love me, and yet without the slightest reason you doubt me." + +"What did I doubt? I thought you had parted with my bracelet to another +person, and so you had. I never doubted your honor." + +"Oh yes, you did; I saw your face." + +"I am not r--r--responsible for my face." + +"Yes, you are; you had no business to look broken-hearted, and miserable, +and distrustful, and abominable. It was your business, face and all, to +distrust appearances, and not me." + +"Ap--pear--ances were so strong that not to look m--miserable would have +been to seem indifferent; there is no love where there is no jealousy." + +"Oh," said Julia, "he has let that out at last, after denying it a +hundred times. Now I say there is no true love without respect and +confidence, and this doesn't exist where there is jealousy, and all about +a trumpery bracelet." + +"Anything but tr--ump--ump--umpery; it came down from my ancestors." + +"You never had any; your behavior shows that." + +"I tell you it is an heirloom. It was given to my mother by--" + +"Oh, we know all about that," said Julia. "'This bracelet did an Egyptian +to my mother give.' But you are not going to play Othello with me." + +"I shouldn't have a very gentle Desdemona." + +"No, you wouldn't, candidly. No man shall ever bully and insult me, and +then wake me out of my first sleep to smother me because my maid has lost +one of his handkerchiefs at the wash." + +He burst out laughing at this, and tried to inveigle her into good-humor. + +"Say no more about it," said he, "and I'll forgive you." + +"Forgive me, you little wretch!" cried Julia. "Why, haven't you the +sense to see that it is serious this time, and my patience is exhausted, +and that our engagement is broken off, and I never mean to see you +again--except when you come to my wedding?" + +"Your wedding!" cried Percy, turning pale. "With whom?" + +"That's my business; you leave that to me, sir. Hold out your hand--both +hands; here is the ancestral bracelet--it shall pinch me no longer, +neither my wrist nor my heart; here's the brooch you gave me--I won't be +pinned to it any longer, nor to you neither; and there is your bunch of +charms; and there is your bundle of love-letters--stupid ones they are;" +and she crammed all the aforesaid treasures into his hands one after the +other. So this was what she went to her room for. + +Percy looked down on his handful ruefully. "My very letters! There was no +jealousy in them; they were full of earnest love." + +"Fuller of bad spelling," said the relentless girl. Then she went into +details: "You spell abominable with two m's--and that's abominable; you +spell ridiculous with a k--and that's ridicklous. So after this don't you +presume to speak to me, for I shall never speak to you again." + +"Very well, then," said Percy. "I, too, will be silent forever." + +"Oh, I dare say," said Julia; "a chatter-box like you." + +"Even chatter-boxes are silent in the grave," suggested Percy; "and if we +are to part like this forever to-day, to-morrow I shall be no more." + +"Well, you could not be much less," said Julia, but with a certain +shame-faced change of tone that perhaps, if Percy had been more +experienced, might have given him a ray of hope. + +"Well," said he, "I know one lady that would not treat these presents +with quite so much contempt." + +"Oh, I have seen her," said Julia, spitefully. "She has been setting +her cap at you for some time; it's Miss Susan Beckley--a fine +conquest--great, fat, red-haired thing." + +"Auburn." + +"Yes, all-burn, scarlet, carrots, _flamme d'enfer_. Well, go and give her +my leavings, yourself and your ancestral--paste." + +"Well," said Percy, gloomily, "I might do worse. You never really loved +me; you were always like an enemy looking out for faults. You kept +postponing our union for something to happen to break it off. But I won't +be any woman's slave; I'll use one to drive out the other. None of you +shall trample on me." Then he burst forth into singing. Nobody stammers +when he sings. + +"Shall I, wasting in despair, +Sigh because a woman's fair? +Shall my cheeks grow pale with care +Because another's rosy are? +If she be not kind to me, +What care I how fair she be?" + +This resolute little gentleman passed through the gate as he concluded +the verse, waved his hand jauntily by way of everlasting adieu, and +went off whistling the refrain with great spirit, and both hands in +his pockets. + +"You impudent!" cried Julia, almost choking; then, authoritatively, +"Percy--Mr. Fitzroy;" then, coaxingly, "Percy _dear_." + +Percy heard, and congratulated himself upon his spirit. "That's the way +to treat them," said he to himself. + +"Well?" said he, with an air of indifference, and going slowly back to +the gate. "What is it now?" said he, a little arrogantly. + +She soon let him know. Directly he was quite within reach she gave him a +slap in the face that sounded like one plank falling upon another, and +marched off with an air of royal dignity, as if she had done the most +graceful and lady-like thing in all the world. + +How happy are those choice spirits who can always preserve their dignity! + +Percy retired red as fire, and one of his cheeks retained that high +color for the rest of the day. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +APOLOGIES. + + +We must now describe the place to which Hope conducted his daughter, and +please do not skip our little description. It is true that some of our +gifted contemporaries paint Italian scenery at prodigious length _à +propos de bottes_, and others show in many pages that the rocks and the +sea are picturesque objects, even when irrelevant. True that others gild +the evening clouds and the western horizon merely to please the horizon +and the clouds. But we hold with Pope that + +"The proper study of mankind is man," + +and that authors' pictures are bores, except as narrow frames to big +incidents. The true model, we think, for a writer is found in the opening +lines of "Marmion," where the castle at even-tide, its yellow lustre, its +drooping banner, its mail-clad warders reflecting the western blaze, the +tramp of the sentinel, and his low-hummed song, are flung on paper with +the broad and telling touch of Rubens, not from an irrelevant admiration +of old castles and the setting sun, but because the human figures of the +story are riding up to that sun-gilt castle to make it a scene of great +words and deeds. + +Even so, though on a much humbler scale, we describe Hope's cottage and +garden, merely because it was for a moment or two the scene of a +remarkable incident never yet presented in history or fiction. + +This cottage, then, was in reality something between a villa and a +cottage; it resembled a villa in this, that the rooms were lofty, and the +windows were casements glazed with plate glass and very large. Walter +Clifford had built it for a curate, who proved a bird of passage, and +the said Walter had a horror of low rooms, for he said, "I always feel as +if the ceiling was going to flatten me to the floor." Owing to this the +bedroom windows, which looked westward on the garden, were a great height +from the ground, and the building had a Gothic character. + +Still there was much to justify the term cottage. The door, which looked +southward on the road, was at the side of the building, and opened, not +into a hall, but into the one large sitting-room, which was thirty feet +long and twenty-five feet broad, and instead of a plaster ceiling there +were massive joists, which Hope had gilded and painted till they were a +sight to behold. Another cottage feature: the walls were literally +clothed with verdure and color; in front, huge creeping geraniums, +jasmine, and Virginia creepers hid the brick-work; and the western walls, +to use the words of a greater painter than ourselves, were + +"Quite overcanopied with lush woodbine, +With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine." + +In the next place, the building stood in a genuine cottage garden. It was +close to the road. The southern boundary was plain oak paling, made of +upright pieces which Hope had varnished so that the color was now a fine +amber; the rest of the boundary was a quick-set hedge, in the western +division of which stood an enormous oak-tree, hollow at the back. And the +garden was fair with humble flowers--pinks, sweet-williams, crimson +nasturtiums, double daisies, lilies, and tulips; but flower beds shared +the garden with friendly cabbages, potatoes, onions, carrots, and +asparagus. + +To this humble but pleasant abode Hope conducted his daughter, and +insisted upon her lying down on the sofa in the sitting-room. Then he +ordered the woman who kept the house for him to prepare the spare +bedroom, which looked into the garden, and to cut some of the +sweet-smelling flowers. He himself had much to say to his daughter, and, +above all, to demand her explanation of the awkward circumstances that +had been just revealed. But she had received a great shock, and, like +most manly men, he had a great consideration for the weakness of women, +and his paternal heart said, "Let her have an hour or two of absolute +repose before I subject her to any trial whatever." So he opened the +window to give her air, enjoining her most strictly not to move, and even +to go to sleep if she could; and then he put on his shooting coat, with +large inside pocket, to go and buy her a little wine--a thing he never +touched himself--and what other humble delicacies the village afforded. +He walked briskly away from his door without the least idea that all his +movements were watched from a hiding-place upon his own premises, no +other than the great oak-tree, hollow and open at the back, in which +Leonard Monckton had bored two peep-holes, and was now ensconced there +watching him. + +Hope had not gone many yards from his own door when he was confronted +by one of those ruffians who, by their way of putting it, are the +eternal butt of iniquitous people and iniquitous things, namely, honest +men, curse them! and the law, confound it! This was no other than that +Ben Burnley, who, being a miner, had stuck half-way between Devonshire +and Durham, and had been some months in Bartley's mine. He opened on +Hope in a loud voice, and dialect which we despair of conveying with +absolute accuracy. + +"Mr. Hope, sir, they won't let me go down t' mine." + +"No; you're discharged." + +"Who by?" + +"By me." + +"What for?" + +"For smoking in the mine, in spite of three warnings." + +"Me smoking in t' mine! Who telt you yon lie?" + +"You were seen to pick the lock of your Davylamp, and that put the mine +in danger. Then you were seen to light your pipe at the bare light, and +that put it in worse peril." + +"That's a lie. What mak's yer believe my skin's nowt to me? It's all one +as it is to them liars that would rob me of my bread out of clean spite." + +"It's the truth, and proved by four honest witnesses. There are a hundred +and fifty men and twenty ponies in that mine, and their lives must not be +sacrificed by one two-legged brute that won't hear reason. You are +discharged and paid; so be good enough to quit the premises and find work +elsewhere; and Lord help your employer, whoever he is!" + +Hope would waste no more time over this fellow. He turned his back, and +went off briskly on his more important errand. + +Burnley shook his fist at him, and discharged a volley of horrible curses +after him. Whilst he was thus raging after the man that had done his duty +he heard a satirical chuckle. He turned his head, and, behold! there was +the sneering face of his fellow jail-bird Monckton. Burnley started. + +"Yes, mate," said Monckton, "it is me. And what sort of a pal are you, +that couldn't send me a word to Portland that you had dropped on to this +rascal Hope? You knew I was after him. You might have saved me the +trouble, you selfish brute." + +Burnley submitted at once to the ascendency of Monckton; he hung his +head, and muttered, "I am no scholard to write to folk." + +"You grudged a joey to a bloke to write for you. Now I suppose you expect +me to be a good pal to you again, all the same?" + +"Why not?" said Burnley. "He is poison to you as well as to me. He +gave you twelve years' penal; you told me so at Portland; let's be +revenged on him." + +"What else do you think I am here for, you fool? But empty revenge, +that's child's play. The question is, can you do what you are told?" + +"Ay, if I see a chance of revenge. Why, I always did what you told me." + +"Very well, then; there's nothing ripe yet." + +"Yer don't mean I am to wait a year for my revenge." + +"You will have to wait an opportunity. Revenge is like other luxuries, +there's a time for it. Do you think I am such a fool as to go in for +blindfold revenge, and get lagged or stretched? Not for Joseph, nor for +you, either, Benjamin. I'll tell you what, though, I think this will be a +busy day; it must be a busy day. That old fox Bartley has found out his +blunder before now, and he'll try something on; then the Cliffords, they +won't go to sleep on it." + +"I don't know what yer talking about," says Burnley. + +"Remain in your ignorance, Ben. The best instrument is a blind +instrument; you shall have your revenge soon or late." + +"Let it be soon, then." + +"In the meantime," said Monckton, "have you got any money?" + +"Got my wages." + +"That will do for you to-day. Go to the public-house and get half-drunk." + +"Half-drunk?" + +"Half-drunk! Don't I speak plain?" + +"Miners," said Burnley, candidly, "never get half-drunk in t' county +Durham; they are that the best part of their time." + +"Then you get half-drunk, neither more nor less, or I'll discharge you as +Hope has done, and that will be the worst discharge of the two for you. +When you are half-drunk come here directly, and hang about this place. +No; you had better be under that tree in the middle of the field there, +and pretend to be sleeping off your liquor. Come, mizzle!" + +When he had packed off Burnley, he got back into his hiding-place, and +only just in time, for Hope came back again upon the wings of love, and +Grace, whose elastic nature had revived, saw him coming, and came out to +meet him. Hope scolded her urgently: why had she got off the sofa when +repose was so necessary for her? + +"You are mistaken, dear father," said she. "I am wonderfully strong and +healthy; I never fainted away in my life, and my mind will not let me +rest at present--I have been longing so for my father." + +"Ah, precious word!" murmured Hope. "Keep saying that word to me, +darling. Oh, the years that I have pined for it!" + +"Dear father, we will make up for all those years. Oh, papa, let us not +part again, never, never, not even for a day." + +"My child, we never will. What am I saying? I shall have to give you back +to one who has a stronger claim than I--to your husband." + +"My husband?" said Mary, turning pale. + +"Yes," said Hope; "for you know you have a husband. Oh, I heard a few +words there before I interfered; but it is not to me you'll say '_I +don't know_.' That was good enough for Bartley and a lot of strangers. +Come, Grace dear, take my arm; have no concealments from me. Trust to a +father's infinite love, even if you have been imprudent or betrayed; but +that's a thing I shall never believe except from your lips. Take a turn +with me, my child, since you can not lie down and rest; a little air, +and gentle movement on your father's arm, and close to your father's +heart, will be the next best thing for you." Then they walked to and fro +like lovers. + +"Why, Grace, my child," said he, "of course I understand it all. No +doubt you promised to keep your marriage secret, or had some powerful +reason for withholding it from strangers; and, indeed, why should you +reveal such a secret to insolence or to mere curiosity. But you will tell +the truth to me, your father and your best friend; you will tell me you +are a wife." + +"Father," said Mary, trembling, and her eyes roved as if she was looking +out for the means of flight. + +Hope saw this look, and it made him sick at heart, for he had lived too +long, and observed too keenly, not to know that innocence and purity are +dangers, and are more often protected by the safeguards of society than +by themselves. + +"Oh, my child," said he, "anything is better than this suspense; why +do you not answer me? Why do you torture me? Are you Walter +Clifford's wife?" + +Mary began to pant and sob. "Oh papa, have patience with me. You do not +know the danger. Wait till he comes back. I dare not; I can not." + +"Then, by Heaven, he shall!" + +He dropped her arm, and his countenance became terrible. She clung to +him directly. + +"No, no; wait till I have seen him. He will be back this very +evening. Do not judge hastily; and oh, papa, as you love your child, +do not act rashly." + +"I shall act firmly," was Hope's firm reply. "You have come from a sham +father to a real one, and you will be protected as well as loved. This +lover has forbidden you to confide in your father (he did not know that I +was your father, but that makes no difference); it looks very ugly, and +if he has wronged you he shall do you justice, or I will have his life." + +"Oh, papa," screamed Mary, "his life? Why, mine is bound up with it." + +"I fear so," said Hope. "But what's our life to us without our honor, +especially to a woman? He is the true Cain that destroys a pure virgin." + +Then he put both his hands on her shoulder, and said, "Look at me, +Grace." She looked at him full with eyes as brave as a lion's and as +gentle as a gazelle's. + +In a moment his senses enlightened him beyond the power of circumstances +to deceive. "It's a lie," said he; "men are always lying and +circumstances deceiving; there is no blush of shame upon these cheeks, no +sin nor frailty in these pure eyes. You are his wife?" + +"I am!" cried Grace, unable to resist any longer. + +"Thank God!" cried Hope, and father and daughter were locked that moment +in a tender embrace. + +"Yes, papa, you shall know all, and then I shall have to fall on my knees +and ask you not to punish one I love--for--a fault committed years ago. +You will have pity on us both. Walter and I were married at the altar, +and I am his wife in the eyes of Heaven. But, oh, papa, I fear I am not +his lawful wife." + +"Not his lawful wife, child! Why, what nonsense!" + +"I would to Heaven it was; but this morning I learned for the first time +that he had been married before. Oh, it was years ago; but she is alive." + +"Impossible! He could not be so base." + +"Papa," said Mary, very gravely, "I have seen the certificate." + +"The certificate!" said Hope, in dismay. "What certificate?" + +"Of the Registry Office. It was shown me by a gentleman she sent +expressly to warn me; she had no idea that Walter and I were married, but +she had heard somehow of our courtship. I try to thank her, and I tried, +and always will, to save him from a prison and his family from disgrace." + +"And sacrifice yourself?" cried Hope, in agony. + +"I love him," said Mary, "and you must spare him." + +"I will have justice for my child." + +Grace was in such terror lest her father should punish Walter that she +begged him to consider whether in sacrificing herself she really had not +been unintentionally wise. What could she gain by publishing that she had +married another woman's husband "I have lost my husband," said she "but I +have found my father. Oh take me away and let me rest my broken heart +upon yours far from all who know me. Every wound seems to be cured in +this world, and if time won't cure this my wound, even with my father's +help, the grave _will_." + +"Oh, misery!" cried Hope; "do I hear such words as these from my child +just entering upon life and all its joys?" + +"Hush, papa," said Grace; "there is that man." + +That man was Mr. Bartley. He looked very much distressed, and proceeded +at once to express his penitence. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +A WOMAN OUTWITS TWO MEN. + + +"Oh, Mary, what can I say? I was simply mad, stung into fury by that +foul-mouthed ruffian. Mary, I am deeply sorry, and thoroughly ashamed of +my violence and my cruelty, and I implore you to think of the very many +happy years we have spent together without an angry word--not that you +ever deserved one. Let us silence all comments; return to me as the head +of my house and the heiress of my fortune; you will bind Mr. Hope to me +still more strongly, he shall be my partner, and he will not be so +selfish as to ruin your future." + +"Ay," said Hope, "that's the same specious argument you tempted me with +twelve years ago. But she was a helpless child then; she is a woman now, +and can decide for herself. As for me, I will not be your partner. I have +a small royalty on your coal, and that is enough for me; but Grace shall +do as she pleases. My child, will you go to the brilliant future that his +wealth can secure you, or share my modest independence, which will need +all my love to brighten it. Think before you answer; your own future life +depends upon yourself." + +With this he turned his back and walked for some distance very stoutly, +then leaned upon the palings with his back toward Grace; but even a back +can speak, and the young lady looked at him and her eyes filled; then she +turned them toward Bartley, and those clear eyes dried as if the fire in +the heart had scorched them. + +"In the first place, sir," said she, with a cold and cutting voice, very +unusual to her, "my name is not Mary, it is Grace; and, be assured of +this, if there was not another roof in all the world to shelter me, if I +was helpless, friendless and fatherless, I would die in the nearest ditch +rather than set my foot in the house from which I was thrust out with +shame and insult such as no lady ever yet forgave. But, thank Heaven, I +am not at your mercy at all. He to whom nature has drawn me all these +years is my father--Oh, papa, come to me; is it for _you_ to stand aloof? +It is into your hands, with all the trust and love you have earned so +well from your poor Grace, I give my love, my veneration, and my heart +and soul forever." Then she flung herself panting on his bosom, and he +cried over her. The next moment he led her to the house, where he made +her promise to repose now after this fresh trial; and, indeed, he would +have followed her, but Bartley implored him so piteously, for the sake of +old times, not to refuse him one word more, that he relented so far as to +come out to him, though he felt it was a waste of time. + +He said, "Mr. Bartley, it's no use; nothing can undo this morning's +work: our paths lie apart. From something Walter Clifford let fall one +day, I suspect he is the person you robbed, and induced me to rob, of a +large fortune." + +"Well, what is he to you? Have pity upon me; be silent, and name your +own price." + +"Wrong Walter Clifford with my eyes open? He is the last man in the +world that I would wrong in money matters. I have got a stern account +against him, and I will begin it by speaking the truth and giving him +back his own." + +Here the interview was interrupted by an honest miner, one Jim Perkins. +He came in hurriedly, and, like people of that class, thrust everybody +else's business out of his way. "You are wanted at the mine, Mr. Hope. +The shoring of the old works is giving way, and there's a deal of water +collecting in another part." + +"I'll come at once," said Hope; "the men's lives must not be endangered. +Have the cage ready." Jim walked away. + +Hope turned to Bartley. + +"Pray understand, Mr. Bartley, that this is my last visit to your mine." + +"One moment, Hope," cried Bartley in despair; "we have been friends so +long, surely you owe me something." + +"I do." + +"Well, then, I'll make you rich for life if you will but let Mary return +to me and only just be silent; speak neither for me nor against me; +surely that is not much for an old friend to ask. What is your answer?" + +"That I will speak the truth, and keep my conscience and my child." + +This answer literally crushed Bartley. His very knees knocked together; +he leaned against the palings sick at heart. He saw that Colonel Clifford +would extort not only Walter's legacy, but what the lawyers call the +mesne profits, that is to say, the interest and the various proceeds +from the fraud during fourteen years. + +Whilst he was in this condition of bodily collapse and mental horror a +cold, cynical voice dropped icicles, so to speak, into his ear. + +"In a fix, governor, eh? The girl won't come back, and Hope won't hold +his tongue." + +Bartley looked round in amazement, and saw the cadaverous face and +diabolical sneer of Leonard Monckton. Fourteen years and evil passions +had furrowed that bloodless cheek; but there was no mistaking the man. It +was a surprise to Bartley to see him there and be spoken to by a knave +who had tried to rob him; but he was too full of his immediate trouble to +think much of minor things. + +"What do you know about it?" said he, roughly. + +"I'll tell you," said Monckton, coolly. + +He then walked in a most leisurely way to the gate that led into the +meadow whose eastern boundary was Hope's quick-set hedge, and he came in +the same leisurely way up to Mr. Bartley, and leaned his back, with his +hands behind him, with perfect effrontery, against the palings. + +"I know all," said he. "I overheard you in your office fourteen years +ago, when you changed children with Hope." + +Bartley uttered an exclamation of dismay. + +"And I've been hovering about here all day, and watched the little game, +and now I am fly, and no mistake." + +Bartley threw up his hands in dismay. "Then it's all over; I am doubly +ruined. I can not hope to silence you both." + +"Don't speak so loud, governor." + +"Why not?" said Bartley, "others will, if I don't." He lowered his voice +for all that, and wondered what was coming. + +"Listen to me," said Monckton, exchanging his cynical manner for a quiet +and weighty one. + +Bartley began to wonder, and look at him with a sort of awe. The words +now dropped out of Monckton's thin lips as if they were chips of granite, +so full of meaning was every syllable, and Bartley felt it. + +"It's not so bad as it looks. There are only two men that know you +are a felon." + +Bartley winced visibly. + +"Now one of those men is to be bought"--Bartley lifted his head with a +faint gleam of hope at that--"and the other--has gone--down a coal-mine." + +"What good will that do me?" + +The villain paused, and looked Bartley in the face. + +"That depends. Suppose you were to offer me what you offered Hope, and +suppose Hope--was never--to come up--again?" + +"No such luck," said Bartley, shaking his head sorrowfully. + +"Luck," said Monckton, contemptuously; "we make our own luck. Do you see +that vagabond lying under the tree, that's Ben Burnley." + +"Ah!" said Bartley, "the ruffian Hope discharged." + +"The same, and a man that is burning to be revenged on him: _he's_ your +luck, Mr. Bartley; I know the man, and what he has done in a mine +before to-day." + +Then he drew near to Bartley's ear, and hissed into it these +fearful words: + +"Send him down the mine, promise him five hundred pounds--if William +Hope--never comes up again--and William Hope never will." + +Bartley drew back aghast. "Assassination!" he cried, and by a generous +impulse of horror he half fled from the tempter; but Monckton followed +him up and laid his hand upon his shoulder. + +"Hush," said he, "you are getting too near that window; and it is open. +Let me see there's nobody inside." + +He looked in. There was nobody. Grace was upstairs, but it did so happen +that she came into the room soon after. + +"Nothing of the kind. Accident. Accidents will happen in mines, and +talking of luck, this mine was declared dangerous this very day." + +"No, no," groaned Bartley, trembling in every limb, "it's a horrible +crime; I dare not risk it." + +"It is but a risk. The alternative is certain. You will be indicted for +fraud by the Cliffords." + +Bartley groaned. + +"They'll live in your home, they'll revel in your money, while you wear a +cropped head--and a convict dress--in a stone cell at Portland." + +"No, never!" screamed Bartley. "Man, man; you are tempting me to my +perdition!" + +"I am saving you. Just consider--where is the risk? It is only an +accident, and who will suspect you? Men don't ruin their own mines. Here, +just let me call him." + +Bartley made a faint gesture to forbid it, but Monckton pretended to take +that as an assent. + +"Hy, Ben," he cried, "come here." + +"No, no," cried Bartley, "I'll have nothing to do with him." + +"Well," said Monckton, "then don't, but hear what he has got to say; +he'll tell you how easily accidents happen in a mine." + +Then Burnley came in, but stood at some distance. Bartley turned his back +upon them both, and edged away from them a little; but Monckton stood +between the two men, determined to bring them together. + +"Ben," said he, "Mr. Bartley takes you on again at my request, no thanks +to Mr. Hope." + +"No, curse him; I know that." + +"Talking of that, Ben, how was it that you got rid of that troublesome +overseer in the Welsh colliery?" + +Ben started, and looked aghast for a moment, but soon recovered himself +and told his tale of blood with a strange mixture of satisfaction and +awe, washing his hands in the air nervously all the time. + +"Well, you see, sir, we put some gun-cotton in a small canister, with a +fuse cut to last fowr minutes, and hid it in one of the old workings the +men had left; then they telt t' overseer they thowt t' water was coming +in by quickly. He got there just in time; and what with t' explosion, +fire-damp, and fallen coal, we never saw t' over-seer again." + +"Dear me," said Monckton, "and Mr. Hope has gone down the mine expressly +to inspect old workings. Is it not a strange coincidence? Now if such an +accident was to befall Mr. Hope, it's my belief Mr. Bartley would give +you five hundred pounds." + +Bartley made no reply, the perspiration was pouring down his face, and he +looked a picture of abject guilt and terror. + +Monckton looked at him, and decided for him. He went softly, like a cat, +to Ben Burnley and said, "If an accident does occur, and that man never +comes up again, you are to have five hundred pounds." + +"Five hundred pounds!" shouted Ben. "I do t' job. Nay, _nay_, but," said +he, and his countenance fell, "they will not let me go down the mine." + +The diabolical agent went cat-like to Bartley. + +"Please give me a written order to let this man go to work again in +the mine." + +Bartley trembled and hesitated, but at last took out his pocket-book and +wrote on a leaf, + +"Take Burnley on again. + +"R. BARTLEY." + +Whilst writing it his hand shook, and when it was written he would not +tear it out. He panted and quivered and was as pale as ashes, and said, +"No, no, it's a death-warrant; I can not;" and his trembling hand tried +to convey the note-book back to his pocket, but it fell from his shaking +fingers, and Monckton took it up and quietly tore the leaf out, and took +it across to Burnley, in spite of a feeble gesture the struggling wretch +made to detain him. He gave Ben the paper, and whispered, "Be off before +he changes his mind." + +"You'll hear of an accident in the mine before the day is over," said +Burnley, and he went off without a grain of remorse under the double +stimulus of revenge and lucre. + +"He'll do it," cried Monckton, triumphantly, "and Hope will end his days +in the Bartley mine." + + * * * * * + +These words were hardly out of his lips when Grace Hope walked out of the +house, pale, and with her eyes gleaming, and walked rapidly past them. +She had nothing on her head but a white handkerchief that was tied under +her chin. Her appearance and her manner struck the conspirators with +terror. Bartley stood aghast; but the more resolute villain seized her as +she passed him. She was not a bit frightened at that, but utterly amazed. +It was a public road. + +"How dare you touch me, you villain!" she cried. "Let me go. Ah, I shall +know you again, with your face like a corpse and your villainous eyes. +Let me go, or I'll have you hung." + +"Where are you going?" said Bartley, trembling. + +"To my father." + +"He is not your father; it is a conspiracy. You must come home with me." + +"Never!" cried Mary, and by a sudden and violent effort she flung +Monckton off. + +But Bartley, mad with terror, seized her that moment, and that gave +Monckton time to recover and seize her again by the arm. + +"You are not of age," cried Bartley; "you are under my authority, and you +shall come home with me." + +"No! no!" cried Mary. "Help! help! murder! help!" + +She screamed, and struggled so violently that with all their efforts +they could hardly hold her. Then the devil Monckton began to cry louder +still, "She's mad! she's mad! help to secure a mad woman." This terrified +Grace Hope. She had read of the villainies that had been done under cover +of that accusation, which indeed has too often prevented honest men from +interfering with deeds of lawless violence. But she had all her wits +about her, woman's wit included. She let them drag her past the cottage +door. Then she cried out with delight, "Ah! here is my father." They +followed the direction of her eye, and relaxed their grasp. Instantly she +drew her hands vigorously downward, got clear of them, gave them each a +furious push that sent them flying forward, then darted back through the +open door, closed it, and bolted it inside just as Monckton, recovering +himself, quickly dashed furiously against it--in vain. + +The quick-witted villain saw the pressing danger in a moment. "To the +back door or we are lost!" he yelled. Bartley dashed round to that door +with a cry of dismay. + +But Grace was before him just half a minute. She ran through the house. + +Alas! the infernal door was secure. The woman had locked it when she went +out. Grace came flying back to the front, and drew the bolt softly. But +as she did so she heard a hammering, and found the door was fast. +Unluckily, Hope's tool-basket was on the window-ledge, and Monckton drove +a heavy nail obliquely through the bottom of the door, and it was +immovable. Then Mary slipped with cat-like step to the window, and had +her hand on the sill to vault clean out into the road; she was perfectly +capable, it being one of her calisthenic exercises. But here again her +watchful enemy encountered her. He raised his hammer as if to strike her +hand--though perhaps he might not have gone that length--but she was a +woman, and drew back at that cruel gesture. Instantly he closed the +outside shutters; he didn't trouble about the window, but these outside +shutters he proceeded to nail up; and, as the trap was now complete, he +took his time, and by a natural reaction from his fears, he permitted +himself to exult a little. + +"Thank you, Mr. Hope, for the use of your tools." (Rat-tat.) +"There, my little bird, you're caged." (Rat-tat-tat.) "Did you +really think--(rat-tat)--two men--(rat-tat-tat)--were to be beaten +by one woman?" + +The prisoner thus secured, he drew aside with justifiable pride to admire +his work. This action enabled him to see the side of the cottage he had +secured so cleverly in front and behind, and there was Grace Hope coming +down from her bedroom window; she had tied two crimson curtains together +by a useful knot, which is called at sea a fisherman's bend, fastened one +end to the bed or something, and she was coming down this extemporized +rope, hand over hand alternately, with as much ease and grace as if she +were walking down marble steps. Monckton flung his arm and body wildly +over the paling and grabbed her with his finger ends, she gave a spang +with her heels against the wall, and took a bold leap away from him into +a tulip-bed ten feet distant at least: he yelled to Bartley, "To the +garden;" and not losing a moment, flung his leg over the paling to catch +her, with Bartley's help, in this new trap. Mary dashed off without a +moment's hesitation at the quick-set hedge; she did not run up to it and +hesitate like a woman, for it was not to be wriggled through; she went at +it with the momentum and impetus of a race-horse, and through it as if it +was made of blotting-paper, leaving a wonderfully small hole, but some +shreds of her dress, and across the meadow at a pace that neither +Bartley nor Monckton, men past their prime, could hope to rival even if +she had not got the start. They gazed aghast at one another; at the +premises so suddenly emptied as if by magic; at the crimson curtain +floating like a banner, and glowing beautifully amongst the green +creepers; and at that flying figure, with her hair that glittered in the +sun, and streamed horizontal in the wind with her velocity, flying to the +mine to save William Hope, and give these baffled conspirators a life of +penal servitude. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +CALAMITY. + + +The baffled conspirators saw Grace Hope bound over a stile like a deer +and dash up to the mine; then there was a hurried colloquy, and some men +were seen to start from the mine and run toward Hope's cottage. What +actually took place was this: She arrived panting, and begged to be sent +down the mine at once; the deputy said, "You cannot, miss, without an +order from Mr. Hope." + +"I am his daughter, sir," said she; "he has claimed me from Mr. Bartley +this day." + +At that word the man took off his hat to her. + +"Let me down this instant; there's a plot to fire the mine, and destroy +my dear father." + +"A plot to fire the mine!" said the man, all aghast. "Why, who by? Hy! +cage ready there!" + +"One Burnley, but he's bribed by a stranger. Send me down to warn my +father; but you run and seize that villain; you can not mistake him. He +wears a light suit of tweed, all one color. He has very black eyebrows, +and a face like a corpse, and a large gold ring on the little finger of +his right hand. You will find him somewhere near my father's cottage. +Neither you nor I have a moment to lose." + +Then the deputy called three more men, and made for Hope's cottage, while +Grace went down in the cage. + +Bartley fled in mortal terror to his own house, and began to pack up his +things to leave the country. Monckton withdrew to the clump of fir-trees, +and from that thin shelter watched the mine, intending to levant as soon +as he should see Hope come up safe and sound; but, when he saw three or +four men start from the mine and run across to him, he took the alarm and +sought the thicker shelter of a copse hard by. It was a very thick cover, +good for temporary concealment; but he soon found it was so narrow that +he couldn't emerge from it on either side without being seen at once, and +his quick wit told him that Grace had denounced him, and probably +described him accurately to the miners; he was in mortal terror, but not +unprepared for this sort of danger. The first thing he did was to whip +off his entire tweed suit and turn it inside out; he had had it made on +purpose; it was a thin tweed, doubled with black kerseymere, so that this +change was a downright transformation. Then he substituted a black tie +for a colored one, whipped out a little mirror and his hare's-foot, etc., +browned and colored his cheek, put on an admirable gray wig, whiskers, +mustache, and beard, and partly whitened his eyebrows, and hobbled feebly +out of the little wood an infirm old man. Presently he caught sight of +his gold ring. "Ah!" said he, "she is a sharp girl; perhaps she noticed +that in the struggle?" He took it off and was going to put it in his +pocket, but thought better of that, and chucked it into a ditch. Then he +made for the village. The pursuers hunted about the house and, of course, +didn't find him; but presently one of them saw him crossing a meadow not +far off, so they ran toward him and hailed him. + +"Hy! mister!" + +He went feebly on, and did not seem to hear; then they hailed him again +and ran toward him; then he turned and stopped, and seeing men running +toward him, took out a large pair of round spectacles, and put them on to +look at them. By this artifice that which in reality completed his +disguise seemed but a natural movement in an old man to see better who it +was that wanted him. + +"What be you doing here?" said the man. + +"Well, my good man," said Monckton, affecting surprise, "I have been +visiting an old friend, and now I'm going home again. I hope I am not +trespassing. Is not this the way to the village? They told me it was." + +"That's right enough," said the deputy, "but by the way you come you just +have seen him." + +"No, sir," said Monckton, "I haven't seen anybody except one gentleman, +that came through that wood there as I passed it." + +"What was he like, sir?" + +"Well, I didn't take particular notice, and he passed me all in a hurry." + +"That would be the man," said the deputy. "Had he a very pale face?" + +"Not that I remarked; he seemed rather heated with running." + +"How was he dressed, sir?" + +"Oh, like many of the young people, all of one pattern." + +"Light or dark?" + +"Light, I think." + +"Was it a tweed suit?" + +"I almost think it was. What had he been doing--anything wrong? He seemed +to me to be rather scared-like." + +"Which way did he go, sir?" + +"I think he made for that great house, sir." + +"Come on," said the deputy, and he followed this treacherous indication, +hot in pursuit. + +Monckton lost no time. He took off twenty years, and reached the Dun Cow +as an old acquaintance. He hired the one vehicle the establishment +possessed, and was off like a shot to Derby; thence he dispatched a note +to his lodgings to say he was suddenly called to town, but should be back +in a week. Not that he ever intended to show his face in that +neighborhood again. + +Nevertheless events occasioned that stopped both his flight and +Bartley's, and yet broke up their unholy alliance. + +It was Hope's final inspection of the Bartley mine, and he took things in +order. Months ago a second shaft had been sunk by his wise instructions, +and but for Bartley's parsimony would have been now completed. Hope now +ascertained how many feet it was short, and noted this down for Bartley. + +Then, still inspecting, he went to the other extremity of the mine, and +reached a sort of hall or amphitheatre much higher than the passages. +This was a centre with diverging passages on one side, but closed on the +other. Two of these passages led by oblique routes to those old works, +the shoring of which had been reported unsafe. + +This amphitheatre was now a busy scene, empty trucks being pushed off, +full trucks being pushed on, all the men carrying lighted lanterns, that +wavered and glinted like "wills of the wisp." Presently a bell rung, and +a portion of the men, to whom this was a signal, left off work and began +to put on their jackets and to await the descent of the cage to take them +up in parties. At this moment Hope met, to his surprise, a figure that +looked like Ben Burnley. He put up his lamp to see if he was right, and +Ben Burnley it was. The ruffian had the audacity to put up his lamp, as +if to scrutinize the person who examined him. + +"Did I not discharge you?" said Hope. + +"Ay, lad," said Ben; "but your master put me on again." With that he +showed Bartley's order and signature. + +Hope bit his lips, but merely said, "He will rue it." Burnley sidled +away; but Hope cried to one or two men who were about, + +"Keep a sharp lookout on him, my men, your lives are not safe whilst he's +in the mine." + +Burnley leaned insolently against a truck and gave the men nothing to +observe; the next minute in bustled the honest miner at whose instance +Hope had come down the mine, and begged him to come and visit the +shoring at once. + +Hope asked if there were any other men there; the miner replied in +the negative. + +"Very well, then," said Hope, "I'll just take one look at the water here, +and I'll be at the shoring in five minutes." + +Unfortunately this unwary statement let Burnley know exactly what to do; +he had already concealed in the wood-work a canister of dynamite, and a +fuse to it to last about five minutes. He now wriggled away under cover +of Hope's dialogue and lighted the fuse, then he came flying back to get +safe out of the mine, and leave Hope in his death-trap. + +But in the meantime Grace Hope came down in the cage, and caught sight of +her father and came screaming to him, "Father, father!" + +"You here, my child!" + +"There's a plot to murder you! A man called Burnley is to cause an +explosion at the old works just as you visit them." + +"An explosion!" cried Hope, "and fire-damp about. One explosion will +cause fifty--ring the bell--here men! danger!" + +Then there was a rush of men. + +"Ben Burnley is firing the mine." + +There was a yell of fury; but a distant explosion turned it to one +of dismay. Hope caught his daughter up in his arms and put her +into a cavity. + +"Fly, men, to the other part of the mine," he cried. + +There was a louder explosion. In ran Burnley terrified at his own work, +and flying to escape. Hope sprang out upon him. "No you don't--living or +dead, you are the last to leave this mine." + +Burnley struggled furiously, but Hope dashed him down at his feet. Just +as a far more awful explosion than all took place, one side of that +amphitheatre fell in and the very earth heaved. The corner part of the +shaft fell in upon the cage and many poor miners who were hoping to +escape by it; but those escaped for the present who obeyed Hope's order +and fled to another part of the mine, and when the stifling vapors +drifted away there stood Hope pale as death, but strong as iron, with the +assassin at his feet, and poor Grace crouching and quivering in her +recess. Their fate now awaited these three, a speedy death by choke-damp, +or a slow death by starvation, or a rescue from the outside under +circumstances of unparalleled difficulty, since there was but one shaft +completed, and that was now closed by a mountain of débris. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +BURIED ALIVE. + + +The explosions so tremendously loud below were but muffled sounds at the +pit's mouth; but, alas! these muffled sounds, and one flash of lurid +flame that shot up into the air, told the tale of horror to every +experienced pitman and his wife, and the cry of a whole village went up +to heaven. + +The calamity spread like wildfire. It soon found its way to Clifford +Hall, and the deputy ran himself with the news to Mr. Bartley. Bartley +received it at first with a stony glare, and trembled all over; then the +deputy, lowering his voice, said, "Sir, the worst of it is, there is foul +play in it. There is good authority to say that Ben Burnley fired the +mine to destroy his betters, and he has done it; for Mr. Hope and Miss +Hope that is, Miss Bartley that was, are both there." He added, in a +broken voice, "And if they are not buried or stifled, it will be hard +work to save them. The mine is a ruin." + +Bartley delivered a wild scream, and dashed out of the house at once; he +did not even take his hat, but the deputy, more self-possessed, took one +out of the hall and followed him. + +Bartley hurried to the mine, and found that several stout fellows had +gone down with their pickaxes and other tools to clear the shaft, but +that it must be terribly slow work, so few men could work at a time in +that narrow space. Bartley telegraphed to Derby for a more powerful +steam-engine and experienced engineers, and set another gang to open the +new shaft to the bottom, and see if any sufferers could be saved that +way. Whatever he did was wise, but his manner was frenzied. None of his +people thought he had so much feeling, and more than one of the quaking +women gave him a kind word; he made no reply, he did not even seem to +hear. He wandered about the mine all night wringing his hands, and at +last he was taken home almost by force. + +Humanity overpowered prejudice, and Colonel Clifford came to the mine to +see if he could be of any use to the sufferers. He got hold of the deputy +and learned from him what Bartley was doing. He said he thought that was +the best course, as there would be division of labor; but, said he, "I am +an old campaigner, and I know that men can not fight without food, and +this work will be a fight. How will you house the new-comers?" + +"There are forty-seven men missing, and the new men can sleep in their +cottages." + +"That's so," said the Colonel, "but there are the wives and the children. +I shall send sleeping tents and eating tents, and provisions enough to +feed a battalion. Forty-seven lives," said he, pityingly. + +"Ay, sir," said the deputy, "and such lives, some of them; for Mr. Hope +and Miss Mary Bartley--leastways that is not her name now, she's Mr. +Hope's daughter." + +"Why, what has she to do with it?" + +"I am sorry to say, sir, she is down the mine." + +"God forbid!" said the Colonel; "that noble girl dead, or in +mortal danger." + +"She is, sir," and, lowering his voice, "by foul play;" then seeing the +Colonel greatly shocked and moved, he said, "and I ought not to keep it +from you. You are our nearest magistrate; the young lady told me at the +pit mouth she is Mr. Hope's daughter." + +"And so she is." + +"And she said there was a plot to destroy her father in the mine by +exploding the old workings he was going to visit. One Ben Burnley was to +do it; a blackguard that has a spite against Mr. Hope for discharging +him. But there was money behind him and a villain that she described to +us--black eyebrows, a face like a corpse, and dressed in a suit of tweed +one color. We hoped that she might have been mistaken, or she might have +warned Mr. Hope in time; but now it is to be seen that there was no +mistake, and she had not time to warn him. The deed is done; and a darker +deed was never done, even in the dark." + +Colonel Clifford groaned: after a while he said, "Seize that Ben Burnley +at once, or he will soon leave this place behind him." + +"No, he won't," said the deputy. "He is in the mine, that is one comfort; +and if he comes out alive his life won't be worth much, with the law on +one side of the blackguard and Judge Lynch on t'other." + +"The first thing," said the Colonel, "is to save these precious lives. +God help us and them." + +He then went to the Railway, and wired certain leading tradesmen in +Derby for provisions, salt and fresh, on a large scale, and for new +tents. He had some old ones stored away in his own house. He also secured +abundance of knives, forks, plates, buckets, pitchers, and jugs, and, in +short, he opened a commissariat. He inquired for his son Walter, and why +he was so late. He could learn nothing but that Walter had mounted a +hunter and left word with Baker that he should not be home till eight +o'clock. "John," said the Colonel, solemnly, "I am in great trouble, and +Walter is in worse, I fear. Let nobody speak to him about this accident +at the mine till he has seen me." + + * * * * * + +Walter Clifford rode to the Lake Hotel to inquire after the bracelet. The +landlady told him she had sent her husband over with it that day. + +"Confound it," said Walter; "why, he won't know who to take it to." + +"Oh, it's all right, sir," said she. "My Sam won't give it to the wrong +person, you may be sure." + +"How do I know that?" said Walter; "and, pray, who did you tell him to +give it to?" + +"Why, to the lady as was here with you." + +"And how the deuce is he to find her? He does not know her name. It's a +great pity you could not keep it till I came." + +"Well, sir, you was so long a-coming." + +"That's true," said Walter; "let us make the best of it. I shall feed my +horse, and get home as quickly as I can." + +However, he knew he would be late, and thought he had better go straight +home. He sent a telegram to Mary Bartley: "Landlord gone to you with +bracelet;" and this he signed with the name of the landlady, but no +address. He was afraid to say more, though he would have liked to put his +wife upon her guard; but he trusted to her natural shrewdness. He mounted +his horse and went straight home, but he was late for dinner, and that +vexed him a little, for it was a matter Colonel Clifford was particular +about. He dashed up to his bedroom and began to dress all in a hurry. + +John Baker came to him wearing a very extraordinary look, and after +some hesitation said, "I would not change my clothes if I were you, +Mr. Walter." + +"Oh," said Walter, "I am too late, you know; in for a penny, in +for a pound." + +"But, sir," said old John, "the Colonel wants to speak to you in the +drawing-room." + +Now Walter was excited with the events of the day, irritated by the +affront his father had put upon him and Mary, strung up by hard riding, +etc. He burst out, "Well, I shall not go to him; I have had enough of +this--badgered and bullied, and my sweetheart affronted--and now I +suppose I am to be lectured again; you say I am not well, and bring my +dinner up here." + +"No, Mr. Walter," said the old man, gravely, "I must not do that. Sir, +don't you think as you are to be scolded, or the angel you love +affronted; all that is over forever. There has been many a strange thing +happened since you rode out of our stable last, but I wish you would go +to the Colonel and let him tell you all; however, I suppose I may tell +you so much as this, that your sweetheart is not Mary Bartley at all; she +is Mr. Hope's daughter." + +"What!" cried Walter, in utter amazement. + +"There is no doubt about it, sir," said the old man, "and I believe it is +all out about you and her, but that would not matter, for the Colonel he +takes it quite different from what you might think. He swears by her now. +I don't know really how that came about, sir, for I was not there, but +when I was dressing the Colonel he said to me, 'John, she's the grandest +girl in England, and an honor to her sex, and there is not a drop of +Bartley's blood in her.'" + +"Oh, he has found that out," said Walter. "Then I'll go to him like a +bird, dear old fellow. So that is what he wanted to tell me." + +"No," said John Baker, gravely. + +"No," said Walter; "what then?" + +"It's trouble." + +"Trouble," said Walter, puzzled. + +"Ay, my poor young master," said Baker, tenderly--"sore trouble, such +trouble as a father's heart won't let me, or any man break to you, while +he lives to do it. I know my master. Ever since that fellow Bartley came +here we have seen the worst of him; now we shall see the best of him. Go +to him, dear Master Walter. Don't waste time in talking to old John +Baker. Go to your father and your friend." + +Walter Clifford cast a look of wonder and alarm on the old man, and went +down at once to the drawing-room. His father was standing by the fire. He +came forward to him with both hands, and said, + +"My son!" + +"Father," said Walter, in a whisper, "what is it?" + +"Have you heard nothing?" + +"Nothing but good news, father--that you approve my choice." + +"Ah, John told you that!" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And did he tell you anything else?" + +"No sir, only that some great misfortune is upon me, and that I have my +father's sympathy." + +"You have," said the Colonel, "and would to God I had known the truth +before. She is not Bartley's daughter at all; she is Hope's daughter. Her +virtue shines in her face; she is noble, she is self-denying, she is +just, she is brave; and no doubt she can account for her being at the +Lake Hotel in company with some man or other. Whatever that lady says +will be the truth. That's not the trouble, Walter; all that has become +small by comparison. But shall we ever see her sweet face again or hear +her voice?" + +"Father," said Walter, trembling, "you terrify me. This sudden change in +your voice that I never heard falter before; some great calamity must +have happened. Tell me the worst at once." + +"Walter," said the old man, "stand firm; do not despair, for there is +hope." + +"Thank God for that, father! now tell me all." + +"Walter, there has been an explosion in the mine--a fearful explosion; +the shaft has fallen in; there is no getting access to the mine, and all +the poor souls confined there are in mortal peril. Those who are best +acquainted with the mine do not think that many of them have been +destroyed by the ruin, but they tell me these explosions let loose +poisonous gases, and so now those poor souls are all exposed to three +deadly perils--choke-damp, fire-damp, and starvation." + +"It's pitiable," said Walter, "but surely this is a calamity to Bartley, +and to the poor miners, but not to any one that I love, and that you have +learnt to respect." + +"My son," said the Colonel, solemnly, "the mine was fired by foul play." + +"Is it possible?" + +"It is believed that some rival owner, or else some personal enemy of +William Hope, bribed a villain to fire some part of the mine that Hope +was inspecting." + +"Great heavens!" said Walter, "can such villains exist? Poor, poor Mr. +Hope: who would think he had an enemy in the world?" + +"Alas!" said the Colonel, "that is not all. His daughter, it seems, +over-heard the villain bribing the ruffian to commit this foul and +terrible act, and she flew to the mine directly. She dispatched some +miners to seize that hellish villain, and she went down the mine to save +her father." + +"Ah!" said Walter, trembling all over. + +"She has never been seen since." + +The Colonel's head sank for a moment on his breast. + +Walter groaned and turned pale. + +"She came too late to save him; she came in time to share his fate." + +Walter sank into a chair, and a deadly pallor overspread his face, his +forehead, and his very lips. + +The Colonel rushed to the door and called for help, and in a moment John +Baker and Mrs. Milton and Julia Clifford were round poor Walter's chair +with brandy and ether and salts, and every stimulant. He did not faint +away; strong men very seldom do at any mere mental shock. + +The color came slowly back to his cheeks and his pale lips, and his eyes +began to fill with horror. The weeping women, and even the stout Colonel, +viewed with anxiety his return to the full consciousness of his calamity. +"Be brave," cried Colonel Clifford; "be a soldier's son; don't despair; +fight: nothing has been neglected. Even Bartley is playing the man; he +has got another engine coming up, and another body of workmen to open the +new shaft as well as the old one." + +"God bless him!" said Walter. + +"And I have an experienced engineer on the road, and the things civilians +always forget--tents and provisions of all sorts. We will set an army to +work sooner than your sweetheart, poor girl, shall lose her life by any +fault of ours." + +"My sweetheart," cried Walter, starting suddenly from his chair. "There, +don't cling to me, women. No man shall head that army but I. My +sweetheart! God help me--SHE'S MY WIFE." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +REMORSE. + + +In a work of this kind not only the external incidents should be noticed, +but also what may be called the mental events. We have seen a calamity +produce a great revulsion in the feelings of Colonel Clifford; but as for +Robert Bartley his very character was shaken to the foundation by his +crime and its terrible consequences. He was now like a man who had glided +down a soft sunny slope, and was suddenly arrested at the brink of a +fathomless precipice. Bartley was cunning, selfish, avaricious, +unscrupulous in reality, so long as he could appear respectable, but he +was not violent, nor physically reckless, still less cruel. A deed of +blood shocked him as much as it would shock an honest man. Yet now +through following his natural bent too far, and yielding to the influence +of a remorseless villain, he found his own hands stained with blood--the +blood of a man who, after all, had been his best friend, and had led him +to fortune; and the blood of an innocent girl who had not only been his +pecuniary benefactress for a time, but had warmed and lighted his house +with her beauty and affection. + +Busy men, whose views are all external, are even more apt than others to +miss the knowledge of their own minds. This man, to whom everything was +business, had taken for granted he did not actually love Grace Hope. Why, +she was another man's child. But now he had lost her forever, he found he +had mistaken his own feelings. He looked round his gloomy horizon and +realized too late that he did love her; it was not a great and +penetrating love like William Hope's; he was incapable of such a +sentiment; but what affection he had to bestow, he had given to this +sweet creature. His house was dark without her; he was desolate and +alone, and, horrible to think of, the instrument of her assassination. +This thought drove him to frenzy, and his frenzy took two forms, furious +excitement and gloomy despair; this was now his life by night and day, +for sleep deserted him. At the mine his measures were all wise, but his +manner very wild; the very miners whispered amongst themselves that he +was going mad. At home, on the contrary, he was gloomy, with sullen +despair. He was in this latter condition the evening after the explosion, +when a visitor was announced. Thinking it was some one from the mine, he +said, faintly, "Admit him," and then his despondent head dropped on his +breast; indeed, he was in a sort of lethargy, worn out with his labors, +his remorse and his sleeplessness. + +In that condition his ear was suddenly jarred by a hard, metallic voice, +whose tone was somehow opposed to all the voices with which goodness and +humanity have ever spoken. + +"Well, governor, here's a slice of luck." + +Bartley shivered. "Is that the devil speaking to me?" he muttered, +without looking up. + +"No," said Monckton, jauntily, "only one of his servants, and your +best friend." + +"My friend," said Bartley, turning his chair and looking at him with a +sort of dull wonder. + +"Ay," said Monckton, "your friend; the man that found you brains and +resolution, and took you out of the hole, and put Hope and his +daughter in it instead; no, not his daughter, she did that for us, she +was so clever." + +"Yes," said Bartley, wildly, "it was you who made me an assassin. +But for you, I should only have been a knave; now I am a +murderer--thanks to you." + +"Come, governor," said Monckton, "no use looking at one side of the +picture. You tried other things first. You made him liberal offers, you +know; but he would have war to the knife, and he has got it. He is buried +at the bottom of that shaft." + +"God forbid!" + +"And you are all right." + +"I am in hell," shrieked Bartley. + +"Well, come out of it," said Monckton, "and let's talk sense. I--I read +the news at Derby, just as I was starting for London. I have been as near +the mine as I thought safe. They seem to be very busy clearing out both +shafts--two steam-engines, constant relays of workmen. Who has got the +job in hand?" + +"I have," said Bartley. + +"Well, that's clever of you to throw dust in their eyes, and put our +little game off your own shoulders. You want to save appearances? You +know you can not save William Hope." + +"I can save him, and I will save him. God will have mercy on a penitent +assassin, as he once had upon a penitent thief." + +Monckton stared at him and smiled. + +"Who has been talking to you--the parson?" + +"My own conscience. I abhor myself as much as I do you, you black +villain." + +"Ah!" said Monckton, with a wicked glance, "that's how a man patters +before he splits upon his pals, to save his own skin. Now, look here, old +man, before you split on me ask yourself who had the greatest interest in +this job. You silenced a dangerous enemy, but what have I gained? you +ought to square with me first, as you promised. If you split upon me +before that, you will put yourself in the hole and leave me out of it." + +"Villain and fool!" said Bartley, "these trifles do not trouble me now. +If Hope and my dear Mary are found dead in that mine, I'll tell how they +came by their death, and I'll die by my own hand." + +Monckton said nothing, but looked at him keenly, and began at last to +feel uneasy. + +"A shaft is but a narrow thing," Bartley rejoined; "why should they be +buried alive? let's get to them before they are starved to death. We may +save them yet." + +"Why, you fool, they'll denounce us!" + +"What do I care? I would save them both to-night if I was to stand in the +dock to-morrow." + +"And swing on the gallows next week, or end your days in a prison." + +"I'd take my chance," said Bartley, desperately. "I'll undo my crime if +I can. No punishment can equal the agony I am in now, thanks to you, +you villain." + +Then turning on him suddenly, and showing him the white of his eyes like +a maniac, or a dangerous mastiff, he hissed out, "You think nothing of +the lives of better men; perhaps you don't value your own?" + +"Oh, I beg your pardon," said Monckton. "That's a very different thing." + +"Oh, you do value your own foul life?" + +"At any amount of money," said Monckton. + +"Then why do you risk it?" + +"Excuse me, governor, that's a thing I make a point of not doing. I risk +my instruments, not my head, Ben Burnley to wit." + +"You are risking it now," said Bartley, looking still more +strangely at him. + +"How so, pray?" said Monckton, getting a little uneasy, for this was not +the Bartley he had known till then. + +Bartley took the poker in his hand and proceeded to poke the fire; but +somehow he did not look at the fire. He looked askant at Monckton, and he +showed the white of his eyes more and more. Monckton kept his eye upon +him and put his hand upon the handle of the door. + +"I'll tell you," said Bartley--"by coming here to tempt, provoke, and +insult the wretch whose soul you destroyed, by forcing me to assassinate +the best man and the sweetest girl in England, when there were vipers and +villains about whom it's a good action to sweep off God's earth. Villain! +I'll teach you to come like a fool and madden a madman. I was only a +rogue, you have made me a man of blood. All the worse for you. I have +murdered _them_, I'll execute _you_," and with these words he bounded on +him like a panther. + +Monckton tore the doors open, and dashed out, but a furious blow fell +before he was quite clear of the doorway. With such force was it +delivered that the blunt metal cut into the edge of the door like a +sword; the jamb was smashed, and even Monckton, who received but +one-fourth of the blow, fell upon his hands and knees into the hall and +was stunned for a moment, but fearing worse, staggered out of the hall +door, which, luckily for him, was open, and darting into a little grove +of shrubs, that was close by, grovelled there in silence, bleeding like a +pig, and waiting for his chance to escape entirely; but the quaking +reptile ran no further risk. + +Bartley never followed him beyond his own room; he had been goaded into a +maniacal impulse, and he returned to his gloomy sullenness. + + * * * * * + +Walter's declaration, made so suddenly before four persons, startled +them greatly for a moment--but only for a moment. Julia was the +first to speak. + +"We might have known it," she said, "Mary Bartley is a young lady +incapable of misconduct; she is prudence, virtue, delicacy, and purity in +person; the man she was with at that place was sure to be her husband, +and who should that be but Walter, whom she loved?" + +Then the servants looked anxiously at their master to see how he took +this startling revelation. Well, the Colonel stood firm as if he was at +the head of a column in the field. He was not the man to retreat from any +position, he said, "All we have to do is to save her; then my house and +arms are open to my son's wife." + +"God bless you, father!" cried Walter, in a broken voice; "and God +bless you, dear cousin. Yes, it's no time for words." And he was gone +in a moment. + +"Now Milton," said the Colonel, "he won't sleep here till the work is +done, and he won't sleep at all if we don't get a bed for him near the +mine. You order the break out, and go to the Dun Cow and do what you +can for him." + +"That I will, sir; I'll take his own sheets and bedding with me. I won't +trust that woman--she talks too much; and, if you please, sir, I'll stay +there a day or two myself, for maybe I shall coax him to eat a morsel of +my cooking, and to lie down a bit, when he would not listen to a +stranger." + +"You're a faithful creature," said the Colonel, rather aggressively, not +choosing to break down, "so are you, John; and it is at these moments we +find out our friends in the house; and, confound you, I forbid you both +to snivel," said he, still louder. Then, more gravely, "How do we know? +many a stormy day ends well; this calamity may bring happiness and peace +to a divided house." + +Colonel Clifford prophesied right. Walter took the lead of a working gang +and worked night and day, resting two hours only in the twenty-four, and +even that with great reluctance. Outside the scene was one of bustle and +animation. Little white tents, for the strange workmen to sleep in, +dotted the green, and two snowy refreshment tents were pitched outside +the Dun Cow. That establishment had large brick ovens and boilers, and +the landlady, and the women she had got to help her, kept the tables +always groaning under solid fare that never once flagged, being under the +charge of that old campaigner, Colonel Clifford. The landlady tried to +look sad at the occasion which called forth her energy and talents; but +she was a woman of business, and her complacency oozed through her. Ah, +it was not so at the pit mouth; the poor wives whose husbands were +entombed below, alive or dead, hovered and fluttered about the two shafts +with their aprons to their eyes, and eager with their questions. Deadly +were their fears, their hopes fainter and fainter, as day after day went +by, and both gangs, working in so narrow a space, made little progress, +compared with their own desires, and the prayers of those who trembled +for the result. It was a race and a struggle of two gallant parties, and +a short description of it will be given; but as no new incidents happened +for six days we shall preserve the chronological order of events, and now +relate a daring project which was revived in that interval. + +Monckton and Bartley were now enemies. Sin had united, crime and remorse +had disunited them. Monckton registered a vow of future vengeance upon +his late associate, but in the meantime, taking a survey of the present +circumstances, he fell back upon a dark project he had conceived years +ago on the very day when he was arrested for theft in Bartley's office. + +Perhaps our readers, their memory disturbed by such a number of various +matters as we have since presented to them, may have forgotten that +project, but what is about to follow will tend to revive their +recollection. Monckton then wired to Mrs. Braham's lawyer demanding an +immediate interview with that lady; he specified the hour. + +The lawyer went to her directly, the matter being delicate. He found +her in great distress, and before he could open his communication she +told him her trouble. She said that her husband, she feared, was going +out of his mind; he groaned all night and never slept, and in the +daytime never spoke. + +There had been just then some surprising falls and rises in foreign +securities, and the shrewd lawyer divined at once that the stock-broker +had been doing business on his own account, and got pinched; so he said, +"My dear madam, I suspect it is business on the Exchange; he will get +over that, but there is something that is immediately pressing," and he +then gave her Monckton's message. + +Now her nerves were already excited, and this made matters worse. She +cried and trembled, and became hysterical, and vowed she would never +go near Leonard Monckton again; he had never loved her, had never been +a friend to her as Jonathan Braham had. "No," said she; "if he wants +money, take and sell my jewels; but I shall stay with my husband in +his trouble." + +"He is not your husband," said the lawyer, quietly; "and this man is your +husband, and things have come to my knowledge lately which it would be +imprudent at present to disclose either to him or you; but we are old +friends. You can not doubt that I have your interest at heart." + +"No, I don't doubt that," said Lucy, hastily, and held out her +hand to him. + +"Well, then," said he, "be persuaded and meet the man." + +"No, I will not do that," said she. "I am not a good woman, I know; but +it is not for want of the wish. I will not play double any more." And +from that nothing he could say could move her. + +The lawyer returned to his place, and when Monckton called next day he +told him he was sorry to say Mr. Braham was ill and in trouble, and the +lady couldn't meet him. She would make any reasonable sacrifice for his +convenience except that. + +"And I," said Monckton, "insist upon that, and nothing else." + +The lawyer endeavored to soften him, and hinted that he would advance +money himself sooner than his client should be tormented. + +But Monckton was inflexible. He said, "It is about a matter that she can +not communicate to you, nor can I. However, I am obliged to you for your +information. She won't leave her stock-broker, eh? Well, then I know +where to find her;" and he took up his hat to go. + +"No, pray don't do that," said Mr. Middleton, earnestly. "Let me try her +again. She has had time to sleep over it." + +"Try her," said Monckton, sternly, "and if you are her friend, take +her husband's side in this one thing; it's the last time I shall +trouble her." + +"I am her friend," said the lawyer. "And if you must know, I rather +wish her to meet you and get it over. Will you come here again at +five o'clock?" + +"All right," said Monckton. + +Monckton was struck with lawyer Middleton's manner, and went away +puzzling over it. + +"What's _his_ little game, I wonder?" said he. + +The lawyer went post-haste to his client's house. He found her in tears. +She handed him an open letter. + +Braham was utterly ruined, and besides that had done something or other +he did not care to name; he was off to America, leaving her what money +she could find in the house and the furniture, which he advised her to +sell at once before others claimed it; in short, the man was wild with +fear, and at present thought but little of anybody but himself. + +Then the lawyer set himself to comfort her as well as he could, and +renewed his request that she would give Monckton a meeting. + +"Yes," said she, wearily--"it is no use trying to resist _him_; he can +come here." + +The lawyer demurred to that. "No," said he, "keep your own counsel, don't +let him know you are deserted and ruined; make a favor of coming, but +_come_: and a word in your ear--he can do more for you than Braham can, +or will ever do again. So don't you thwart him if you can help." + +She was quick enough to see there was something weighty behind, and she +consented. He took her back with him; only she was such a long time +removing the traces of tears, and choosing the bonnet she thought she +should look best in, that she made him twenty minutes late and rather +cross. It is a way women have of souring that honeycomb, a man. + +When the trio met at the office the husband was pale, the wife dull +and sullen. + +"It's the last time I shall trouble you, Lucy," said Monckton. + +"As you please, Leonard." + +"And I want you to make my fortune." + +"You have only to tell me how." (Quite incredulously.) + +"You must accompany me to Derbyshire, or else meet me at Derby, whichever +you please. Oh, don't be alarmed. I don't ask you to travel with me as +man and wife." + +"It doesn't much matter, I suppose," said Lucy, doggedly. + +"Well, you are accommodating; I'll be considerate." + +"No doubt you will," said Lucy; then turning her glorious eyes full +upon him, "WHAT'S THE CRIME?" + +"The crime!" said Monckton, looking all about the room to find it. +"What crime?" + +"The crime I'm wanted for; all your schemes are criminal, you know." + +"Well, you're complimentary. It's not a crime this time; it's only a +confession." + +"Ah! What am I to confess--bigamy?" + +"The idea! No. You are to confess--in a distant part of England, what you +can deny in London next day--that on a certain day you married a +gentleman called Walter Clifford." + +"I'll say that on the eleventh day of June, 1868, I married a gentleman +who was called Walter Clifford." + +This was Lucy's reply, and given very doggedly. + +"Bravo! and will you stand to it if the real Walter Clifford says it +is a lie?" + +Lucy reflected. "No, I will not." + +"Well, well, we shall have time to talk about that: when can you start?" + +"Give me three days." + +"All right." + +"You won't keep me there long after I have done this wicked thing?" + +"No, no. I will send you home with flying colors, and you shall have your +share of the plunder." + +"I'd rather go into service again and work my fingers to the bone." + +"Since you have such a contempt for money, perhaps you'll stand +fifty pounds?" + +"I have no money with me, but I'll ask Mr. Middleton to advance me some." + +She opened the door, and asked one of the clerks if she could see the +principal for a moment. He came to her directly. She then said to him, +"He wants fifty pounds; could you let me have it for him?" + +"Oh," said the lawyer, cheerfully, "I shall be happy to lend Mr. Monckton +fifty or a hundred pounds upon his own note of hand." + +They both stared at him a little; but a blank note of hand was +immediately produced, drawn and signed at six months' date for £52 10s., +and the lawyer gave Monckton his check for £50. Husband and wife then +parted for a time. Monckton telegraphed to his lodgings to say that his +sister would come down with him for country air, and would require good +accommodation, but would pay liberally. + +In most mining accidents the shafts are clear, and the débris that has to +be picked through to get to the entombed miners is attacked with this +advantage, that a great number of men have room to use their arms and +pickaxes, and the stuff has not to be sent up to the surface. But in this +horrible accident both gangs of workers were confined to a small area and +small cages, and the stuff had to be sent up to the surface. + +Bartley, who seemed to live only to rescue the sufferers by his own +fault, provided miles of rope, and had small cages knocked together, so +that the débris was continually coming up from both the shafts, and one +great source of delay was averted. But the other fatal cause of delay +remained, and so daylight came and went, and the stars appeared and +disappeared with incredible rapidity to poor Walter and the other gallant +workers, before they got within thirty feet of the pit: those who worked +in the old shafts, having looser stuff to deal with, gained an advance of +about seven feet upon the other working party, and this being reported to +Walter he went down the other shaft to inspire the men by words and +example. He had not been down two hours when one of the miners cried, +"Hold hard, they are working up to us," and work was instantly suspended +for a moment. Then sure enough the sounds of pickaxes working below were +just audible. + +There was a roar of exultation from the rescuing party, and a man was +sent up with his feet in a bucket, and clinging to a rope, to spread the +joyful tidings; but the work was not intermitted for more than a moment, +and in a few hours it became necessary to send the cage down and suspend +the work to avoid another accident. The thin remaining crust gave way, +the way was clear, lamps were sent down, and the saving party were soon +in the mine, with a sight before them never to be forgotten. + +The few men who stood erect with picks in their hands were men of rare +endurance; and even they began to fall, exhausted with fatigue and +hunger. Five times their number lay dotted about the mine, prostrated by +privation, and some others, alas! were dead. None of the poor fellows +were in a condition to give a rational answer, though Walter implored +them to say where Hope was and his daughter. These poor pale wretches, +the shadows of their former selves, were sent up in the cages with all +expedition, and received by Bartley, who seemed to forget nothing, for he +had refreshment tents ready at the pit mouth. + +Meantime, Walter and others, whose hearts were with him, ran wildly +through the works, and groped on their knees with their lamps to find +Hope and his daughter, but they were not to be found, and nine miners +beside them were missing, including Ben Burnley. Then Walter came wildly +up to the surface, wringing his hands with agony, and crying, "they are +lost! they are lost!" + +"No," cried Bartley, "they must not be lost; they shall not be lost. One +man has come to himself. I gave him port-wine and brandy." Then he +dragged the young man into the tent. There was stout Jim Davies propped +up and held, but with a great tumbler of brandy and port in his hand. + +"Now, my man," said, or rather screamed, Bartley, "tell him where Hope +is, and Mary--that I--Oh, God! oh, God!" + +"Master," said Jim, faintly, "I was in the hall with Mr. Hope and the +lady when the first explosion came. Most of us ran past the old shaft and +got clear. A few was caught by the falling shaft, for I looked back and +saw it. But I never saw Master Hope among them. If he was, he is buried +under the shaft; but I do really think that he was that taken up with his +girl, and that darned villain that fired the mine, as he's like to be in +the hall either alive or dead." + +He could say no more, but fell into a sort of doze, the result of the +powerful stimulant on his enfeebled frame and empty stomach. Then +Bartley, with trembling hands, brought out a map of the mine and showed +Walter where the second party had got to. + +"See," said he, "they are within twenty feet of the bottom, and the hall +is twenty-three feet high. Hope measured it. Give up working downward, +pick into the sides of that hall, for in that hall I see them at night; +sometimes they are alive, sometimes they are dead, sometimes they are +dying. I shall go mad, I shall go mad!" + +With this he went raging about, giving the wildest orders, with the looks +and tones of a madman. In a minute he had a cage ready for Walter, and +twenty fresh-lit lamps, and down went Walter with more men and pickaxes. +As soon as he got out of the cage he cried, wildly, "Stop that, men, and +do as I do." + +He took a sweep with his pick, and delivered a horizontal blow at the +clay on that side of the shaft Bartley had told him to attack. His +pickaxe stuck in it, and he extricated it with difficulty. + +"Nay, master," cried a miner who had fallen in love with him, "drive thy +pick at t' coal." + +Walter then observed that above the clay there was a narrow seam of coal; +he heaved his pick again, but instead of striking it half downward, as he +ought to have done, he delivered a tremendous horizontal blow that made +the coal ring like a church bell, and jarred his own stout arms so +terribly that the pick fell out of his numbed hand. + +Then the man who had advised him saw that he was disabled for a time, and +stepped into his place. + +But in that short interval an incident occurred so strange and thrilling +that the stout miners uttered treble cries, like women, and then one +mighty "Hah!" burst like a diapason from their manly bosoms. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +BURIED ALIVE.--THE THREE DEADLY PERILS. + + +Seven miners were buried under the ruins of the shaft; but although +masses of coal and clay fell into the hall from the side nearest to +the explosions, and blocked up some of the passages, nobody was +crushed to death there; only the smoke was so stifling that it seemed +impossible to live. + +That smoke was lighter than the air; its thick pall lifted by degrees and +revealed three figures. + +Grace Hope, by happy instinct, had sunk upon the ground to breathe in +that stifling smoke. Hope, who had collared Ben Burnley, had sunk to the +ground with him, but still clutched the assassin. These were the three +left alive in the hall, and this was their first struggle for life. + +As soon as it was possible to speak Hope took up his lamp, which had +fallen, and holding it up high, he cried, "Grace, my child, where are +you?" She came to him directly; he took her in his arms and thanked God +for this great preservation. + +Then he gave Burnley a kick, and ordered him to the right hand of the +hall. "You'll keep to that side," he said, "and think of what you have +done; your victims will keep this side, and comfort each other till +honest men undo your work, you villain." + +Burnley crouched, and wriggled away like a whipped hound, and flung +himself down in bitter despair. + +"Oh, papa," said Grace, "we have escaped a great danger, but shall we +ever see the light of day?" + +"Of course we shall, child; be sure that great efforts will be made to +save us. Miners have their faults, but leaving other men to perish is not +one of them; there are no greater heroes in the world than those rough +fellows, with all their faults. What you and I must do at once is to +search for provisions and lamps and tools; if there are no poisonous +gases set free, it is a mere question of time. My poor child has a hard +life before her; but only live, and we shall be rescued." + +These brave words comforted Grace, as they were intended to do, and she +accompanied her father down the one passage which was left open after the +explosion. Fortunately this led to a new working, and before he had gone +many yards Hope found a lamp that had been dropped by some miner who had +rushed into the hall as the first warning came. Hope extinguished the +light, and gave it to Grace. + +"That will be twenty-four hours' light to us," said he; "but, oh, what I +want to find is food. There must be some left behind." + +"Papa," said Grace, "I think I saw a miner throw a bag into an empty +truck when the first alarm was given." + +"Back! back! my child!" cried Hope, "before that villain finds it!" + +He did not wait for her but ran back, and he found Ben Burnley in the +neighborhood of that very truck: but Burnley sneaked off at his +approach. Hope, looking into the truck, found treasures--a dozen new +sacks, a heavy hammer, a small bag of nails, a can of tea, and a bag +with a loaf in it, and several broken pieces of bread. He put his lamp +out directly, for he had lucifer-matches in his pocket, and he hid the +bag of bread; then he lighted his lamp again and fastened it up by a +nail in the centre of the hall. + +"There," said he to Burnley, "that's to light us both equally; when it +goes out you must hang up yours in its place." + +"That's fair," said Burnley, humbly. + +There were two trucks on Hope's side of the hall--the empty one in +question, and one that was full of coal. Both stood about two yards from +Hope's side of the hall. Hope turned the empty truck and brought it +parallel to the other; then he nailed two sacks together, and fastened +them to the coal truck and the débris; then he laid sacks upon the ground +for Grace to lie on, and he kept two sacks for himself, and two in +reserve, and he took two and threw them to Ben Burnley. + +"I give you two, and I keep two myself," said he. "But my daughter shall +have a room to herself even here; and if you molest her I'll brain you +with this hammer." + +"I don't want to molest her," said Burnley. "It ain't my fault +she's here." + +Then there was a gloomy silence, and well there might be. The one lamp, +twinkling faintly against the wall, did but make darkness visible, and +revealed the horror of this dismal scene. The weary hours began to crawl +away, marked only by Hope's watch, for in this living tomb summer was +winter, and day was night. + +The horrors of entombment in a mine have, we think, been described +better than any other calamity which befalls living men. Inspired by +this subject novelists have gone beyond themselves, journalists have +gone beyond themselves; and, without any affectation, we say we do not +think we could go through the dismal scene before us in its general +details without falling below many gifted contemporaries, and adding +bulk without value to their descriptions. The true characteristic +feature of _this_ sad scene was not, we think, the alternations of hope +and despair, nor the gradual sinking of frames exhausted by hunger and +thirst, but the circumstance that here an assassin and his victims were +involved in one terrible calamity; and as one day succeeded to another, +and the hoped for rescue came not, the hatred of the assassin and his +victims was sometimes at odds with the fellowship that sprang out of a +joint calamity. About twelve hours after the explosion Burnley detected +Hope and his daughter eating, and moistening their lips with the tea and +a spoonful of brandy that Hope had poured into it out of his flask to +keep it from turning sour. + +"What, haven't you a morsel for me?" said the ruffian, in a +piteous voice. + +Hope gave a sort of snarl of contempt, but still he flung a crust to him +as he would to a dog. + +Then, after some slight hesitation, Grace rose quietly and took the +smaller can, and tilled it with tea, and took it across to him. + +"There," said she, "and may God forgive you." + +He took it and stared at her. + +"It ain't my fault that you are here," said he; but she put up her hand +as much as to say, "No idle words." + + * * * * * + +Two whole days had now elapsed. The food, though economized, was all +gone. Burnley's lamp was flickering, and utter darkness was about to be +added to the horrors which were now beginning to chill the hopes with +which these poor souls had entered on their dire probation. Hope took the +alarm, seized the expiring lamp, trimmed it, and carried it down the one +passage that was open. This time he did not confine his researches to the +part where he could stand upright, but went on his hands and knees down +the newest working. At the end of it he gave a shout of triumph, and in a +few minutes returned to his daughter exhausted, and blackened all over +with coal; but the lamp was now burning brightly in his hand, and round +his neck was tied a can of oil. + +"Oh, my poor father," said Grace, "is that all you have discovered?" + +"Thank God for it," said Hope. "You little know what it would be to pass +two more days here without light, as well as without food." + + * * * * * + +The next day was terrible. The violent pangs of hunger began to gnaw like +vultures, and the thirst was still more intolerable; the pangs of hunger +intermitted for hours at a time, and then returned to intermit again: +they exhausted but did not infuriate; but the rage of thirst became +incessant and maddening. Ben Burnley suffered the most from this, and the +wretch came to Hope for consolation. + +"Where's the sense of biding here," said he, "to be burned to deeth wi' +drought? Let's flood the mine, and drink or be drooned." + +"How can I flood the mine?" said Hope. + +"Yow know best, maister," said the man. "Why, how many tons of water did +ye draw from yon tank every day?" + +"We conduct about five tons into a pit, and we send about five tons up to +the surface daily." + +"Then how much water will there be in the tank now?" + +Hope looked at his watch and said, "There was a good deal of water in +the tank when you blew up the mine; there must be about thirty tons +in it now." + +"Well, then," said Burnley, "you that knows everything, help me brust the +wall o' tank; it's thin enow." + +Hope reflected. + +"If we let in the whole body of water," said he, "it would shatter us to +pieces, and crush us against the wall of our prison and drown us before +it ran away through the obstructed passages into the new workings. +Fortunately, we have no pickaxe, and can not be tempted to +self-slaughter." + +This silenced Burnley for the day, and he remained sullenly apart; still +the idea never left his mind. The next day, toward evening, he asked Hope +to light his own lamp, and come and look at the wall of the tank. + +"Not without me," whispered Grace. "I see him cast looks of hatred at +you." + +They went together, and Burnley bade Hope observe that the water was +trickling through in places, a drop at a time; it could not penetrate the +coaly veins, nor the streaks of clay, but it oozed through the porous +strata, certain strips of blackish earth in particular, and it trickled +down, a drop at a time. Hope looked at this feature with anxiety, for he +was a man of science, and knew by the fate of banked reservoirs, great +and small, the strange explosive power of a little water driven through +strata by a great body pressing behind it. + +"You'll see, it will brust itsen," said Burnley, exultantly, "and the +sooner the better for me; for I'll never get alive out on t' mine; yow +blowed me to the men, and they'll break every bone in my skin." + +Hope did not answer this directly. + +"There, don't go to meet trouble, my man," said he. "Give me the +can, Grace. Now, Burnley, hold this can, and catch every drop till +it is full." + +"Why, it will take hauf a day to fill it," objected Burnley, "and it will +be hauf mud when all is done." + +"I'll filter it," said Hope. "You do as you are bid." + +He darted to a part of the mine where he had seen a piece of charred +timber; he dragged it in with him, and asked Grace for a +pocket-handkerchief; she gave him a clean cambric one. He took his +pocket-knife and soon scraped off a little heap of charcoal; and then he +sewed the handkerchief into a bag--for the handy man always carried a +needle and thread. + +Slowly, slowly the muddy water trickled into the little can, and then the +bag being placed over the larger can, slowly, slowly the muddy water +trickled through Hope's filter, and dropped clear and drinkable into the +larger can. In that dead life of theirs, with no incidents but torments +and terrors, the hours passed swiftly in this experiment. Hope sat upon a +great lump of coal, his daughter kneeled in front of him, gazing at him +with love, confidence, reverence; and Burnley kneeled in front of him +too, but at a greater distance, with wolfish eyes full of thirst and +nothing else. + +At last the little can was two-thirds full of clear water. Hope took the +large iron spoon which he had found along with the tea, and gave a full +spoonful to his daughter. "My child," said he, "let it trickle very +slowly over your tongue and down your throat; it is the throat and the +adjacent organs which suffer most from thirst." He then took a spoonful +himself, not to drink after an assassin. He then gave a spoonful to +Burnley with the same instructions, and rose from his seat and gave the +can to Grace, and said, "The rest of this pittance must not be touched +for six hours at least." + +Burnley, instead of complying with the wise advice given him, tossed the +liquid down his throat with a gesture, and then dashing down the spoon, +said, "I'll have the rest on't if I die for it," and made a furious rush +at Grace Hope. + +She screamed faintly, and Hope met him full in that incautious rush, and +felled him like a log with a single blow. Burnley lay there with his +heels tapping the ground for a little while, then he got on his hands +and knees, and crawled away to the farthest corner of his own place, and +sat brooding. + +That night when Grace retired to rest Hope lay down at her feet, with his +hammer in his hand, and when one slept the other watched, for they feared +an attack. Toward the morning of the next day Grace's quick senses heard +a mysterious noise in Burnley's quarter; she woke her father. Directly he +went to the place, and he found Burnley at work on his knees tearing away +with his hands and nails at the ruins of the shaft. Apparently fury +supplied the place of strength, for he had raised quite a large heap +behind him, and he had laid bare the feet up to the knees of a dead +miner. Hope reported this in a hushed voice to Grace, and said, solemnly, +"Poor wretch, he's going mad, I fear." + +"Oh no," said Grace, "that would be too horrible. Whatever should we do?" + +"Keep him to his own side, that is all," said Hope. + +"But," objected Grace in dismay, "if he is mad, he won't listen, and he +will come here and attack me." + +"If he does," said Hope, simply, "I must kill him, that's all." + +Burnley, however, in point of fact, kept more and more aloof for many +hours; he never left his work till he laid bare the whole body of that +miner, and found a pickaxe in his dead hand. This he hid, and reserved it +for deadly uses; he was not clear in his mind whether to brain Hope with +it, and so be revenged on him for having shut him up in that mine, or +whether to peck a hole in the tank and destroy all three by a quicker +death than thirst or starvation. The savage had another and more horrible +reason for keeping out of sight; maddened by thirst he had recourse to +that last extremity better men have been driven to; he made a cut with +his clasp-knife in the breast of the dead miner, and tried to swallow +jellied blood. + +This horrible relief never lasts long, and the penalty follows in a few +hours; but in the meantime the savage obtained relief, and even vigor, +from this ghastly source, and seeing Hope and his daughter lying +comparatively weak and exhausted, he came and sat down at a little +distance in front of them: that was partly done to divert Hope from +examining his shambles and his unnatural work. + +"Maister," said he, "how long have we been here?" + +"Six days and more," said Hope. + +"Six days," said Grace, faintly, for her powers were now quite +exhausted--"and no signs of help, no hope of rescue." + +"Do not say so, Grace. Rescue in time is certain, and, therefore, while +we live there is hope." + +"Ay," said Burnley, "for you tew but not for me. Yow telt the men that I +fired t' mine, and if one of those men gets free they'll all tear me limb +from jacket. Why should I leave one grave to walk into another? But for +yow I should have been away six days agone." + +"Man," said Hope, "can not you see that my hand was but the instrument? +it was the hand of Heaven that kept you back. Cease to blame your +victims, and begin to see things as they are and to repent. Even if you +escape, could the white faces ever fade from your sight, or the dying +shrieks ever leave your ear, of the brave men you so foully murdered? +Repent, monster, repent!" + +Burnley was not touched, but he was scared by Hope's solemnity, and went +to his own corner muttering, and as he crouched there there came over his +dull brain what in due course follows the horrible meal he had made--a +feverish frenzy. + +In the meantime Grace, who had been lying half insensible, raised her +head slowly and said, in a low voice, "Water, water!" + +"Oh, my girl," said Hope, in despair, "I'll go and get enough to moisten +your lips; but the last scrap of food has gone, the last drop of oil is +burning away, and in an hour we shall be in darkness and despair." + +"No, no, father," said Grace, "not while there is water there, +beautiful water." + +"But you can not drink _that_ unfiltered; it is foul, it is poisonous." + +"Not that, papa," said Grace, "far beyond that--look! See that clear +river sparkling in the sunlight; how bright and beautiful it shines! Look +at the waving trees upon the other side, the green meadows and the bright +blue sky, and there--there--there--are the great white swans. No, no. I +forgot, they are not swans, they are ships sailing to the bright land you +told me of, where there is no suffering and no sorrow." + +Then Hope, to his horror, began to see that this must be the very +hallucination of which he had read, a sweet illusion of green fields and +crystal water, which often precedes actual death by thirst and +starvation. He trembled, he prayed secretly to God to spare her, and not +to kill his new-found child, his darling, in his arms. + +By-and-by Grace spoke again, but this time her senses were clear; "How +dark it's grown!" she said. "Ah, we are back again in that awful mine." +Then, with the patient fortitude of a woman when once she thinks the will +of the Almighty is declared, she laid her hand upon his shoulder, and she +said, soothingly, "Dear father, bow to Heaven's will;" then she held up +both her feeble arms to him--"kiss me, father--FOR WE ARE TO DIE!" + +With these firm and patient words, she laid her sweet head upon the +ground, and hoped and feared no more. + +But the man could not bow like the woman. He kissed her as she bade him, +and laid her gently down; but after that he sprang wildly to his feet in +a frenzy, and raged aloud, as his daughter could no longer hear him. +"No, no," he cried, "this thing can not be, they have had seven days to +get to us. + +"Ah, but there are mountains and rocks of earth and coal piled up between +us. We are buried alive in the bowels of the earth. + +"Well, and shouldn't I have blasted a hundred rocks, and picked through +mountains, to save a hundred lives, or to save one such life as this, no +matter whose child she was? + +"Ah! you poor scum, you came to me whenever you wanted me, and you never +came in vain. But now that I want you, you smoke your pipes, and walk +calmly over this living tomb I lie in. + +"Well, call yourselves men, and let your friends perish; I am a man, and +I can die." + +Then he threw himself wildly on his knees over his insensible daughter. + +"But my child! Oh God! look down upon my child! Do, pray, see the horror +of it. The horror and the hellish injustice! She has but just found her +father. She is just beginning life; it's not her time to die! Why, you +know, she only came here to save her father. Heaven's blessing is the +right of pious children; it's promised in God's Word. They are to live +long upon earth, not to be cut off like criminals." + +Then he rose wildly, and raged about the place, flinging his arms on +high, so that even Burnley, though his own reason was shaken, cowered +away from the fury of a stronger mind. + +"Men and angels cry out against it!" he screamed, in madness and despair. +"Can this thing be? Can Heaven and earth look calmly on and see this +horror? Are men all ingratitude? IS GOD ALL APATHY?" + +A blow like a hammer striking a church bell tinkled outside the wall, and +seemed to come from a great distance. + +To him who, like the rugged Elijah, had expostulated so boldly with his +Maker, and his Maker, who is not to be irritated, forgave him, that blow +seemed at first to ring from heaven. He stood still, and trembled like a +leaf; he listened; the sound was not repeated. + +"Ah," said he, "it was an illusion like hers." + + * * * * * + +But for all that he seized his hammer, and darted to the back of the +hall, and mounting on a huge fragment of coal struck the seam high above +his head. He gave two blows at longish intervals, and then three blows in +quick succession. + +Grace heard, and began to raise herself on her hands in wonder. + +Outside the wall came two leisurely blows that seemed a mile off, though +they were not ten feet, and then three blows in quick succession. + +"My signal echoed," yelled Hope. "Do you hear, child, my signal answered? +Thank God! thank God! thank God!" + +He fell on his knees and cried like a child. The next minute, burning +with hope and joy, he was by Grace's side, with his arms round her. + +"You can't give way now. Fight on a few minutes more. Death, I defy you; +I am a father; I tear my child from your clutches." With this he raised +her in his arms with surprising vigor. It was Grace's turn to shake off +all weakness, under the great excitement of the brain. + +"Yes, I'll live," she cried, "I'll live for you. Oh, the gallant men! +Hear, hear the pickaxes at work; an army is coming to our rescue, father; +the God you doubted sends them, and some hero leads them." + +The words had scarcely left her lips when Hope set her down in fresh +alarm. An enemy's pickaxe was at work to destroy them; Burnley was +picking furiously at the weak part of the tank, shrieking, "They will +tear me to pieces; there is no hope in this world nor the next for me." + +"Madman," cried Hope--"he'll let the water in before they can save us." +He rushed at Burnley and seized him; but his frenzy was gone, and +Burnley's was upon him; after a short struggle Burnley flung him off with +prodigious power. Hope flew at him again, but incautiously, and the +savage lowering his head, drove it with such fury into Hope's chest that +he sent him to a distance, and laid him flat on his back utterly +breathless. Grace flew to him and raised him. + +He was not a man to lose his wits. "To the truck," he gasped, "or we +are lost." + +"I'll flood the mine! I'll flood the mine!" yelled Burnley. + +Hope made his daughter mount a large fragment of coal we have already +mentioned, and from that she sprang to the truck, and with her excitement +and with her athletic power she raised herself into the full truck, and +even helped her father in after her. But just as she got him on to the +truck, and while he was still only on his knees, that section of the wall +we have called the tank rent and gaped under Burnley's pickaxe, and +presently exploded about six feet from the ground, and a huge volume of +water drove masses of earth and coal before it, and came roaring like a +solid body straight at the coal truck, and drove it against the opposite +wall, smashed the nearest side in, and would have thrown Grace off it +like a feather, but Hope, kneeling and clinging to the side, held her +like a vise. + +Grace screamed violently. Immediately there was a roar of exultation +outside from the hitherto silent workers; for that scream told that the +_woman_ was alive, too: the wife of the brave fellow who had won all +their hearts and melted away the icy barrier of class. + +Three gigantic waves struck the truck and made it quiver. + +The first came half-way up; the second came full two-thirds; the third +dashed the senseless body of Ben Burnley, with bleeding head and broken +bones, against the very edge of the truck, then surged back with him into +a whirling vortex. + +Grace screamed continuously; she gave herself up now for lost; and the +louder she screamed, the louder and the nearer the saving party shouted +and hurrahed. + +"No, do not fear," cried Hope; "you shall not die. Love is stronger +than death." + +The words were scarce out of his mouth when the point of a steel pick +came clean through the stuff; another followed above it; then another, +then another, and then another. Holes were made; then gaps, then larger +gaps, then a mass of coal fell in; furious picks--a portion of the mine +knocked away--and there stood in a red blaze of lamps held up, the +gallant band roaring, shouting, working, led by a stalwart giant with +bare arms, begrimed and bleeding, face smoked, hair and eyebrows black +with coal-dust, and eyes flaming like red coals. He sprang with one +fearless bound down to the coal-truck, and caught up his wife in his +arms, and held her to his panting bosom. Ropes, ladder, everything--and +they were saved; while the corpse of the assassin whirled round and round +in the subsiding eddies of the black water, and as that water ran away +into the mine, lay, coated with mud, at the feet of those who had saved +his innocent victims. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +STRANGE COMPLICATIONS. + + +Exert all the powers of your mind, and conceive, if you can, what that +mother felt whose only son sickened, and, after racking her heart with +hopes and fears, died before her eyes, and was placed in his coffin and +carried to his rest. Yet One in the likeness of a man bade the bearers +stand still, then, with a touch, made the coffin open, the dead come +back, blooming with youth and health, and handed him to his mother. + +That picture no mortal mind can realize; but the effort will take you +so far as this: you may imagine what Walter Clifford felt when, almost +at the climax of despair, he received from that living tomb the good +and beautiful creature who was the light of his eyes and the darling of +his heart. + +How he gloated on her! How he murmured words of comfort and joy over her +as the cage carried her and Hope and him up again into the blessed +sunshine! And there, what a burst of exultation and honest rapture +received them! + +Everybody was there. The news of Hope's signal had been wired to the +surface. An old original telegraph had been set up by Colonel Clifford, +and its arms set flying to tell him. That old campaigner was there, with +his spring break and mattresses, and an able physician. Bartley was +there, pale and old, and trembling, and crying. He fell on his knees +before Hope and Grace. She drew back from him with repulsion; but he +cried out, "No matter! no matter! They are saved! they are saved!" + +Walter carried her to his father, and left Bartley kneeling. Then he +dashed back for Hope, who did not move, and found him on his knees +insensible. A piece of coal, driven by one of the men's picks, had struck +him on the temple. The gallant fellow had tried to hide his hurt with his +handkerchief, but the handkerchief was soaked with blood, and the man, +exhausted by hunger, violent emotions, and this last blow, felt neither +his trouble nor his joy. He was lifted with tender pity into the break, +and the blood stanched, and stimulants applied by the doctor. But Grace +would have his head on her bosom, and her hand in Walter's. Fortunately, +the doctor was no other than that physician who had attended Colonel +Clifford in his dangerous attack of internal gout. We say fortunately, +for patients who have endured extremities of hunger have to be treated +with very great skill and caution. Gentle stimulants and mucilages must +precede solid food, and but a little of anything be taken at a time. +Doctor Garner began his treatment in the very break. The first spoonful +of egg and brandy told upon Grace Hope. Her deportment had been strange. +She had seemed confused at times, and now and then she would cast a look +of infinite tenderness upon Walter, and then again she would knit her +brow and seem utterly puzzled. + +But now she gave Walter a look that brought him nearer to her, and she +said, with a heavenly smile, "You love me best; better than the other." +Then she began to cry over her father. + +"Better than the other," said Walter, aloud. "What other?" + +"Be quiet," said the doctor. "Do you really think her stomach can be +empty for six days, and her head be none the worse? Come, my dear, +another spoonful. Good girl! Now et me look at you, Mr. Walter." + +"Why, what is the matter with _him_?" said the Colonel. "I never saw him +look better in all my life." + +"Indeed! Red spots on his cheek-bones, ditto on his temples, and his +eyes glaring." + +"Excitement and happiness," said Walter. + +The doctor took no notice of him. "He has been outraging nature," +said he, "and she will have her revenge. We are not out of the wood +yet, Colonel Clifford, and you had better put them all three under +my command." + +"I do, my good friend; I do," said Colonel Clifford, eagerly. "It is your +department, and I don't believe in two commanders." + +They drew up at the great door of Clifford Hall. It seemed to open of +itself, and there were all the servants drawn up in two lines. + +They all showed eager sympathy, but only John Baker and Mrs. Milton +ventured to express it. "God bless you all!" said Colonel Clifford. "But +it is our turn now. They are all in the doctor's hands. My whole +household obey him to the letter. It is my order. Doctor Garner, this is +Mrs. Milton, my housekeeper. You will find her a good lieutenant." + +"Mrs. Milton," said the doctor, sharply, "warm baths in three rooms, and +to bed with this lot. Carry Mr. Hope up; he is my first patient. Bring me +eggs, milk, brandy, new port-wine. Cook!" + +"Sir?" + +"Hammer three chickens to pieces with your rolling-pin, then mince them; +then chuck them into a big pot with cold water, stew them an hour, and +then boil them to a jelly, strain, and serve. Meantime, send up three +slices of mutton half raw; we will do a little chewing, not much." + +The patients submitted like lambs, only Walter grumbled a little, but at +last confessed to a headache and sudden weariness. + +Julia Clifford took special charge of Grace Hope, the doctor of William +Hope, and Colonel Clifford sat by Walter, congratulating, soothing, and +encouraging him, until he began to doze. + + * * * * * + +Doctor Garner's estimate of his patients proved correct. The next day +Walter was in a raging fever. + +Hope remained in a pitiable state of weakness, and Grace, who in theory +was the weaker vessel, began to assist Julia in nursing them both. To be +sure, she was all whip-cord and steel beneath her delicate skin, and had +always been active and temperate. And then she was much the youngest, and +the constitutions of such women are anything but weak. Still, it was a +most elastic recovery from a great shock. + +But the more her body recovered its strength, and her brain its +clearness, the more was her mind agitated and distressed. + +Her first horrible anxiety was for Walter's life. The doctor showed no +fear, but that might be his way. + +It was a raging fever, with all the varieties that make fever terrible to +behold. He was never left without two attendants; and as Hope was in no +danger now, though pitiably weak and slowly convalescent, Grace was often +one of Walter's nurses. So was Julia Clifford. He sometimes recognized +them for a little while, and filled their loving hearts with hope. But +the next moment he was off into the world of illusions, and sometimes +could not see them. Often he asked for Grace most piteously when she was +looking at him through her tears, and trying hard to win him to her with +her voice. On these occasions he always called her Mary. One unlucky day +that Grace and Julia were his only attendants he became very restless and +wild, said he had committed a great crime, and the scaffold was being +prepared for him. "Hark!" said he; "don't you hear the workmen? Curse +their hammers; their eternal tip-tapping goes through my brain. The +scaffold! What would the old man say? A Clifford hung! Never! I'll save +him and myself from that." + +Then he sprang out of bed and made a rush at the window. It was open, +unluckily, and he had actually got his knee through when Grace darted to +him and seized him, screaming to Julia to help her. Julia did her best, +especially in the way of screaming. Grace's muscle and resolution impeded +the attempt no more; slowly, gradually, he got both knees upon the +window-sill. But the delay was everything. In came a professional nurse. +She flung her arms round Walter's waist and just hung back with all her +weight. As she was heavy, though not corpulent, his more active strength +became quite valueless; weight and position defeated him hopelessly; and +at last he sank exhausted into the nurse's arms, and she and Grace +carried him to bed like a child. + +Of course, when it was all over, half a dozen people came to the rescue. +The woman told what had happened, the doctor administered a soothing +draught, the patient became very quiet, then perspired a little, then +went to sleep, and the cheerful doctor declared that he would be all the +better for what he called this little outbreak. But Grace sat there +quivering for hours, and Colonel Clifford installed two new nurses that +very evening. They were pensioners of his--soldiers who had been +invalided from wounds, but had long recovered, and were neither of them +much above forty. They had some experience, and proved admirable +nurses--quiet, silent, vigilant as sentinels. + +That burst of delirium was the climax. Walter began to get better +after that. But a long period of convalescence was before him; and the +doctor warned them that convalescence has its very serious dangers, +and that they must be very careful, and, above all, not irritate nor +even excite him. + +All this time torments of another kind had been overpowered but never +suppressed in poor Grace's mind; and these now became greater as Walter's +danger grew less and less. + +What would be the end of all this? Here she was installed, to her +amazement, in Clifford Hall, as Walter's wife, and treated, all of a +sudden, with marked affection and respect by Colonel Clifford, who had +hitherto seemed to abhor her. But it was all an illusion; the whole house +of cards must come tumbling down some day. + +Some days before the event last described Hope had said to her, + +"My child, this is no place for you and me." + +"No more it is, papa," said Grace. "I know that too well." + +"Then why did you let them bring us here?" + +"Papa," said Grace, "I forgot all about _that_." + +"Forgot it!" + +"It seems incredible, does it not? But what I saw and felt thrust what I +had only heard out of my mind. Oh, papa! you were insensible, poor dear; +but if you had only seen Walter Clifford when he saved us! I took him for +some giant miner. He seemed ever so much bigger than the gentleman I +loved--ay, and I shall love him to my dying day, whether or not he +has--But when he sprang to my side, and took me with his bare, bleeding +arms to his heart, that panted so, I thought his heart would burst, and +mine, too, could I feel another woman between us. All that might be true, +but it was unreal. That he loved me, and had saved me, _that_ was real. +And when we sat together in the carriage, your poor bleeding head upon my +bosom, and his hand grasping mine, and his sweet eyes beaming with love +and joy, what could I realize except my father's danger and my husband's +mighty love? I was all present anxiety and present bliss. His sin and my +alarms seemed hundreds of miles off, and doubtful. And even since I have +been here, see how greater and nearer things have overpowered me. Your +deadly weakness--you, who were strong, poor dear--oh, let me kiss you, +dear darling--till you had saved your child; Walter's terrible danger. +Oh, my dear father, spare me. How can a poor, weak woman think of such +different woes, and realize and suffer them all at once? Spare me, dear +father, spare me! Let me see you stronger; let me see _him_ safe, and +then let us think of that other cruel thing, and what we ought to say to +Colonel Clifford, and what we ought to do, and where we are to go." + +"My poor child," said Hope, faintly, with tears in his eyes, "I say no +more. Take your own time." + +Grace did not abuse this respite. So soon as the doctor declared Walter +out of immediate danger, and indeed safe, if cautiously treated, she +returned of her own accord to the miserable subject that had been +thrust aside. + +After some discussion, they both agreed that they must now confide their +grief to Colonel Clifford, and must quit his home, and make him master of +the situation, and sole depository of the terrible secret for a time. + +Hope wished to make the revelation, and spare his daughter that pain. She +assented readily and thankfully. + +This was a woman's first impulse--to put a man forward. + +But by-and-by she had one of her fits of hard thinking, and saw that +such a revelation ought not to be made by one straightforward man to +another, but with all a woman's soothing ways. Besides, she had already +discovered that the Colonel had a great esteem and growing affection for +her; and, in short, she felt that if the blow could be softened by +anybody, it was by her. + +Her father objected that she would encounter a terrible trial, from +which he could save her; but she entreated him, and he yielded to her +entreaty, though against his judgment. + +When this was settled, nothing remained but to execute it. + +Then the woman came uppermost, and Grace procrastinated for one +insufficient reason and another. + +However, at last she resolved that the very next day she would ask John +Baker to get her a private interview with Colonel Clifford in his study. + +This resolution had not been long formed when that very John Baker tapped +at Mr. Hope's door, and brought her a note from Colonel Clifford asking +her if she could favor him with a visit in his study. + +Grace said, "Yes, Mr. Baker, I will come directly." + +As soon as Baker was gone she began to bemoan her weak procrastination, +and begged her father's pardon for her presumption in taking the matter +out of his hands. "You would not have put it off a day. Now, see what I +have done by my cowardice." + +Hope did not see what she had done, and the quick-witted young lady +jumping at once at a conclusion, opened her eyes and said, + +"Why, don't you see? Some other person has told him what it was so +important he should hear first from me. Ah! it is the same gentleman that +came and warned me. He has heard that we are actually married, for it is +the talk of the place, and he told me she would punish him if he +neglected her warning. Oh, what shall I do?" + +"You go too fast, Grace, dear. Don't run before trouble like that. Come, +go to Colonel Clifford, and you will find it is nothing of the kind." + +Grace shook her head grandly. Experience had given her faith in her own +instincts, as people call them--though they are subtle reasonings the +steps of which are not put forward--and she went down to the study. + +"Grace, my dear," said the Colonel, "I think I shall have a fit of +the gout." + +"Oh no," said Grace. "We have trouble enough." + +"It gets less every day, my dear; that is one comfort. But what I meant +was that our poor invalids eclipse me entirely in your good graces. That +is because you are a true woman, and an honor to your sex. But I should +like to see a little more of you. Well, all in good time. I didn't send +for you to tell you that. Sit down, my girl; it is a matter of business." + +Grace sat down, keenly on her guard, though she did not show it in the +least. Colonel Clifford resumed, + +"You may be sure that nothing has been near my heart for some time but +your danger and my dear son's. Still, I owe something to other sufferers, +and the poor widows whose husbands have perished in that mine have cried +to me for vengeance on the person who bribed that Burnley. I am a +magistrate, too, and duty must never be neglected. I have got detectives +about, and I have offered five hundred guineas reward for the discovery +of the villain. One Jem Davies described him to me, and I put the +description on the placard and in the papers. But now I learn that +Davies's description is all second-hand. He had it from you. Now, I must +tell you that a description at second-hand always misses some part or +other. As a magistrate, I never encourage Jack to tell me what Jill says +when I can get hold of Jill. You are Jill, my dear, so now please verify +Jack's description or correct it. However, the best way will be to give +me your own description before I read you his." + +"I will," said Grace, very much relieved. "Well, then, he was a man not +over forty, thin, and with bony fingers; an enormous gold ring on the +little finger of his right hand. He wore a suit of tweed, all one color, +rather tight, and a vulgar neck-handkerchief, almost crimson. He had a +face like a corpse, and very thin lips. But the most remarkable things +were his eyes and his eyebrows. His eyes were never still, and his brows +were very black, and not shaped like other people's; they were neither +straight, like Julia Clifford's, for instance, nor arched like Walter's; +that is to say, they were arched, but all on one side. Each brow began +quite high up on the temple, and then came down in a slanting drop to the +bridge of the nose, and lower than the bridge. There, if you will give me +a pencil I will draw you one of his eyebrows in a minute." + +She drew the eyebrow with masterly ease and rapidity. + +"Why, that is the eyebrow of Mephistopheles." + +"And so it is," said Grace, naïvely. "No wonder it did not seem +human to me." + +"I am sorry to say it is human. You can see it in every convict jail. +But," said he, "how came this villain to sit to you for his portrait?" + +"He did not, sir. But when he was struggling with me to keep me from +rescuing my father--" + +"What! did the ruffian lay hands on you?" + +"That he did, and so did Mr. Bartley. But the villain was the leader of +it all; and while he was struggling with me--" + +"You were taking stock of him? Well, they talk of a Jew's eye; give me a +woman's. My dear, the second-hand description is not worth a button. I +must write fresh notices from yours, and, above all, instruct the +detectives. You have given me information that will lead to that man's +capture. As for the gold ring and the tweed suit, they disappeared into +space when my placard went up, you may be sure of that, and a felon can +paint his face. But his eyes and eyebrows will do him. They are the mark +of a jail-bird. I am a visiting justice, and have often noticed the +peculiarity. Draw me his eyebrows, and we will photograph them in Derby; +and my detectives shall send copies to Scotland Yard and all the convict +prisons. We'll have him." + +The Colonel paused suddenly in his triumphant prediction, and said, "But +what was that you let fall about Bartley? He was no party to this foul +crime. Why, he has worked night and day to save you and Hope. Indeed, you +both owe your lives to him." + +"Indeed!" + +"Yes. He set the men on to save you within ten minutes of the explosion. +He bought rope by the mile, and great iron buckets to carry up the débris +that was heaped up between you and the working party. He raved about the +pit day and night lamenting his daughter and his friend; and why I say he +saved you, 'twas he who advised Walter. I had this from Walter himself +before his fever came on. He advised and implored him not to attempt to +clear the whole shaft, but to pick sideways into the mine twenty feet +from the ground. He told Walter that he never really slept at night, and +in his dreams saw you in a part of the mine he calls the hall. Now, +Walter says that but for this advice they would have been two days more +getting to you." + +"We should have been dead," said Grace, gravely. Then she reflected. + +"Colonel Clifford," said she, "I listened to that villain and Mr. Bartley +planning my father's destruction. Certainly every word Mr. Bartley _said_ +was against it. He spoke of it with horror. Yet, somehow or other, that +wretched man obtained from him an order to send the man Burnley down the +mine, and what will you think when I tell you that he assisted the +villain to hinder me from going to the mine?" Then she told him the whole +scene, and how they shut her up in the house, and she had to go down a +curtain and burst through a quick-set hedge. But all the time she was +thinking of Walter's bigamy and how she was to reveal it; and she +related her exploits in such a cold, languid manner that it was hardly +possible to believe them. + +Colonel Clifford could not help saying, "My dear, you have had a great +shock; and you have dreamt all this. Certainly you are a fine girl, and +broad-shouldered. I admire that in man or woman--but you are so delicate, +so refined, so gentle." + +Grace blushed and said, languidly, "For all that, I am an athlete." + +"An athlete, child?" + +"Yes, sir. Mr. Bartley took care of that. He would never let me wear a +corset, and for years he made me do calisthenics under a master." + +"Calisthenics?" + +"That is a fine word for gymnastics." Then, with a double dose of +languor, "I can go up a loose rope forty feet, so it was nothing to me to +come down one. The hedge was the worst thing; but my father was in +danger, and my blood was up." She turned suddenly on the Colonel with a +flash of animation, "You used to keep race-horses, Walter told me." The +Colonel stared at this sudden turn. + +"That I did," said he, "and a pretty penny they cost me." + +"Well, sir, is not a race-horse a poor mincing thing until her blood gets +up galloping?" + +"By Jove! you are right," said he, "she steps like a cat upon hot bricks. +But the comparison is not needed. Whatever statement Mrs. Walter Clifford +makes to me seriously is gospel to me, who already know enough of her to +respect her lightest word. Pray grant me this much, that Bartley is a +true penitent, for I have proof of it in this drawer. I'll show it you." + +"No, no, please not," said Grace, in no little agitation. "Let me take +your word for that, as you have taken mine. Oh, sir, he is nothing to me +compared with what I thought you wished to say to me. But it is I who +must find the courage to say things that will wound you and me still +more. Colonel Clifford, pray do not be angry with me till you know all, +but indeed your house is not the place for my father or for me." + +"Why not, madam," said the Colonel, stiffly, "since you are my +daughter-in-law?" + +She did not reply. + +"Ah!" said he, coloring high and rising from his chair. He began to walk +the room in some agitation. "You are right," said he; "I once affronted +you cruelly, unpardonably. Still, pray consider that you passed for +Bartley's daughter; that was my objection to you, and then I did not know +your character. But when I saw you come out pale and resolved to +sacrifice yourself to justice and another woman, that converted me at +once. Ask Julia what I said about you." + +"I must interrupt you," said Grace. "I can not let such a man as you +excuse yourself to a girl of eighteen who has nothing but reverence for +you, and would love you if she dared." + +"Then all I can say is that you are very mysterious, my dear, and I wish +you would speak out." + +"I shall speak out soon enough," said Grace, solemnly, "now I have begun. +Colonel Clifford, you have nothing to reproach yourself with. No more +have I, for that matter. Yet we must both suffer." She hesitated a +moment, and then said, firmly, "You do me the honor to approve my conduct +in that dreadful situation. Did you hear all that passed? did you take +notice of all I said?" + +"I did," said Colonel Clifford. "I shall never forget that scene, nor the +distress, nor the fortitude of her I am proud to call my daughter." + +Grace put her hands before her face at these kind words, and he saw the +tears trickle between her white fingers. He began to wonder, and to feel +uneasy. But the brave girl shook off her tears, and manned herself, if +we may use such an expression. + +"Then, sir," said she, slowly and emphatically, though quietly, "did +you not think it strange that I should say to my father, 'I don't +know?' He asked me before you all, 'Are you a wife?' Twice I said to my +father--to him I thought was my father--'I don't know.' Can you account +for that, sir?" + +The Colonel replied, "I was so unable to account for it that I took Julia +Clifford's opinion on it directly, as we were going home." + +"And what did she say?" + +"Oh, she said it was plain enough. The fellow had forbidden you to own +the marriage, and you were an obedient wife; and, like women in general, +strong against other people, but weak against one." + +"So that is a woman's reading of a woman," said Grace. "She will +sacrifice her honor, and her father's respect, and court the world's +contempt, and sully herself for life, to suit the convenience of a +husband for a few hours. My love is great, but it is not slavish or +silly. Do you think, sir, that I doubted for one moment Walter Clifford +would own me when he came home and heard what I had suffered? Did I think +him so unworthy of my love as to leave me under that stigma? Hardly. Then +why should I blacken Mrs. Walter Clifford for an afternoon, just to be +unblackened at night?" + +"This is good sense," said the Colonel, "and the thing is a mystery. Can +you solve it?" + +"You may be sure I can--and woe is me--I must." + +She hung her head, and her hands worked convulsively. + +"Sir," said she, after a pause, "suppose I could not tell the truth to +all those people without subjecting the man I loved--and I love him now +dearer than ever--to a terrible punishment for a mere folly done years +ago, which now has become something much worse than folly--but how? +Through his unhappy love for me!" + +"These are dark words," said the Colonel. "How am I to understand them?" + +"Dark as they are," said Grace, "do they not explain my conduct in that +bitter trial better than Julia Clifford's guesses do, better than +anything that has occurred since?" + +"Mrs. Walter Clifford," said the Colonel, with a certain awe, "I see +there is something very grave here, and that it affects my son. I begin +to know you. You waited till he was out of danger; but now you do me the +honor to confide something to me which the world will not drag out of +you. So be it; I am a man and a soldier. I have faced cavalry, and I can +face the truth. What is it?" + +"Colonel Clifford," said Grace, trembling like a leaf, "the truth will +cut you to the heart, and will most likely kill me. Now that I have gone +so far, you may well say, 'Tell it me;' but the words once past my lips +can never be recalled. Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?" + +The struggle overpowered her, and almost for the first time in her life +she turned half faint and yet hysterical; and such was her condition that +the brave Colonel was downright alarmed, and rang hastily for his people. +He committed her to the charge of Mrs. Milton. It seemed cruel to demand +any further explanation from her just then; so brave a girl, who had gone +so far with him, would be sure to tell him sooner or later. Meantime he +sat sombre and agitated, oppressed by a strange sense of awe and mystery, +and vague misgiving. While he brooded thus, a footman brought him in a +card upon a salver: "The Reverend Alleyn Meredith." "Do I know this +gentleman?" said the Colonel. + +"I think not, sir," said the footman. + +"What is he like?" + +"Like a beneficed clergyman, sir." + +Colonel Clifford was not in the humor for company; but it was not his +habit to say not at home when he was at home; and being a magistrate, he +never knew when a stranger sent in his card, that it might not be his +duty to see him; so he told the footman to say, "that he was in point of +fact engaged, but was at this gentleman's service for a few minutes." + +The footman retired, and promptly ushered in a clergyman who seemed the +model of an archdeacon or a wealthy rector. Sleek and plump, without +corpulence, neat boots, clothes black and glossy, waistcoat up to the +throat, neat black gloves, a snowy tie, a face shaven like an egg, hair +and eyebrows grizzled, cheeks rubicund, but not empurpled, as one who +drank only his pint of port, but drank it seven days in the week. + +Nevertheless, between you and us, this sleek, rosy personage, archdeacon +or rural dean down to the ground was Leonard Monckton, padded to the +nine, and tinted as artistically as any canvas in the world. + + * * * * * + +The first visit Monckton had paid to this neighborhood was to the mine. +He knew that was a dangerous visit, so he came at night as a decrepit old +man. He very soon saw two things which discouraged farther visits. One +was a placard describing his crime in a few words, and also his person +and clothes, and offering 500 guineas reward. As his pallor was +specified, he retired for a minute behind a tent, and emerged the color +of mahogany; he then pursued his observations, and in due course fell in +with the second warning. This was the body of a man lying upon the slack +at the pit mouth; the slack not having been added to for many days was +glowing very hot, and fired the night. The body he recognized +immediately, for the white face stared at him; it was Ben Burnley +undergoing cremation. To this the vindictive miners had condemned him; +they had sat on his body and passed a resolution, and sworn he should not +have Christian burial, so they managed to hide his corpse till the slack +got low, and then they brought him up at night and chucked him like a dog +on to the smouldering coal; one-half of him was charred away when +Monckton found him, but his face was yet untouched. Two sturdy miners +walked to and fro as sentinels, armed with hammers, and firmly resolved +that neither law nor gospel should interfere with this horrible example. + +Even Monckton, the man of iron nerves, started back with a cry of dismay +at the sight and the smell. + +One of the miners broke into a hoarse, uneasy laugh. "Yow needn't to +skirl, old man." he cried. "Yon's not a man; he's nobbut a murderer. He's +fired t' mine and made widows and orphans by t' score," "Ay," said the +other, "but there's a worse villain behoind, that found t' brass for t' +job and tempted this one. We'll catch him yet; ah, then we'll not trouble +judge, nor jury, nor hangman neether." + +"The wretches!" said Monckton. "What! fire a mine! No punishment is +enough for them." With this sentiment he retired, and never went near the +mine again. He wired for a pal of his and established him at the Dun Cow. +These two were in constant communication. Monckton's friend was a very +clever gossip, and knew how to question without seeming curious, and the +gossiping landlady helped him. So, between them, Monckton heard that +Walter was down with a fever and not expected to live, and that Hope was +confined to his bed and believed to be sinking. Encouraged by this state +of things, Monckton made many artful preparations, and resolved to levy a +contribution upon Colonel Clifford. + +At this period of his manoeuvres fortune certainly befriended him +wonderfully; he found Colonel Clifford alone, and likely to be +alone; and, at the same time, prepared by Grace Clifford's half +revelation, and violent agitation, to believe the artful tale this +villain came to tell him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +RETRIBUTION. + + +Monckton, during his long imprisonment at Dartmoor, came under many +chaplains, and he was popular with them all; because when they inquired +into the state of his soul he represented it as humble, penitent, and +purified. Two of these gentlemen were High-Church, and he noticed their +peculiarities: one was a certain half-musical monotony in speaking which +might be called by a severe critic sing-song. Perhaps they thought the +intoning of the service in a cathedral could be transferred with +advantage to conversation. + +So now, to be strictly in character, this personage not only dressed +High-Church, but threw a sweet musical monotony into the communication he +made to Colonel Clifford. + +And if the reader will compare this his method of speaking with the +matter of his discourse, he will be sensible of a singular contrast. + +After the first introduction, Monckton intoned very gently that he had a +communication to make on the part of a lady which was painful to him, and +would be painful to Colonel Clifford; but, at all events, it was +confidential, and if the Colonel thought proper, would go no further. + +"I think, sir, you have a son whose name is Walter?" + +"I have a son, and his name is Walter," said the Colonel, stiffly. + +"I think, sir," said musical Monckton, "that he left your house about +fourteen years ago, and you lost sight of him for a time?" + +"That is so, sir." + +"He entered the service of a Mr. Robert Bartley as a merchant's clerk." + +"I doubt that, sir." + +"I fear, sir," sighed Monckton, musically, "that is not the only +thing he did which has been withheld from you. He married a lady +called Lucy Muller." + +"Who told you that?" cried the Colonel. "It's a lie!" + +"I am afraid not," said the meek and tuneful ecclesiastic. "I am +acquainted with the lady, a most respectable person, and she has shown me +the certificate of marriage." + +"The certificate of marriage!" cried the Colonel, all aghast. + +"Yes, sir, and this is not the first time I have given this information +in confidence. Mrs. Walter Clifford, who is a kind-hearted woman, and has +long ceased to suffer bitterly from her husband's desertion, requested me +to warn a young lady, whose name was Miss Mary Bartley, of this fact. I +did so, and showed her the certificate. She was very much distressed, and +no wonder, for she was reported to be engaged to Mr. Walter Clifford; but +I explained to Miss Bartley that there was no jealousy, hostility, or +bitterness in the matter; the only object was to save her from being +betrayed into an illegal act, and one that would bring ruin upon herself, +and a severe penalty upon Mr. Walter Clifford." + +Colonel Clifford turned very pale, but he merely said, in a hoarse voice, +"Go on, sir." + +"Well, sir," said Monckton, "I thought the matter was at an end, and, +having discharged a commission which was very unpleasant to me, I had at +all events saved an innocent girl from tempting Mr. Walter Clifford to +his destruction and ruining herself. I say, I thought and hoped so. But +it seems now that the young lady has defied the warning, and has married +your son after all. Mrs. Walter Clifford has heard of it in Derby, and +she is naturally surprised, and I am afraid she is now somewhat +incensed." + +"Before we go any further, sir," said Colonel Clifford, "I should like +to see the certificate you say you showed to Miss Bartley." + +"I did, sir," said Monckton, "and here it is--that is to say, an attested +copy; but of course sooner or later you will examine the original." + +Colonel Clifford took the paper with a firm hand, and examined it +closely. "Have you any objection to my taking a copy of this?" said +he, keenly. + +"Of course not," said Monckton; "indeed, I don't see why I should not +leave this document with you; it will be in honorable hands." + +The Colonel bowed. Then he examined the document. + +"I see, sir," said he, "the witness is William Hope. May I ask if you +know this William Hope?" + +"I was not present at the wedding, sir," said Monckton, "so I can say +nothing about the matter from my own knowledge; but if you please, I will +ask the lady." + +"Why didn't she come herself instead of sending you?" asked the Colonel, +distrustfully. + +"That's just what I asked her. And she said she had not the heart nor the +courage to come herself. I believe she thought as I was a clergyman, and +not directly interested, I might be more calm than she could be, and give +a little less pain." + +"That's all stuff! If she is afraid to come herself, she knows it's an +abominable falsehood. Bring her here with whatever evidence she has got +that this Walter Clifford is my son, and then we will go into this matter +seriously." + +Monckton was equal to the occasion. + +"You are quite right, sir," said he. "And what business has she to put me +forward as evidence of a transaction I never witnessed? I shall tell her +you expect to see her, and that it is her duty to clear up the affair in +person. Suppose it should be another Mr. Walter Clifford, after all? When +shall I bring her, supposing I have sufficient influence?" + +"Bring her to-morrow, as early as you can." + +"Well, you know ladies are not early risers: will twelve o'clock do?" + +"Twelve o'clock to-morrow, sir," said the Colonel. + +The sham parson took his leave, and drove away in a well-appointed +carriage and pair. For we must inform the reader that he had written to +Mr. Middleton for another £100, not much expecting to get it, and that it +had come down by return of post in a draft on a bank in Derby. + + * * * * * + +Stout Colonel Clifford was now a very unhappy man. The soul of honor +himself, he could not fully believe that his own son had been guilty of +perfidy and crime. But how could he escape _doubts_, and very grave +doubts too? The communication was made by a gentleman who did not seem +really to know more about it than he had been told, but then he was a +clergyman, with no appearance of heat or partiality. He had been easily +convinced that the lady herself ought to have come and said more about +it, and had left an attested copy of the certificate in his (Colonel +Clifford's) hands with a sort of simplicity that looked like one +gentleman dealing with another. One thing, however, puzzled him sore in +this certificate--the witness being William Hope. William Hope was not a +very uncommon name, but still, somehow, that one and the same document +should contain the names of Walter Clifford and William Hope, roused a +suspicion in his mind that this witness was the William Hope lying in his +own house so weak and ill that he did not like to go to him, and enter +upon such a terrible discussion as this. He sent for Mrs. Milton, and +asked her if Mrs. Walter Clifford was quite recovered. + +Mrs. Milton reported she was quite well, and reading to her father. The +Colonel went upstairs and beckoned her out. + +"My child," said he, "I am sorry to renew an agitating subject, but you +are a good girl, and a brave girl, and you mean to confide in me sooner +or later. Can you pity the agitation and distress of a father who for the +first time is compelled to doubt his son's honor?" + +"I can," said Grace. "Ah, something has happened since we parted; +somebody has told you: that man with a certificate!" + +"What, then," said the Colonel, "is it really true? Did he really show +you that certificate?" + +"He did." + +"And warned you not to marry Walter?" + +"He did, and told me Walter would be put into prison if I did, and would +die in prison, for a gentleman can not live there nowadays. Oh, sir, +don't let anybody know but you and me and my father. He won't hurt him +for my sake; he has wronged me cruelly, but I'll be torn to pieces before +I'll own my marriage, and throw him into a dungeon." + +"Come to my arms, you pearl of goodness and nobility and unselfish love!" +cried Colonel Clifford. "How can I ever part with you now I know you? +There, don't let us despair, let's fight to the last. I have one question +to submit to you. Of course you examined the certificate very carefully?" + +"I saw enough to break my heart. I saw that on a certain day, many years +ago, one Lucy Muller had married Walter Clifford." + +"And who witnessed the marriage?" asked the Colonel, eyeing her keenly. + +"Oh, I don't know that," said Grace. "When I came to Walter Clifford, +everything swam before my eyes; it was all I could do to keep from +fainting away. I tottered into my father's study, and, as soon as I came +to myself, what had I to do? Why, to creep out again with my broken +heart, and face such insults--All! it is a wonder I did not fall dead at +their feet." + +"My poor girl!" said Colonel Clifford. Then he reflected a moment. "Have +you the courage to read that document again, and to observe in particular +who witnessed it?" + +"I have," said she. + +He handed it to her. She took it and held it in both hands, though +they trembled. + +"Who is the witness?" + +"The witness," said Grace, "is William Hope." + +"Is that your father?" + +"It's my father's name," said Grace, beginning to turn her eyes inward +and think very hard. + +"But is it your father, do you think?" + +"No, sir, it is not." + +"Was he in that part of the world at the time? Did he know Bartley? the +clergyman who brought me this certificate--" + +"The clergyman!" + +"Yes, my dear, it was a clergyman, apparently a rector, and he told me--" + +"Are you sure he was a clergyman?" + +"Quite sure; he had a white tie, a broad-brimmed hat, a clergyman all +over; don't go off on that. Did your father and my son know each +other in Hull?" + +"That they did. You are right," said Grace, "this witness was my father; +see that, now. But if so--Don't speak to me; don't touch me; let me +think--there is something hidden here;" and Mrs. Walter Clifford showed +her father-in-law that which we have seen in her more than once, but it +was quite new and surprising to Colonel Clifford. There she stood, her +arms folded, her eyes turned inward, her every feature, and even her +body, seemed to think. The result came out like lightning from a cloud. +"It's all a falsehood," said she. + +"A falsehood!" said Colonel Clifford. + +"Yes, a falsehood upon the face of it. My father witnessed this +marriage, and therefore if the bridegroom had been our Walter he would +never have allowed our Walter to court me, for he knew of our courtship +all along, and never once disapproved of it." + +"Then do you think it is a mistake?" said the Colonel, eagerly. + +"No, I do not," said Grace. "I think it is an imposture. This man was not +a clergyman when he brought me the certificate; he was a man of business, +a plain tradesman, a man of the world; he had a colored necktie, and some +rather tawdry chains." + +"Did he speak in a kind of sing-song?" + +"Not at all; his voice was clear and cutting, only he softened it down +once or twice out of what I took for good feeling at the time. He's an +impostor and a villain. Dear sir, don't agitate poor Walter or my dear +father with this vile thing (she handed him back the certificate). It has +been a knife to both our hearts; we have suffered together, you and I, +and let us get to the bottom of it together." + +"We shall soon do that," said the Colonel, "for he is coming here +to-morrow again." + +"All the better." + +"With the lady." + +"What lady?" + +"The lady that calls herself Mrs. Walter Clifford." + +"Indeed!" said Grace, quite taken aback. "They must be very bold." + +"Oh, for that matter," said the Colonel, "I insisted upon it; the man +seemed to know nothing but from mere hearsay. He knew nothing about +William Hope, the witness, so I told him he must bring the woman; and, to +be just to the man, he seemed to think so too, and that she ought to do +her own business." + +"She will not come," said Grace, rather contemptuously. "He was obliged +to say she would, just to put a face upon it. To-morrow he'll bring an +excuse instead of her. Then have your detectives about, for he is a +villain; and, dear sir, please receive him in the drawing-room; then I +will find some way to get a sight of him myself." + +"It shall be done," said the Colonel. "I begin to think with you. At all +events, if the lady does not come, I shall hope it is all an imposture or +a mistake." + +With this understanding they parted, and waited in anxiety for the +morrow, but now their anxiety was checkered with hope. + + * * * * * + +To-morrow bade fair to be a busy day. Colonel Clifford, little dreaming +the condition to which his son and his guest would be reduced, had +invited Jem Davies and the rescuing parties to feast in tents on his own +lawn and drink his home-brewed beer, and they were to bring with them +such of the rescued miners as might be in a condition to feast and drink +copiously. When he found that neither Hope nor his son could join these +festivities, he was very sorry he had named so early a day; but he was so +punctilious and precise that he could not make up his mind to change one +day for another. So a great confectioner at Derby who sent out feasts was +charged with the affair, and the Colonel's own kitchen was at his service +too. That was not all. Bartley was coming to do business. This had been +preceded by a letter which Colonel Clifford, it may be remembered, had +offered to show Grace Clifford. The letter was thus worded: + +"COLONEL CLIFFORD,--A penitent man begs humbly to approach you, and offer +what compensation is in his power. I desire to pay immediately to Walter +Clifford the sum of £20,000 I have so long robbed him of, with five per +cent, interest for the use of it. It has brought me far more than that in +money, but money I now find is not happiness. + +"The mine in which my friend has so nearly been destroyed--and his +daughter, who now, too late, I find is the only creature in the world I +love--that mine is now odious to me. I desire by deed to hand it over to +Hope and yourself, upon condition that you follow the seams wherever they +go, and that you give me such a share of the profits during my lifetime +as you think I deserve for my enterprise. This for my life only, since I +shall leave all I have in the world to that dear child, who will now be +your daughter, and perhaps never deign again to look upon the erring man +who writes these lines. + +"I should like, if you please, to retain the farm, or at all events a +hundred acres round about the house to turn into orchards and gardens, so +that I may have some employment, far from trade and its temptations, for +the remainder of my days." + + * * * * * + +In consequence of this letter a deed was drawn and engrossed, and Bartley +had written to say he would come to Clifford Hall and sign it, and have +it witnessed and delivered. + +About nine o'clock in the evening one of the detectives called on Colonel +Clifford to make a private communication; his mate had spotted a swell +mobsman, rather a famous character, with the usual number of aliases, but +known to the force as Mark Waddy; he was at the Dun Cow; and possessing +the gift of the gab in a superlative degree, had made himself extremely +popular. They had both watched him pretty closely, but he seemed not to +be there for a job, but only on the talking lay, probably soliciting +information for some gang of thieves or other. He had been seen to +exchange a hasty word with a clergyman; but as Mark Waddy's acquaintances +were not amongst the clergy, that would certainly be some pal that was in +something or other with him. + +"What a shrewd girl that must be!" said the Colonel. + +"I beg your pardon, Colonel," said the man, not seeing the relevancy of +this observation. + +"Oh, nothing," said the Colonel, "only _I_ expect a visit to-morrow at +twelve o'clock from a doubtful clergyman; just hang about the lawn on the +chance of my giving you a signal." + +Thus while Monckton was mounting his batteries, his victims were +preparing defenses in a sort of general way, though they did not see +their way so clear as the enemy did. + +Colonel Clifford's drawing-room was a magnificent room, fifty feet long +and thirty feet wide. A number of French windows opened on to a noble +balcony, with three short flights of stone steps leading down to the +lawn. The central steps were broad, the side steps narrow. There were +four entrances to it: two by double doors, and two by heavily curtained +apertures leading to little subsidiary rooms. + +At twelve o'clock next day, what with the burst of color from the +potted flowers on the balcony, the white tents, and the flags and +streamers, and a clear sunshiny day gilding it all, the room looked a +"palace of pleasure," and no stranger peeping in could have dreamed +that it was the abode of care, and about to be visited by gloomy +Penitence and incurable Fraud. + +The first to arrive was Bartley, with a witness. He was received kindly +by Colonel Clifford and ushered into a small room. + +He wanted another witness. So John Baker was sent for, and Bartley and he +were closeted together, reading the deed, etc., when a footman brought in +a card, "The Reverend Alleyn Meredith," and written underneath with a +pencil, in a female hand, "Mrs. Walter Clifford." + +"Admit them," said the Colonel, firmly. + +At this moment Grace, who had heard the carriage drive up to the door, +peeped in through one of the heavy curtains we have mentioned. + +"Has she actually come?" said she. + +"She has, indeed," said the Colonel, looking very grave. "Will you stay +and receive her?" + +"Oh no," said Grace, horrified; "but I'll take a good look at her through +this curtain. I have made a little hole on purpose." Then she slipped +into the little room and drew the curtain. + +The servant opened the door, and the false rector walked in, supporting +on his arm a dark woman, still very beautiful; very plainly dressed, but +well dressed, agitated, yet self-possessed. + +"Be seated, madam," said the Colonel. After a reasonable pause he began +to question her. + +"You were married on the eleventh day of June, 1868, to a gentleman of +the name of Walter Clifford?" + +"I was, sir." + +"May I ask how long you lived with him?" + +The lady buried her face in her hands. The question took her by surprise, +and this was a woman's artifice to gain time and answer cleverly. + +But the ingenious Monckton gave it a happy turn. "Poor thing! Poor +thing!" said he. + +"He left me the next day," said Lucy, "and I have never seen him since." + +Here Monckton interposed; he fancied he had seen the curtain move. +"Excuse me," said he, "I think there is somebody listening!" and he went +swiftly and put his head through the curtain. But the room was empty; for +meantime Grace was so surprised by the lady's arrival, by her beauty, +which might well have tempted any man, and by her air of respectability, +that she changed her tactics directly, and she was gone to her father for +advice and information in spite of her previous determination not to +worry him in his present condition. What he said to her can be briefly +told elsewhere; what he ordered her to do was to return and watch the +man and not the woman. + +During Lucy's hesitation, which was somewhat long, a clergyman came to +the window, looked in, and promptly retired, seeing the Colonel had +company. This, however, was only a modest curate, _alias_ a detective. He +saw in half a moment that this must be Mark Waddy's pal; but as the +police like to go their own way he would not watch the lawn himself, but +asked Jem Davies, with whom he had made acquaintance, to keep an eye upon +that with his fellows, for there was a jail-bird in the house; then he +went round to the front door, by which he felt sure his bird would make +his exit. He had no earthly right to capture this ecclesiastic, but he +was prepared if the Colonel, who was a magistrate, gave him the order, +and not without. + +But we are interrupting Colonel Clifford's interrogatories. + +"Madam, what makes you think this disloyal person was my son?" + +"Indeed, sir, I don't know," said the lady, and looking around the room +with some signs of distress. "I begin to hope it was not your son. He was +a tall young man, almost as tall as yourself. He was very handsome, with +brown hair and brown eyes, and seemed incapable of deceit." + +"Have you any letters of his?" asked the Colonel. + +"I had a great many, sir," said she, "but I have not kept them all." + +"Have you one?" said the Colonel, sternly. + +"Oh yes, sir," said Lucy, "I think I must have nearer twenty; but what +good will they be?" said she, affecting simplicity. + +"Why, my dear madam," said Monckton, "Colonel Clifford is quite right; +the handwriting may not tell _you_ anything, but surely his own father +knows it. I think he is offering you a very fair test. I must tell you +plainly that if you don't produce the letters you say you possess, I +shall regret having put myself forward in this matter at all." + +"Gently, sir," said the Colonel; "she has not refused to produce them." + +Lucy put her hand in her pocket and drew out a packet of letters, but she +hesitated, and looked timidly at Monckton, after his late severity. "Am I +bound to part with them?" + +"Certainly not," said Monckton, "but you can surely trust them for a +minute to such a man as Colonel Clifford. I am of opinion," said he, +"that since you can not be confronted with this gentleman's son (though +that is no fault of yours), these letters (by-the-bye, it would have been +as well to show to me,) ought now at once to be submitted to Colonel +Clifford, that he may examine both the contents and the handwriting; then +he will know whether it is his son or not; and probably as you are fair +with him he will be fair with you and tell you the truth." + +Colonel Clifford took the letters and ran his eye hastily over two or +three; they were filled with the ardent protestations of youth, and a +love that evidently looked toward matrimony, and they were written and +signed in a handwriting he knew as well as his own. + +He said, solemnly, "These letters are written and were sent to Miss Lucy +Muller by my son, Walter Clifford." Then, almost for the first time in +his life, he broke down, and said, "God forgive him; God help him and me. +The honor of the Cliffords is an empty sound." + +Lucy Monckton rose from her chair in genuine agitation. Her better angel +tugged at her heartstrings. + +"Forgive me, sir, oh, forgive me!" she cried, bursting into tears. Then +she caught a bitter, threatening glance of her bad angel fixed upon her, +and she said to Monckton, "I can say no more, I can do no more. It was +fourteen years ago--I can't break people's hearts. Hush it up amongst +you. I have made a hero weep; his tears burn me. I don't care for the +man; I'll go no further. You, sir, have taken a deal of trouble and +expense. I dare say Colonel Clifford will compensate you; I leave the +matter with you. No power shall make me act in it any more." + +Monckton wrote hastily on his card, and said, quite calmly, "Well, I +really think, madam, you are not fit to take part in such a conference as +this. Compose yourself and retire. I know your mind in the matter better +than you do yourself at this moment, and I will act accordingly." + +She retired, and drove away to the Dun Cow, which was the place Monckton +had appointed when he wrote upon the card. + +"Colonel Clifford," said Monckton, "all that is a woman's way. When she +is out of sight of you, and thinks over her desertion and her unfortunate +condition--neither maid, wife, nor widow--she will be angry with me if I +don't obtain her some compensation." + +"She deserves compensation," said the Colonel, gravely. + +"Especially if she holds her tongue," said Monckton. + +"Whether she holds her tongue or not," said the Colonel. "I don't see +how I can hold mine, and you have already told my daughter-in-law. A +separation between her and my son is inevitable. The compensation +must be offered, and God help me, I'm a magistrate, if only to +compound the felony." + +"Surely," said Monckton, "it can be put upon a wider footing than that; +let me think," and he turned away to the open window; but when he got +there he saw a lot of miners clustering about. Now he had no fear of +their recognizing him, since he had not left a vestige of the printed +description. But the very sight of them, and the memory of what they had +done to his dead accomplice, made him shudder at them. Henceforth he +kept away from the window, and turned his back to it. + +"I think with you, sir," said he, mellifluously, "that she ought to have +a few thousands by way of compensation. You know she could claim alimony, +and be a very blister to you and yours. But on the other hand I do think, +as an impartial person, that she ought to keep this sad secret most +faithfully, and even take her maiden name again." + +Whilst Monckton was making this impartial proposal Bartley opened the +door, and was coming forward with his deed, when he heard a voice he +recognized; and partly by that, partly by the fellow's thin lips, he +recognized him, and said, "Monckton! That villain here!" + +"Monckton," said Colonel Clifford, "that is not his name. It is Meredith. +He is a clergyman." Bartley examined him very suspiciously, and Monckton, +during this examination, looked perfectly calm and innocent. Meantime a +note was brought to Colonel Clifford from Grace: "Papa was the witness. +He is quite sure the bridegroom was not our Walter. He thinks it must +have been the other clerk, Leonard Monckton, who robbed Mr. Bartley, and +put some of the money into dear Walter's pockets to ruin him, but papa +saved him. Don't let him escape." + +Colonel Clifford's eye flashed with triumph, but he controlled himself. + +"Say I will give it due attention," said he; "I'm busy now." + +And the servant retired. + +"Now, sir," said he, "is this a case of mistaken identity, or is your +name Leonard Monckton?" + +"Colonel Clifford," said the hypocrite, sadly, "I little thought that I +should be made to suffer for the past, since I came here only on an +errand of mercy. Yes, sir, in my unregenerate days I was Leonard +Monckton. I disgraced the name. But I repented, and when I adopted the +sacred calling of a clergyman I parted with the past, name and all. I +was that man's clerk; and so," said he, spitefully, and forgetting his +sing-song, "was your son Walter Clifford. Was that not so, Mr. Bartley?" + +"Don't speak to me, sir," said Bartley. "I shall say nothing to gratify +you nor to affront Colonel Clifford." + +"Speak the truth, sir," said Colonel Clifford; "never mind the +consequences." + +"Well, then," said Bartley, very unwillingly, "they _were_ clerks in my +office, and this one robbed me." + +"One thing at a time," said Monckton. "Did I rob you of twenty thousand +pounds, as you robbed Mr. Walter Clifford?" + +His voice became still more incisive, and the curtain of the little room +opened a little and two eyes of fire looked in. + +"Do you remember one fine day your clerk, Walter Clifford, asking you for +leave of absence--to be married?" + +Bartley turned his back on him contemptuously. + +But Colonel Clifford insisted on his replying. + +"Yes, he did," said Bartley, sullenly. + +"But," said the Colonel, quietly, "he thought better of it, and so--you +married her yourself." + +This bayonet thrust was so keen and sudden that the villain's +self-possession left him for once. His mouth opened in dismay, and his +eyes, roving to and fro, seemed to seek a door to escape. + +But there was worse in store for him. The curtains were drawn right and +left with power, and there stood Grace Clifford, beautiful, but pale and +terrible. She marched toward him with eyes that rooted him to the spot, +and then she stopped. + +"Now hear _me_; for he has tortured me, and tried to kill me. Look at his +white face turning ghastly beneath his paint at the sight of me; look at +his thin lips, and his devilish eyebrows, and his restless eyes. THIS IS +THE MAN THAT BRIBED THAT WRETCH TO FIRE THE MINE!" + +These last words, ringing from her lips like the trumpet of doom, were +answered, as swiftly as gunpowder explodes at a lighted torch, by a +furious yell, and in a moment the room seemed a forest of wild beasts. A +score of raging miners came upon him from every side, dragging, tearing, +beating, kicking, cursing, yelling. He was down in a moment, then soon up +again, then dragged out of the room, nails, fists, and heavy boots all +going, stripped to the shirt, screaming like a woman. A dozen assailants +rolled down the steps, with him in the midst of them. He got clear for a +moment, but twenty more rushed at him, and again he was torn and battered +and kicked. "Police! police!" he cried; and at last the detectives who +came to seize him rushed in, and Colonel Clifford, too, with the voice of +a stentor, cried, "The law! Respect the law, or you are ruined men." + +And so at last the law he had so dreaded raised what seemed a bag of +bones: nothing left on him but one boot and fragments of a shirt, +ghastly, bleeding, covered with bruises, insensible, and to all +appearance dead. + +After a short consultation, they carried him, by Colonel Clifford's +order, to the Dun Cow, where Lucy, it may be remembered, was awaiting his +triumphant return. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +STRANGE TURNS. + + +And yet this catastrophe rose out of a mistake. When the detective asked +Jem Davies to watch the lawn, he never suspected that the clergyman was +the villain who had been concerned in that explosion. But Davies, a man +of few ideas and full of his own wrong, took for granted, as such minds +will, that the policeman would not have spoken to him if this had not +been _his_ affair; so he and his fellows gathered about the steps and +watched the drawing-room. They caught a glimpse of Monckton, but that +only puzzled them. His appearance was inconsistent with the only +description they had got--in fact opposed to it. It was Grace Clifford's +denunciation, trumpet-tongued, that let loose savage justice on the +villain. Never was a woman's voice so fatal, or so swift to slay. She +would have undone her work. She screamed, she implored; but it was all in +vain. The fury she had launched she could not recall. As for Bartley, +words can hardly describe his abject terror. He crouched, he shivered, he +moaned, he almost swooned; and long after it was all over he was found +crouched in a corner of the little room, and his very reason appeared to +be shaken. Judge Lynch had passed him, but too near. The freezing shadow +of Retribution chilled him. + +Colonel Clifford looked at him with contemptuous pity, and sent him home +with John Baker in a close carriage. + + * * * * * + +Lucy Monckton was in the parlor of the Dun Cow waiting for her master. +The detectives and some outdoor servants of Clifford Hall brought a short +ladder and paillasses, and something covered with blankets, to the door. +Lucy saw, but did not suspect the truth. + +They had a murmured consultation with the landlady. During this Mark +Waddy came down, and there was some more whispering, and soon the +battered body was taken up to Mark Waddy's room and deposited on his +bed. The detectives retired to consult, and Waddy had to break the +calamity to Mrs. Monckton. He did this as well as he could; but it +little matters how such blows are struck. Her agony was great, and +greater when she saw him, for she resisted entirely all attempts to keep +her from him. She installed herself at once as his nurse, and Mark +Waddy retired to a garret. + +A surgeon came by Colonel Clifford's order and examined Monckton's +bruised body, and shook his head. He reported that there were no bones +broken, but there were probably grave internal injuries. These, however, +he could not specify at present, since there was no sensibility in the +body; so pressure on the injured parts elicited no groans. He prescribed +egg and brandy in small quantities, and showed Mrs. Monckton how to +administer it to a patient in that desperate condition. + +His last word was in private to Waddy. "If he ever speaks again, or even +groans aloud, send for me. Otherwise--" and he shrugged his shoulders. + +Some hours afterward Colonel Clifford called as a magistrate to see +if the sufferer had any deposition to make. But he was mute, and his +eyes fixed. + +As Colonel Clifford returned, one of the detectives accosted him and +asked him for a warrant to arrest him. + +"Not in his present condition," said Colonel Clifford, rather +superciliously. "And pray, sir, why did not you interfere sooner and +prevent this lawless act?" + +"Well, sir, unfortunately we were on the other side of the house." + +"Exactly; you had orders to be in one place, so you must be in another. +See the consequence. The honest men have put themselves in the wrong, and +this fellow in the right. He will die a sort of victim, with his guilt +suspected only, not proved." + +Having thus snubbed the Force, the old soldier turned his back on them +and went home, where Grace met him, all anxiety, and received his report. +She implored him not to proceed any further against the man, and declared +she should fly the country rather than go into a court of law as witness +against him. + +"Humph!" said the Colonel; "but you are the only witness." + +"All the better for him," said she; "then he will die in peace. My tongue +has killed the man once; it shall never kill him again." + +About six next morning Monckton beckoned Lucy. She came eagerly to him; +he whispered to her, "Can you keep a secret?" + +"You know I can," said she. + +"Then never let any one know I have spoken." + +"No, dear, never. Why?" + +"I dread the law more than death;" and he shuddered all over. "Save me +from the law." + +"Leonard, I will," said she. "Leave that to me." + +She wired for Mr. Middleton as soon as possible. + +The next day there was no change in the patient. He never spoke to +anybody, except a word or two to Lucy, in a whisper, when they were +quite alone. + +In the afternoon down came Lawyer Middleton. Lucy told him what he knew, +but Monckton would not speak, even to him. He had to get hold of Waddy +before he understood the whole case. + +Waddy was in Monckton's secret, and, indeed, in everybody's. He knew it +was folly to deceive your lawyer, so he was frank. Mr. Middleton learned +his client's guilt and danger, but also that his enemies had flaws in +their armor. + +The first shot he fired was to get warrants out against a dozen miners, +Jem Davies included, for a murderous assault; but he made no arrests, he +only summoned. So one or two took fright and fled. Middleton had counted +on that, and it made the case worse for those that remained. Then, by +means of friends in Derby, he worked the Press. + +An article appeared headed, "Our Savages." It related with righteous +indignation how Mr. Bartley's miners had burned the dead body of a miner +suspected of having fired the mine, and put his own life in jeopardy as +well as those of others; and then, not content with that monstrous act, +had fallen upon and beaten to death a gentleman in whom they thought they +detected a resemblance to some person who had been, or was suspected of +being that miner's accomplice; "but so far from that," said the writer, +"we are now informed, on sure authority, that the gentleman in question +is a large and wealthy landed proprietor, quite beyond any temptation to +crime or dishonesty, and had actually visited this part of the world only +in the character of a peace-maker, and to discharge a very delicate +commission, which it would not be our business to publish even if the +details had been confided to us." + +The article concluded with a hope that these monsters "would be taught +that even if they were below the standard of humanity they were not +above the law." + +Middleton attended the summonses, gave his name and address, and informed +the magistrate that his client was a large landed proprietor, and it +looked like a case of mistaken identity. His client was actually dying of +his injuries, but his wife hoped for justice. + +But the detectives had taken care to be present, and so they put in their +word. They said that they were prepared to prove, at a proper time, that +the wounded man was really the person who had been heard by Mrs. Walter +Clifford to bribe Ben Burnley to fire the mine. + +"We have nothing to do with that now," said the magistrate. "One thing at +a time, please. I can not let these people murder a convicted felon, far +less a suspected criminal that has not been tried. The wounded man +proceeds, according to law, through a respectable attorney. These men, +whom you are virtually defending, have taken the law into their own +hands. Are your witnesses here, Mr. Middleton?" + +"Not at present, sir; and when I was interrupted, I was about to ask +your worship to grant me an adjournment for that purpose. It will not be +a great hardship to the accused, since we proceed by summons. I fear I +have been too lenient, for two or three of them have absconded since the +summons was served." + +"I am not surprised at that," said the magistrate; "however, you know +your own business." + +Then the police applied for a warrant of arrest against Monckton. + +"Oh!" cried Middleton, with the air of a man thoroughly shocked and +scandalized. + +"Certainly not," said the magistrate; "I shall not disturb the course of +justice; there is not even an _exparte_ case against this gentleman at +present. Such an application must be supported by a witness, and a +disinterested one." So all the parties retired crest-fallen except Mr. +Middleton; as for him, he was imitating a small but ingenious specimen of +nature--the cuttle-fish. This little creature, when pursued by its +enemies, discharges an inky fluid which obscures the water all around, +and then it starts off and escapes. + +One dark night, at two o'clock in the morning, there came to the door of +the Dun Cow an invalid carriage, or rather omnibus, with a spring-bed and +every convenience. The wheels were covered thick with India-rubber; +relays had been provided, and Monckton and his party rolled along day and +night to Liverpool. The detectives followed, six hours later, and traced +them to Liverpool very cleverly, and, with the assistance of the police, +raked the town for them, and got all the great steamers watched, +especially those that were bound westward, ho! But their bird was at sea, +in a Liverpool merchant's own steamboat, hired for a two months' trip. +The pursuers found this out too, but a fortnight too late. + +"It's no go, Bill," said one to the other. "There's a lawyer and a pot +of money against us. Let it sleep awhile." + +The steamboat coasted England in beautiful weather; the sick man began to +revive, and to eat a little, and to talk a little, and to suffer a good +deal at times. Before they had been long at sea Mr. Middleton had a +confidential conversation with Mrs. Monckton. He told her he had been +very secret with her for her good. "I saw," said he, "this Monckton had +no deep regard for you, and was capable of turning you adrift in +prosperity; and I knew that if I told you everything you would let it out +to him, and tempt him to play the villain. But the time is come that I +must speak, in justice to you both. That estate he left your son half in +joke is virtually his. Fourteen years ago, when he last looked into the +matter, there _were_ eleven lives between it and him; but, strange to +say, whilst he was at Portland the young lives went one after the other, +and there were really only five left when he made that will. Now comes +the extraordinary part: a fortnight ago three of those lives perished in +a single steamboat accident on the Clyde; that left a woman of eighty-two +and a man of ninety between your husband and the estate. The lady was +related to the persons who were drowned, and she has since died; she had +been long ailing, and it is believed that the shock was too much for her. +The survivor is the actual proprietor, Old Carruthers; but I am the +London agent to his solicitor, and he was reported to me to be _in +extremis_ the very day before I left London to join you. We shall run +into a port near the place, and you will not land; but I shall, and +obtain precise information. In the meantime, mind, your husband's name is +Carruthers. Any communication from me will be to Mrs. Carruthers, and you +will tell that man as much, or as little, as you think proper; if you +make any disclosure, give yourself all the credit you can; say you shall +take him to his own house under a new name, and shield him against all +pursuers. As for me, I tell you plainly, my great hope is that he will +not live long enough to turn you adrift and disinherit your boy." + +To cut short for the present this extraordinary part of our story, Lewis +Carruthers, _alias_ Leonard Monckton, entered a fine house and took +possession of eleven thousand acres of hilly pasture, and the undivided +moiety of a lake brimful of fish. He accounted for his change of name by +the favors Carruthers, deceased, had shown him. Therein he did his best +to lie, but his present vein of luck turned it into the truth. Old +Carruthers had become so peevish that all his relations disliked him, and +he disliked them. So he left his personal estate to his heir-at-law +simply because he had never seen him. The personality was very large. The +house was full of pictures, and China, and cabinets, etc. There was a +large balance at the banker's, a heavy fall of timber not paid for, rents +due, and as many as two thousand four hundred sheep upon that hill, which +the old fellow had kept in his own hands. So, when the new proprietor +took possession as Carruthers, nobody was surprised, though many were +furious. Lucy installed him in a grand suite of apartments as an invalid, +and let nobody come near him. Waddy was dismissed with a munificent +present, and could be trusted to hold his tongue. By the advice of +Middleton, not a single servant was dismissed, and so no enemies were +made. The family lawyer and steward were also retained, and, in short, +all conversation was avoided. In a month or two the new proprietor began +to improve in health, and drive about his own grounds, or be rowed on his +lake, lying on soft beds. + +But in the fifth month of his residence local pains seized him, and he +began to waste. For some time the precise nature of the disorder was +obscure; but at last a rising surgeon declared it to be an abscess in the +intestines (caused, no doubt, by external violence). + +By degrees the patient became unable to take solid food, and the drain +upon his system was too great for a mere mucilaginous diet to sustain +him. Wasted to the bone, and yellow as a guinea, he presented a pitiable +spectacle, and would gladly have exchanged his fine house and pictures, +his heathery hills dotted with sheep, and his glassy lake full of spotted +trout, for a ragged Irishman's bowl of potatoes and his mug of +buttermilk--and his stomach. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +CURTAIN. + + +Striking incidents will draw the writer; but we know that our readers +would rather hear about the characters they can respect. It seems, +however, to be a rule in life, and in fiction, that interest flags when +trouble ceases. Now the troubles of our good people were pretty well +over, and we will put it to the reader whether they had not enough. + +Grace Clifford made an earnest request to Colonel Clifford and her father +never to tell Walter he had been suspected of bigamy. "Let others say +that circumstances are always to be believed and character not to be +trusted; but I, at least, had no right to believe certificates and things +against my Walter's honor and his love. Hide my fault from him, not for +my sake but for his; perhaps when we are both old people I may tell him." + +This was Grace Clifford's petition, and need we say she prevailed? + +Walter Clifford recovered under his wife's care, and the house was so +large that Colonel Clifford easily persuaded his son and daughter-in-law +to make it their home. Hope had also two rooms in it, and came there when +he chose; he was always welcome; but he was alone again, so to speak, +and not quite forty years of age, and he was ambitious. He began to rise +in the world, whilst our younger characters, contented with their +happiness and position, remained stationary. Master of a great mine, able +now to carry out his invention, member of several scientific +associations, a writer for the scientific press, etc., he soon became a +public and eminent man; he was consulted on great public works, and if he +lives will be one of the great lights of science in this island. He is +great on electricity, especially on the application of natural forces to +the lighting of towns. He denounces all the cities that allow powerful +streams to run past them and not work a single electric light. But he +goes further than that. He ridicules the idea that it is beyond the +resources of science to utilize thousands of millions of tons of water +that are raised twenty-one feet twice in every twenty-four hours by the +tides. It is the skill to apply the force that is needed; not the force +itself, which exceeds that of all the steam-engines in the nation. And he +says that the great scientific foible of the day is the neglect of +natural forces, which are cheap and inexhaustible, and the mania for +steam-engines and gas, which are expensive, and for coal, which is not to +last forever. He implores capital and science to work in this question. +His various schemes for using the tides in the creation of motive power +will doubtless come before the world in a more appropriate channel than a +work of fiction. If he succeeds it will be a glorious, as it must be a +difficult, achievement. + +His society is valued on social grounds; his well-stored mind, his powers +of conversation, and his fine appearance, make him extremely welcome at +all the tables in the county; he also accompanies his daughter with the +violin, and, as they play beauties together, not difficulties, they +ravish the soul and interrupt the torture, whose instrument the +piano-forte generally is. + +Bartley is a man with beautiful silvery hair and beard; he cultivates, +nurses, and tends fruit-trees and flowers with a love little short of +paternal. This sentiment, and the contemplation of nature, have changed +the whole expression of his face; it is wonderfully benevolent and sweet, +but with a touch of weakness about the lips. Some of the rough fellows +about the place call him a "softy," but that is much too strong a word; +no doubt he is confused in his ideas, but he reads all the great American +publications about fruit and flowers, and executes their instructions +with tact and skill. Where he breaks down--and who would believe +this?--is in the trade department. Let him succeed in growing apple-trees +and pear-trees weighed down to the ground with choice fruit; let him +produce enormous cherries by grafting, and gigantic nectarines upon his +sunny wall, and acres of strawberries too large for the mouth. After that +they may all rot where they grow; he troubles his head no more. This is +more than his old friend Hope can stand; he interferes, and sends the +fruit to market, and fills great casks with superlative cider and perry, +and keeps the account square, with a little help from Mrs. Easton, who +has returned to her old master, and is a firm but kind mother to him. + +Grace Clifford for some time could not be got to visit him. Perhaps she +is one of those ladies who can not get over personal violence; he had +handled her roughly, to keep her from going to her father's help. After +all, there may have been other reasons; it is not so easy to penetrate +all the recesses of the female heart. One thing is certain: she would +not go near him for months; but when she did go with her father--and he +had to use all his influence to take her there--the rapture and the +tears of joy with which the poor old fellow received her disarmed her +in a moment. + +She let him take her through hot-houses and show her his children--"the +only children I have now," said he--and after that she never refused to +visit this erring man. His roof had sheltered her many years, and he had +found out too late that he loved her, so far as his nature could love at +that time. + + * * * * * + +Percy Fitzroy had an elder sister. He appealed to her against Julia +Clifford. She cross-questioned him, and told him he was very foolish to +despair. She would hardly have slapped him if she was quite resolved to +part forever. + +"Let me have a hand in reconciling you," said she. + +"You shall have b-b-both hands in it, if you like," said he; "for I am at +my w-w-wit's end." + +So these two conspired. Miss Fitzroy was invited to Percy's house, and +played the mistress. She asked other young ladies, especially that fair +girl with auburn hair, whom Julia called a "fat thing." That meant, under +the circumstances, a plump and rounded model, with small hands and feet; +a perfect figure in a riding habit, and at night a satin bust and +sculptured arms. + +The very first ride Walter took with Grace and Julia they met the bright +cavalcade of Percy and his sister, and this red-haired Venus. + +Percy took off his hat with profound respect to Julia and Grace, but did +not presume to speak. + +"What a lovely girl!" said Grace. + +"Do you think so?" said Julia. + +"Yes, dear; and so do you." + +"What makes you fancy that?" + +"Because you looked daggers at her." + +"Because she is setting her cap at that little fool." + +"She will not have him without your consent, dear." + +And this set Julia thinking. + +The next day Walter called on Percy, and played the traitor. + +"Give a ball," said he. + +Miss Fitzroy and her brother gave a ball. Percy, duly instructed by his +sister, wrote to Julia as meek as Moses, and said he was in a great +difficulty. If he invited her, it would, of course, seem presumptuous, +considering the poor opinion she had of him; if he passed her over, and +invited Walter Clifford and Mrs. Clifford, he should be unjust to his own +feelings, and seem disrespectful. + +Julia's reply: + +"DEAR MR. FITZROY,--I am not at all fond of jealousy, but I am very fond +of dancing. I shall come. + +"Yours sincerely, + +"JULIA CLIFFORD." + +And she did come with a vengeance. She showed them what a dark beauty can +do in a blaze of light with a red rose, and a few thousand pounds' worth +of diamonds artfully placed. + +She danced with several partners, and took Percy in his turn. She was +gracious to him, but nothing more. + +Percy asked leave to call next day. + +She assented, rather coldly. + +His sister prepared Percy for the call. The first thing he did was to +stammer intolerably. + +"Oh," said Julia, "if you have nothing more to say than that, I +have--Where is my bracelet?" + +"It's here," said Percy, producing it eagerly. Julia smiled. + +"My necklace?" + +"Here!" + +"My charms?" + +"Here!" + +"My specimens of your spelling? Love spells, eh?" + +"Here--all here." + +"No, they are not," said Julia, snatching them, "they are here." And she +stuffed both her pockets with them. + +"And the engaged ring," said Percy, radiant now, and producing it, +"d-d-don't forget that." + +Julia began to hesitate. "If I put that on, it will be for life." + +"Yes, it will," said Percy. + +"Then give me a moment to think." + +After due consideration she said what she had made up her mind to say +long before. + +"Percy, you're a man of honor. I'll be yours upon one solemn +condition--that from this hour till death parts us, you promise to give +your faith where you give your love." + +"I'll give my faith where I give my love," said Percy, solemnly. + +Next month they were married, and he gave his confidence where he gave +his love, and he never had reason to regret it. + + * * * * * + +"John Baker." + +"Sir." + +"You had better mind what you are about, or you'll get fonder of her than +of Walter himself." + +"Never, Colonel, never! And so will you." + +Then, after a moment's reflection, John Baker inquired how they were to +help it. "Look here, Colonel," said he, "a man's a man, but a woman's a +woman. It isn't likely as Master Walter will always be putting his hand +round your neck and kissing of you when you're good, and pick a white +hair off your coat if he do but see one when you're going out, and shine +upon you in-doors more than the sun does on you out-of-doors; and 'taint +to be supposed as Mr. Walter will never meet me on the stairs without +breaking out into a smile to cheer an old fellow's heart, and showing +£2000 worth of ivory all at one time; and if I've a cold or a bit of a +headache he won't send his lady's maid to see after me and tell me what I +am to do, and threaten to come and nurse me himself if I don't mend." + +"Well," said the Colonel, "there's something in all this." + +"For all that," said John Baker, candidly, "I shall make you my +confession, sir. I said to Mr. Walter myself, said I, 'Here's a pretty +business,' said I; 'I've known and loved you from a child, and Mrs. +Walter has only been here six months, and now I'm afraid she'll make me +love her more than I do you.'" + +"Why, of course she will," said Mr. Walter. "Why, _I_ love her +better than I do myself, and you've got to follow suit, or else I'll +murder you." + +So that question was settled. + + * * * * * + +The five hundred guineas reward rankled in the minds of those detectives, +and, after a few months, with the assistance of the ordinary police in +all the northern towns, they got upon a cold scent, and then upon a warm +scent, and at last they suspected their bird, under the _alias_ of +Carruthers. So they came to the house to get sight of him, and make sure +before applying for a warrant. They got there just in time for his +funeral. Middleton was there and saw them, and asked them to attend it, +and to speak to him after the reading of the will. + +"Proceedings are stayed," said he; "but, perhaps, having acted +against me, you might like to see whether it would not pay better to +act with me." + +"And no mistake," said one of them; so they were feasted with the rest, +for it was a magnificent funeral, and after that Middleton squared them +with £50 apiece to hold their tongues--and more, to divert all suspicion +from the house and the beautiful woman who now held it as only trustee +for her son. + +Remembering that he had left the estate to another man's child, Monckton, +one fine day, bequeathed his personal estate on half a sheet of +note-paper to Lucy. This and the large allowance Middleton obtained from +the Court for her, as trustee and guardian to the heir, made her a rich +woman. She was a German, sober, notable, and provident; she kept her +sheep, and became a sort of squire. She wrote to her husband in the +States, and, by the advice of Middleton, told him the exact truth instead +of a pack of fibs, which she certainly would have done had she been left +to herself. Poverty had pinched Jonathan Braham by this time; and as he +saw by the tone of her letter she did not care one straw whether he +accepted the situation or not, he accepted it eagerly, and had to court +her as a stranger, and to marry her, and wear the crown matrimonial; for +Middleton drew the settlements, and neither Braham nor his creditors +could touch a half-penny. And then came out the better part of this +indifferent woman. Braham had been a good friend to her in time of need, +and she was a good and faithful friend to him now. She was generally +admired and respected; kind to the poor; bountiful, but not lavish; an +excellent manager, but not stingy. + +In vain shall we endeavor, with our small insight into the bosoms of men +and women, to divide them into the good and the bad. There are mediocre +intellects; there are mediocre morals. This woman was always more +inclined to good than evil, yet at times temptation conquered. She was +virtuous till she succumbed to a seducer whom she loved. Under his +control she deceived Walter Clifford, and attempted an act of downright +villainy; that control removed, she returned to virtuous and industrious +habits. After many years, solitude, weariness, and a gloomy future +unhinged her conscience again: comfort and affection offered themselves, +and she committed bigamy. Deserted by Braham, and once more fascinated by +the only man she had ever greatly loved, she joined him in an abominable +fraud, broke down in the middle of it by a sudden impulse of conscience, +and soon after settled down into a faithful nurse. She is now a faithful +wife, a tender mother, a kind mistress, and nearly everything that is +good in a medium way; and so, in all human probability, will pass the +remainder of her days, which, as she is healthy, and sober in eating and +drinking, will perhaps be the longer period of her little life. + +Well may we all pray against great temptations; only choice spirits +resist them, except when they are great temptations to somebody else, and +somehow not to the person tempted. + +It has lately been objected to the writers of fiction--especially to +those few who are dramatists as well as novelists--that they neglect +what Shakespeare calls "the middle of humanity," and deal in eccentric +characters above or below the people one really meets. Let those who +are serious in this objection enjoy moral mediocrity in the person of +Lucy Monckton. + +For our part we will never place Fiction, which was the parent of +History, below its child. Our hearts are with those superior men and +women who, whether in History or Fiction, make life beautiful, and +raise the standard of Humanity. Such characters exist even in this +plain tale, and it is these alone, and our kindly readers, we take +leave of with regret. + + +THE END. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Perilous Secret, by Charles Reade + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PERILOUS SECRET *** + +***** This file should be named 12470-8.txt or 12470-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/4/7/12470/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + + 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 + + diff --git a/old/12470-8.zip b/old/12470-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1bc51ae --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12470-8.zip diff --git a/old/12470.txt b/old/12470.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3f6d5af --- /dev/null +++ b/old/12470.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12491 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Perilous Secret, by Charles Reade + +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: A Perilous Secret + +Author: Charles Reade + +Release Date: May 28, 2004 [EBook #12470] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PERILOUS SECRET *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + A PERILOUS SECRET + + BY CHARLES READE + +AUTHOR OF "HARD CASH" "PUT YOURSELF IN HIS PLACE" "GRIFFITH GAUNT" "IT IS +NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND" ETC., ETC. + + 1884 + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +CHAPTER I. +THE POOR MAN'S CHILD + +CHAPTER II. +THE RICH MAN'S CHILD + +CHAPTER III. +THE TWO FATHERS + +CHAPTER IV. +AN OLD SERVANT + +CHAPTER V. +MARY'S PERIL + +CHAPTER VI. +SHARP PRACTICE + +CHAPTER VII. +THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE + +CHAPTER VIII. +THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE + +CHAPTER IX. +LOVERS PARTED + +CHAPTER X. +THE GORDIAN KNOT + +CHAPTER XI. +THE KNOT CUT.--ANOTHER TIED + +CHAPTER XII. +THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE + +CHAPTER XIII. +THE SERPENT LET LOOSE + +CHAPTER XIV. +THE SERPENT + +CHAPTER XV. +THE SECRET IN DANGER + +CHAPTER XVI. +REMINISCENCES.--THE FALSE ACCUSER.--THE SECRET EXPLODED + +CHAPTER XVII. +LOVERS' QUARRELS + +CHAPTER XVIII. +APOLOGIES + +CHAPTER XIX. +A WOMAN OUTWITS TWO MEN + +CHAPTER XX. +CALAMITY + +CHAPTER XXI. +BURIED ALIVE + +CHAPTER XXII. +REMORSE + +CHAPTER XXIII. +BURIED ALIVE.--THE THREE DEADLY PERILS + +CHAPTER XXIV. +STRANGE COMPLICATIONS + +CHAPTER XXV. +RETRIBUTION + +CHAPTER XXVI. +STRANGE TURNS + +CHAPTER XXVII. +CURTAIN + + + + +A PERILOUS SECRET. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE POOR MAN'S CHILD. + + +Two worn travellers, a young man and a fair girl about four years old, +sat on the towing-path by the side of the Trent. + +The young man had his coat off, by which you might infer it was very hot; +but no, it was a keen October day, and an east wind sweeping down the +river. The coat was wrapped tightly round the little girl, so that only +her fair face with blue eyes and golden hair peeped out; and the young +father sat in his shirt sleeves, looking down on her with a loving but +anxious look. Her mother, his wife, had died of consumption, and he was +in mortal terror lest biting winds and scanty food should wither this +sweet flower too, his one remaining joy. + +William Hope was a man full of talent; self-educated, and wonderfully +quick at learning anything: he was a linguist, a mechanic, a +mineralogist, a draughtsman, an inventor. Item, a bit of a farrier, and +half a surgeon; could play the fiddle and the guitar; could draw and +paint and drive a four-in-hand. Almost the only thing he could not do was +to make money and keep it. + +Versatility seldom pays. But, to tell the truth, luck was against him; +and although in a long life every deserving man seems to get a chance, +yet Fortune does baffle some meritorious men for a limited time. +Generally, we think, good fortune and ill fortune succeed each other +rapidly, like red cards and black; but to some ill luck comes in great +long slices; and if they don't drink or despair, by-and-by good luck +comes continuously, and everything turns to gold with him who has waited +and deserved. + +Well, for years Fortune was hard on William Hope. It never let him get +his head above-water. If he got a good place, the employer died or sold +his business. If he patented an invention, and exhausted his savings to +pay the fees, no capitalist would work it, or some other inventor +proved he had invented something so like it that there was no basis for +a monopoly. + +At last there fell on him the heaviest blow of all. He had accumulated +L50 as a merchant's clerk, and was in negotiation for a small independent +business, when his wife, whom he loved tenderly, sickened. + +For eight months he was distracted with hopes and fears. These gave way +to dismal certainty. She died, and left him broken-hearted and poor, +impoverished by the doctors, and pauperized by the undertaker. Then his +crushed heart had but one desire--to fly from the home that had lost its +sunshine, and the very country which had been calamitous to him. + +He had one stanch friend, who had lately returned rich from New Zealand, +and had offered to send him out as his agent, and to lend him money in +the colony. Hope had declined, and his friend had taken the huff, and +had not written to him since. But Hope knew he was settled in Hull, and +too good-hearted at bottom to go from his word in his friend's present +sad condition. So William Hope paid every debt he owed in Liverpool, took +his child to her mother's tombstone, and prayed by it, and started to +cross the island, and then leave it for many a long day. + +He had a bundle with one brush, one comb, a piece of yellow soap, and two +changes of linen, one for himself, and one for his little Grace--item, +his fiddle, and a reaping hook; for it was a late harvest in the north, +and he foresaw he should have to work his way and play his way, or else +beg, and he was too much of a man for that. His child's face won her many +a ride in a wagon, and many a cup of milk from humble women standing at +their cottage doors. + +Now and then he got a day's work in the fields, and the farmer's wife +took care of little Grace, and washed her linen, and gave them both clean +straw in the barn to lie on, and a blanket to cover them. Once he fell in +with a harvest-home, and his fiddle earned him ten shillings, all in +sixpences. But on unlucky days he had to take his fiddle under his arm, +and carry his girl on his back: these unlucky days came so often that +still as he travelled his small pittance dwindled. Yet half-way on this +journey fortune smiled on him suddenly. It was in Derbyshire. He went a +little out of his way to visit his native place--he had left it at ten +years old. Here an old maid, his first cousin, received Grace with +rapture, and Hope pottered about all day, reviving his boyish +recollections of people and places. He had left the village ignorant; he +returned full of various knowledge; and so it was that in a certain +despised field, all thistles and docks and every known weed, which field +the tenant had condemned as a sour clay unfit for cultivation, William +Hope found certain strata and other signs which, thanks to his +mineralogical studies and practical knowledge, sent a sudden thrill all +through his frame. "Here's luck at last!" said he. "My child! my child! +our fortune is made." + +The proprietor of this land, and indeed of the whole parish, was a +retired warrior, Colonel Clifford. Hope knew that very well, and hurried +to Clifford Hall, all on fire with his discovery. + +He obtained an interview without any difficulty. Colonel Clifford, though +proud as Lucifer, was accessible and stiffly civil to humble folk. He was +gracious enough to Hope; but, when the poor fellow let him know he had +found signs of coal on his land, he froze directly; told him that two +gentlemen in that neighborhood had wasted their money groping the bowels +of the earth for coal, because of delusive indications on the surface of +the soil; and that for his part, even if he was sure of success, he would +not dirty his fingers with coal. "I believe," said he, "the northern +nobility descend to this sort of thing; but then they have not smelled +powder, and seen glory, and served her Majesty. _I have_." + +Hope tried to reason with him, tried to get round him. But he was +unassailable as Gibraltar, and soon cut the whole thing short by +saying: "There, that's enough. I am much obliged to you, sir, for +bringing me information you think valuable. You are travelling--on +foot--short of funds perhaps. Please accept this trifle, +and--and--good-morning." He retreated at marching pace, and the hot +blood burned his visitor's face. An alms! + +But on second thoughts he said: "Well, I have offered him a fortune, and +he gives me ten shillings. One good turn deserves another." So he +pocketed the half-sovereign, and bought his little Grace a +neck-handkerchief, blue with white spots; and so this unlucky man and his +child fought their way from west to east, till they reached that place +where we introduced them to the reader. + +That was an era in their painful journey, because until then Hope's only +anxiety was to find food and some little comfort for his child. But this +morning little Grace had begun to cough, a little dry cough that struck +on the father's heart like a knell. Her mother had died of consumption: +were the seeds of that fatal malady in her child? If so, hardship, +fatigue, cold, and privation would develop them rapidly, and she would +wither away into the grave before his eyes. So he looked down on her in +an agony of foreboding, and shivered in his shirt sleeves, not at the +cold, but at the future. She, poor girl, was, like the animals, blessed +with ignorance of everything beyond the hour; and soon she woke her +father from his dire reverie with a cry of delight. + +"Oh, what's they?" said she, and beamed with pleasure. Hope followed the +direction of her blue eyes, open to their full extent; and lo! there was +a little fleet of swans coming round a bend of the river. Hope told her +all about the royal birds, and that they belonged to sovereigns in one +district, to cities in another. Meantime the fair birds sailed on, and +passed stately, arching their snowy necks. Grace gloated on them, and for +a day or two her discourse was of swans. + +At last, when very near the goal, misfortunes multiplied. They came into +a town on a tidal river, whence they could hope to drift down to their +destination for a shilling or two; but here Hope spent his last farthing +on Grace's supper at an eating-house, and had not wherewithal to pay for +bed or breakfast at the humble inn. Here, too, he took up the local +paper, praying Heaven there might be some employment advertised, however +mean, that so he might feed his girl, and not let the fiend Consumption +take her at a gift. + +No, there was nothing in the advertising column, but in the body of the +paper he found a paragraph to the effect that Mr. Samuelson, of Hull, +had built a gigantic steam vessel in that port, and was going out to New +Zealand in her on her trial trip, to sail that morning at high tide, 6.45 +A.M., and it was now nine. + +How a sentence in a newspaper can blast a man! Bereavement, Despair, Lost +Love--they come like lightning in a single line. Hope turned sick at +these few words, and down went his head and his hands, and he sat all of +a heap, cold at heart. Then he began to disbelieve in everything, +especially in honesty. For why? If he had only left Liverpool in debt and +taken the rail, he would have reached Hull in ample time, and would have +gone out to New Zealand in the new ship with money in both pockets. + +But it was no use fretting. Starvation and disease impended over his +child. He must work, or steal, or something. In truth he was getting +desperate. He picked himself up and went about, offering his many +accomplishments to humble shop-keepers. They all declined him, some +civilly. At last he came to a superior place of business. There were +large offices and a handsome house connected with it in the rear. At the +side of the offices were pulleys, cranes, and all the appliances for +loading vessels, and a yard with horses and vans, so that the whole +frontage of the premises was very considerable. A brass plate said, "R. +Bartley, ship-broker and commission agent"; but the man was evidently a +ship-owner and a carrier besides; so this miscellaneous shop roused hopes +in our versatile hero. He rapidly surveyed the outside, and then cast +hungry glances through the window of the man's office. It was a +bow-window of unusual size, through which the proprietor or his employees +could see a long way up and down the river. Through this window Hope +peered. Repulses had made him timid. He wanted to see the face he had to +apply to before he ventured. + +But Mr. Bartley was not there. The large office was at present occupied +by his clerks; one of these was Leonard Monckton, a pale young man with +dark hair, a nose like a hawk, and thin lips. The other was quite a young +fellow, with brown hair, hazel eyes, and an open countenance. "Many a +hard rub puts a point on a man." So Hope resolved at once to say nothing +to that pale clerk so like a kite, but to interest the open countenance +in him and his hungry child. + +There were two approaches to the large office. One, to Hope's right, +through a door and a lobby. This was seldom used except by the habitues +of the place. The other was to Hope's left, through a very small office, +generally occupied by an inferior clerk, who kept an eye upon the work +outside. However, this office had also a small window looking inward; +this opened like a door when the man had anything to say to Mr. Bartley +or the clerks in the large office. + +William Hope entered this outer office, and found it empty. The clerk +happened to be in the yard. Then he opened the inner door and looked in +on the two clerks, pale and haggard, and apprehensive of a repulse. He +addressed himself to the one nearest him; it was the one whose face had +attracted him. + +"Sir, can I see Mr. Bartley?" + +The young fellow glanced over the visitor's worn garments and dusty +shoes, and said, dryly, "Hum! if it is for charity, this is the +wrong shop." + +"I want no charity," said Hope, with a sigh; "I want employment. But I do +want it very badly; my poor little girl and I are starving." + +"Then that is a shame," said the young fellow, warmly. "Why, you are a +gentleman, aren't you?" + +"I don't know for that," said Hope. "But I am an educated man, and I +could do the whole business of this place. But you see I am down in +the world." + +"You look like it," said the clerk, bluntly. "But don't you be so green +as to tell old Bartley that, or you are done for. No, no; I'll show you +how to get in here. Wait till half past one. He lunches at one, and he +isn't quite such a brute after luncheon. Then you come in like Julius +Caesar, and brag like blazes, and offer him twenty pounds' worth of +industry and ability, and above all arithmetic, and he will say he has no +opening (and that is a lie), and offer you fifteen shillings, perhaps." + +"If he does, I'll jump at it," said Hope, eagerly. "But whether I succeed +with him or not, take my child's blessing and my own." + +His voice faltered, and Bolton, with a young man's uneasiness under +sentiment, stopped him. "Oh, come, old fellow, bother all that! Why, we +are all stumped in turn." Then he began to chase a solitary coin into a +corner of his waistcoat pocket. "Look here, I'll lend you a +shilling--pay me next week--it will buy the kid a breakfast. I wish I +had more, but I want the other for luncheon. I haven't drawn my screw +yet. It is due at twelve." + +"I'll take it for my girl," said Hope, blushing, "and because it is +offered me by a gentleman and like a gentleman." + +"Granted, for the sake of argument," said this sprightly youth; and so +they parted for the time, little dreaming, either of them, what a chain +they were weaving round their two hearts, and this little business the +first link. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE RICH MAN'S CHILD. + + +The world is very big, and contains hundreds of millions who are +strangers to each other. Yet every now and then this big world seems to +turn small; so many people whose acquaintance we make turn out to be +acquaintances of our acquaintances. This concatenation of acquaintances +is really one of the marvels of social life, if one considers the +chances against it, owing to the size and population of the country. As +an example of this phenomenon, which we have all observed, William Hope +was born in Derbyshire, in a small parish which belonged, nearly all of +it, to Colonel Clifford; yet in that battle for food which is, alas! the +prosaic but true history of men and nations, he entered an office in +Yorkshire, and there made friends with Colonel Clifford's son, Walter, +who was secretly dabbling in trade and matrimony under the name of +Bolton; and this same Hope was to come back, and to apply for a place to +Mr. Bartley; Mr. Bartley was brother-in-law to that same Colonel +Clifford, though they were at daggers drawn, the pair. + +Miss Clifford, aged thirty-two, had married Bartley, aged thirty-seven. +Each had got fixed habits, and they soon disagreed. In two years they +parted, with plenty of bitterness, but no scandal. Bartley stood on his +rights, and kept their one child, little Mary. He was very fond of her, +and as the mother saw her whenever she liked, his love for his child +rather tended to propitiate Mrs. Bartley, though nothing on earth would +have induced her to live with him again. + +Little Mary was two months younger than Grace Hope, and, like her, had +blue eyes and golden hair. But what a difference in her condition! She +had two nurses and every luxury. Dressed like a princess, and even when +in bed smothered in lace; some woman's eye always upon her, a hand always +ready to keep her from the smallest accident. + +Yet all this care could not keep out sickness. The very day that Grace +Hope began to cough and alarm her father, Mary Bartley flushed and paled, +and showed some signs of feverishness. + +The older nurse, a vigilant person, told Mr. Bartley directly; and the +doctor was sent for post-haste. He felt her pulse, and said there was +some little fever, but no cause for anxiety. He administered syrup of +poppies, and little Mary passed a tranquil night. + +Next day, about one in the afternoon, she became very restless, and was +repeatedly sick. The doctor was sent for, and combated the symptoms; but +did not inquire closely into the cause. Sickness proceeds immediately +from the stomach; so he soothed the stomach with alkaline mucilages, and +the sickness abated. But next day alarming symptoms accumulated, short +breathing, inability to eat, flushed face, wild eyes. Bartley telegraphed +to a first-rate London physician. He came, and immediately examined +the girl's throat, and shook his head; then he uttered a fatal +word--Diphtheria. + +They had wasted four days squirting petty remedies at symptoms, instead +of finding the cause and attacking it, and now he told them plainly he +feared it was too late--the fatal membrane was forming, and, indeed, had +half closed the air-passages. + +Bartley in his rage and despair would have driven the local doctor out of +the house, but this the London doctor would not allow. He even consulted +him on the situation, now it was declared, and, as often happens, they +went in for heroic remedies since it was too late. + +But neither powerful stimulants nor biting draughts nor caustic +applications could hinder the deadly parchment from growing and growing. + +The breath reduced to a thread, no nourishment possible except by baths +of beef tea, and similar enemas. Exhaustion inevitable. Death certain. + +Such was the hopeless condition of the rich man's child, surrounded by +nurses and physicians, when the father of the poor man's child applied to +the clerk Bolton for that employment which meant bread for his child, and +perhaps life for _her_. + +William Hope returned to his little Grace with a loaf of bread he +bought on the road with Bolton's shilling, and fresh milk in a +soda-water bottle. + +He found her crying. She had contrived, after the manner of children, to +have an accident. The room was almost bare of furniture, but my lady had +found a wooden stool that _could_ be mounted upon and tumbled off, and +she had done both, her parent being away. She had bruised and sprained +her little wrist, and was in the depths of despair. + +"Ah," said poor Hope, "I was afraid something or other would happen if I +left you." + +He took her to the window, and set her on his knee, and comforted her. He +cut a narrow slip off his pocket handkerchief, wetted it, and bound it +lightly and deftly round her wrist, and poured consolation into her ear. +But soon she interrupted that, and flung sorrow to the winds; she uttered +three screams of delight, and pointed eagerly through the window. + +"Here they be again, the white swans!" + +Hope looked, and there were two vessels, a brig and a bark, creeping +down the river toward the sea, with white sails bellying to a gentle +breeze astern. + +It is experience that teaches proportion. The eye of childhood is +wonderfully misled in that matter. Promise a little child the moon, and +show him the ladder to be used, he sees nothing inadequate in the means; +so Grace Hope was delighted with her swans. + +But Hope, who made it his business to instruct her, and not deceive her +as some thoughtless parents do, out of fun, the wretches, told her, +gently, they were not swans, but ships. + +She was a little disappointed at that, but inquired what they were doing. + +"Darling," said he, "they are going to some other land, where honest, +hard-working people can not starve, and, mark my words, darling," said +he--she pricked her little ears at that--"you and I shall have to go +with them, for we are poor." + +"Oh," said little Grace, impressed by his manner as well as his words, +and nodded her pretty head with apparent wisdom, and seemed greatly +impressed. + +Then her father fed her with bread and milk, and afterward laid her on +the bed, and asked her whether she loved him. + +"Dearly, dearly," said she. + +"Then if you do," said he, "you will go to sleep like a good girl, and +not stir off that bed till I come back." + +"No more I will," said she. + +However, he waited until she was in an excellent condition for keeping +her promise, being fast as a church. + +Then he looked long at her beautiful face, wax-like and even-tinted, but +full of life after her meal, and prayed to Him who loved little children, +and went with a beating heart to Mr. Bartley's office. + +But in the short time, little more than an hour and a half, which elapsed +between Hope's first and second visit, some most unexpected and +remarkable events took place. + +Bartley came in from his child's dying bed distracted with grief; but +business to him was the air he breathed, and he went to work as usual, +only in a hurried and bitter way unusual to him. He sent out his clerk +Bolton with some bills, and told him sharply not to return without the +money; and whilst Bolton, so-called, was making his toilette in the +lobby, his eye fell on his other clerk, Monckton. + +Monckton was poring over the ledger with his head down, the very picture +of a faithful servant absorbed in his master's work. + +But appearances are deceitful. He had a small book of his own nestled +between the ledger and his stomach. It was filled with hieroglyphics, and +was his own betting book. As for his brown-study, that was caused by his +owing L100 in the ring, and not knowing how to get it. To be sure, he +could rob Mr. Bartley. He had done it again and again by false accounts, +and even by abstraction of coin, for he had false keys to his employer's +safe, cash-box, drawers, and desk. But in his opinion he had played this +game often enough, and was afraid to venture it again so soon and on so +large a scale. + +He was so absorbed in these thoughts that he did not hear Mr. Bartley +come to him; to be sure, he came softly, because of the other clerk, who +was washing his hands and brushing his hair in the lobby. + +So Bartley's hand, fell gently, but all in a moment, on Monckton's +shoulder, and they say the shoulder is a sensitive part in conscious +rogues. Anyway, Monckton started violently, and turned from pale to +white, and instinctively clapped both hands over his betting book. + +"Monckton," said his employer, gravely, "I have made a very ugly +discovery." + +Monckton began to shiver. + +"Periodical errors in the balances, and the errors always against me." + +Monckton began to perspire. Not knowing what to say, he faltered, and at +last stammered out, "Are you sure, sir?" + +"Quite sure. I have long seen reason to suspect it, so last night I went +through all the books, and now I am sure. Whoever the villain is, I will +send him to prison if I can only catch him." + +Monckton winced and turned his head away, debating in his mind whether he +should affect indignation and sympathy, and pretend to court inquiry, or +should wait till lunch-time, and then empty the cash-box and bolt. + +Whilst thus debating, these words fell unexpectedly on his ear: + +"And you must help me." + +Then Monckton's eyes turned this way and that in a manner that is common +among thieves, and a sardonic smile curled his pale thin lip. + +"It is my duty," said the sly rogue, demurely. Then, after a pause, +"But how?" + +Then Mr. Bartley glanced at Bolton in the lobby, and not satisfied with +speaking under his breath, drew this ill-chosen confidant to the other +end of the office. + +"Why, suspect everybody, and watch them. Now there's this clerk Bolton: I +know nothing about him; I was taken by his looks. Have your eye on +_him_." + +"I will, sir," said Monckton, eagerly. He drew a long breath of +relief. For all that, he was glad when a voice in the little office +announced a visitor. + +It was a clear, peremptory voice, short, sharp, incisive, and decisive. +The clerk called Bolton heard it in the lobby, and scuttled into the +street with a rapidity that contrasted drolly enough with the composure +and slowness with which he had been brushing his hair and titivating his +nascent whiskers. + +A tall, stiff military figure literally marched into the middle of the +office, and there stood like a sentinel. + +Mr. Bartley could hardly believe his senses. + +"Colonel Clifford!" said he, roughly. + +"You are surprised to see me here?" + +"Of course I am. May I ask what brings you?" + +"That which composes all quarrels and squares all accounts--Death." + +Colonel Clifford said this solemnly, and with less asperity. He added, +with a glance at Monckton, "This is a very private matter." + +Bartley took the hint, and asked Monckton to retire into the inner +office. + +As soon as he and Colonel Clifford were alone, that warrior, still +standing straight as a dart, delivered himself of certain short +sentences, each of which seemed to be propelled, or indeed jerked out of +him, by some foreign power seated in his breast. + +"My sister, your injured wife, is no more." + +"Dead! This is very sudden. I am very, very sorry. I--" + +Colonel Clifford looked the word "Humbug," and continued to expel short +sentences. + +"On her death-bed she made me promise to give you my hand. There it is." + +His hand was propelled out, caught flying by Bartley, released, and drawn +back again, all by machinery it seemed. + +"She leaves you L20,000 in trust for the benefit of her child and +yours--Mary Bartley." + +"Poor, dear Eliza." + +The Colonel looked as less high-bred people do when they say "Gammon," +but proceeded civilly though brusquely. + +"In dealing with the funds you have a large discretion. Should the girl +die before you, or unmarried, the money lapses to your nephew, my son, +Walter Clifford. He is a scapegrace, and has run away from me; but I must +protect his just interests. So as a mere matter of form I will ask you +whether Mary Bartley is alive." + +Bartley bowed his head. + +Colonel Clifford had not heard she was ill, so he continued: "In that +case"--and then, interrupting himself for a moment, turned away to +Bartley's private table, and there emptied his pockets of certain +documents, one of which he wanted to select. + +His back was not turned more than half a minute, yet a most expressive +pantomime took place in that short interval. + +The nurse opened a door of communication, and stood with a rush at the +threshold: indeed, she would have rushed in but for the stranger. She was +very pale, and threw up her hands to Bartley. Her face and her gesture +were more expressive than words. + +Then Bartley, clinging by mere desperate instinct to money he could not +hope to keep, flew to her, drove her out by a frenzied movement of both +hands, though he did not touch her, and spread-eagled himself before the +door, with his face and dilating eyes turned toward Colonel Clifford. + +The Colonel turned and stepped toward him with the document he had +selected at the table. Bartley went to meet him. + +The Colonel gave it to him, and said it was a copy of the will. + +Bartley took it, and Colonel Clifford expelled his last sentences. + +"We have shaken hands. Let us forget our past quarrels, and respect the +wishes of the dead." + +With that he turned sharply on both heels, and faced the door of the +little office before he moved; then marched out in about seven steps, as +he had marched in, and never looked behind him for two hundred miles. + +The moment he was out of sight, Bartley, with his wife's will in his hand +and ice at his heart, went to his child's room. The nurse met him, +crying, and said, "A change"--mild but fatal words that from a nurse's +lips end hope. + +He came to the bedside just in time to see the breath hovering on his +child's lips, and then move them as the summer air stirs a leaf. + +Soon all was still, and the rich man's child was clay. + +The unhappy father burst into a passion of grief, short but violent. Then +he ordered the nurse to watch there, and let no one enter the room; then +he staggered back to his office, and flung himself down at his table and +buried his head. To do him justice, he was all parental grief at first, +for his child was his idol. + +The arms were stretched out across the table; the head rested on it; the +man was utterly crushed. + +Whilst he was so, the little office door opened softly, and a pale, worn, +haggard face looked in. It was the father of the poor man's child in +mortal danger from privation and hereditary consumption. That haggard +face was come to ask the favor of employment, and bread for his girl, +from the rich man whose child was clay. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE TWO FATHERS. + + +Hope looked wistfully at that crushed figure, and hesitated; it seemed +neither kind nor politic to intrude business upon grief. + +But if the child was Bartley's idol, money was his god, and soon in his +strange mind defeated avarice began to vie with nobler sorrow. His child +dead! his poor little flower withered, and her death robbed him of +L20,000, and indeed of ten times that sum, for he had now bought +experience in trade and speculation, and had learned to make money out of +money, a heap out of a handful. Stung by this vulgar torment in its turn, +he started suddenly up, and dashed his wife's will down upon the floor in +a fury, and paced the room excitedly. Hope still stood aghast, and +hesitated to risk his application. + +But presently Bartley caught sight of him, and stared at him, but +said nothing. + +Then the poor fellow saw it was no use waiting for a better opportunity, +so he came forward and carried out Bolton's instructions; he put on a +tolerably jaunty air, and said, cheerfully, "I beg your pardon, sir; can +I claim your attention for a moment?" + +"What do you want?" asked Bartley, but like a man whose mind was +elsewhere. + +"Only employment for my talent, sir. I hear you have a vacancy for +a manager." + +"Nothing of the sort. _I_ am manager." + +Hope drew back despondent, and his haggard countenance fell at such +prompt repulse. But he summoned courage, and, once more acting genial +confidence, returned to the attack. + +"But you don't know, sir, in how many ways I can be useful to you. A +grand and complicated business like yours needs various acquirements +in those who have the honor to serve you. For instance, I saw a small +engine at work in your yard; now I am a mechanic, and I can double +the power of that engine by merely introducing an extra band and a +couple of cogs." + +"It will do as it is," said Bartley, languidly, "and I can do without +a manager." + +Bartley's manner was not irritated but absorbed. He seemed in all his +replies to Hope to be brushing away a fly mechanically and languidly. The +poor fly felt sick at heart, and crept away disconsolate. But at the very +door he turned, and for his child's sake made another attempt. + +"Have you an opening for a clerk? I can write business letters in French, +German, and Dutch; and keep books by double entry." + +"No vacancy for a clerk," was the weary reply. + +"Well, then, a foreman in the yard. I have studied the economy of +industry, and will undertake to get you the greatest amount of labor out +of the smallest number of men." + +"I have a foreman already," said Bartley, turning his back on him +peevishly, for the first time, and pacing the room, absorbed in his own +disappointment. + +Hope was in despair, and put on his hat to go. But he turned at the +window and said: "You have vans and carts. I understand horses +thoroughly. I am a veterinary surgeon, and I can drive four-in-hand. I +offer myself as carman, or even hostler." + +"I do not want a hostler, and I have a carman." + +Bartley, when he had said this, sat down like a man who had finally +disposed of the application. + +Hope went to the very door, and leaned against it. His jaw dropped. He +looked ten years older. Then, with a piteous attempt at cheerfulness, he +came nearer, and said: "A messenger, then. I'm young and very active, +and never waste my employer's time." + +Even this humble proposal was declined, though Hope's cheeks burned +with shame as he made it. He groaned aloud, and his head dropped on +his breast. + +His eye fell on the will lying on the ground; he went and picked it up, +and handed it respectfully to Bartley. + +Bartley stared, took it, and bowed his head an inch or two in +acknowledgment of the civility. This gave the poor daunted father courage +again. Now that Bartley's face was turned to him by this movement, he +took advantage of it, and said, persuasively: + +"Give me some kind of employment, sir. You will never repent it." Then he +began to warm with conscious power. "I've intelligence, practicability, +knowledge; and in this age of science knowledge is wealth. Example: I saw +a swell march out of this place that owns all the parish I was born in. I +knew him in a moment--Colonel Clifford. Well, that old soldier draws his +rents when he can get them, and never looks deeper than the roots of the +grass his cattle crop. But _I_ tell _you_ he never takes a walk about his +grounds but he marches upon millions--coal! sir, coal! and near the +surface. I know the signs. But I am impotent: only fools possess the gold +that wise men can coin into miracles. Try me, sir; honor me with your +sympathy. You are a father--you have a sweet little girl, I +hear."--Bartley winced at that.--"Well, so have I, and the hole my +poverty makes me pig in is not good for her, sir. She needs the sea air, +the scent of flowers, and, bless her little heart, she does enjoy them +so! Give them to her, and I will give you zeal, energy, brains, and a +million of money." + +This, for the first time in the interview, arrested Mr. Bartley's +attention. + +"I see you are a superior man," said he, "but I have no way to utilize +your services." + +"You can give me no hope, sir?" asked the poor fellow, still lingering. + +"None--and I am sorry for it." + +This one gracious speech affected poor Hope so that he could not speak +for a moment. Then he fought for manly dignity, and said, with a +lamentable mixture of sham sprightliness and real anguish, "Thank you, +sir; I only trust that you will always find servants as devoted to your +interest as my gratitude would have made me. Good-morning, sir." He +clapped his hat on with a sprightly, ghastly air, and marched off +resolutely. + +But ere he reached the door, Nature overpowered the father's heart; +way went Bolton's instructions; away went fictitious deportment and +feigned cheerfulness. The poor wretch uttered a cry, indeed a scream, of +anguish, that would have thrilled ten thousand hearts had they heard it; +he dashed his hat on the ground, and rushed toward Bartley, with both +hands out--"FOR GOD'S SAKE DON'T SEND ME AWAY--MY CHILD IS STARVING!" + +Even Bartley was moved. "Your child!" said he, with some little feeling. +This slight encouragement was enough for a father. His love gushed forth. +"A little golden-haired, blue-eyed angel, who is all the world to me. We +have walked here from Liverpool, where I had just buried her mother. God +help me! God help us both! Many a weary mile, sir, and never sure of +supper or bed. The birds of the air have nests, the beasts of the field a +shelter, the fox a hole, but my beautiful and fragile girl, only four +years old, sir, is houseless and homeless. Her mother died of +consumption, sir, and I live in mortal fear; for now she is beginning to +cough, and I can not give her proper nourishment. Often on this fatal +journey I have felt her shiver, and then I have taken off my coat and +wrapped it round her, and her beautiful eyes have looked up in mine, and +seemed to plead for the warmth and food I'd sell my soul to give her." + +"Poor fellow," said Bartley; "I suppose I ought to pity you. But how can +I? Man--man--your child is alive, and while there is life there is hope; +but mine is dead--dead!" he almost shrieked. + +"Dead!" said Hope, horrified. + +"Dead," cried Bartley. "Cut off at four years old, the very age of yours. +There--go and judge for yourself. You are a father. I can't look upon my +blasted hopes, and my withered flower. Go and see _my_ blue-eyed, +fair-haired darling--clay, hastening to the tomb; and you will trouble me +no more with your imaginary griefs." He flung himself down with his head +on his desk. + +Hope, following the direction of his hand, opened the door of the house, +and went softly forward till he met the nurse. He told her Mr. Bartley +wished him to see the deceased. The nurse hesitated, but looked at him. +His sad face inspired confidence, and she ushered him into the chamber of +mourning. There, laid out in state, was a little figure that, seen in the +dim light, drew a cry of dismay from Hope. He had left his own girl +sleeping, and looking like tinted wax. Here lay a little face the very +image of hers, only this was pale wax. + +Had he looked more closely, the chin was unlike his own girl's, and there +were other differences. But the first glance revealed a thrilling +resemblance. Hope hurried away from the room, and entered the office pale +and disturbed. "Oh, sir! the very image of my own. It fills me with +forebodings. I pity you, sir, with all my heart. That sad sight +reconciles me to my lot. God help you!" and he was going away; for now he +felt an unreasoning terror lest his own child should have turned from +colored wax to pale. + +Mr. Bartley stopped him. "Are they so very like?" said he. + +"Wonderfully like." And again he was going, but Bartley, who had received +him so coldly, seemed now unwilling to part with him. + +"Stay," said he, "and let me think." The truth is, a daring idea had +just flashed through that brain of his; and he wanted to think it out. +He walked to and fro in silent agitation, and his face was as a book in +which you may read strange matter. At last he made up his mind, but +the matter was one he did not dare to approach too bluntly, so he went +about a little. + +"Stay--you don't know all my misfortunes. I am ambitious--like you. I +believe in science and knowledge--like you. And, if my child had +lived, you should have been my adviser and my right hand: I want such +a man as you." + +Hope threw up his hands. "My usual luck!" said he: "always a day too +late." Bartley resumed: + +"But my child's death robs me of the money to work with, and I can't help +you nor help myself." + +Hope groaned. + +Bartley hesitated. But after a moment he said, timidly, "Unless--" and +then stopped. + +"Unless what?" asked Hope, eagerly. "I am not likely to raise objections +my child's life is at stake." + +"Well, then, unless you are really the superior man you seem to be: a man +of ability and--courage." + +"Courage!" thought Hope, and began to be puzzled. However, he said, +modestly, that he thought he could find courage in a good cause. + +"Then you and I are made men," said Bartley. These were stout words; but +they were not spoken firmly; on the contrary, Mr. Bartley's voice +trembled, and his brow began to perspire visibly. + +His agitation communicated itself to Hope, and the latter said, in a +low, impressive voice, "This is something very grave, Mr. Bartley. Sir, +what is it?" + +Mr. Bartley looked uneasily all round the room, and came close to Hope. +"The very walls must not hear what I now say to you." Then, in a +thrilling whisper, "My daughter must not die." + +Hope looked puzzled. + +"Your daughter must take her place." + +Now just before this, two quick ears began to try and catch the +conversation. Monckton had heard all that Colonel Clifford said, that +warrior's tones were so incisive; but, as the matter only concerned Mr. +Bartley, he merely grinned at the disappointment likely to fall on his +employer, for he knew Mary Bartley was at death's door. He said as much +to himself, and went out for a sandwich, for it was his lunch-time. But +when he returned with stealthy foot, for all his movements were cat-like, +he caught sight of Bartley and Hope in earnest conversation, and felt +very curious. + +There was something so mysterious in Bartley's tones that Monckton drew +up against the little window, pushed it back an inch, and listened hard. + +But he could hear nothing at all until Hope's answer came to +Bartley's proposal. + +Then the indignant father burst out, so that it was easy enough to hear +every word. "I part with my girl! Not for the world's wealth. What! You +call yourself a father, and would tempt me to sell my own flesh and +blood? No! Poverty, beggary, anything, sooner than that. My darling, we +will thrive together or starve together; we will live together or die +together!" + +He snatched up his hat to leave. But Bartley found a word to make him +hesitate. He never moved, but folded his arms and said, "So, then, your +love for your child is selfish." + +"Selfish!" cried Hope; "so selfish that I would die for her any hour of +the day." For all that, the taunt brought him down a step, and Bartley, +still standing like a rock, attacked him again. "If it is not selfish, it +is blind." Then he took two strides, and attacked him with sudden power. +"Who will suffer most if you stand in her light? Your daughter: why, she +may die." Hope groaned. "Who will profit most if you are wise, and +really love her, not like a jealous lover, but like a father? Why, your +daughter: she will be taken out of poverty and want, and carried to +sea-breezes and scented meadows; her health and her comfort will be my +care; she will fill the gap in my house and in my heart, and will be my +heiress when I die." + +"But she will be lost to me," sighed poor Hope. + +"Not so. You will be my right hand; you will be always about us; you can +see her, talk to her, make her love you, do anything but tell her you are +her father. Do this one thing for me, and I will do great things for you +and for her. To refuse me will be to cut your own throat and hers--as +well as mine." + +Hope faltered a little. "Am I selfish?" said he. + +"Of course not," was the soothing reply. "No true father is--give him +time to think." + +Hope clinched his hands in agony, and pressed them against his brow. "It +is selfish to stand in her light; but part with her--I can't; I can't." + +"Of course not: who asks you? She will never be out of your sight; only, +instead of seeing her sicken, linger, and die, you will see her +surrounded by every comfort, nursed and tended like a princess, and +growing every day in health, wealth, and happiness." + +"Health, wealth, and happiness?" + +"Health, wealth, and happiness!" + +These words made a great impression on the still hesitating father; he +began to make conditions. They were all granted heartily. + +"If ever you are unkind to her, the compact is broken, and I claim my +own again." + +"So be it. But why suppose anything so monstrous; men do not ill-treat +children. It is only women, who adore them, that kill them and ill-use +them accordingly. She will be my little benefactress, God bless her! I +may love her more than I ought, being yours, for my home is desolate +without her; but that is the only fault you shall ever find with me. +There is my hand on it." + +Hope at the last was taken off his guard, and took the proffered hand. +That is a binding action, and somehow he could no longer go back. + +Then Bartley told him he should live in the house at first, to break the +parting. "And from this hour," said he, "you are no clerk nor manager, +but my associate in business, and on your own terms." + +"Thank you," said Hope, with a sigh. + +"Now lose no time; get her into the house at once while the clerks are +away, and meantime I must deal with the nurse, and overcome the many +difficulties. Stay, here is a five-pound note. Buy yourself a new suit, +and give the child a good meal. But pray bring her here in half an hour +if you can." + +Then Bartley took him to the lobby, and let him out in the street, whilst +he went into the house to buy the nurse, and make her his confidante. + +He had a good deal of difficulty with her; she was shocked at the +proposal, and, being a woman, it was the details that horrified her. She +cried a good deal. She stipulated that her darling should have Christian +burial, and cried again at the doubt. But as Bartley conceded everything, +and offered to settle a hundred pounds a year on her, so long as she +lived in his house and kept his secret, he prevailed at last, and found +her an invaluable ally. + +To dispose of this character for the present we must inform the reader +that she proved a woman can keep a secret, and that in a very short time +she was as fond of Grace Hope as she had been of Mary Bartley. + +We have said that Colonel Clifford's talk penetrated Monckton's ear, but +produced no great impression at the time. Not so, however, when he had +listened to Bartley's proposal, Hope's answer, and all that followed. +Then he put this and Colonel Clifford's communication together, and saw +the terrible importance of the two things combined. Thus, as a +congenital worm grew with Jonah's gourd, and was sure to destroy it, +Bartley's bold and elaborate scheme was furnished from the outset with a +most dangerous enemy. + +Leonard Monckton was by nature a schemer and by habit a villain, and he +was sure to put this discovery to profit. He came out of the little +office and sat down at his desk, and fell into a brown-study. + +He was not a little puzzled, and here lay his difficulty. Two attractive +villainies presented themselves to his ingenious mind, and he naturally +hesitated between them. One was to levy black-mail on Bartley; the other, +to sell the secret to the Cliffords. + +But there was a special reason why he should incline toward the +Cliffords, and, whilst he is in his brown-study, we will let the reader +into his secret. + +This artful person had immediately won the confidence of young Clifford, +calling himself Bolton, and had prepared a very heartless trap for him. +He introduced to him a most beautiful young woman--tall, dark, with oval +face and glorious black eyes and eyebrows, a slight foreign accent, and +ingratiating manners. He called this beauty his sister, and instructed +her to win Walter Clifford in that character, and to marry him. As she +was twenty-two, and Master Clifford nineteen, he had no chance with her, +and they were to be married this very day at the Register Office. + +Manoeuvring Monckton then inclined to let Bartley's fraud go on and +ripen, but eventually expose it for the benefit of young Walter and his +wife, who adored this Monckton, because, when a beautiful woman loves an +ugly blackguard, she never does it by halves. + +But he had no sooner thought out this conclusion than there came an +obstacle. Lucy Muller's heart failed her at the last moment, and she +came into the office with a rush to tell her master so. She uttered a cry +of joy at sight of him, and came at him panting and full of love. "Oh, +Leonard, I am so glad you are alone! Leonard, dear Leonard, pray do not +insist on my marrying that young man. Now it comes to the time, my heart +fails me." The tears stood in her glorious eyes, and an honest man would +have pitied her, and even respected her a little for her compunction, +though somewhat tardy. + +But her master just fixed his eyes coldly on his slave, and said, +brutally, "Never mind your heart; think of your interest." + +The weak woman allowed herself to be diverted into this topic. "Why, he +is no such great catch, I am sure." + +"I tell you he is, more than ever: I have just discovered another L20,000 +he is heir to, and not got to wait for that any longer than I choose." + +Lucy stamped her foot. "I don't care for his money. Till he came with +his money you loved me." + +"I love you as much as ever," said Monckton, coldly. + +Lucy began to sob. "No, you don't, or you wouldn't give me up to that +young fool." + +The villain made a cynical reply, that not every Newgate thief could +have matched. "You fool," said he, "can't you marry him, and go on +loving me? you won't be the first. It is done every day, to the +satisfaction of all parties." + +"And to their unutterable shame," said a clear, stern voice at their +back. Walter Clifford, coming rapidly in, had heard but little, but heard +enough; and there he stood, grim and pale, a boy no longer. These two +skunks had made a man of him in one moment. They recoiled in dismay, and +the woman hid her face. + +He turned upon the man first, you may be sure. "So you have palmed this +lady off on me as your sister, and trapped me, and would have destroyed +me." His lip quivered; for they had passed the iron through his heart. +But he manned himself, and carried it off like a soldier's son: + +"But if I was fool enough to leave my father, I am not fool enough to +present to the world your cast-off mistress as my wife." (Lucy hid her +face in her hands.) "Here, Miss Lucy Monckton--or whatever your name may +be--here is the marriage license. Take that and my contempt, and do what +you like with them." + +With these words he dashed into Bartley's private room, and there broke +down. It was a bitter cup, the first in his young life. + +The baffled schemers drank wormwood too; but they bore it differently. +The woman cried, and took her punishment meekly; the man raged and +threatened vengeance. + +"No, no," said Lucy; "it serves us right. I wish I had never seen the +fellow: then you would have kept your word, and married me." + +"I will marry you now, if you can obey me." + +"Obey you, Leonard? You have been my ruin; but only marry me, and I will +be your slave in everything--your willing, devoted, happy slave." + +"That is a bargain," said Monckton, coolly. "I'll be even with him; I +will marry you in his name and in his place." + +This puzzled Lucy. + +"Why in his name?" said she. + +He did not answer. + +"Well, never mind the name," said she, "so that it is the right man--and +that is you." + +Then Monckton's fertile brain, teeming with villainies, fell to hatching +a new plot more felonious than the last. He would rob the safe, and get +Clifford convicted for the theft; convicted as Bolton, Clifford would +never tell his real name, and Lucy should enter the Cliffords' house with +a certificate of his death and a certificate of his marriage, both +obtained by substitution, and so collar his share of the L20,000, and +off with the real husband to fresh pastures. + +Lucy looked puzzled. Hers was not a brain to disentangle such a +monstrous web. + +Monckton reflected a moment. "What is the first thing? Let me see. Humph! +I think the first thing is to get married." + +"Yes," said Lucy, with an eagerness that contrasted strangely with his +cynical composure, "that is the first thing, and the most +understandable." And she went dancing off with him as gay as a lark, and +leaning on him at an angle of forty-five; whilst he went erect and cold, +like a stone figure marching. + +Walter Clifford came out in time to see them pass the great window. He +watched them down the street, and cursed them--not loud but deep. + +"Mooning, as usual," said a hostile voice behind him. He turned round, +and there was Mr. Bartley seated at his own table. Young Clifford walked +smartly to the other side of the table, determined this should be his +last day in that shop. + +"There are the payments," said he. + +Bartley inspected them. + +"About one in five," said he, dryly. + +"Thereabouts," was the reply. (Consummate indifference.) + +"You can't have pressed them much." + +"Well, I am not good at dunning." + +"What _are_ you good at?" + +"Should be puzzled to say." + +"You are not fit for trade." + +"That is the highest compliment was ever paid me." + +"Oh, you are impertinent as well as incompetent, are you? Then take a +week's warning, Mr. Bolton." + +"Five minutes would suit me better, Mr. Bartley." + +"Oh! indeed! Say one hour." + +"All right, sir; just time for a city clerk's luncheon--glass of bitter, +sandwich, peep at _Punch_, cigarette, and a chat with the bar-maid." + +Mr. Walter Clifford was a gentleman, but we must do him the justice to +say that in this interview with his employer he was a very impertinent +one, not only in words, but in the delivery thereof. Bartley, however, +thought this impertinence was put on, and that he had grave reasons for +being in a hurry. He took down the numbers of the notes Clifford had +given him, and looked very grave and suspicious all the time. + +Then he locked up the notes in the safe, and just then Hope opened the +door of the little office and looked in. + +"At last," said Bartley. + +"Well, sir," said Hope, "I have only been half an hour, and I have +changed my clothes and stood witness to a marriage. She begged me so +hard: I was at the door. Such a beautiful girl! I could not take my +eyes off her." + +"The child?" said Bartley, with natural impatience. + +"I have hidden her in the yard." + +"Bring her this moment, while the clerks are out." + +Hope hurried out, and soon returned with his child, wrapped up in a nice +warm shawl he had bought her with Bartley's money. + +Bartley took the child from him, looked at her face, and said, "Little +darling, I shall love her as my own;" then he begged Hope to sit down in +the lobby till he should call him and introduce him to his clerks. "One +of them is a thief, I'm afraid." + +He took the child inside, and gave her to his confederate, the nurse. + +"Dear me," thought Hope, "only two clerks, and one of them dishonest. I +hope it is not that good-natured boy. Oh no! impossible." + +And now Bartley returned, and at the same time Monckton came briskly in +through the little office. + +At sight of him Bartley said, "Oh, Monckton, I gave that fellow Bolton a +week's notice. But he insists on going directly," Monckton replied, +slyly, that he was sorry to hear that. + +"Suspicious? Eh?" said Bartley. + +"So suspicious that if I were you--Indeed, Mr. Bartley, I think, in +justice to _me_, the matter ought to be cleared to the bottom." + +"You are right," said Bartley: "I'll have him searched before he goes. +Fetch me a detective at once." + +Bartley then wrote a line upon his card, and handed it to Monckton, +directing him to lose no time. He then rushed out of the house with an +air of virtuous indignation, and went to make some delicate arrangements +to carry out a fraud, which, begging his pardon, was as felonious, though +not so prosaic, as the one he suspected his young clerk of. Monckton was +at first a little taken aback by the suddenness of all this; but he was +too clear-headed to be long at fault. The matter was brought to a point. +Well, he must shoot flying. + +In a moment he was at the safe, whipped out a bunch of false keys, opened +the safe, took out the cash-box, and swept all the gold it contained into +his own pockets, and took possession of the notes. Then he locked up the +cash-box again, restored it to the safe, locked that, and sat down at +Bartley's table. He ran over the notes with feverish fingers, and then +took the precaution to examine Bartley's day-book. His caution was +rewarded--he found that the notes Bolton had brought in were _numbered_. +He instantly made two parcels--clapped the unnumbered notes into his +pocket. The numbered ones he took in his hand into the lobby. Now this +lobby must be shortly described. First there was a door with a glass +window, but the window had dark blue gauze fixed to it, so that nobody +could see into the lobby from the office; but a person in the lobby, by +putting his eye close to the gauze, could see into the office in a filmy +sort of way. This door opened on a lavatory, and there were also pegs on +which the clerks hung their overcoats. Then there was a swing-door +leading direct to the street, and sideways into a small room +indispensable to every office. + +Monckton entered this lobby, and inserted the numbered notes into young +Clifford's coat, and the false keys into his bag. Then he whipped back +hastily into the office, with his craven face full of fiendish triumph. + +He started for the detective. But it was bitter cold, and he returned to +the lobby for his own overcoat. As he opened the lobby door the +swing-door moved, or he thought so; he darted to it and opened it, but +saw nobody, Hope having whipped behind the open door of the little room. +Monckton then put on his overcoat, and went for the detective. + +He met Clifford at the door, and wore an insolent grin of defiance, for +which, if they had not passed each other rapidly, he would very likely +have been knocked down. As it was, Walter Clifford entered the office +flushed with wrath, and eager to leave behind him the mortifications and +humiliations he had endured. + +He went to his own little desk and tore up Lucy Mailer's letters, and his +heart turned toward home. He went into the lobby, and, feeling hot, which +was no wonder, bundled his office overcoat and his brush and comb into +his bag. He returned to the office for his penknife, and was going out +all in a hurry, when Mr. Bartley met him. + +Bartley looked rather stern, and said, "A word with you, sir." + +"Certainly, sir," said the young man, stiffly. + +Mr. Bartley sat down at his table and fixed his eyes upon the young man +with a very peculiar look. + +"You seem in a very great hurry to go." + +"Well, I _am_." + +"You have not even demanded your salary up to date." + +"Excuse the oversight; I was not made for business, you know." + +"There is something more to settle besides your salary." + +"Premium for good conduct?" + +"No, sir. Mr. Bolton, you will find this no jesting matter. There are +defalcations in the accounts, sir." + +The young man turned serious at once. "I am sorry to hear that, sir," +said he, with proper feeling. + +Bartley eyed him still more severely. "And even cash abstracted." + +"Good heavens!" said the young man, answering his eyes rather than his +words. "Why, surely you can't suspect me?" + +Bartley answered, sternly, "I know I have been robbed, and so I suspect +everybody whose conduct is suspicious." + +This was too much for a Clifford to bear. He turned on him like a lion. +"Your suspicions disgrace the trader who entertains them, not the +gentleman they wrong. You are too old for me to give you a thrashing, so +I won't stay here any longer to be insulted." + +He snatched up his bag and was marching off, when the door opened, and +Monckton with a detective confronted him. + +"No," roared Bartley, furious in turn; "but you will stay to be +examined." + +"Examined!" + +"Searched, then, if you like it better." + +"No, don't do that," said the young fellow. "Spare me such a +humiliation." + +Bartley, who was avaricious, but not cruel, hesitated. + +"Well," said he, "I will examine the safe before I go further." + +Mr. Bartley opened the safe and took out the cash-box. It was empty. He +uttered a loud exclamation. "Why, it's a clean sweep! A wholesale +robbery! Notes and gold all gone! No wonder you were in such a hurry to +leave! Luckily some of the notes were numbered. Search him." + +"No, no. Don't treat me like a thief!" cried the poor boy, almost +sobbing. + +"If you are innocent, why object?" said Monckton, satirically. + +"You villain," cried Clifford, "this is your doing! I am sure of it!" + +Monckton only grinned triumphantly; but Bartley fired up. "If there is a +villain here, it is you. _He_ is a faithful servant, who warned his +employer." He then pointed sternly at young Bolton, and the detective +stepped up to him and said, curtly, "Now, sir, if I _must_." + +He then proceeded to search his waistcoat pockets. The young man hung his +head, and looked guilty. He had heard of money being put into an innocent +man's pockets, and he feared that game had been played with him. + +The detective examined his waistcoat pockets and found--nothing. His +other pockets--nothing. + +The detective patted his breast and examined his stockings--nothing. + +"Try the bag," said Monckton. + +Then the poor fellow trembled again. + +The detective searched the bag--nothing. + +He took the overcoat and turned the pockets out--nothing. + +Bartley looked surprised. Monckton still more so. Meantime Hope had gone +round from the lobby, and now entered by the small office, and stood +watching a part of this business, viz., the search of the bag and the +overcoat, with a bitter look of irony. + +"But my safe must have been opened with false keys," cried Bartley. +"Where are they?" + +"And the numbered notes," said Monckton, "where are they?" + +"Gentlemen," said Hope, "may I offer my advice?" + +"Who the devil are you?" said Monckton. + +"He is my new partner, my associate in business," said the politic +Bartley. Then deferentially to Hope, "What do you advise?" + +"You have two clerks. I would examine them both." + +"Examine me?" cried Monckton. "Mr. Bartley, will you allow such an +affront to be put on your old and faithful servant?" + +"If you are innocent, why object?" said young Clifford, spitefully, +before Bartley could answer. + +The remark struck Bartley, and he acted on it. + +"Well, it is only fair to Mr. Bolton," said he. "Come, come, Monckton, it +is only a form." + +Then he gave the detective a signal, and he stepped up to Monckton, and +emptied his waistcoat pockets of eighty-five sovereigns. + +"There!" cried Walter Clifford, "There! there!" + +"My own money, won at the Derby," said Monckton, coolly; "and only a part +of it, I am happy to say. You will find the remainder in banknotes." + +The detective found several notes. + +Bartley examined the book and the notes. The Derby! He was beginning to +doubt this clerk, who attended that meeting on the sly. However, he was +just, though no longer confiding. + +"I am bound to say that not one of the numbered notes is here." + +The detective was now examining Monckton's overcoat. He produced a small +bunch of keys. + +"How did they come there?" cried Monckton, in amazement. + +It was an incautious remark. Bartley took it up directly, and pounced on +the keys. He tried them on the safe. One opened the safe, another opened +the cash-box. + +Meantime the detective found some notes in the pocket of the overcoat, +and produced them. + +"Great heavens!" cried Monckton, "how did they come there?" + +"Oh, I dare say you know," said the detective. + +Bartley examined them eagerly. They were the numbered notes. + +"You scoundrel," he roared, "these show me where your gold and your +other notes came from. The whole contents of my safe--in that +villain's pockets!" + +"No, no," cried Monckton, in agony. "It's all a delusion. Some rogue has +planted them there to ruin me." + +"Keep that for the beak," said the policeman; "he is sure to believe it. +Come, my bloke. I knew who was my bird the moment I clapped eyes on the +two. 'Tain't his first job, gents, you take my word. We shall find his +photo in some jail or other in time for the assizes." + +"Away with him!" cried Bartley, furiously. + +As the policeman took him off, the baffled villain's eye fell on Hope, +who stood with folded arms, and looked down on him with lowering brow and +the deep indignation of the just, and yet with haughty triumph. + +That eloquent look was a revelation to Monckton. + +"Ah," he cried, "it was _you_." + +Hope's only reply was this: "You double felon, false accuser and thief, +you are caught in your own trap." + +And this he thundered at him with such sudden power that the thief went +cringing out, and even those who remained were awed. But Hope never told +anybody except Walter Clifford that he had undone Monckton's work in the +lobby; and then the poor boy fell upon his neck, and kissed his hand. + +To run forward a little: Monckton was tried, and made no defense. He +dared not call Hope as his witness, for it was clear Hope must have seen +him commit the theft and attempt the other villainy. But the false +accusation leaked out as well as the theft. A previous conviction was +proved, and the indignant judge gave him fourteen years. + +Thus was Bartley's fatal secret in mortal peril on the day it first +existed; yet on that very day it was saved from exposure, and buried deep +in a jail. + +Bartley set Hope over his business, and was never heard of for months. +Then he turned up in Sussex with a little girl, who had been saved from +diphtheria by tracheotomy, and some unknown quack. + +There was a scar to prove it. The tender parent pointed it out +triumphantly, and railed at the regular practitioners of medicine. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +AN OLD SERVANT. + + +Walter Clifford returned home pretty well weaned from trade, and anxious +to propitiate his father, but well aware that on his way to +reconciliation he must pass through jobation. + +He slipped into Clifford Hall at night, and commenced his approaches by +going to the butler's pantry. Here he was safe, and knew it; a faithful +old butler of the antique and provincial breed is apt to be more +unreasonably paternal than Pater himself. + +To this worthy, then, Walter owed a good bed, a good supper, and good +advice: "Better not tackle him till I have had a word with him first." + +Next morning this worthy butler, who for seven years had been a very good +servant, and for the next seven years rather a bad one, and would now +have been a hard master if the Colonel had not been too great a Tartar to +stand it, appeared before his superior with an air slightly respectful, +slightly aggressive, and very dogged. + +"There is a young gentleman would be glad to speak to you, if you +will let him." + +"Who is he?" asked the Colonel, though by old John's manner he divined. + +"Can't ye guess?" + +"Don't know why I should. It is your business to announce my visitors." + +"Oh, I'll announce him, when I am made safe that he will be welcome." + +"What! isn't he sure of a welcome--good, dutiful son like him?" + +"Well, sir, he deserves a welcome. Why, he is the returning prodigal." + +"We are not told that _he_ deserved a welcome." + +"What signifies?--he got one, and Scripture is the rule of life for men +of our age, _now we are out of the army_." + +"I think you had better let him plead his own cause, John; and if he +takes the tone you do, he will get turned out of the house pretty quick; +as you will some of these days, Mr. Baker." + +"We sha'n't go, neither of us," said Mr. Baker, but with a sudden tone of +affectionate respect, which disarmed the words of their true meaning. He +added, hanging his head for the first time, "Poor young gentleman! afraid +to face his own father!" + +"What's he afraid of?" asked the Colonel, roughly. + +"Of you cursing and swearing at him," said John. + +"Cursing and swearing!" cried the Colonel--"a thing I never do now. +Cursing and swearing, indeed! You be ----!" + +"There you go," said old John. "Come, Colonel, be a father. What has the +poor boy done?" + +"He has deserted--a thing I have seen a fellow shot for, and he has left +me a prey to parental anxieties." + +"And so he has me, for that matter. But I forgive him. Anyway, I should +like to hear his story before I condemn him. Why, he's only nineteen and +four months, come Martinmas. Besides, how do we know?--he may have had +some very good reason for going." + +"His age makes that probable, doesn't it?" + +"I dare say it was after some girl, sir." + +"Call that a good reason?" + +"I call it a strong one. Haven't you never found it?" (the Colonel was +betrayed into winking). "From sixteen to sixty a woman will draw a man +where a horse can't." + +"Since that is _so_," said the Colonel, dryly, "you can tell him to come +to breakfast." + +"Am I to say that from you?" + +"No; you can take that much upon yourself. I have known you presume a +good deal more than that, John." + +"Well, sir," said John, hanging his head for a moment, "old servants are +like old friends--they do presume a bit; but then" (raising his head +proudly) "they care for their masters, young and old. New servants, +sir--why, this lot that we've got now, they would not shed a tear for you +if you was to be hanged." + +"Why should they?" said the Colonel. "A man is not hanged for building +churches. Come, beat a retreat. I've had enough of you. See there's a +good breakfast." + +"Oh," said John, "I've took care of that." + +When the Colonel came down he found his son leaning against the +mantel-piece; but he left it directly and stood erect, for the Colonel +had drilled him with his own hands. + +"Ugh!" said the Colonel, giving a snort peculiar to himself, but he +thought, "How handsome the dog is!" and was proud of him secretly, only +he would not show it. "Good-morning, sir," said the young man, with +civil respect. + +"Your most obedient, sir," said the old man, stiffly. + +After that neither spoke for some time, and the old butler glided about +like a cat, helping both of them, especially the young one, to various +delicacies from the side table. When he had stuffed them pretty well, he +retired softly and listened at the door. Neither of the gentlemen was in +a hurry to break the ice; each waited for the other. + +Walter made the first remark--"What delicious tea!" + +"As good as where you come from?" inquired Colonel Clifford, insidiously. + +"A deal better," said Walter. + +"By-the-bye," said the Colonel, "where _do_ you come from?" + +Walter mentioned the town. + +"You astonish me," said the Colonel. "I made sure you had been enjoying +the pleasures of the capital." + +"My purse wouldn't have stood that, sir." + +"Very few purses can," said Colonel Clifford. Then, in an off-hand way, +"Have you brought her along with you?" + +"Certainly not," said Walter, off his guard. "Her? Who?" + +"Why, the girl that decoyed you from your father's roof." + +"No girl decoyed me from here, sir, upon my honor." + +"Whom are we talking about, then? Who is _her_?" + +"Her? Why, Lucy Monckton." + +"And who is Lucy Monckton?" + +"Why, the girl I fell in love with, and she deceived me nicely; but I +found her out in time." + +"And so you came home to snivel?" + +"No, sir, I didn't; I'm not such a muff. I'm too much your son to love +any woman long when I have learned to despise her. I came home to +apologize, and to place myself under your orders, if you will forgive me, +and find something useful for me to do." + +"So I will, my boy; there's my hand. Now out with it. What did you go +away for, since it wasn't a petticoat?" + +"Well, sir, I am afraid I shall offend you." + +"Not a bit of it, after I've given you my hand. Come, now, what was it?" + +Walter pondered and hesitated, but at last hit upon a way to explain. + +"Sir," said he, "until I was six years old they used to give me peaches +from Oddington House; but one fine day the supply stopped, and I uttered +a small howl to my nurse. Old John heard me, and told me Oddington was +sold, house, garden, estate, and all." + +Colonel Clifford snorted. + +Walter resumed, modestly but firmly: + +"I was thirteen; I used to fish in a brook that ran near Drayton Park. +One day I was fishing there, when a brown velveteen chap stopped me, and +told me I was trespassing. 'Trespassing?' said I. 'I have fished here all +my life; I am Walter Clifford, and this belongs to my father.' 'Well,' +said the man, 'I've heerd it did belong to Colonel Clifford onst, but now +it belongs to Muster Mills; so you must fish in your own water, young +gentleman, and leave ourn to us as owns it.' Till I was eighteen I used +to shoot snipes in a rushy bottom near Calverley Church. One day a fellow +in black velveteen, and gaiters up to his middle, warned me out of that +in the name of Muster Cannon." + +Colonel Clifford, who had been drumming on the table all this time, +looked uneasy, and muttered, with some little air of compunction: "They +have plucked my feathers deucedly, that's a fact. Hang that fellow +Stevens, persuading me to keep race-horses; it's all his fault. Well, +sir, proceed with your observations." + +"Well, I inquired who could afford to buy what we were too poor to keep, +and I found these wealthy purchasers were all in _trade_, not one of them +a gentleman." + +"You might have guessed that," said Colonel Clifford: "it is as much as a +gentleman can do to live out of jail nowadays." + +"Yes, sir," said Walter. "Cotton had bought one of these estates, tallow +another, and lucifer-matches the other." + +"Plague take them all three!" roared the Colonel. + +"Well, then, sir," said Walter, "I could not help thinking there must be +some magic in trade, and I had better go into it. I didn't think you +would consent to that. I wasn't game to defy you; so I did a meanish +thing, and slipped away into a merchant's office." + +"And made your fortune in three months?" inquired the Colonel. + +"No, I didn't; and don't think trade is the thing for _me_. I saw a deal +of avarice and meanness, and a thief of a clerk got his master to suspect +me of dishonesty; so I snapped my fingers at them all, and here I am. +But," said the poor young fellow, "I do wish, father, you would put me +into something where I can make a little money, so that when _this_ +estate comes to be sold, I may be the purchaser." + +Colonel Clifford started up in great emotion. + +"Sell Clifford Hall, where I was born, and you were born, and everybody +was born! Those estates I sold were only outlying properties." + +"They were beautiful ones," said Walter. "I never see such peaches now." + +"As you did when you were six years old," suggested the Colonel. "No, nor +you never will. I've been six myself. Lord knows when it was, though!" + +"But, sir, I don't see any such trout, and no such haunts for snipe." + +"Do you mean to insult me?" cried the Colonel, rather suddenly. "This is +what we are come to now. Here's a brat of six begins taking notes against +his own father; and he improves on the Scotch poet--he doesn't print 'em. +No, he accumulates them cannily until he is twenty, but never says a +word. He loads his gun up to the muzzle, and waits, as the years roll on, +with his linstock in his hand, and one fine day _at breakfast_ he fires +his treble charge of grape-shot at his own father." + +This was delivered so loudly that John feared a quarrel, and to interrupt +it, put in his head, and said, mighty innocently: + +"Did you call, sir? Can I do anything for you, sir?" + +"Yes: go to the devil!" + +John went, but not down-stairs, as suggested--a mere lateral movement +that ended at the keyhole. + +"Well, but, sir," said Walter, half-reproachfully, "it was you elicited +my views." + +"Confound your views, sir, and--your impudence! You're in the right, +and I am in the wrong" (this admission with a more ill-used tone than +ever). "It's the race-horses. Ring the bell. What sawneys you young +fellows are! it used not to take six minutes to ring a bell when I was +your age." + +Walter, thus stimulated, sprang to the bell-rope, and pulled it all down +to the ground with a single gesture. + +The Colonel burst out laughing, and that did him good; and Mr. Baker +answered the bell like lightning; he quite forgot that the bell must have +rung fifty yards from the spot where he was enjoying the dialogue. + +"Send me the steward, John; I saw him pass the window." + +Meantime the Colonel marched up and down with considerable agitation. +Walter, who had a filial heart, felt very uneasy, and said, timidly, "I +am truly sorry, father, that I answered your questions so bluntly." + +"I'm not, then," said the Colonel. "I hold him to be less than a man who +flies from the truth, whether it comes from young lips or old. I have +faced cavalry, sir, and I can face the truth." + +At this moment the steward entered. "Jackson," said the Colonel, in the +very same tone he was speaking in, "put up my race-horses to auction by +public advertisement." + +"But, sir, Jenny has got to run at Derby, and the brown colt at +Nottingham, and the six-year-old gelding at a handicap at Chester, and +the chestnut is entered for the Syllinger next year." + +"Sell them with their engagements." + +"And the trainer, sir?" + +"Give him his warning." + +"And the jockey?" + +"Discharge him on the spot, and take him by the ear out of the premises +before he poisons the lot. Keep one of the stable-boys, and let my groom +do the rest." + +"But who is to take them to the place of auction, sir?" + +"Nobody. I'll have the auction here, and sell them where they stand. +Submit all your books of account to this young gentleman." + +The steward looked a little blue, and Walter remonstrated gently. "To +me, father?" + +"Why, you can cipher, can't ye?" + +"Rather; it is the best thing I do." + +"And you have been in trade, haven't ye?" + +"Why, yes." + +"Then you will detect plenty of swindles, if you find out one in ten. +Above all, cut down my expenditure to my income. A gentleman of the +nineteenth century, sharpened by trade, can easily do that. Sell Clifford +Hall? I'd rather live on the rabbits and the pigeons and the blackbirds, +and the carp in the pond, and drive to church in the wheelbarrow." + +So for a time Walter administered his father's estate, and it was very +instructive. Oh! the petty frauds--the swindles of agency--a term which, +to be sure, is derived from the Latin word "agere," _to do_--the cobweb +of petty commissions--the flat bribes--the smooth hush-money! + +Walter soon cut the expenses down to the income, which was ample, and +even paid off the one mortgage that encumbered this noble estate at five +per cent., only four per cent. of which was really fingered by the +mortgagee; the balance went to a go-between, though no go-between was +ever wanted, for any solicitor in the country would have found the money +in a week at four per cent. + +The old gentleman was delighted, and engaged his own son as steward at a +liberal salary; and so Walter Clifford found employment and a fair income +without going away from home again. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +MARY'S PERIL. + + +Whilst Mr. Bartley's business was improving under Hope's management, Hope +himself was groaning under his entire separation from his daughter. +Bartley had promised him this should not be; but among Hope's good +qualities was a singular fidelity to his employers, and he was also a man +who never broke his word. So when Bartley showed him that the true +parentage of Grace Hope--now called Mary Bartley--could never be +disguised unless her memory of him was interrupted and puzzled before she +grew older, and that she as well as the world must be made to believe +Bartley was her father, he assented, and it was two years before he +ventured to come near his own daughter. + +But he demanded to see her at a distance, himself unseen, and this was +arranged. He provided himself with a powerful binocular of the kind that +is now used at sea, instead of the unwieldy old telescope, and the little +girl was paraded by the nurse, who was in the secret. She played about in +the sight of this strange spy. She was plump, she was rosy, she was full +of life and spirit. Joy filled the father's heart; but then came a bitter +pang to think that he had faded out of her joyous life; by-and-by he +could see her no longer, for a mist came from his heart to his eyes; he +bowed his head and went back to his business, his prosperity, and his +solitude. These experiments were repeated at times. Moreover, Bartley had +the tact never to write to him on business without telling him something +about his girl, her clever sayings, her pretty ways, her quickness at +learning from all her teachers, and so on. When she was eight years old a +foreign agent was required in Bartley's business, and Hope agreed to +start this agency and keep it going till some more ordinary person could +be intrusted to work it. + +But he refused to leave England without seeing his daughter with his +own eyes and hearing her voice. However, still faithful to his pledge, +he prepared a disguise; he actually grew a mustache and beard for this +tender motive only, and changed his whole style of dress; he wore a +crimson neck-tie and dark green gloves with a plaid suit, which +combination he abhorred as a painter, and our respected readers +abominate, for surely it was some such perverse combination that made a +French dressmaker lift her hands to heaven and say, "_Quelle +immoralite_!" So then Bartley himself took his little girl for a walk, +and met Mr. Hope in an appointed spot not far from his own house. Poor +Hope saw them coming, and his heart beat high. "Ah!" said Bartley, +feigning surprise; "why, it's Mr. Hope. How do you do, Hope? This is my +little girl. Mary, my dear, this is an old friend of mine. Give him +your hand." + +The girl looked in Hope's face, and gave him her hand, and did not +recognize him. + +"Fine girl for her years, isn't she?" said Bartley. "Healthy and strong, +and quick at her lessons; and, what's better still, she is a good girl, a +very good girl." + +"Papa!" said the child, blushing, and hid her face behind Bartley's +elbow, all but one eye, with which she watched the effect of these +eulogies upon the strange gentleman. + +"She is all a father could wish," said Hope, tenderly. + +Instantly the girl started from her position, and stood wrapt in thought; +her beautiful eyes wore a strange look of dreamy intelligence, and both +men could see she was searching the past for that voice. + +Bartley drew back, that the girl might not see him, and held up his +finger. Hope gave a slight nod of acquiescence, and spoke no more. +Bartley invited him to take an early dinner, and talk business. Before he +left he saw his child more than once; indeed, Bartley paraded her +accomplishments. She played the piano to Hope; she rode her little +Shetland pony for Hope; she danced a minuet with singular grace for so +young a girl; she conversed with her governess in French, or something +very like it, and she worked a little sewing-machine, all to please the +strange gentleman; and whatever she was asked to do she did with a +winning smile, and without a particle of false modesty, or the real +egotism which is at the bottom of false modesty. + +Anybody who knew William Hope intimately might almost recognize his +daughter in this versatile little mind with its faculty of learning so +many dissimilar things. + +Hope left for the Continent with a proud heart, a joyful heart, and a +sore heart. She was lovely, she was healthy, she was happy, she was +accomplished, but she was his no longer, not even in name; her love was +being gained by a stranger, and there was a barrier of iron, as well as +the English Channel, between William Hope and his own Mary Bartley. + +It would weary the reader were we to detail the small events bearing on +the part of the story which took place during the next five years. They +might be summed up thus: That William Hope got a peep at his daughter now +and then; and, making a series of subtle experiments by varying his voice +as much as possible, confused and nullified her memory of that voice to +all appearance. In due course, however, father and daughter were brought +into natural contact by the last thing that seemed likely to do it, viz., +by Bartley's avarice. Bartley's legitimate business at home and abroad +could now run alone. So he invited Hope to England to guide him in what +he loved better than steady business, viz., speculation. The truth is, +Bartley could execute, but had few original ideas. Hope had plenty, and +sound ones, though not common ones. Hope directed the purchase of +convertible securities on this principle: Select good ones; avoid time +bargains, which introduce a distinct element of risk; and buy largely at +every panic not founded on a permanent reason or out of proportion. +Example: A great district bank broke. The shares of a great district +railway went down thirty per cent. Hope bade his employer and pupil +observe that this was rank delusion, the dividends of the railway were +not lowered one per cent. by the failure of that bank, nor could they be: +the shareholders of the bank had shares in the railway, and were +compelled to force them on the market; hence the fall in the shares. +"But," said Hope, "those depreciated shares are now in the hands of men +who can hold them, and will, too, until they return from this ridiculous +85 to their normal value, which is from 105 to 115. Invest every shilling +you have got; I shall." Bartley invested L30,000, and cleared twenty per +cent. in three months. + +Example 2: There was a terrible accident on another railway, and part of +the line broken up. Vast repairs needed. Shares fell twenty per cent. + +"Out of proportion," said Hope. "The sum for repairs will not deduct +from the dividends one-tenth of the annual sum represented by the fall, +and, in three months, fear of another such disaster will not keep a +single man, woman, child, bullock, pig, or coal truck off that line. Put +the pot on." + +Bartley put the pot on, and made fifteen per cent. + +Hope said to Bartley: + +"When an English speculator sends his money abroad at all, he goes wild +altogether. He rushes at obscure transactions, and lends to Peru, or +Guatemala, or Tierra del Fuego, or some shaky place he knows nothing +about. The insular maniac overlooks the continent of Europe, instead of +studying it, and seeking what countries there are safe and others risky. +Now, why overlook Prussia? It is a country much better governed than +England, especially as regards great public enterprises and monopolies. +For instance, the directors of a Prussian railway can not swindle the +shareholders by false accounts, and passing off loans for dividends. +Against the frauds of directors, the English shareholder has only a sham +security. He is invited to leave his home, and come two hundred miles to +the directors' home, and vote in person. He doesn't do it. Why should he? +In Prussia the Government protects the shareholder, and inspects the +accounts severely. So much for the superior system of that country. Now, +take a map. Here is Hamburg, the great port of the Continent, and Berlin, +the great Continental centre; and there is one railway only between the +two. What English railway can compare with this? The shares are at 150. +But they must go to 300 in time unless the Prussian Government allows +another railway, and that is not likely, and, if so, you will have two +years to back out. This is the best permanent investment of its class +that offers on the face of the globe." + +Bartley invested timidly, but held for years, and the shares went up over +300 before he sold. + +"Do not let your mind live in an island if your body does," was a +favorite saying of William Hope; and we recommend it impartially to +Britons and Bornese. + +On one of Hope's visits Bartley complained he had nothing to do. "I can +sit here and speculate. I want to be in something myself; I think I will +take a farm just to occupy me and amuse me." + +"It will not amuse you unless you make money by it," suggested Hope. + +"And nobody can do that nowadays. Farms don't pay." + +"Ploughing and sowing don't pay, but brains and money pay wherever found +together." + +"What, on a farm?" + +"Why not, sir? You have only to go with the times. Observe the condition +of produce: grain too cheap for a farmer because continents can export +grain with little loss; fruit dear; meat dear, because cattle can not be +driven and sailed without risk of life and loss of weight; agricultural +labor rising, and in winter unproductive, because to farm means to plough +and sow, and reap and mow, and lose money. But meet those conditions. +Breed cattle, sheep, and horses, and make the farm their feeding-ground. +Give fifty acres to fruit; have a little factory on the land for winter +use, and so utilize all your farm hands and the village women, who are +cheaper laborers than town brats, and I think you will make a little +money in the form of money, besides what you make in gratuitous eggs, +poultry, fruit, horses to ride, and cart things for the house--items +which seldom figure in a farmer's books as money, but we stricter +accountants know they are." + +"I'll do it," said Bartley, "if you'll be my neighbor, and work it with +me, and watch the share market at home and abroad." + +Hope acquiesced joyfully to be near his daughter; and they found a farm +in Sussex, with hills for the sheep, short grass for colts, plenty of +water, enough arable land and artificial grasses for their purpose, and a +grand sunny slope for their fruit trees, fruit bushes, and strawberries, +with which last alone they paid the rent. + +"Then," said Hope, "farm laborers drink an ocean of beer. Now look at the +retail price of beer: eighty per cent. over its cost, and yet +deleterious, which tells against your labor. As an employer of labor, the +main expense of a farm, you want beer to be slightly nourishing, and very +inspiriting, not somniferous." + +So they set up a malt-house and a brew-house, and supplied all their own +hands with genuine liquor on the truck system at a moderate but +remunerative price, and the grains helped to feed their pigs. Hope's +principle was this: Sell no produce in its primitive form; if you change +its form you make two profits. Do you grow barley? Malt it, and infuse +it, and sell the liquor for two small profits, one on the grain, and one +on the infusion. Do you grow grass? Turn it into flesh, and sell for two +small profits, one on the herb, and one on the animal. + +And really, when backed by money, the results seemed to justify his +principle. + +Hope lived by himself, but not far from his child, and often, when she +went abroad, his loving eyes watched her every movement through his +binocular, which might be described as an opera-glass ten inches long, +with a small field, but telescopic power. + +Grace Hope, whom we will now call Mary Bartley, since everybody but her +father, who generally avoided _her name_, called her so, was a well-grown +girl of thirteen, healthy, happy, beautiful, and accomplished. She was +the germ of a woman, and could detect who loved her. She saw in Hope an +affection she thought extraordinary, but instinct told her it was not +like a young man's love, and she accepted it with complacency, and +returned it quietly, with now and then a gush, for she could gush, and +why not? "Far from us and from our friends be the frigid philosophy"--of +a girl who can't gush. + +Hope himself was loyal and guarded, and kept his affection within bounds; +and a sore struggle it was. He never allowed himself to kiss her, though +he was sore tempted one day, when he bought her a cream-colored pony, and +she flung her arms round his neck before Mr. Bartley and kissed him +eagerly; but he was so bashful that the girl laughed at him, and said, +half pertly, "Excuse the liberty, but if you will be such a duck, why, +you must take the consequences." + +Said Bartley, pompously, "You must not expect middle-aged men to be as +demonstrative as very young ladies; but he has as much real affection +for you as you have for him." + +"Then he has a good deal, papa," said she, sweetly. Both the men +were silent, and Mary looked to one and the other, and seemed a +little puzzled. + +The great analysts that have dealt microscopically with commonplace +situations would revel in this one, and give you a curious volume of +small incidents like the above, and vivisect the father's heart with +patient skill. But we poor dramatists, taught by impatient audiences to +move on, and taught by those great professors of verbosity, our female +novelists and nine-tenths of our male, that it is just possible for +"masterly inactivity," _alias_ sluggish narrative, creeping through sorry +flags and rushes with one lily in ten pages, to become a bore, are driven +on to salient facts, and must trust a little to our reader's intelligence +to ponder on the singular situation of Mary Bartley and her two fathers. + +One morning Mary Bartley and her governess walked to a neighboring town +and enjoyed the sacred delight of shopping. They came back by a +short-cut, which made it necessary to cross a certain brook, or rivulet, +called the Lyn. This was a rapid stream, and in places pretty deep; but +in one particular part it was shallow, and crossed by large +stepping-stones, two-thirds of which were generally above-water. The +village girls, including Mary Bartley, used all to trip over these +stones, and think nothing of it, though the brook went past at a fine +rate, and gradually widened and deepened as it flowed, till it reached a +downright fall; after that, running no longer down a decline, it became +rather a languid stream. + +Mary and her governess came to this ford and found it swollen by recent +rains, and foaming and curling round the stepping-stones, and their tops +only were out of the water now. + +The governess objected to pass this current. + +"Well, but," said Mary, "the other way is a mile round, and papa expects +us to be punctual at meals, and I am, oh, so hungry! Dear Miss Everett, I +have crossed it a hundred times." + +"But the water is so deep." + +"It is deeper than usual; but see, it is only up to my knee. I could +cross it without the stones. You go round, dear, and I'll explain against +you come home." + +"Not until I've seen you safe over." + +"That you will soon see," said the girl, and, fearing a more +authoritative interference, she gathered up her skirts and planted one +dainty foot on the first stepping-stone, another on the next, and so on +to the fourth; and if she had been a boy she would have cleared them all. +But holding her skirts instead of keeping her arms to balance herself, +and wearing idiotic shoes, her heels slipped on the fifth stone, which +was rather slimy, and she fell into the middle of the current with a +little scream. + +To her amazement she found that the stream, though shallow, carried her +off her feet, and though she recovered them, she could not keep them, but +was alternately up and down, and driven along, all the time floundering. +Oh, then she screamed with terror, and the poor governess ran screaming +too, and making idle clutches from the bank, but powerless to aid. + +Then, as the current deepened, the poor girl lost her feet altogether, +and was carried on toward the deep water, flinging her arms high and +screaming, but powerless. At first she was buoyed up by her clothes, and +particularly by a petticoat of some material that did not drink water. +But as her other clothes became soaked and heavy, she sank to her chin, +and death stared her in the face. + +She lost hope, and being no common spirit, she gained resignation; she +left screaming, and said to Everett, "Pray for me." + +But the next moment hope revived, and fear with it--this is a law of +nature--for a man, bare-headed and his hair flying, came galloping on a +bare-backed pony, shouting and screaming with terror louder than both the +women. He urged the pony furiously to the stream; then the beast planted +his feet together, and with the impulse thus given Hope threw himself +over the pony's head into the water, and had his arm round his child in a +moment. He lashed out with the other hand across the stream. But it was +so powerful now as it neared the lasher that they made far more way +onward to destruction than they did across the stream; still they did +near the bank a little. But the lasher roared nearer and nearer, and the +stream pulled them to it with iron force. They were close to it now. Then +a willow bough gave them one chance. Hope grasped it, and pulled with +iron strength. From the bough he got to a branch, and finally clutched +the stem of the tree, just as his feet were lifted up by the rushing +water, and both lives hung upon that willow-tree. The girl was on his +left arm, and his right arm round the willow. + +"Grace," said he, feigning calmness. "Put your arm around my neck, Mary." + +"Yes, dear," said she, firmly. + +"Now don't hurry yourself--_there's no danger_; move slowly across me, +and hold my right arm very tight." + +She did so. + +"Now take hold of the bank with your left hand; but don't let go of me." + +"Yes, dear," said the little heroine, whose fear was gone now she had +Hope to take care of her. + +Then Hope clutched the tree with his left hand, pushed Mary on shore with +his right, and very soon had her in his arms on _terra firma_. + +But now came a change that confounded Mary Bartley, to whom a man was a +very superior being; only not always intelligible. + +The brave man fell to shaking like an aspen leaf; the strong man +to sobbing and gasping, and kissing the girl wildly. "Oh, my child! +my child!" + +Then Mary, of course, must gulp and cry a little for sympathy; but her +quick-changing spirit soon shook it off, and she patted his cheek and +kissed him, and then began to comfort him, if you please. "Good, dear, +kind Mr. Hope," said she. "La! don't go on like that. You were so brave +in the water, and now the danger is over. I've had a ducking, that is +all. Ha! ha! ha!" and the little wretch began to laugh. + +Hope looked amazed; neither his heart nor his sex would let him change +his mood so swiftly. + +"Oh, my child," said he, "how can you laugh? You have been near eternity, +and if you had been lost, what should I--O God!" + +Mary turned very grave. "Yes," said she, "I have been near eternity. It +would not have mattered to you--you are such a good man--but I should +have caught it for disobedience. But, dear Mr. Hope, let me tell you that +the moment you put your arm round me I felt just as safe in the water as +on dry land; so you see I have had longer to get over it than you have; +that accounts for my laughing. No, it doesn't; I am a giddy, giggling +girl, with _no depth of character_, and not worthy of all this affection. +Why does everybody love _me_? They ought to be ashamed of themselves." + +Hope told her she was a little angel, and everybody was right to love +her; indeed, they deserved to be hanged if they did not. + +Mary fixed on the word angel. "If I was an angel," she said, "I shouldn't +be hungry, and I am, awfully. Oh, please come home; papa is so punctual. +Mr. Hope, are you going to tell papa? Because if you _are_, just you take +me and throw me in again. I'd rather be drowned than scolded." (This with +a defiant attitude and flashing eyes.) + +"No, no," said Hope. "I will not tell him, to vex him, and get +you scolded." + +"Then let us run home." + +She took his hand, and he ran with her like a playmate, and oh! the +father's heart leaped and glowed at this sweet companionship after danger +and terror. + +When they got near the house Mary Bartley began to walk and think. She +had a very thinking countenance at times, and Hope watched her, and +wondered what were her thoughts. She was very grave, so probably she was +thinking how very near she had been to the other world. + +Standing on the door-step, whilst he stood on the gravel, she let him +know her thoughts. All her life, and even at this tender age, she had +very searching eyes; they were gray now, though they had been blue. +She put her hands to her waist, and bent those searching eyes on +William Hope. + +"Mr. Hope," said she, in a resolute sort of way. + +"My dear," said he, eagerly. + +"YOU LOVE ME BETTER THAN PAPA DOES, THAT'S ALL." + +And having administered this information as a dry fact that might be +worth looking into at leisure, she passed thoughtfully into the house. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +SHARP PRACTICE. + + +Hope paid a visit to his native place in Derbyshire, and his poor +relations shared his prosperity, and blessed him, and Mr. Bartley upon +his report; for Hope was one of those choice spirits who praise the +bridge that carries them safe over the stream of adversity. + +He returned to Sussex with all the news, and, amongst the rest, that +Colonel Clifford had a farm coming vacant. Walter Clifford had +insisted on a higher rent at the conclusion of the term, but the +tenant had demurred. + +Bartley paid little attention at the time; but by-and-by he said, "Did +you not see signs of coal on Colonel Clifford's property?" + +"That I did, and on this very farm, and told him so. But he is behind the +age. I have no patience with him. Take one of those old iron ramrods that +used to load the old musket, and cover that ramrod with prejudices a foot +and a half deep, and there you have Colonel Clifford." + +"Well, but a tenant would not be bound by his prejudices." + +"A tenant! A tenant takes no right to mine, under a farm lease; he would +have to propose a special contract, or to ask leave, and Colonel Clifford +would never grant it." + +There the conversation dropped. But the matter rankled in Bartley's mind. +Without saying any more to Hope, he consulted a sharp attorney. + +The result was that he took Mary Bartley with him into Derbyshire. + +He put up at a little inn, and called at Clifford Hall. + +He found Colonel Clifford at home, and was received stiffly, but +graciously. He gave Colonel Clifford to understand that he had +left business. + +"All the better," said Colonel Clifford, sharply. + +"And taken to farming." + +"Ugh!" said the other, with his favorite snort. + +At this moment, who should walk into the room but Walter Clifford. + +Bartley started and stared. Walter started and stared. + +"Mr. Bolton," said Bartley, scarcely above a whisper. + +But Colonel Clifford heard it, and said, brusquely: "Bolton! No. Why, +this is Walter Clifford, my son, and my man of business.--Walter, this is +Mr. Bartley." + +"Proud to make your acquaintance, sir," said the astute Bartley, +ignoring the past. + +Walter was glad he took this line before Colonel Clifford: not that he +forgave Mr. Bartley that old affront the reader knows of. + +The judicious Bartley read his face, and, as a first step toward +propitiation, introduced him to his daughter. Walter was amazed at her +beauty and grace, coming from such a stock. He welcomed her courteously, +but shyly. She replied with rare affability, and that entire absence of +mock-modesty which was already a feature in her character. To be sure, +she was little more than fifteen, though she was full grown, and looked +nearer twenty. + +Bartley began to feel his way with Colonel Clifford about the farm. He +told him he was pretty successful in agriculture, thanks to the +assistance of an experienced friend, and then he said, half carelessly, +"By-the-bye, they tell me you have one to let. Is that so?" + +"Walter," said Colonel Clifford, "have you a farm to let?" + +"Not at present, sir; but one will be vacant in a month, unless the +present tenant consents to pay thirty per cent. more than he has done." + +"Might I see that farm, Mr. Walter?" asked Bartley. + +"Certainly," said Walter; "I shall be happy to show you over it." Then he +turned to Mary. "I am afraid it would be no compliment to you. Ladies are +not interested in farms." + +"Oh, but _I_ am, since papa is, and Mr. Hope: and then on _our_ farm +there are so many dear little young things: little calves, little lambs, +and little pigs. Little pigs are ducks--_very_ little ones, I mean; and +there is nearly always a young colt about, that eats out of my hand. Not +like a farm? The idea!" + +"Then I will show you all over ours, you and your papa," said Walter, +warmly. He then asked Mr. Bartley where he was to be found; and when +Bartley told him at the "Dun Cow," he looked at Mary and said, "Oh!" + +Mary understood in a moment, and laughed and said: "We are very +comfortable, I assure you. We have the parlor all to ourselves, and +there are samplers hung up, and oh! such funny pictures, and the landlady +is beginning to spoil me already." + +"Nobody can spoil you, Mary," said Mr. Bartley. + +"You ought to know, papa, for you have been trying a good many years." + +"Not very many, Miss Bartley," said Colonel Clifford, graciously. Then he +gave half a start and said: "Here am I calling her miss when she is my +own niece, and, now I think of it, she can't be half as old as she looks. +I remember the very day she was born. My dear, you are an impostor." + +Bartley changed color at this chance shaft. But Colonel Clifford +explained: + +"You pass for twenty, and you can't be more than--Let me see." + +"I am fifteen and four months," said Mary, "and I do take people +in--_cruelly_." + +"Well," said Colonel Clifford, "you see you can't take me in. I know your +date. So come and give your old ruffian of an uncle a kiss." + +"That I will," cried Mary, and flew at Colonel Clifford, and flung both +arms round his neck and kissed him. "Oh, papa," said she, "I have got an +uncle now. A hero, too; and me that is so fond of heroes! Only this is my +first--out of books." + +"Mary, my dear," said Bartley, "you are too impetuous. Please excuse her, +Colonel Clifford. Now, my dear, shake hands with your cousin, for we must +be going." + +Mary complied; but not at all impetuously. She lowered her long lashes, +and put out her hand timidly, and said, "Good-by, Cousin Walter." + +He held her hand a moment, and that made her color directly. "You will +come over the farm. Can you ride? Have you your habit?" + +"No, cousin; but never mind that. I can put on a long skirt." + +"A skirt! But, after all, it does not matter a straw what _you_ wear." + +Mary was such a novice that she did not catch the meaning of this on the +spot, but half-way to the inn, and in the middle of a conversation, her +cheeks were suddenly suffused with blushes. A young man had admired her +and _said_ so. Very likely that was the way with young men. _No_ doubt +they were bolder than young women; but somehow it was not so very +objectionable _in them_. + +That short interview was a little era in Mary's young life. Walter had +fixed his eyes on her with delight, had held her hand some seconds, and +admired her to her face. She began to wonder a little, and flutter a +little, and to put off childhood. + +Next day, punctual to the minute, Walter drove up to the door in an open +carriage drawn by two fast steppers. He found Mr. Bartley alone, and why? +because, at sight of Walter, Mary, for the first time in her life, had +flown upstairs to look at herself in the glass before facing the visitor, +and to smooth her hair, and retouch a bow, etc., underrating, as usual, +the power of beauty, and overrating nullities. Bartley took this +opportunity, and said to young Clifford: + +"I owe you an apology, and a most earnest one. Can you ever forgive me?" + +Walter changed color. Even this humble allusion to so great an insult was +wormwood to him. He bit his lip, and said: + +"No man can do more than say he is sorry. I will try to forget it, sir." + +"That is as much as I can expect," said Bartley, humbly. "But if you only +knew the art, the cunning, the apparent evidence, with which that villain +Monckton deluded me--" + +"That I can believe." + +"And permit me one observation before we drop this unhappy subject +forever. If you had done me the honor to come to me as Walter Clifford, +why, then, strong and misleading as the evidence was, I should have said, +'Appearances are deceitful, but no Clifford was ever disloyal.'" + +This artful speech conquered Walter Clifford. He blushed, and bowed a +little haughtily at the compliment to the Cliffords. But his sense of +justice was aroused. + +"You are right," said he. "I must try and see both sides. If a man +sails under false colors, he mustn't howl if he is mistaken for a +pirate. Let us dismiss the subject forever. I am Walter Clifford +now--at your service." + +At that moment Mary Bartley came in, beaming with youth and beauty, and +illumined the room. The cousins shook hands, and Walter's eyes glowed +with admiration. + +After a few words of greeting he handed Mary into the drag. Her father +followed, and he was about to drive off, when Mary cried out, "Oh, I +forgot my skirt, if I am to ride." + +The skirt was brought down, and the horses, that were beginning to fret, +dashed off. A smart little groom rode behind, and on reaching the farm +they found another with two saddle-horses, one of them, a small, gentle +Arab gelding, had a side-saddle. They rode all over the farm, and +inspected the buildings, which were in excellent repair, thanks to +Walter's supervision. Bartley inquired the number of acres and the rent +demanded. Walter told him. Bartley said it seemed to him a fair rent; +still, he should like to know why the present tenant declined. + +"Perhaps you had better ask him," said Walter. "I should wish you to hear +both sides." + +"That is like you," said Bartley; "but where does the shoe pinch, in +your opinion?" + +"Well, he tells me, in sober earnest, that he loses money by it as it is; +but when he is drunk he tells his boon companions he has made seven +thousand pounds here. He has one or two grass fields that want draining, +but I offer him the pipes; he has only got to lay them and cut the +drains. My opinion is that he is the slave of habit; he is so used to +make an unfair profit out of these acres that he can not break himself of +it and be content with a fair one." + +"I dare say you have hit it," said Bartley. "Well, I am fond of farming; +but I don't live by it, and a moderate profit would content me." + +Walter said nothing. The truth is, he did not want to let the farm +to Bartley. + +Bartley saw this, and drew Mary aside. + +"Should not you like to come here, my child?" + +"Yes, papa, if you wish it; and you know it's dear Mr. Hope's +birth-place." + +"Well, then, tell this young fellow so. I will give you an opportunity." + +That was easily managed, and then Mary said, timidly, "Cousin Walter, we +should all three be so glad if we might have the farm." + +"Three?" said he. "Who is the third?" + +"Oh, somebody that everybody likes and I love. It is Mr. Hope. Such a +duck! I am sure you would like him." + +"Hope! Is his name William?" + +"Yes, it is. Do you know him?" asked Mary, eagerly. + +"I have reason to know him: he did me a good turn once, and I shall never +forget it." + +"Just like him!" cried Mary. "He is always doing people good turns. He +is the best, the truest, the cleverest, the dearest darling dear that +ever stepped, and a second father to me; and, cousin, this village is his +birth-place, and he didn't say much, but it was he who told us of this +farm, and he would be so pleased if I could write and say, 'We are to +have the farm--Cousin Walter says so.'" + +She turned her lovely eyes, brimming with tenderness, toward her cousin +Walter, and he was done for. + +"Of course you shall have it," he said, warmly. "Only you will not be +angry with me if I insist on the increased rent. You know, cousin, I +have a father, too, and I must be just to him." + +"To be sure, you must, dear," said Mary, incautiously; and the word +penetrated Walter's heart as if a woman of twenty-five had said it all of +a sudden and for the first time. + +When they got home, Mary told Mr. Bartley he was to have the farm if he +would pay the increased rent. + +"That is all right," said Bartley. "Then to-morrow we can go home." + +"So soon!" said Mary, sorrowfully. + +"Yes," said Bartley, firmly; "the rest had better be done in writing. +Why, Mary, what is the use of staying on now? We are going to live here +in a month or two." + +"I forgot that," said Mary, with a little sigh. It seemed so ungracious +to get what they wanted, and then turn their backs directly. She hinted +as much, very timidly. + +But Bartley was inexorable, and they reached home next day. + +Mary would have liked to write to Walter, and announce their safe +arrival, but nature withheld her. She was a child no longer. + +Bartley went to the sharp solicitor, and had a long interview with him. +The result was that in about ten days he sent Walter Clifford a letter +and the draft of a lease, very favorable to the landlord on the whole, +but cannily inserting one unusual clause that looked inoffensive. + +It came by post, and Walter read the letter, and told his father whom +it was from. + +"What does the fellow say?" grunted Colonel Clifford. + +"He says: 'We are doing very well here, but Hope says a bailiff can now +carry out our system; and he is evidently sweet on his native place, and +thinks the proposed rent is fair, and even moderate. As for me, my life +used to be so bustling that I require a change now and then; so I will be +your tenant. Hope says I am to pay the expense of the lease, so I have +requested Arrowsmith & Cox to draw it. I have no experience in leases. +They have drawn hundreds. I told them to make it fair. If they have not, +send it back with objections.'" + +"Oh! oh!" said Colonel Clifford. "He draws the lease, does he? Then look +at it with a microscope." + +Walter laughed. + +"I should not like to encounter him on his own ground. But here he is a +fish out of water; he must be. However, I will pass my eye over it. +Where the farmer generally over-reaches us, if he draws the lease, is in +the clauses that protect him on leaving. He gets part possession for +months without paying rent, and he hampers and fleeces the incoming +tenant, so that you lose a year's rent or have to buy him out. Now, let +me see, that will be at the end of the document--No; it is exceedingly +fair, this one." + +"Show it to our man of business, and let him study every line. Set an +attorney to catch an attorney." + +"Of course I shall submit it to our solicitor," said Walter. + +This was done, and the experienced practitioner read it very carefully. +He pronounced it unusually equitable for a farmer's lease. + +"However," said he, "we might suggest that he does _all_ the repairs and +draining, and that you find the materials; and also that he insures all +the farm buildings. But you can hardly stand out for the insurance if he +objects. There's no harm trying. Stay! here is one clause that is +unusual: the tenant is to have the right to bore for water, or to +penetrate the surface of the soil, and take out gravel or chalk or +minerals, if any. I don't like that clause. He might quarry, and cut the +farm in pieces. Ah, there's a proviso, that any damage to the surface or +the agricultural value shall be fully compensated, the amount of such +injury to be settled by the landlord's valuer or surveyor. Oh, come, if +you can charge your own price, that can't kill you." + +In short, the draft was approved, subject to certain corrections. These +were accepted. The lease was engrossed in duplicate, and in due course +signed and delivered. The old tenant left, abusing the Cliffords, and +saying it was unfair to bring in a stranger, for _he_ would have given +all the money. + +Bartley took possession. + +Walter welcomed Hope very warmly, and often came to see him. He took a +great interest in Hope's theories of farming, and often came to the farm +for lessons. But that interest was very much increased by the +opportunities it gave him of seeing and talking to sweet Mary Bartley. +Not that he was forward or indiscreet. She was not yet sixteen, and he +tried to remember she was a child. + +Unfortunately for that theory she looked a ripe woman, and this very +Walter made her more and more womanly. Whenever Walter was near she had +new timidity, new blushes, fewer gushes, less impetuosity, more reserve. +Sweet innocent! She was set by Nature to catch the man by the surest way, +though she had no such design. + +Oh, it was a pretty, subtle piece of nature, and each sex played its +part. Bold advances of the man, with internal fear to offend, mock +retreats of the girl, with internal throbs of complacency, and life +invested with a new and growing charm to both. Leaving this pretty little +pastime to glide along the flowery path that beautifies young lives to +its inevitable climax, we go to a matter more prosaic, yet one that +proved a source of strange and stormy events. + +Hope had hardly started the farm when Bartley sent him off to Belgium--TO +STUDY COAL MINES. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE. + + +Mr. Hope left his powerful opera-glass with Mary Bartley. One day that +Walter called she was looking through it at the landscape, and handed it +to him. He admired its power. Mary told him it had saved her life once. + +"Oh," said he, "how could that be?" + +Then she told him how Hope had seen her drowning, a mile off, with it, +and ridden a bare-backed steed to her rescue. + +"God bless him!" cried Walter. "He is our best friend. Might I borrow +this famous glass?" + +"Oh," said Mary, "I am not going into any more streams; I am not so brave +now as I used to be." + +"Please lend it me, for all that." + +"Of course I will, if you wish it." + +Strange to say, after this, whether Mary walked out or rode out, she very +often met Mr. Walter Clifford. He was always delighted and surprised. She +was surprised three times, and said so, and after that she came to lower +her lashes and blush, but not to start. Each meeting was a pure accident, +no doubt, only she foresaw the inevitable occurrence. + +They talked about everything in the world except what was most on their +minds. Their soft tones and expressive eyes supplied that little +deficiency. + +One day he caught her riding on her little Arab. The groom fell +behind directly. After they had ridden some distance in silence, +Walter broke out: + +"How beautifully you ride!" + +"Me!" cried Mary. "Why, I never had a lesson in my life." + +"That accounts for it. Let a lady alone, and she does everything more +gracefully than a man; but let some cad undertake to teach her, she +distrusts herself and imitates the snob. If you could only see the women +in Hyde Park who have been taught to ride, and compare them with +yourself!" + +"I should learn humility." + +"No; it would make you vain, if anything could." + +"You seem inclined to do me that good turn. Come, pray, what do these +poor ladies do to offend you so?" + +"I'll tell you. They square their shoulders vulgarly; they hold the reins +in their hands as if they were driving, and they draw the reins to their +waists in a coarse, absurd way. They tighten both these reins equally, +and saw the poor devil's mouth with the curb and the snaffle at one time. +Now you know, Mary, the snaffle is a mild bit, and the curb is a sharp +one; so where is the sense of pulling away at the snaffle when you are +tugging at the curb? Why, it is like the fellow that made two holes at +the bottom of the door--a big one for the cat to come through and a +little one for the kitten. But the worst of all is they show the caddess +so plainly." + +"Caddess! What is that; goddess you mean, I suppose?" + +"No; I mean a cad of the feminine gender. They seem bursting with +affectation and elated consciousness that they are on horseback. That +shows they have only just made the acquaintance of that animal, and in a +London riding-school. Now you hold both reins lightly in the left hand, +the curb loose, since it is seldom wanted, the snaffle just feeling the +animal's mouth, and you look right and left at the people you are talking +to, and don't seem to invite one to observe that you are on a horse: that +is because you are a lady, and a horse is a matter of course to you, just +as the ground is when you walk upon it." + +The sensible girl blushed at his praise, but she said, dryly, "How +meritorious! Cousin Walter, I have heard that flattery is poison. I won't +stay here to be poisoned--so." She finished the sentence in action; and +with a movement of her body she started her Arab steed, and turned her +challenging eye back on Walter, and gave him a hand-gallop of a mile on +the turf by the road-side. And when she drew bridle her cheeks glowed so +and her eyes glistened, that Walter was dazzled by her bright beauty, +and could do nothing but gaze at her for ever so long. + +If Hope had been at home, Mary would have been looked after more +sharply. But if she was punctual at meals, that went a long way with +Robert Bartley. + +However, the accidental and frequent meetings of Walter and Mary, and +their delightful rides and walks, were interfered with just as they began +to grow into a habit. There arrived at Clifford Hall a formidable +person--in female eyes, especially--a beautiful heiress. Julia Clifford, +great-niece and ward of Colonel Clifford; very tall, graceful, with dark +gray eyes, and black eyebrows the size of a leech, that narrowed to a +point and met in finer lines upon the bridge of a nose that was gently +aquiline, but not too large, as such noses are apt to be. A large, +expressive mouth, with wonderful rows of ivory, and the prettiest little +black down, fine as a hair, on her upper lip, and a skin rather dark but +clear, and glowing with the warm blood beneath it, completed this noble +girl. She was nineteen years of age. + +Colonel Clifford received her with warm affection and old-fashioned +courtesy; but as he was disabled by a violent fit of gout, he deputed +Walter to attend to her on foot and horseback. + +Miss Clifford, accustomed to homage, laid Walter under contribution every +day. She was very active, and he had to take her a walk in the morning, +and a ride in the afternoon. He winced a little under this at first; it +kept him so much from Mary. But there was some compensation. Julia +Clifford was a lady-like rider, and also a bold and skillful one. + +The first time he rode with her he asked her beforehand what sort of a +horse she would like. + +"Oh, anything," said she, "that is not vicious nor slow." + +"A hack or a hunter?" + +"Oh, a hunter, if I _may_." + +"Perhaps you will do me the honor to look at them and select." + +"You are very kind, and I will." + +He took her to the stables, and she selected a beautiful black mare, with +a coat like satin. + +"There," said Walter, despondingly. "I was afraid you would fix on _her_. +She is impossible, I can't ride her myself." + +"Vicious?" + +"Not in the least." + +"Well, then--" + +Here an old groom touched his hat, and said, curtly, "Too hot and +fidgety, miss. I'd as lieve ride of a boiling kettle." + +Walter explained: "The poor thing is the victim of nervousness." + +"Which I call them as rides her the victims," suggested the +ancient groom. + +"Be quiet, George. She would go sweetly in a steeple-chase, if she didn't +break her heart with impatience before the start. But on the road she is +impossible. If you make her walk, she is all over lather in five minutes, +and she'd spoil that sweet habit with flecks of foam. My lady has a way +of tossing her head, and covering you all over with white streaks." + +"She wants soothing," suggested Miss Clifford. + +"Nay, miss. She wants bleeding o' Sundays, and sweating over the fallows +till she drops o' week-days. But if she was mine I'd put her to work a +coal-cart for six months; that would larn her." + +"I will ride her," said Miss Clifford, calmly; "her or none." + +"Saddle her, George," said Walter, resignedly. "I'll ride Goliah. Black +Bess sha'n't plead a bad example. Goliah is as meek as Moses, Miss +Clifford. He is a gigantic mouse." + +"I'd as lieve ride of a dead man," said the old groom. + +"Mr. George," said the young lady, "you seem hard to please. May I ask +what sort of animal you do like to ride?" + +"Well, miss, summat between them two. When I rides I likes to be at +peace. If I wants work, there's plenty in the yard. If I wants fretting +and fuming, I can go home: I'm a married man, ye know. But when I crosses +a horse I looks for a smart trot and a short stepper, or an easy canter +on a bit of turf, and not to be set to hard labor a-sticking my heels +into Goliah, nor getting a bloody nose every now and then from Black Bess +a-throwing back her uneasy head when I do but lean forward in the saddle. +I be an old man, miss, and I looks for peace on horseback if I can't get +it nowhere else." + +All this was delivered whilst saddling Black Bess. When she was ready, +Miss Clifford asked leave to hold the bridle, and walk her out of the +premises. As she walked her she patted and caressed her, and talked to +her all the time--told her they all misunderstood her because she was +a female; but now she was not to be tormented and teased, but to have +her own way. + +Then she asked George to hold the mare's head as gently as he could, and +Walter to put her up. She was in the saddle in a moment. The mare +fidgeted and pranced, but did not rear. Julia slackened the reins, and +patted and praised her, and let her go. She made a run, but was checked +by degrees with the snaffle. She had a beautiful mouth, and it was in +good hands at last. + +When they had ridden a few miles they came to a very open country, and +Julia asked, demurely, if she might be allowed to try her off the road. +"All right," said Walter; and Miss Julia, with a smart decision that +contrasted greatly with the meekness of her proposal, put her straight at +the bank, and cleared it like a bird. They had a famous gallop, but this +judicious rider neither urged the mare nor greatly checked her. She +moderated her. Black Bess came home that day sweating properly, but with +a marked diminution of lather and foam. Miss Clifford asked leave to ride +her into the stable-yard, and after dismounting talked to her, and patted +her, and praised her. An hour later the pertinacious beauty asked for a +carrot from the garden, and fed Black Bess with it in the stable. + +By these arts, a very light hand, and tact in riding, she soothed Black +Bess's nerves, so that at last the very touch of her habit skirt, or her +hand, or the sound of her voice, seemed to soothe the poor nervous +creature; and at last one day in the stable Bess protruded her great lips +and kissed her fair rider on the shoulder after her manner. + +All this interested and amused Walter Clifford, but still he was +beginning to chafe at being kept from Miss Bartley, when one morning her +servant rode over with a note. + +"DEAR COUSIN WALTER,--Will you kindly send me back my opera glass? +I want to see what is going on at Clifford Hall. + +"Yours affectionately, + +"MARY BARTLEY." + +Walter wrote back directly that he would bring it himself, and tell her +what was going on at Clifford Hall. + +So he rode over and told her of Julia Clifford's arrival, and how his +father had deputed him to attend on her, and she took up all his time. It +was beginning to be a bore. + +"On the contrary," said Mary, "I dare say she is very handsome." + +"That she is," said Walter. + +"Please describe her." + +"A very tall, dark girl, with wonderful eyebrows; and she has broken in +Black Bess, that some of us men could not ride in comfort." + +Mary changed color. She murmured, "No wonder the Hall is more attractive +than the farm!" and the tears shone in her eyes. + +"Oh, Mary," said Walter, reproachfully, "how can you say that? What is +Julia Clifford to me?" + +"I can't tell," said Mary, dryly. "I never saw you together _through my +glasses, you know_." + +Walter laughed at this innuendo. + +"You shall see us together to-morrow, if you will bless one of us with +your company." + +"I might be in the way." + +"That is not very likely. Will you ride to Hammond Church to-morrow at +about ten, and finish your sketch of the tower? I will bring Miss +Clifford there, and introduce you to each other." + +This was settled, and Mary was apparently quite intent on her sketch when +Walter and Julia rode up, and Walter said: + +"That is my cousin, Mary Bartley. May I introduce her to you?" + +"Of course. What a sweet face!" + +So the ladies were introduced, and Julia praised Mary's sketch, and Mary +asked leave to add her to it, hanging, with pensive figure, over a +tombstone. Julia took an admirable pose, and Mary, with her quick and +facile fingers, had her on the paper in no time. Walter asked her, in a +whisper, what she thought of her model. + +"I like her," said Mary. "She is rather pretty." + +"Rather pretty! Why, she is an acknowledged beauty." + +"A beauty? The idea! Long black thing!" + +Then they rode all together to the farm. There Mary was all innocent +hospitality, and the obnoxious Julia kissed her at parting, and begged +her to come and see her at the Hall. + +Mary did call, and found her with a young gentleman of short stature, who +was devouring her with his eyes, but did not overflow in discourse, +having a slight impediment in his speech. This was Mr. Percy Fitzroy. +Julia introduced him. + +"And where are you staying, Percy?" inquired she. + +"At the D--D--Dun Cow." + +"What is that?" + +Walter explained that it was a small hostelry, but one that was +occasionally honored by distinguished visitors. Miss Bartley staid there +three days. + +"I h--hope to st--ay more than that," said little Percy, with an amorous +glance at Julia. + +Miss Clifford took Mary to her room, and soon asked her what she thought +of him; then, anticipating criticism, she said there was not much of him, +but he was such a duck. + +"He dresses beautifully," was Mary's guarded remark. + +However, when Walter rode home with her, being now relieved of his +attendance on Julia, she was more communicative. Said she: "I never knew +before that a man could look like fresh cambric. Dear me! his head and +his face and his little whiskers, his white scarf, his white waistcoat, +and all his clothes, and himself, seem just washed and ironed and +starched. _I looked round for the bandbox_." + +"Never mind," said Walter. "He is a great addition. My duties devolve on +him. And I shall be free to--How her eyes shone and her voice mellowed +when she spoke to him! Confess, now, love is a beautiful thing." + +"I can not say. Not experienced in beautiful things." And Mary looked +mighty demure. + +"Of course not. What am I thinking of? You are only a child." + +"A little more than that, _please_." + +"At all events, love beautified _her_." + +"I saw no difference. She was always a lovely girl." + +"Why, you said she was 'a long black thing.'" + +"Oh, that was before--she looked engaged." + +After this young Fitzroy was generally Miss Clifford's companion in her +many walks, and Walter Clifford had a delightful time with Mary Bartley. + +Her nurse discovered how matters were going. But she said nothing. From +something Bartley let fall years ago she divined that Bartley was robbing +Walter Clifford by substituting Hope's child for his own, and she thought +the mischief could be repaired and the sin atoned for if he and Mary +became man and wife. So she held her tongue and watched. + +The servants at the Hall watched the whole game, and saw how the young +people were pairing, and talked them over very freely. + +The only person in the dark was Colonel Clifford. He was nearly always +confined to his room. However, one day he came down, and found Julia and +Percy together. She introduced Percy to him. The Colonel was curt, but +grumpy, and Percy soon beat a retreat. + +The Colonel sent for Walter to his room. He did not come for some time, +because he was wooing Mary Bartley. + +Colonel Clifford's first word was, "Who was that little stuttering dandy +I caught spooning _your_ Julia?" + +"Only Percy Fitzroy." + +"Only Percy Fitzroy! Never despise your rivals, sir. Always remember that +young women are full of vanity, and expect to be courted all day long. I +will thank you not to leave the field open a single day till you have +secured the prize." + +"What prize, sir?" + +"What prize, you ninny? Why, the beautiful girl that can buy back +Oddington and Drayton, peaches and fruit and all. They are both to be +sold at this moment. What prize? Why, the wife I have secured for you, if +you don't go and play the fool and neglect her." + +Walter Clifford looked aghast. + +"Julia Clifford!" said he. "Pray don't ask me to marry _her_." + +"Not ask you?--but I do ask you; and what is more, I command you. Would +you revolt again against your father, who has forgiven you, and break my +heart, now I am enfeebled by disease? Julia Clifford is your wife, or you +are my son no more." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE. + + +The next time Walter Clifford met Mary Bartley he was gloomy at +intervals. The observant girl saw he had something on his mind. She taxed +him with it, and asked him tenderly what it was. + +"Oh, nothing," said he. + +"Don't tell me!" said she. "Mind, nothing escapes my eye. Come, tell me, +or we are not friends." + +"Oh, come, Mary. That is hard." + +"Not in the least. I take an interest in you." + +"Bless you for saying so!" + +"And so, if you keep your troubles from me, we are not friends, +nor cousins." + +"Mary!" + +"Nor anything else." + +"Well, dear Mary, sooner than not be anything else to you I will tell +you, and yet I don't like. Well, then, if I must, it is that dear old +wrong-headed father of mine. He wants me to marry Julia Clifford." + +Mary turned pale directly. "I guessed as much," said she. "Well, she is +young and beautiful and rich, and it is your duty to obey your father." + +"But I can't." + +"Oh yes, you can, if you try." + +"But I can't try." + +"Why not?" + +"Can't you guess?" + +"No." + +"Well, then, I love another girl. As opposite to her as light is to +darkness." + +Mary blushed and looked down. "Complimentary to Julia," she said. "I pity +her opposite, for Julia is a fine, high-minded girl." + +"Ah, Mary, you are too clever for me; of course I mean the opposite in +appearance." + +"As ugly as she is pretty?" + +"No; but she is a dark girl, and I don't like dark girls. It was a dark +girl that deceived me so heartlessly years ago." + +"Ah!" + +"And made me hate the whole sex." + +"Or only the brunettes?" + +"The whole lot." + +"Cousin Walter, I thank you in the name of that small company." + +"Until I saw you, and you converted me in one day." + +"Only to the blondes?" + +"Only to one of them. My sweet Mary, the situation is serious. You, whose +eye nothing escapes--you must have seen long ago how I love you." + +"Never mind what I have seen, Walter," said Mary, whose bosom was +beginning to heave. + +"Very well," said Walter; "then I will tell you as if you didn't know it. +I admired you at first sight; every time I was with you I admired you, +and loved you more and more. It is my heaven to see you and to hear you +speak. Whether you are grave or gay, saucy or tender, it is all one +charm, one witchcraft. I want you for my wife, and my child, and my +friend. Mary, my love, my darling, how could I marry any woman but you? +and you, could you marry any man but me, to break the heart that beats +only for you?" + +This and the voice of love, now ardent, now broken with emotion, were +more than sweet, saucy Mary could trifle with; her head drooped slowly +upon his shoulder, and her arm went round his neck, and the tremor of her +yielding frame and the tears of tenderness that flowed slowly from her +fair eyes told Walter Clifford without a word that she was won. + +He had the sense not to ask her for words. What words could be so +eloquent as this? He just held her to his manly bosom, and trembled with +love and joy and triumph. + +She knew, too, that she had replied, and treated her own attitude like a +sentence in rather a droll way. "But _for all that_," said she, "I don't +mean to be a wicked girl if I can help. This is an age of wicked young +ladies. I soon found that out in the newspapers; that and science are the +two features. And I have made a solemn vow not to be one of +them"--(query, a science or a naughty girl)--"making mischief between +father and son." + +"No more you shall, dear," said Walter. "Leave it to me. We must be +patient, and all will come right." + +"Oh, I'll be true to you, dear, if that is all," said Mary. + +"And if you would not mind just temporizing a little, for my sake, who +love you?" + +"Temporize!" said Mary, eagerly. "With all my heart. I'll temporize till +we are all dead and buried." + +"Oh, that will be too long for me," said Walter. + +"Oh, never do things by halves," said the ready girl. + +If his tongue had been as prompt as hers, he might have said that +"temporizing" was doing things by halves; but he let her have the +last word. And perhaps he lost nothing, for she would have had that +whether or no. + +So this day was another era in their love. Girls after a time are not +content to see they are beloved; they must hear it too; and now Walter +had spoken out like a man, and Mary had replied like a woman. They were +happy, and walked hand in hand purring to one another, instead of +sparring any more. + +On his return home Walter found Julia marching swiftly and haughtily up +and down upon the terrace of Clifford Hall, and he could not help +admiring the haughty magnificence of her walk. The reason soon appeared. +She was in a passion. She was always tall, but now she seemed lofty, and +to combine the supple panther with the erect peacock in her ireful march. +Such a fine woman as Julia really awes a man with her carriage at such a +time. The poor soul thinks he sees before him the indignation of the +just; when very likely it is only what in a man would be called +Petulance. + +"Anything the matter, Miss Clifford?" said he, obsequiously. + +"No, sir" (very stiffly). + +"Can I be of any service?" + +"No, you can not." And then, swifter than any weather-cock ever turned: +"You are a good creature: why should I be rude to you? I ought to be +ashamed of myself. It is that little wretch." + +"Not our friend Fitzroy?" + +"Why, what other little wretch is there about? We are all Grenadiers and +May-poles in this house except him. Well, let him go. I dare say somebody +else--hum--and Uncle Clifford has told me more than once I ought to look +higher. I couldn't well look lower than five feet nothing. Ha! ha! ha! I +told him so." + +"That was cruel." + +"Don't scold _me_. I won't be lectured by any of you. Of course it was, +_dear_. Poor little Percy. Oh! oh! oh!" + +And after all this thunder there was a little rain, by a law that governs +Atmosphere and Woman impartially. + +Seeing her softened, and having his own reasons for wishing to keep +Fitzroy to his duty, Walter begged leave to mediate, if possible, and +asked if she would do him the honor to confide the grievance to him. + +"Of course I will," said Julia. "He is angry with Colonel Clifford for +not wishing him to stay here, and he is angry with me for not making +Uncle Clifford invite him. As if I _could_! I should be ashamed to +propose such a thing. The truth is, he is a luxurious little fellow, and +my society out-of-doors does not compensate him for the cookery at the +Dun Cow. There! let him go." + +"But I want him to stay." + +"Then that is very kind of you." + +"Isn't it?" said Walter, slyly. "And I must make him stay somehow. Now +tell me, isn't he a little jealous?" + +"A little jealous! Why, he is eaten up with it; he is _petrie de +jalousie_." + +"Then," said Walter, timidly, and hesitating at every word, "you can't be +angry if I work on him a little. Would there be any great harm if I were +to say that nobody can see you without admiring you; that I have always +respected his rights, but that if he abandons them--" + +Julia caught it in a moment. She blushed, and laughed heartily. "Oh, you +good, sly Thing!" said she; "and it is the truth, for I am as proud as he +is vain; and if he leaves me I will turn round that moment and make you +in love with me." + +Walter looked queer. This was a turn he had not counted on. + +"Do you think I couldn't, sir?" said she, sharply. + +"It is not for me to limit the power of beauty," said Walter, meekly. + +"Say the power of flattery. I could cajole any man in the world--if +I chose." + +"Then you are a dangerous creature, and I will make Fitzroy my shield. +I'm off to the Dun Cow." + +"You are a duck," said this impetuous beauty. "So there!" She took him +round the neck with both hands, and gave him a most delicious kiss. + +"Why, he must be mad," replied the recipient, bluntly. She laughed at +that, and he went straight to the Dun Cow. He found young Fitzroy sitting +rather disconsolate, and opened his errand at once by asking him if it +was true that they were to lose him. + +Percy replied stiffly that it was true. + +"What a pity!" said Walter. + +"I d--don't think I shall be m--much m--missed," said Percy, +rather sullenly. + +"I know two people who will miss you." + +"I d--don't know one." + +"Two, I assure you--Miss Clifford and myself. Come, Mr. Fitzroy, I will +not beat about the bush. I am afraid you are mortified, and I must say, +justly mortified, at the coolness my father has shown to you. But I +assure you that it is not from any disrespect to you personally." + +"Oh, indeed!" said Percy, ironically. + +"No; quite the reverse--he is afraid of you." + +"That is a g--g--good joke." + +"No; let me explain. Fathers are curious people. If they are ever so +disinterested in their general conduct, they are sure to be a little +mercenary for their children. Now you know Miss Clifford is a beauty who +would adorn Clifford Hall, and an heiress whose money would purchase +certain properties that join ours. You understand?" + +"Yes," said the little man, starting up in great wrath. "I understand, +and it's a--bom--inable. I th--thought you were my friend, and a m--man +of h--honor." + +"So I am, and that is why I warn you in time. If you quarrel with Miss +Clifford, and leave this place in a pet, just see what risks we both run, +you and I. My father will be always at me, and I shall not be able to +insist on your prior claim; he will say you have abandoned it. Julia will +take the huff, and you know beautiful women will do strange things--mad +things--when once pique enters their hearts. She might turn round and +marry me." + +"You forget, sir, you are a man of honor." + +"But not a man of stone. Now, my dear Fitzroy, be reasonable. Suppose +that peerless creature went in for female revenge; why, the first thing +she would do would be to _make_ me love her, whether I chose or no. She +wouldn't give _me_ a voice in the matter. She would flatter me; she would +cajole me; she would transfix my too susceptible heart with glances of +fire and bewitching languor from those glorious eyes." + +"D--d----! Ahem!" cried Percy, turning green. + +Walter had no mercy. "I heard her say once she could make any man love +her if she chose." + +"So she could," said Percy, ruefully. "She made me. I had an awful +p--p--prejudice against her, but there was no resisting." + +"Then don't subject _me_ to such a trial. Stick to her like a man." + +"So I will; b--but it is a m--m--mortifying position. I'm a man of +family. We came in with the C--Conquest, and are respected in our +c--county; and here I have to meet her on the sly, and live at the +D--Dun Cow." + +"Where the _cuisine_ is wretched." + +"A--b--b--bominable!" + +Having thus impregnated his mind with that soothing sentiment, jealousy, +Walter told him he had a house to let on the estate--quite a gentleman's +house, only a little dilapidated, with a fine lawn and garden, only +neglected into a wilderness. "But all the better for you," said he. "You +have plenty of money, and no occupation. Perhaps that is what leads to +these little quarrels. It will amuse you to repair the crib and restore +the lawn. Why, there is a brook runs through it--it isn't every lawn has +that--and there used to be water-lilies floating, and peonies nodding +down at them from the bank: a paradise. She adores flowers, you know. Why +not rent that house from me? You will have constant occupation and +amusement. You will become a rival potentate to my governor. You will +take the shine out of him directly; you have only to give a ball, and +then all the girls will worship you, Julia Clifford especially, for she +could dance the devil to a stand-still." + +Percy's eyes flashed. "When can I have the place?" said he, eagerly. + +"In half an hour. I'll draw you a three months' agreement. Got any +paper? Of course not. Julia is so near. What are those? Playing-cards. +What do you play? 'Patience,' all by yourself. No wonder you are +quarrelsome! Nothing else to bestow your energy on." + +Percy denied this imputation. The cards were for pistol practice. He shot +daily at the pips in the yard. + +"It is the fiend _Ennui_ that loads your pistols, and your temper too. +Didn't I tell you so?" + +Walter then demanded the ace of diamonds, and on its face let him the +house and premises on a repairing lease for three years, rent L5 a year: +which was a good bargain for both parties, since Percy was sure to lay +out a thousand pounds or two on the property, and to bind Julia more +closely to him, who was worth her weight in gold ten times over. + +Walter had brought the keys with him, so he drove Percy over at once and +gave him possession, and, to do the little fellow justice, the moisture +of gratitude stood in his eyes when they parted. + +Walter told Julia about it the same night, and her eyes were +eloquent too. + +The next day he had a walk with Mary Bartley, and told her all about it. +She hung upon him, and gazed admiringly into his eyes all the time, and +they parted happy lovers. + +Mr. Bartley met her at the gate, "Mary," said he, gravely, "who was that +I saw with you just now?" + +"Cousin Walter." + +"I feared so. You are too much with him." + +Mary turned red and white by turns, but said nothing. + +Bartley went on: "You are a good child, and I have always trusted you. I +am sure you mean no harm. But you must be more discreet. I have just +heard that you and that young man are looked upon as engaged lovers. They +say it is all over the village. Of course a father is the last to hear +these things. Does Mrs. Easton know of this?" + +"Oh yes, papa, and approves it." + +"Stupid old woman! She ought to be ashamed of herself." + +"Oh, papa!" said Mary, in deep distress; "why, what objection can there +be to Cousin Walter?" + +"None whatever as a cousin, but every objection to intimacy. Does he +court you?" + +"I don't know, papa. I suppose he does." + +"Does he seek your love?" + +"He does not say so exactly." + +"Come, Mary, you have never deceived me. Does he love you?" + +"I am afraid he does; and if you reject him he will be very unhappy. And +so shall I." + +"I am truly sorry to hear it, Mary, for there are reasons why I can not +consent to an engagement between him and you." + +"What reasons, papa?" + +"It would not be proper to disclose my reasons; but I hope, Mary, that it +will be enough to say that Colonel Clifford has other views for his son, +and I have other views for my daughter. Do you think a blessing will +attend you or him if you defy both fathers?" + +"No, no," said poor Mary. "We have been hasty and very foolish. But, oh, +papa, have you not seen from the first? Oh, why did you not warn me in +time? Then I could have obeyed you easily. Now it will cost me the +happiness of my life. We are very unfortunate. Poor Walter! He left me so +full of hope. What shall I do? what shall I do?" + +It was Mary Bartley's first grief. She thought all chance of happiness +was gone forever, and she wept bitterly for Walter and herself. + +Bartley was not unmoved, but he could not change his nature. The sum he +had obtained by a crime was dearer to him than all his more honest gains. +He was kind on the surface, but hard as marble. + +"Go to your room, my child," said he, "and try and compose yourself. I +am not angry with you. I ought to have watched you. But you are so young, +and I trusted to that woman." + +Mary retired, sobbing, and he sent for Mrs. Easton. + +"Mrs. Easton," said he, "for the first time in all these years I have a +fault to find with you." + +"What is that, sir, if you please?" + +"Young Clifford has been courting that child, and you have +encouraged it." + +"Nay, sir," said the woman, "I have not done that. She never spoke to me, +nor I to her." + +"Well, then, you never interfered." + +"No, sir; no more than you did." + +"Because I never observed it till to-day." + +"How could I know that, sir? Everybody else observed it. Mr. Hope would +have been the first to see it, if he had been in your place." This sudden +thrust made Bartley wince, and showed him he had a tougher customer to +deal with than poor Mary. + +"You can't bear to be found fault with, Easton," said he, craftily, "and +I don't wonder at it, after fourteen years' fidelity to me." + +"I take no credit for that," said the woman, doggedly. "I have been +paid for it." + +"No doubt. But I don't always get the thing I pay for. Then let by-gones +be by-gones; but just assist me now to cure the girl of this folly." + +"Sir," said the woman, firmly, "it is not folly; it is wisest and best +for all; and I can't make up my mind to lift a finger against it." + +"Do you mean to defy me, then?" + +"No, sir. I don't want to go against you, nor yet against my own +conscience, what's left on't. I have seen a pretty while it must come to +this, and I have written to my sister Sally. She keeps a small hotel at +the lakes. She is ready to have me, and I'm not too old to be useful to +her. I'm worth my board. I'll go there this very day, if you please. I'm +as true to you as I can be, sir. For I see by Miss Mary crying so you +have spoken to her, and so now she is safe to come to me for comfort; and +if she does, I shall take her part, you may be sure, for I love her like +my own child." Here the dogged voice began to tremble; but she recovered +herself, and told him she would go at once to her sister Gilbert, that +lived only ten miles off, and next day she would go to the little hotel +at the lakes, and leave him to part two true lovers if he could and break +both their hearts; she should wash her hands of it. + +Bartley asked a moment to consider. + +"Shall we be friends still if you leave me like that? Surely, after all +these years, you will not tell your sister? You will not betray me?" + +"Never, sir," said she. "What for? To bring those two together? Why, it +would part them forever. I wonder at you, a gentleman, and in business +all your life, yet you don't seem to see through the muddy water as I do +that is only a plain woman." + +She then told him her clothes were nearly all packed, and she could start +in an hour. + +"You shall have the break and the horses," said he, with great alacrity. + +Everything transpires quickly in a small house, and just as she had +finished packing, in came Mary in violent distress. "What, is it true? +Are you going to leave me, now my heart is broken? Oh, nurse! nurse!" + +This was too much even for stout-hearted Nancy Easton. + +"Oh, my child! my child!" she cried, and sat down on her box sobbing +violently, Mary infolded in her arms, and then they sat crying and +rocking together. + +"Papa does not love me as I do him," sobbed Mary, turning bitter for the +first time. "He breaks my heart, and sends you away the same day, for +fear you should comfort me." + +"No, my dear," said Mrs. Easton; "you are wrong. He does not send me +away; I go by my own wish." + +"Oh, nurse, you desert me! then you don't know what has happened." + +"Oh yes, I do; I know all about it; and I'm leaving because I can't do +what he wishes. You see it is this way, Miss Mary--your father has been +very good to me, and I am his debtor. I must not stay here and help you +to thwart him--that would be ungrateful--and yet I can't take his side +against you. Master has got reasons why you should not marry Walter +Clifford, and--" + +"He told me so himself," said Mary. + +"Ah, but he didn't tell you his reasons." + +"No." + +"No more must I. But, Miss Mary, I'll tell you this. I know his reasons +well; his reasons why you should not marry Walter Clifford are my reasons +why you should marry no other man." + +"Oh, nurse! oh, you dear, good angel!" + +"So when friends differ like black and white, 'tis best to part. I'm +going to my sister Gilbert this afternoon, and to-morrow to my sister +Sally, at her hotel." + +"Oh, nurse, must you? must you? I shall have not a friend to advise or +console me till Mr. Hope comes back. Oh, I hope that won't be long now." + +Mrs. Easton dropped her hands upon her knees and looked at Mary Bartley. + +"What, Miss Mary, would you go to Mr. Hope in such a matter as this? +Surely you would not have the face?" + +"Not take my breaking heart to Mr. Hope!" cried Mary, with a sudden +flood of tears. "You might as well tell me not to lay my trouble before +my God. Dear, dear Mr. Hope, who saved my life in those deep waters, and +then cried over me, darling dear! I think more of that than of his +courage. Do you think I am blind? He loves me better than my own father +does; and it is not a young man's love; it is an angel's. Not cry to +_him_ when I am in the deep waters of affliction? I could not write of +such a thing to him for blushing, but the moment he returns I shall +find some way to let him know how happy I have been, how broken-hearted +I am, and that papa has reasons against _him_, and they are your reasons +for him, and that you are both afraid to let _me_ know these _curious_ +reasons--me, the poor girl whose heart is being made a foot-ball of in +this house. Oh! oh! oh!" + +"Don't cry, Miss Mary," said Nurse Easton, tenderly; "and pray don't +excite yourself so. Why, I never saw you like this before." + +"Had I ever the same reason? You have only known the happy, thoughtless +child. They have made a woman of me now, and my peace is gone. I _must_ +not defy my father, and I _will_ not break poor Walter's heart--the +truest heart that ever beat. Not tell dear Mr. Hope? I'll tell him +everything, if I'm cut in pieces for it." And her beautiful eyes flashed +lightning through her tears. + +"Hum!" said Mrs. Easton, under her breath, and looking down at her own +feet. + +"And pray what does 'hum' mean?" asked Mary, fixing her eyes with +prodigious keenness on the woman's face. + +"Well, I don't suppose 'hum' means anything," said Mrs. Easton, still +looking down. + +"Doesn't it?" said Mary. "With such a face as _that_ it means a volume. +And I'll make it my business to read that volume." + +"Hum!" + +"And Mr. Hope shall help me." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +LOVERS PARTED. + + +Walter, little dreaming the blow his own love had received, made Percy +write Julia an apology, and an invitation to visit his new house if he +was forgiven. Julia said she could not forgive him, and would not go. +Walter said, "Put on your bonnet, and take a little drive with me." + +"Oh, with pleasure," said Julia, slyly. + +So then Walter drove her to the new house, without a word of remonstrance +on her part, and Fitzroy met her radiant, and Walter slipped away round a +corner, and when he came back the quarrel had dissolved. He had brought a +hamper with all the necessaries of life--table-cloth, napkins, knives, +forks, spoons, cold pie, salad, and champagne. They lunched beside the +brook on the lawn. The lovers drank his health, and Julia appointed him +solemnly to the post of "peace-maker," "for," said she, "you have shown +great talent that way, and I foresee we shall want one, for we shall be +always quarrelling; sha'n't we, Percy?" + +"N--o; n--never again." + +"Then you mustn't be jealous." + +"I'm not. I d--despise j--jealousy. I'm above it." + +"Oh, indeed," said Julia, dryly. + +"Come, don't begin again, you two," said Walter, "or--no champagne." + +"Now what a horrid threat!" said Julia. "I'll be good, for one." + +In short they had a merry time, and Walter drove Julia home. Both were in +high spirits. + +In the hall Walter found a short note from Mary Bartley: + +"DEAR, DEAR WALTER,--I write with a bleeding heart to tell you that papa +has only just discovered our attachment, and I am grieved to say he +disapproves of it, and has forbidden me to encourage your love, that is +dearer to me than all the world. It is very hard. It seems so cruel. But +I must obey. Do not make obedience too difficult, dear Walter. And pray, +pray do not be as unhappy as I am. He says he has reasons, but he has not +told me what they are, except that your father has other views for you; +but, indeed, with both parents against us what can we do? Forgive me the +pain this will give you. Ask yourself whether it gives me any less. You +were all the world to me. Now everything is dull and distasteful. What a +change in one little day! We are very unfortunate. But it can not be +forever. And if you will be constant to me, you know I shall to you. I +_could not_ change. Ah, Walter, I little thought when I said I would +temporize, how soon I should be called on to do it. I can't write any +more for crying. I do nothing but cry ever since papa was so cruel; but I +must obey. Your loving, sorrowful + +"MARY." + +This letter was a chilling blow to poor Walter. He took it into his own +room and read it again and again. It brought the tears into his own eyes, +and discouraged him deeply for a time. But, of course, he was not so +disposed to succumb to authority as the weaker vessel was. He wrote back: + +"My own Love,--Don't grieve for me. I don't care for anything so long as +you love me. I shall resist, of course. As for my father, I am going to +marry Julia to Percy Fitzroy, and so end my governor's nonsense. As for +your father, I do not despair of softening him. It is only a check; it is +not a defeat. Who on earth can part us if we are true to each other? God +bless you, dearest! I did not think you loved me so much. Your letter +gives me comfort forever, and only disappointment for a time. Don't fret, +sweet love. It will be all right in the end. + +"Your grateful, hopeful love, till death, WALTER." + +Mary opened this letter with a beating heart. She read it with tears and +smiles and utter amazement. She knew so little about the male character +that this way of receiving a knockdown blow astonished and charmed her. +She thought to herself, no wonder women look up to men. They _will_ have +their own way; they resist, _of course_. How sensible! We give in, right +or wrong. What a comfort I have got a man to back me, and not a poor +sorrowing, despairing, obeying thing like myself! + +So she was comforted for the minute, and settled in her own mind that she +would be good and obedient, and Walter should do all the fighting. But +letters soon cease to satisfy the yearning hearts of lovers unnaturally +separated. Walter and Mary lived so near each other, yet now they never +met. Bartley took care of that. He told Mary she must not walk out +without a maid or ride without a servant; and he gave them both special +orders. He even obliged her with his own company, though that rather +bored him. + +Under this severe restraint Mary's health and spirits suffered, and she +lost some of her beautiful color. + +Walter's spirits were kept up only by anger. Julia Clifford saw he was in +trouble, and asked him what was the matter. + +"Oh, nothing that would interest you," said he, rather sullenly. + +"Excuse me," said she. "I am always interested in the troubles of my +friends, and you have been a good friend to me." + +"It is very good of you to think so. Well, then, yes, I am unhappy. I am +crossed in love." + +"Is it that fair girl you introduced me to when out riding?" + +"Yes." + +"She is lovely." + +"Miss Clifford, she is an angel." + +"Ha! ha! We are all angels till we are found out. Who is the man?" + +"What man?" + +"That she prefers to my good Walter. She deserves a good whipping, +your angel." + +"Much obliged to you, Miss Clifford; but she prefers no man to your good +Walter, though I am not worthy to tie her shoes. Why, we are devoted to +each other." + +"Well, you needn't fly out at _me_. I am your friend, as you will see. +Make me your confidante. Explain, please. How can you be crossed in love +if there's no other man?" + +"It's her father. He has discovered our love, and forbids her to +speak to me." + +"Her father!" said Julia, contemptuously. "Is that all? _That_ for her +father! You shall have her in spite of fifty fathers. If it had been a +lover, now." + +"I should have talked to him, not to you," said Walter, with his +eyes flashing. + +"Be quiet, Walter; as it is not a lover, nor even a mother, you shall +have the girl; and a very sweet girl she is. Will you accept me for +your ally? Women are wiser than men in these things, and understand +one another." + +"Oh, Miss Clifford," said Walter, "this is good of you! Of course it will +be a great blessing to us both to have your sympathy and assistance." + +"Well, then," said Julia, "begin by telling me--have you spoken to +her father?" + +"No." + +"Then that is the very first thing to be done. Come, order our horses. We +will ride over directly. I will call on _Miss_ Bartley, and you on +_Mister_. Now mind, you must ignore all that has passed, and just ask his +permission to court his daughter. Whilst you are closeted with him, the +young lady and I will learn each other's minds with a celerity you poor +slow things have no idea of." + +"I see one thing," said Walter, "that I am a child in such matters +compared with you. What decision! what promptitude!" + +"Then imitate it, young man. Order the horses directly;" and she stamped +her foot impatiently. + +Walter turned to the stables without another word, and Julia flew +upstairs to put on her riding-habit. + + * * * * * + +Bartley was in his study with a map of the farm before him, and two +respectable but rather rough men in close conference over it. These were +practical men from the county of Durham, whom he had ferreted out by +means of an agent, men who knew a great deal about coal. They had already +surveyed the farm, and confirmed Hope's opinion that coal lay below the +surface of certain barren fields, and the question now was as to the +exact spot where it would be advisable to sink the first shaft. + +Bartley was heart and soul in this, and elevated by love of gain far +above such puny considerations as the happiness of Mary Bartley and her +lover. She, poor girl, sat forlorn in her little drawing-room, and tried +to draw a bit, and tried to read a bit, and tried to reconcile a new +German symphony to her ear as well as to her judgment, which told her it +was too learned not to be harmonious, though it sounded very discordant. +But all these efforts ended in a sigh of despondency, and in brooding on +innocent delights forbidden, and a prospect which, to her youth and +inexperience, seemed a wilderness robbed of the sun. + +Whilst she sat thus pensive and sad there came a sudden rush and clatter +of hoofs, and Miss Clifford and Walter Clifford reined up their horses +under the very window. + +Mary started up delighted at the bare sight of Walter, but amazed and +puzzled. The next moment her quick intelligence told her this was some +daring manoeuvre or other, and her heart beat high. + +Walter opened the door and stood beside it, affecting a cold ceremony. + +"Miss Bartley, I have brought Miss Clifford to call on you at her +request. My own visit is to your father. Where shall I find him?" + +"In his study," murmured Miss Bartley. + +Walter returned, and the two ladies looked at each other steadily for one +moment, and took stock of one another's dress, looks, character, and +souls with supernatural rapidity. Then Mary smiled, and motioned her +visitor to a seat, and waited. + +Miss Clifford made her approaches obliquely at first. + +"I ought to apologize to you for not returning your call before this. At +any rate, here I am at last." + +"You are most welcome, Miss Clifford," said Mary, warmly. + +"Now the ice is broken, I want you to call me Julia." + +"May I?" + +"You may, and you must, if I call you Mary. Why, you know we are cousins; +at least I suppose so. We are both cousins of Walter Clifford, so we must +be cousins to each other." + +And she fixed her eyes on her fair hostess in a very peculiar way. + +Mary returned this fixed look with such keen intelligence that her gray +eyes actually scintillated. + +"Mary, I seldom waste much time before I come to the point. Walter +Clifford is a good fellow; he has behaved well to me. I had a quarrel +with mine, and Walter played the peace-maker, and brought us together +again without wounding my pride. By-and-by I found out Walter himself was +in grief about you. It was my turn, wasn't it? I made him tell me all. He +wasn't very willing, but I would know. I see his love is making him +miserable, and so is yours, dear." + +"Oh yes." + +"So I took it on me to advise him. I have made him call on your father. +Fathers sometimes pooh-pooh their daughters' affections; but when the son +of Colonel Clifford comes with a formal proposal of marriage, Mr. Bartley +can not pooh-pooh _him_." + +Mary clasped her hands, but said nothing. + +Julia flowed on: + +"And the next thing is to comfort you. You seem to want a good +cry, dear." + +"Yes, I d--do." + +"Then come here and take it." + +No sooner said than done. Mary's head on Julia's shoulder, and Julia's +arm round Mary's waist. + +"Are you better, dear?" + +"Oh, so much." + +"It is a comfort, isn't it? Well, now, listen to me. Fathers sometimes +delay a girl's happiness; but they don't often destroy it; they don't go +and break her heart as some mothers do. A mother that is resolved to have +her own way brings another man forward; fathers are too simple to see +that is the only way. And then a designing mother cajoles the poor girl +and deceives her, and does a number of things a man would call +villainies. Don't you fret your heart out for so small a thing as a +father's opposition. You are sure to tire him out if he loves you, and if +he doesn't love you, or loves money better, why, then, he is not a worthy +rival to my cousin Walter, for that man really loves you, and would marry +you if you had not a penny. So would Percy Fitzroy marry me. And that is +why I prefer him to the grenadiers and plungers with silky mustaches, and +half an eye on me and an eye and a half on my money." + +Many other things passed between these two, but what we have endeavored +to repeat was the cream of Julia's discourse, and both her advice and +her sympathy were for the time a wonderful comfort to the love-sick, +solitary girl. + +But our business is with Walter Clifford. As soon as he was announced, +Mr. Bartley dismissed his rugged visitors, and received Walter affably, +though a little stiffly. + +Walter opened his business at once, and told him he had come to ask his +permission to court his daughter. He said he had admired her from the +first moment, and now his happiness depended on her, and he felt sure he +could make her happy; not, of course, by his money, but by his devotion. +Then as to making a proper provision for her-- + +Here Bartley stopped him. + +"My young friend," said he, "there can be no objection either to your +person or your position. But there are difficulties, and at present they +are serious ones. Your father has other views." + +"But, Mr. Bartley," said Walter, eagerly, "he must abandon them. The lady +is engaged." + +"Well, then," said Bartley, "it will be time to come to me when he has +abandoned those views, and also overcome his prejudices against me and +mine. But there is another difficulty. My daughter is not old enough to +marry, and I object to long engagements. Everything, therefore, points to +delay, and on this I must insist." + +Bartley having taken this moderate ground, remained immovable. He +promised to encourage no other suitor; but in return he said he had a +right to demand that Walter would not disturb his daughter's peace of +mind until the prospect was clearer. In short, instead of being taken by +surprise, the result showed Bartley quite prepared for this interview, +and he baffled the young man without offending him. He was cautious not +to do that, because he was going to mine for coal, and feared +remonstrances, and wanted Walter to take his part, or at least to be +neutral, knowing his love for Mary. So they parted good friends; but when +he retailed the result to Julia Clifford she shook her head, and said the +old fox had outwitted him. Soon after, knitting her brows in thought for +some time, she said, "She is very young, much younger than she looks. I +am afraid you will have to wait a little, and watch." + +"But," said Walter, in dismay, "am I not to see her or speak to her all +the time I am waiting?" + +"I'd see both fathers hanged first, if I was a man," said Julia. + +In short, under the courageous advice of Julia Clifford, Walter began to +throw himself in Mary's way, and look disconsolate; that set Mary pining +directly, and Julia found her pale, and grieving for Walter, and +persuaded her to write him two or three lines of comfort; she did, and +that drew pages from him. Unfortunately he did not restrain himself, but +flung his whole heart upon paper, and raised a tumult in the innocent +heart of her who read his passionate longings. + +She was so worked upon that at last one day she confided to Julia that +her old nurse was going to visit her sister, Mrs. Gilbert, who lived only +ten miles off, and she thought she should ride and see her. + +"When?" asked Julia, carelessly. + +"Oh, any day next week," said Mary, carelessly. "Wednesday, if it is +fine. She will not be there till Monday." + +"Does she know?" asked Julia. + +"Oh yes; and left because she could not agree with papa about it; and, +dear, she said a strange thing--a very strange thing: she knew papa's +reasons against him, and they were her reasons for him." + +"Fancy that!" said Julia. "Your father told you what the reasons were?" + +"No; he wouldn't. They both treat me like a child." + +"You mean they pretend to," she added. + +"I see one thing; there is some mystery behind this. I wonder what it +is?" + +"Ten to one, it is money. I am only twenty, but already I have found out +that money governs the world. Let me see--your mother was a Clifford. She +must have had money. Did she settle any on you?" + +"I am sure I don't know." + +"Ten to one she did, and your father is your trustee; and when you +marry, he must show his accounts and cash up. There, that is where the +shoe pinches." + +Mary was distressed. + +"Oh, don't say so, dear. I can't bear to think that of papa. You make me +very unhappy." + +"Forgive me, dear," said Julia. "I am too bitter and suspicious. Some +day I will tell you things in my own life that have soured me. Money--I +hate the very word," she said, clinching her teeth. + +She urged her view no more, but in her own heart she felt sure that she +had read Mr. Bartley aright. Why, he was a trader, into the bargain. + +As for Mary, when she came to think over this conversation, her own +subtle instinct told her that stronger pressure than ever would now be +brought on her. Her timidity, her maiden modesty, and her desire to do +right set her on her defense. She determined to have loving but impartial +advice, and so she overcame her shyness, and wrote to Mr. Hope. Even then +she was in no hurry to enter on such a subject by letter, so she must +commence by telling him that her father had set a great many people, most +of them strangers, to dig for coal. That cross old thing, Colonel +Clifford, had been heard to sneer at her dear father, and say unkind and +disrespectful things--that the love of money led to loss of money, and +that papa might just as well dig a well and throw his money into that. +She herself was sorry he had not waited for Mr. Hope's return before +undertaking so serious a speculation. Warmed by this preliminary, she +ventured into the delicate subject, and told him the substance of what we +have told the reader, only in a far more timid and suggestive way, and +implored him to advise her by return of post if possible--or why not +come home? Papa had said only yesterday, "I wish Hope was here." She got +an answer by return of post. It disappointed her, on the whole. Mr. Hope +realized the whole situation, though she had sketched it faintly instead +of painting it boldly. He was all sympathy, and he saw at once that he +could not himself imagine a better match for her than Walter Clifford. +But then he observed that Mr. Bartley himself offered no personal +objection, but wished the matter to be in abeyance until she was older, +and Colonel Clifford's objection to the connection should be removed or +softened. That might really be hoped for should Miss Clifford marry Mr. +Fitzroy; and really in the mean time he (Hope) could hardly take on him +to encourage her in impatience and disobedience. He should prefer to talk +to Bartley first. With him he should take a less hesitating line, and set +her happiness above everything. In short, he wrote cautiously. He +inwardly resolved to be on the spot very soon, whether Bartley wanted him +or not; but he did not tell Mary this. + +Mary was disappointed. "How kind and wise he is!" she said to +Julia--"too wise." + +Next Wednesday morning Mary Bartley rode to Mrs. Gilbert, and was +received by her with courtesy, but with a warm embrace by Mrs. +Easton. After a while the latter invited her into the parlor, saying +there is somebody there; but no one knows. This, however, though +hardly unexpected, set Mary's heart beating, and when the parlor +door was opened, Mrs. Easton stepped back, and Mary was alone with +Walter Clifford. + +Then might those who oppose an honest and tender affection have learned a +lesson. It was no longer affection only. It was passion. Walter was pale, +agitated, eager; he kissed her hands impetuously, and drew her to his +bosom. She sobbed there; he poured inarticulate words over her, and still +held her, panting, to his beating heart. Even when the first gush of love +subsided a little he could not be so reasonable as he used to be. He was +wild against his own father, hers, and every obstacle, and implored her +to marry him at once by special license, and leave the old people to +untie the knot if they could. + +Then Mary was astonished and hurt. + +"A clandestine marriage, Mr. Clifford!" said she. "I thought you had +more respect for me than to mention such a thing." + +Then he had to beg her pardon, and say the separation had driven him mad. + +Then she forgave him. + +Then he took advantage of her clemency, and proceeded calmly to show her +it was their only chance. + +Then Mary forgot how severely she had checked him, and merely said that +was the last thing she would consent to, and bound him on his honor never +to mention to Julia Clifford that he had proposed such a thing. Walter +promised that readily enough, but stuck to his point; and as Mary's pride +was wounded, and she was a girl of great spirit though love-sick, she +froze to him, and soon after said she was very sorry, but she must not +stay too long or papa would be angry. She then begged him not to come out +of the parlor, or the servant would see him. + +"That is a trifle," said Walter. "I am going to obey you in greater +things than that. Ah! Mary, Mary, you don't love me as I love you!" + +"No, Walter," said Mary, "I do not love you as you love me, for I respect +you." Then her lip trembled, and her eyes filled with tears. + +Walter fell on his knees, and kissed her skirt several times; then ended +with her hand. "Oh, don't harbor such a thought as that!" said he. + +She sobbed, but made no reply. + +They parted good friends, but chilled. + +That made them both unhappy to think of. + +It was only two, or at the most three, days after this that, as Mary was +walking in the garden, a nosegay fell at her feet. She picked it up, and +immediately found a note half secreted in it. The next moment it was +entirely secreted in her bosom. She sauntered in-doors, and scudded +upstairs to her room to read it. + +The writer told her in a few agitated words that their fathers had met, +and he must speak to her directly. Would she meet him for a moment at the +garden gate at nine o'clock that evening? + +"No, no, no!" cried Mary, as if he was there. She was frightened. Suppose +they should be caught. The shame--the disgrace. But oh, the temptation! +Well, then, how wrong of him to tempt her! She must not go. There was no +time to write and refuse; but she must not go. She would not go. And in +this resolution she persisted. Nine o'clock struck, and she never moved. +Then she began to picture Walter's face of disappointment and his +unhappiness. At ten minutes past nine she tied a handkerchief round her +head and went. + +There he was at the gate, pale and agitated. He did not give her time to +scold him. + +"Pray forgive me," he said; "but I saw no other way. It is all over, +Mary, unless you love me as I love you." + +"Don't begin by doubting me," she said. "Tell me, dear." + +"It is soon told. Our fathers have met at that wretched pit, and the +foreman has told me what passed between them. My father complained that +mining for coal was not husbandry, and it was very unfair to do it, and +to smoke him out of house and home. (Unfortunately the wind was west, and +blew the smoke of the steam-engine over his lawn.) Your father said he +took the farm under that express stipulation. Colonel Clifford said, 'No; +the condition was smuggled in.' 'Then smuggle it out,' said Mr. Bartley." + +"Oh!" + +"If it had only ended there, Mary. But they were both in a passion, and +must empty their hearts. Colonel Clifford said he had every respect for +you, but had other views for his son. Mr. Bartley said he was thankful to +hear it, for he looked higher for his daughter. 'Higher in trade, I +suppose,' said my father; 'the Lord Mayor's nephew.' 'Well,' said Mr. +Bartley, 'I would rather marry her to money than to mortgages.' And the +end of it was they parted enemies for life." + +"No, no; not for life!" + +"For life, Mary. It is an old grudge revived. Indeed, the first quarrel +was only skinned over. Don't deceive yourself. We have nothing to do but +disobey them or part." + +"And you can say that, Walter? Oh, have a little patience!" + +"So I would," said Walter, "if there was any hope. But there is none. +There is nothing to wait for but the death of our parents, and by that +time I shall be an elderly man, and you will have lost your bloom and +wasted your youth--for what? No; I feel sometimes this will drive me mad, +or make me a villain. I am beginning to hate my own father, and everybody +else that thwarts my love. How can they earn my hate more surely? No, +Mary; I see the future as plainly as I see your dear face, so pale and +shocked. I can't help it. If you will marry me, and so make sure, I will +keep it secret as long as you like; I shall have got you, whatever they +may say or do; but if you won't, I'll leave the country at once, and get +peace if I can't get love." + +"Leave the country?" said Mary, faintly. "What good would that do?" + +"I don't know. Perhaps bring my father to his senses for one thing; +and--who knows?--perhaps you will listen to reason when you see I can't +wait for the consent of two egotists--for that is what they both +are--that have no real love or pity for you or me." + +"Ah," said Mary, with a deep sigh, "I see even men have their faults, and +I admired them so. They are impatient, selfish." + +"Yes, if it is selfish to defend one's self against brutal selfishness, I +am selfish; and that is better than to be a slave to egotists, and lie +down to be trodden on as you would do. Come, Mary, for pity's sake, +decide which you love best--your father, who does not care much for you, +or me, who adore you, and will give you a life of gratitude as well as +love, if you will only see things as they are and always will be, and +trust yourself to me as my dear, dear, blessed, adored wife!" + +"I love you best," said Mary, "and I hope it is not wicked. But I love +him too, though he does say 'wait.' And I respect _myself_, and I dare +not defy my parent, and I will not marry secretly; that is degrading. +And, oh, Walter, think how young I am and inexperienced, and you that are +so much older, and I hoped would be my guide and make me better; is it +you who tempt me to clandestine meetings that I blush for, and a +clandestine marriage for which I should despise myself?" + +Walter turned suddenly calm, for these words pricked his conscience. + +"You are right," said he. "I am a blackguard, and you are an angel of +purity and goodness. Forgive me, I will never tempt nor torment you +again. For pity's sake forgive me. You don't know what men's passions +are. Forgive me!" + +"With all my heart, dear," said Mary, crying gently. + +He put both arms suddenly round her neck and kissed her wet eyes with a +sigh of despair. Then he seemed to tear himself away by a great effort, +and she leaned limp and powerless on the gate, and heard his footsteps +die away into the night. They struck chill upon her foreboding heart, for +she felt that they were parted. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE GORDIAN KNOT. + + +Walter, however, would not despair until he had laid the alternative +before his father. He did so, firmly but coolly. + +His father, irritated by the scene with Bartley, treated Walter's +proposal with indignant scorn. + +Walter continued to keep his temper, and with some reluctance asked him +whether he owed nothing, not even a sacrifice of his prejudices, to a son +who had never disobeyed him, and had improved his circumstances. + +"Come, sir," said he; "when the happiness of my life is at stake I +venture to lay aside delicacy, and ask you whether I have not been a good +son, and a serviceable one to you?" + +"Yes, Walter," said the Colonel, "with this exception." + +"Then now or never give me my reward." + +"I'll try," said the grim Colonel; "but I see it will be hard work. +However, I'll try and save you from a _mesalliance_." + +"A _mesalliance_, sir? Why, she is a Clifford." + +"The deuce she is!" + +"As much a Clifford as I am." + +"That is news to me." + +"Why, one of her parents was a Clifford, and your own sister. And one of +mine was an Irish woman." + +"Yes; an O'Ryan; not a trader; not a small-coal man." + +"Like the Marquis of Londonderry, sir, and the Earl of Durham. Come, +father, don't sacrifice your son, and his happiness and his love for +you, to notions the world has outlived. Commerce does not lower a +gentleman, nor speculation either, in these days. The nobility and the +leading gentry of these islands are most of them in business. They are +all shareholders, and often directors of railways, and just as much +traders as the old coach proprietors were. They let their land, and so do +you, to the highest bidder, not for honor or any romantic sentiment, but +for money, and that is trade. Mr. Bartley is his own farmer; well, so was +Mr. Coke, of Norfolk, and the Queen made him a peer for it--what a +sensible sovereign! Are Rothschild and Montefiore shunned for their +speculations by the nobility? Whom do their daughters marry? Trade rules +the world, and keeps it from stagnation. Genius writes, or paints, or +plays Hamlet--for money; and is respected in exact proportion to the +amount of money it gets. Charity holds bazars, and sells at one hundred +per cent. profit, and nearly every new church is a trade speculation. Is +my happiness and hers to be sacrificed to the chimeras and crotchets that +everybody in England but you has outlived?" + +"All this," replied the unflinching sire, "I have read in the papers, and +my son shall not marry the daughter of a trader and cad who has insulted +me grossly; but that, I presume, you don't object to." + +This stung Walter so that he feared to continue the discussion. + +"I will not reply," said he. "You drive me to despair. I leave you to +reflect. Perhaps you will prize me when you see me no more." + +With this he left the room, packed up his clothes, went to the nearest +railway, off to London, collected his funds, crossed the water, and did +not write one word to Clifford Hall, except a line to Julia. "Left +England heart-broken, the victim of two egotists and my sweet Mary's weak +conscientiousness. God forgive me, I am angry even with her, but I don't +doubt her love." + +This missive and the general consternation at Clifford Hall brought Julia +full gallop to Mary Bartley. + +They read the letter together, and Julia was furious against Colonel +Clifford. But Mary interposed. + +"I am afraid," said she, "that I am the person who was most to blame." + +"Why, what have you done?" + +"He said our case was desperate, and waiting would not alter it; and he +should leave the country unless--" + +"Unless what? How can I advise you if you have any concealments from me?" + +"Well, then, it was unless I would consent to a clandestine marriage." + +"And you refused--very properly." + +"And I refused--very properly one would think--and what is the +consequence? I have driven the man I love away from his friends, as well +as from me, and now I begin to be very sorry for my properness." + +"But you don't blush for it as you would for the other. The idea! To be +married on the sly and to have to hide it from everybody, and to be found +out at last, or else be suspected of worse things." + +"What worse things?" + +"Never you mind, child; your womanly instinct is better than knowledge or +experience, and it has guided you straight. If you had consented, I +should have lost my respect for you." + +And then, as the small view of a thing is apt to enter the female head +along with the big view, she went on, with great animation: + +"And then for a young lady to sneak into a church without her friends, +with no carriages, no favors, no wedding cake, no bishop, no proper +dress, not even a bridal veil fit to be seen! Why, it ought to be the +great show of a girl's life, and she ought to be a public queen, at all +events for that one day, for ten to one she will be a slave all the rest +of her life if she loves the fellow." + +She paused for breath one moment. + +"And it isn't as if you were low people. Why, it reminds me of a thing I +read in some novel: a city clerk, or some such person, took a walk with +his sweetheart into the country, and all of a sudden he said, 'Why, there +is something hard in my pocket. What is it, I wonder? A plain gold ring. +Does it fit you? Try it on, Polly. Why, it fits you, I declare; then keep +it till further orders.' Then they walked a little further. 'Why, what is +this? Two pairs of white gloves. Try the little pair on, and I will try +the big ones. Stop! I declare here's a church, and the bells beginning +to ring. Why, who told them that I've got a special license in my pocket? +Hallo! there are two fellows hanging about; best men, witnesses, or some +such persons, I should not wonder. I think I know one of them; and here +is a parson coming over a stile! What an opportunity for us now just to +run in and get married! Come on, old girl, lend me that wedding ring a +minute, I'll give it you back again in the church.' No, thank you, Mr. +Walter; we love you very dearly, but we are ladies, and we respect +ourselves." + +In short, Julia confirmed Mary Bartley in her resolution, but she could +not console her under the consequences. Walter did not write a line +even to her; she couldn't but fear that he was really in despair, and +would cure himself of his affection if he could. She began to pine; the +roses faded gradually out of her cheeks, and Mr. Bartley himself began +at last to pity her, for though he did not love her, he liked her, and +was proud of her affection. Another thing, Hope might come home now any +day, and if he found the girl sick and pining, he might say this is a +breach of contract. + +He asked Mary one day whether she wouldn't like a change. "I could take +you to the sea-side," said he, but not very cordially. + +"No, papa," said Mary; "why should you leave your mine when everything is +going so prosperously? I think I should like to go to the lakes, and pay +my old nurse a visit." + +"And she would talk to you of Walter Clifford?" + +"Yes, papa," said Mary, firmly, "she would; and that's the only thing +that can do me any good." + +"Well, Mary," said Bartley, "if she could be content with praising him, +and regretting the insuperable obstacles, and if she would encourage you +to be patient--There, let me think of it." + +Things went hard with Colonel Clifford. He felt his son's desertion very +bitterly, though he was too proud to show it; he now found out that +universally as he was _respected_, it was Walter who was the most beloved +both in the house and in the neighborhood. + +One day he heard a multitude shouting, and soon learned the reason. +Bartley had struck a rich vein of coal, and tons were coming up to the +surface. Colonel Clifford would not go near the place, but he sent old +Baker to inquire, and Baker from that day used to bring him back a number +of details, some of them especially galling to him. By degrees, and rapid +ones, Bartley was becoming a rival magnate; the poor came to him for the +slack, or very small coal, and took it away gratis; they flattered him, +and to please him, spoke slightingly of Colonel Clifford, which they had +never ventured to do before. But soon a circumstance occurred which +mortified the old soldier more than all. He was sole proprietor of the +village, and every house in it, with the exception of a certain +beer-house, flanked by an acre and a half of ground. This beer-house was +a great eye-sore to him; he tried to buy this small freeholder out; but +the man saw his advantage, and demanded L1500--nearly treble the real +value. Walter, however, by negotiating in a more friendly spirit, had +obtained a reduction, and was about to complete the purchase for L1150. +But when Walter left the country the proprietor never dreamed of going +again to the haughty Colonel. He went to Bartley, and Bartley bought the +property in five minutes for L1200, and paid a deposit to clinch the +contract. He completed the purchase with unheard-of rapidity, and set an +army of workmen to raise a pit village, or street of eighty houses. They +were ten times better built than the Colonel's cottages; not one of them +could ever be vacant, they were too great a boon to the miners; nor could +the rent be in arrears, with so sharp a hand as the mine-owner; the +beer-house was to be perpetuated, and a nucleus of custom secured from +the miners, partly by the truck system, and partly by the superiority of +the liquor, for Bartley announced at once that he should brew the beer. + +All these things were too much for a man with gout in his system; Colonel +Clifford had a worse attack of that complaint than ever; it rose from his +feet to other parts of his frame, and he took to his bed. + +In that condition a physician and surgeon visited him daily, and his +lawyer also was sent for, and was closeted with him for a long time on +more than one occasion. + +All this caused a deal of speculation in the village, and as a system +of fetch and carry was now established by which the rival magnates also +received plenty of information, though not always accurate, about each +other, Mr. Bartley heard what was going on, and put his own +construction upon it. + + * * * * * + +Just when Mr. Hope was expected to return came a letter to Mary to say +that he should be detained a day or two longer, as he had a sore throat +and fever, but nothing alarming. Three or four days later came a letter +only signed by him, to say he had a slight attack of typhoid fever, and +was under medical care. + +Mary implored Mr. Bartley to let her go to him. He refused, and gave his +reasons, which were really sufficient, and now he became more unwilling +than ever to let her visit Mrs. Easton. + +This was the condition of affairs when one day an old man with white +hair, dressed in black, and looking almost a gentleman, was driven up to +the farm by Colonel Clifford's groom, and asked, in an agitated voice, if +he might see Miss Mary Bartley. + +Her visitors were so few that she was never refused on speculation, so +John Baker was shown at once into her drawing-room. He was too much +agitated to waste time. + +"Oh, Miss Bartley," said he, "we are in great distress at the Hall. Mr. +Walter has gone, and not left his address, and my poor master is dying!" + +Mary uttered an unfeigned exclamation of horror. + +"Ah, miss," said the old man, "God bless you; you feel for us, I'm not on +the old man's side, miss; I'm on Mr. Walter's side in this as I was in +the other business, but now I see my poor old master lying pale and +still, not long for this world, I do begin to blame myself. I never +thought that he would have taken it all to heart like this. But, there, +the only thing now is to bring them together before he goes. We don't +know his address, miss; we don't know what country he is in. He sent a +line to Miss Clifford a month ago from Dover, but that is all; but, in +course, he writes to you--_that_ stands to reason; you'll give me his +address, miss, won't you? and we shall all bless you." + +Mary turned pale, and the tears streamed down her eyes. "Oh, sir," said +she, "I'd give the world if I could tell you. I know who you are; my poor +Walter has often spoken of you to me, Mr. Baker. One word from you would +have been enough; I would have done anything for you that I could. But he +has never written to me at all. I am as much deserted as any of you, and +I have felt it as deeply as any father can, but never have I felt it as +now. What! The father to die, and his son's hand not in his; no looks of +love and forgiveness to pass between them as the poor old man leaves this +world, its ambitions and its quarrels, and perhaps sees for the first +time how small they all are compared with the love of those that love us, +and the peace of God!" Then this ardent girl stretched out both her +hands. "O God, if my frivolous life has been innocent, don't let me be +the cause of this horrible thing; don't let the father die without +comfort, nor the son without forgiveness, for a miserable girl who has +come between them and meant no harm!" + +This eloquent burst quite overpowered poor old John Baker. He dropped +into a chair, his white head sunk upon his bosom, he sobbed and trembled, +and for the first time showed his age. + +"What on earth is the matter?" said Mr. Bartley's voice, as cold as an +icicle, at the door. Mary sprang toward him impetuously. "Oh, papa!" she +cried, "Colonel Clifford is dying, and we don't know where Walter is; we +can't know." + +"Wait a little," said Bartley, in some agitation. "My letters have just +come in, and I thought I saw a foreign postmark." He slipped back into +the hall, brought in several letters, selected one, and gave it to Mary, +"This is for you, from Marseilles." + +He then retired to his study, and without the least agitation or the +least loss of time returned with a book of telegraph forms. + +Meanwhile Mary tore the letter open, and read it eagerly to John Baker. + +"GRAND HOTEL, NOAILLES, MARSEILLES, _May_ 16. + +"MY OWN DEAR LOVE,--I have vowed that I will not write again to tempt you +to anything you think wrong; but it looks like quarrelling to hide my +address from you. Only I do beg of you, as the only kindness you can do +me now, never to let it be known by any living creature at Clifford Hall. + +"Yours till death, WALTER." + +Mr. Bartley entered with the telegraph forms, and said to Mary, sharply, +"Where is he?" Mary told him. "Well, write him a telegram. It shall be at +the railway in half an hour, at Marseilles theoretically in one hour, +practically in four." + +Mary sat down and wrote her telegram: "Pray come to Clifford Hall. Your +father is dangerously ill." + +"Show it to me," said Bartley. And on perusing it: "A woman's telegram. +Don't frighten him too much; leave him the option to come or stay." + +He tore it up, and said, "Now write a business telegram, and make sure of +the thing you want." + +"Come home directly--your father is dying." + +Old Baker started up. "God bless you, sir," says he, "and God bless you, +miss, and make you happy one day. I'll take it myself, as my trap is at +the door." He bustled out, and his carriage drove away at a great rate. + +Mr. Bartley went quietly to his study to business without another word, +and Mary leaned back a little exhausted by the scene, but a smile almost +of happiness came and tarried on her sweet face for the first time these +many days; as for old John Baker, he told his tale triumphantly at the +Hall, and not without vanity, for he was proud of his good judgment in +going to Mary Bartley. + +To the old housekeeper, a most superior woman of his own age, and almost +a lady, he said something rather remarkable which he was careful not to +bestow on the young wags in the servants' hall: "Mrs. Milton," says he, +"I am an old man, and have knocked about at home and abroad, and seen a +deal of life, but I've seen something to-day that I never saw before." + +"Ay, John, surely; and what ever was that?" + +"I've seen an angel pray to God, and I have seen God answer her." + +From that day Mary had two stout partisans in Clifford Hall. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Bartley's views about Mary now began to waver. It occurred to him +that should Colonel Clifford die and Walter inherit his estates, he could +easily come to terms with the young man so passionately devoted to his +daughter. He had only to say: "I can make no allowance at present, but +I'll settle my whole fortune upon Mary and her children after my death, +if you'll make a moderate settlement at present," and Walter would +certainly fall into this, and not demand accounts from Mary's trustee. So +now he would have positively encouraged Mary in her attachment, but one +thing held him back a little: he had learned by accident that the last +entail of Clifford Hall and the dependent estates dated two generations +back, so that the entail expired with Colonel Clifford, and this had +enabled the Colonel to sell some of the estates, and clearly gave him +power now to leave Clifford Hall away from his son. Now the people who +had begun to fetch and carry tales between the two magnates told him of +the lawyer's recent visits to Clifford Hall, and he had some misgivings +that the Colonel had sent for the lawyer to alter his will and +disinherit, in whole or in part, his absent and rebellious son. All this +taken together made Mr. Bartley resolve to be kinder to Mary in her love +affair than he ever had been, but still to be guarded and cautious. + +"Mary, my dear," said he, "I am sure you'll be on thorns till this young +man comes home; perhaps now would be a good time to pay your visit to +Mrs. Easton." + +"Oh, papa, how good of you! but it's twenty miles, I believe, to where +she is staying at the lakes." + +"No, no," said Mr. Bartley; "she's staying with her sister Gilbert; quite +within a drive." + +"Are you sure, papa?" + +"Quite sure, my dear; she wrote to me yesterday about her little pension; +the quarter is just due." + +"What! do you allow her a pension?" + +"Certainly, my dear, or rather I pay her little stipend as before: how +surprised you look, Mary! Why, I'm not like that old Colonel, intolerant +of other people's views, when they advance them civilly. That woman +helped me to save your life in a very great danger, and for many years +she has been as careful as a mother, and we are not, so to say, at +daggers drawn about Walter Clifford. Why, I only demand a little +prudence and patience both from you and from her. Now tell me. Is there +proper accommodation for you in Mrs. Gilbert's house?" + +"Oh yes, papa; it is a farm-house now, but it was a grand place. There's +a beautiful spare room with an oriel-window." + +"Well, then, you secure that, and write to-day to have a blazing fire, +and the bed properly aired as well as the sheets, and you shall go +to-morrow in the four-wheel; and you can take her her little stipend in +a letter." + +This sudden kindness and provision for her health and happiness filled +Mary's heart to overflowing, and her gratitude gushed forth upon Mr. +Bartley's neck. The old fox blandly absorbed it, and took the opportunity +to say, "Of course it is understood that matters are to go no further +between you and Walter Clifford. Oh, I don't mean that you're to make him +unhappy, or drive him to despair; only insist upon his being patient like +yourself. Everything comes sooner or later to those that can wait." + +"Oh, papa," cried Mary, "you've said more to comfort me than Mrs. Easton +or anybody can; but I feel the change will do me good. I am, oh, so +grateful!" + +So Mary wrote her letter, and went to Mrs. Easton next day. After the +usual embraces, she gave Mrs. Easton the letter, and was duly installed +in the state bedroom. She wrote to Julia Clifford to say where she was, +and that was her way of letting Walter Clifford know. + +Walter himself arrived at Clifford Hall next day, worn, anxious, and +remorseful, and was shown at once to his father's bedside. The Colonel +gave him a wasted hand, and said: + +"Dear boy, I thought you'd come. We've had our last quarrel, Walter." + +Walter burst into tears over his father's hand, and nothing was said +between them about their temporary estrangement. + +The first thing Walter did was to get two professional nurses from +Derby, and secure his father constant attention night and day, and, above +all, nourishment at all hours of the night when the patient would take +it. On the afternoon after his arrival the Colonel fell into a sound +sleep. Then Walter ordered his horse, and in less than an hour was at +Mrs. Gilbert's place. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE KNOT CUT.--ANOTHER TIED. + + +The farm-house the Gilberts occupied had been a family mansion of great +antiquity with a moat around it. It was held during the civil war by a +stout royalist, who armed and garrisoned it after a fashion with his own +servants. This had a different effect to what he intended. It drew the +attention of one of Cromwell's generals, and he dispatched a party with +cannon and petards to reduce the place, whilst he marched on to join +Cromwell in enterprises of more importance. The detachment of Roundheads +summoned the place. The royalist, to show his respect for their +authority, made his kitchen wench squeak a defiance from an upper +window, from which she bolted with great rapidity as soon as she had +thus represented the valor of the establishment, and when next seen it +was in the cellar, wedged in between two barrels of beer. The men went +at it hammer and tongs, and in twenty-four hours a good many +cannon-balls traversed the building, a great many stuck in the walls +like plums in a Christmas pudding, the doors were blown in with petards, +and the principal defenders, with a few wounded Roundheads, were carried +off to Cromwell himself; whilst the house itself was fired, and blazed +away merrily. + +Cromwell threatened the royalist gentleman with death for defending an +untenable place. + +"I didn't know it was untenable," said the gentleman. "How could I till +I had tried?" + +"You had the fate of fortified places to instruct you," said Cromwell, +and he promised faithfully to hang him on his own ruins. + +The gentleman turned pale and his lips quivered, but he said, "Well, Mr. +Cromwell, I've fought for my royal master according to my lights, and I +can die for him." + +"You shall, sir," said Mr. Cromwell. + +About next morning Mr. Cromwell, who had often a cool fit after a hot +one, and was a very big man, take him altogether, gave a different order. +"The fool thought he was doing his duty; turn him loose." + +The fool in question was so proud of his battered house that he left it +standing there, bullets and all, and built him a house elsewhere. + +King Charles the Second had not landed a month before he made him a +baronet, and one tenant after another occupied a portion of the old +mansion. Two state-rooms were roofed and furnished with the relics of the +entire mansion, and these two rooms the present baronet's surveyor +occupied at rare intervals when he was inspecting the large properties +connected with the baronet's estate. + +Mary Bartley now occupied these two rooms, connected by folding-doors, +and she sat pensive in the oriel-window of her bedroom. Young ladies +cling to their bedrooms, especially when they are pretty and airy. +Suddenly she heard a scurry and patter of a horse's hoof, reined up at +the side of the house. She darted from the window and stood panting in +the middle of the room. The next minute Mrs. Easton entered the +sitting-room all in a flutter, and beckoned her. Mary flew to her. + +"He is here." + +"I thought he would be." + +"Will you meet him down-stairs?" + +"No, here." + +Mrs. Easton acquiesced, rapidly closed the folding-doors, and went out, +saying, "Try and calm yourself, Miss Mary." + +Miss Mary tried to obey her, but Walter rushed in impetuously, pale, +worn, agitated, yet enraptured at the first sight of her, and Mary threw +herself round his neck in a moment, and he clasped her fluttering bosom +to his beating heart, and this was the natural result of the restraint +they had put upon a passionate affection: for what says the dramatist +Destouches, improving upon Horace, so that in England his immortal line +is given to Moliere. "_Chassez le naturel, il revient au galop_." + +The next thing was, they held each other at arm's-length, and mourned +over each other. + +"Oh, my poor Mary, how ill you look!" + +"Oh, my poor Walter, how pale and worn!" + +"It's all my fault," said Mary. + +"No; it's all mine," said Walter. + +And so they blamed themselves, and grieved over each other, and vowed +that come what might they would never part again. But, lo and behold! +Walter went on from that to say: + +"And that we may never part again let us marry at once, and put our +happiness out of the reach of accidents." + +"What!" said Mary. "Defy your father upon his dying bed." + +"Oh no," said Walter, "that I could not do. I mean marry secretly, and +announce it after his decease, if I am to lose him." + +"And why not wait till after his decease?" said Mary. + +"Because, then, the laws of society would compel us to wait six months, +and in that six months some infernal obstacle or other would be sure to +occur, and another would be sure to follow. I am a great deal older than +you, and I see that whoever procrastinates happiness, risks it; and +whoever shilly-shallies with it deserves to lose it, and generally does." + +Where young ladies are concerned, logic does not carry all before it, +and so Mary opposed all manner of feminine sentiments, and ended by +saying she could not do such a thing. + +Then Walter began to be mortified and angry; then she cunningly shifted +the responsibility, and said she would consult Mrs. Easton. + +"Then consult her in my presence," said Walter. + +Mary had not bargained for that; she had intended to secure Mrs. Easton +on her side, and then take her opinion. However, as Walter's proposal was +fair, she called Mrs. Easton, and they put the case to her, and asked her +to give her candid opinion. + +Mrs. Easton, however, took alarm at the gravity of the proposal, and told +them both she knew things that were unknown to both of them, and it was +not so easy for her to advise. + +"Well, but," said Walter, "if you know more than we do, you are the very +person that can advise. All I know is that if we are not married now, I +shall have to wait six months at least, and if I stay here Mr. Bartley +and I shall quarrel, and he will refuse me Mary; and if I go abroad again +I shall get knocked on the head, or else Mary will pine away again, and +Bartley will send her to Madeira, and we shall lose our happiness, as all +shilly-shallying fools do." + +Mrs. Easton made no reply to this, though she listened attentively to it. +She walked to the window and thought quietly to herself; then she came +back again and sat down, and after a pause she said, very gravely, +"Knowing all I know, and seeing all I see, I advise you two to marry at +once by special license, and keep it secret from every one who knows +you--but myself--till a proper time comes to reveal it; and it's borne in +upon me that that time will come before long, even if Colonel Clifford +should not die this bout, which everybody says he will." + +"Oh, nurse," said Mary, faintly, "I little thought that you'd be +against me." + +"Against you, Miss Mary!" said Mrs. Eastern, with much feeling. "I admire +Mr. Walter very much, as any woman must with eyes in her head, and I love +him for loving of you so truly, and like a man, for it does not become a +man to shilly-shally, but I never saw him till he _was_ a man, but you +are the child I nursed, and prayed over, and trembled for in sickness, +and rejoiced over in health, and left a good master because I saw he did +not love you so well as I did." + +These words went to Mary's heart, and she flew to her nurse, and hung +weeping round her neck. Her tears made the manly but tender-hearted +Walter give a sort of gulp. Mary heard it, and put her white hand out to +him. He threw himself upon his knees, and kissed it devotedly, and the +coy girl was won. + +From this hour Walter gave her no breathing-time; he easily talked over +old Baker, and got him to excuse his short absence; he turned his hunters +into roadsters, and rode them very hard; he got the special license; he +squared a clergyman at the head of the lake, who was an old friend of his +and fond of fees, and in three days after her consent, Mary and Mrs. +Easton drove a four-wheeled carriage Walter had lent them to the little +hotel at the lakes. Walter had galloped over at eleven o'clock, and they +all three took a little walk together. Walter Clifford and Mary Bartley +returned from that walk MAN AND WIFE. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE. + + +Walter Clifford and Mary sat at a late breakfast in a little inn that +looked upon a lake, which appeared to them more lovely than the lake of +Thun or of Lucerne. He beamed steadily at her with triumphant rapture; +she stole looks at him of wonder, admiration, and the deepest love. + +As they had nothing now to argue about, they only spoke a few words at a +time, but these were all musical with love. + +To them, as we dramatists say, entered Mrs. Easton, with signs of hurry. + +"Miss Mary--" said she. + +"Mrs. Mary," suggested Walter, meekly. + +Mrs. Mary blew him a kiss. + +"Ay, ay," said Mrs. Easton, smiling. "Of course you will both hate me, +but I have come to take you home, Mistress Mary." + +"Home!" said Mary; "why, this feels like home." + +"No doubt," said Mrs. Easton, "but, for all that, in half an hour we +must start." + +The married couple remonstrated with one accord, but Mrs. Easton was +firm. "I dreamed," said she, "that we were all found out--and that's a +warning. Mr. Walter, you know that you'll be missed at Clifford Hall, and +didn't ought to leave your father another day. And you, Miss Mary, do but +think what a weight I have taken upon my shoulders, and don't put off +coming home, for I am almost shaking with anxiety, and for sure and +certain my dream it was a warning, and there's something in the wind." + +They were both so indebted to this good woman that they looked at each +other piteously, but agreed. Walter rang the bell, and ordered the +four-wheeler and his own nag. + +"Mary, one little walk in that sweet garden." + +"Yes, dear," said Mary, and in another moment they were walking in the +garden, intertwined like the ivy and the oak, and purring over their +present delights and glowing prospects. + +In the mean time Mrs. Easton packed up their things: Walter's were +enrolled in a light rug with straps, which went upon his saddle. They +left the little inn, Mary driving. When they had gone about two miles +they came to cross-roads. + +"Please pull up," said Mrs. Easton; then turning to Walter, who was +riding ridiculously close to Mary's whip hand, "Isn't that the way to +Clifford Hall?" + +"It's one way," said he; "but I don't mean to go that way. How can I? +It's only three miles more round by your house." + +"Nurse," said Mary, appealingly. + +"Ay, ay, poor things," said Mrs. Easton. "Well, well, don't loiter, +anyway. I shall not be my own woman again till we're safe at the farm." + +So they drove briskly on, and in about an hour more they got to a long +hill, whence they could see the Gilberts' farm. + +"There, nurse," said Mary, pouting a little, "now I hope you're content, +for we have got safe home, and he and I shall not have a happy day +together again." + +"Oh yes, you will, and many happy years," said Mrs. Easton. "Well, yes, I +don't feel so fidgety now." + +"Oh!" cried Mary, all of a sudden. "Why, there's our gray mare coming +down the hill with the dog-cart! Who's that driving her? It's not papa. I +declare it's Mr. Hope, come home safe and sound. Dear Mr. Hope! Oh, now +my happiness is perfect!" + +"Mr. Hope!" screamed Mrs. Easton. "Drive faster, for Heaven's sake! Turn +your horse, sir, and gallop away from us as hard as you can!" + +"Well, but, Mrs. Easton--" objected Walter. + +Mrs. Easton stood up in the carriage. "Man alive!" she screamed, "you +know nothing, and I know a deal; begone, or you are no friend of mine: +you'll make me curse the hour that I interfered." + +"Go, darling," said Mary, kindly, and so decidedly that he turned his +horse directly, gave her one look of love and disappointment, and +galloped away. + +Mary looked pale and angry, and drove on in sullen silence. + +Mrs. Easton was too agitated to mind her angry looks. She kept wiping +the perspiration from her brow with her handkerchief, and speaking in +broken sentences: "If we could only get there first--fool not to teach +my sister her lesson before we went, she's such a simpleton!--can't you +drive faster?" + +"Why, nurse," said Mary, "don't be so afraid of Mr. Hope. It's not him +I'm afraid of; it's papa." + +"Yon don't know what you're talking about, child. Mr. Bartley is easily +blinded; I won't tell you why. It isn't so with Mr. Hope. Oh, if I could +only get in to have one word with my simple sister before he turns her +inside out!" + +This question was soon decided. Hope drove up to the door whilst Mary and +Mrs. Eastern were still some distance off and hidden by a turn in the +road. When they emerged again into sight of the farm they just caught +sight of Hope's back, and Mrs. Gilbert curtseying to him and ushering him +into the house. + +"Drive into the stable-yard," said Mrs. Easton, faintly. "He mustn't see +your travelling basket, anyway." + +She told the servant to put the horse into the stable immediately, and +the basket into the brew-house. Then she hurried Mary up the back +stairs to her room, and went with a beating heart to find Mr. Hope and +her sister. + +Mrs. Gilbert, though a simple and unguarded woman, could read faces like +the rest, and she saw at once that her sister was very much put out by +this visit of Mr. Hope, and wanted to know what had passed between her +and him. This set the poor woman all in a flutter for fear she should +have said something injudicious, and there-upon she prepared to find out, +if possible, what she ought to have said. + +"What! Mr. Hope!" said Mrs. Easton. "Well, Mary will be glad. And have +you been long home, sir?" + +"Came last night," said Hope. "She hasn't been well, I hear. What is the +matter?" And he looked very anxious. + +"Well, sir," said Mrs. Easton, very guardedly, "she certainly gave me a +fright when she came here. She looked quite pale; but whether it was +that she wanted a change--but whatever it was, it couldn't be very +serious. You shall judge for yourself. Sister, go to Miss Mary's room, +and tell her." + +Mrs. Easton, in giving this instruction, frowned at her sister as much as +to say, "Now don't speak, but go." + +When she was gone, the next thing was to find out if the woman had made +any foolish admission to Mr. Hope; so she waited for him. + +She had not long to wait. + +Hope said: "I hardly expected to see you; your sister said you were +from home." + +"Well, sir," said Mrs. Easton, "we were not so far off, but we did come +home a little sooner than we intended, and I am rare glad we did, for +Miss Mary wouldn't have missed you for all the _views_ in the county." + +With that she made an excuse, and left him. She found her sister in +Mary's room: they were comparing notes. + +"Now," said she to Mrs. Gilbert, "you tell me every word you said to Mr. +Hope about Miss Mary and me." + +"Well, I said you were not at home, and that is every word; he didn't +give me time to say any more for questioning of me about her health." + +"That's lucky," said Mrs. Easton, dryly. "Thank Heaven, there's no harm +done; he sha'n't see the carriage." + +"Dear me, nurse," said Mary, "all this time I'm longing to see him." + +"Well, you shall see him, if you won't own to having been a night +from home." + +Mary promised, and went eagerly to Mr. Hope. It did not come natural to +her to be afraid of him, and she was impatient for the day to come when +she might tell him the whole story. The reception he gave her was not of +a nature to discourage this feeling; his pale face--for he had been very +ill--flushed at sight of her, his eyes poured affection upon her, and he +held out both hands to her. "This the pale girl they frightened me +about!" said he. "Why, you're like the roses in July." + +"That's partly with seeing of you, sir," said Mrs. Easton, quietly +following, "but we do take some credit to ourselves too; for Miss Mary +_was_ rather pale when she came here a week ago; but la, young folks want +a change now and then." + +"Nurse," said Mary, "I really was not well, and you have done wonders for +me, and I hope you won't think me ungrateful, but I _must_ go home with +Mr. Hope." + +Hope's countenance flushed with delight, and Mrs. Easton saw in a moment +that Mary's affection was co-operating with her prudence. "I thought that +would be her first word, sir," said she. "Why, of course you will, miss. +There, don't you take any trouble; we'll pack up your things and put them +in the dog-cart; but you must eat a morsel both of you before you go. +There's a beautiful piece of beef in the pot, not oversalted, and some +mealy potatoes and suet dumplings. You sit down and have your chat, +whilst Polly and I get everything ready for you." + +Then Mary asked Mr. Hope so many questions with such eager affection that +he had no time to ask her any, and then she volunteered the home news, +especially of Colonel Clifford's condition, and then she blushed and +asked him if he had said anything to her father about Walter Clifford. + +"Not much," said Mr. Hope. "You are very young, Mary, and it's not for me +to interfere, and I won't interfere. But if you want my opinion, why, I +admire the young man extremely. I always liked him; he is a +straightforward, upright, manly, good-hearted chap, and has lots of +plain good sense--Heaven knows where he got it!" + +This eulogy was interrupted by Mary putting a white hand and a perfect +nose upon Hope's shoulder, and kissing the cloth thereon. + +"What," said Hope, tenderly, and yet half sadly--for he knew that all +middle-aged men must now be second--"have I found the way to your heart?" + +"You always knew that, Mr. Hope," said Mary, softly; "especially since my +escapade in that horrid brook." + +Their affectionate chat was interrupted by a stout servant laying a snowy +cloth, and after her sailed in Mrs. Gilbert, with a red face, and pride +unconcealed and justifiable, carrying a grand dish of smoking hot boiled +beef, set in a very flower bed, so to speak, of carrots, turnips, and +suet dumplings; the servant followed with a brown basin, almost as big as +a ewer, filled with mealy potatoes, whose jackets hung by a thread. +Around this feast the whole party soon collected, and none of them sighed +for Russian soups or French ragouts; for the fact is that under the title +of boiled beef there exist two things, one of which, without any great +impropriety, might be called junk; but this was the powdered beef of our +ancestors, a huge piece just slightly salted in the house itself, so that +the generous juice remained in it, but the piquant slices, with the mealy +potatoes, made a delightful combination. The glasses were filled with +home-brewed ale, sparkling and clear and golden as the finest Madeira. +They all ate manfully, stimulated by the genial hostess. Even Mary +outshone all her former efforts, and although she couldn't satisfy Mrs. +Gilbert, she declared she had never eaten so much in all her life. This +set good Mrs. Gilbert's cheeks all aglow with simple, honest +satisfaction. + +Hope drove Mary home in the dog-cart. He was a happy man, but she could +hardly be called a happy woman. She was warm and cold by turns. She had +got her friend back, and that was a comfort, but she was not treating him +with confidence; indeed, she was passively deceiving him, and that +chilled her; but then it would not be for long, and that comforted her, +and yet even when the day should come for the great doors of Clifford +Hall to fly open to her, would not a sad, reproachful look from dear Mr. +Hope somewhat imbitter her cup of happiness? Deceit, and even reticence, +did not come so natural to her as they do to many women: she was not +weak, and she was frank, though very modest. + +Mr. Bartley met them at the door, and, owing to Hope's presence, was more +demonstrative than usual. He seemed much pleased at Mary's return, and +delighted at her appearance. + +"Well," said he, "I am glad I sent you away for a week. We have all +missed you, my dear, but the change has set you up again, I never saw you +look better. Now you are well, we must try and keep you well." + + * * * * * + +We must leave the reader to imagine the mixed feelings with which Mrs. +Walter Clifford laid her head upon the pillow that night, and we +undertake to say that the female readers, at all events, will supply this +blank in our narrative much better than we could, though we were to fill +a chapter with that subject alone. + + * * * * * + +Passion is a terrible enemy to mere affection. Walter Clifford loved his +father dearly, yet for twenty-four hours he had almost forgotten him. +But the moment he turned his horse's head toward Clifford Hall, +uneasiness and something very like remorse began to seize him. Suppose +his father had asked for him, and wondered where he was, and felt +himself deserted and abandoned in his dying moments. He spurred his +horse to a gallop, and soon reached Clifford Hall. As he was afraid to +go straight to his father's room, he went at once to old Baker, and +said, in an agitated voice, + +"One word, John--is he alive?" + +"Yes, sir, he is," said John, gravely, and rather sternly. + +"Has he asked for me?" + +"More than once or twice, sir." + +Walter sank into a chair, and covered his face with his hands. This +softened the old servant, whose manner till then had been sullen +and grim. + +"You need not fret, Mr. Walter," said he; "it's all right. In course I +know where you have been." + +Walter looked up alarmed. + +"I mean in a general way," said the old man. "You have been a-courting of +an angel. I know her, sir, and I hope to be her servant some day; and if +you was to marry any but her, I'd leave service altogether, and so would +Rhoda Milton; but, Mr. Walter, sir, there's a time for everything: I hope +you'll forgive me for saying so. However you are here now, and I was +wide-awake, and I have made it all right, sir." + +"That's impossible," said Walter. "How could you make it right with my +poor dear father, if in his last moments he felt himself neglected?" + +"But he didn't feel himself neglected." + +"I don't understand you," said Walter. + +"Well, sir," said old Baker, "I'm an old servant, and I have done my duty +to father and son according to my lights: I told him a lie." + +"A lie, John!" said Walter. + +"A thundering lie," said John, rather aggressively. "I don't know as I +ever told a greater lie in all my life. I told him you was gone up to +London to fetch a doctor." + +Walter grasped John Baker's hand. "God bless you, old man," said he, "for +taking that on your conscience! Well, you sha'n't have yourself to +reproach for my fault. I know a first-class gout doctor in London; he has +cured it more than once. I'll wire him down this minute; you'll dispatch +the message, and I'll go to my father." + +The message was sent, and when the Colonel awoke from an uneasy slumber +he saw his son at the foot of the bed, gazing piteously at him. + +"My dear boy," said he, faintly, and held out a wasted hand. Walter was +pricked to the heart at this greeting: not a word of remonstrance at +his absence. + +"I fear you missed me, father," said he, sadly. + +"That I have," said the old man; "but I dare say you didn't forget me, +though you weren't by my side." + +The high-minded old soldier said no more, and put no questions, but +confided in his son's affection, and awaited the result of it. From that +hour Walter Clifford nursed his father day and night. Dr. Garner arrived +next day. He examined the patient, and put a great many questions as to +the history and progress of the disorder up to that date, and inquired +in particular what was the length of time the fits generally endured. +Here he found them all rather hazy. "Ah," said he, "patients are seldom +able to assist their medical adviser with precise information on this +point, yet it's very important. Well, can you tell me how long this +attack has lasted?" + +They told him that within a day or two. + +"Then now," said he, "the most important question of all: What day did +the pain leave his extremities?" + +The patient and John Baker had to compare notes to answer this question, +and they made it out to be about twenty days. + +"Then he ought to be as dead as a herring," whispered the doctor. + +After this he began to walk the room and meditate, with his hands +behind him. + +"Open those top windows," said he. "Now draw the screen, and give his +lungs a chance; no draughts must blow upon him, you know." Then he drew +Walter aside. "Do you want to know the truth? Well, then, his life hangs +on a thread. The gout is creeping upward, and will inevitably kill him +if we can't get it down. Nothing but heroic remedies will do that, and +it's three to five against them. What do you say?" + +"I dare not--I dare not. Pray put the question to _him_." + +"I will," said the doctor; and accordingly he did put it to him with a +good deal of feeling and gentleness, and the answer rather surprised him. + +Weak as he was, Colonel Clifford's dull eye flashed, and he half raised +himself on his elbow. "What a question to put to a soldier!" said he. +"Why, let us fight, to be sure. I thought it was twenty to one--five to +three? I have often won the rubber with five to three against me." + +"Ah!" said Dr. Garner, "these are the patients that give the doctor a +chance." Then he turned to Baker. "Have you any good champagne in the +house--not sweet, and not too dry, and full of fire?" + +"Irroy's Carte d'Or," suggested the patient, entering into the business +with a certain feeble alacrity that showed his gout had not always been +unconnected with imprudence in diet. + +Baker was sent for the champagne. It was brought and opened, and the +patient drank some of it fizzing. When he had drank what he could, his +eyes twinkled, and he said, + +"That's a hair of a dog that has often bitten me." + +The wine soon got into his weakened head, and he dropped asleep. + +"Another draught when he wakes," said the doctor, "but from a +fresh bottle." + +"We'll finish this one to your health in the servants' hall," said honest +John Baker. + +Dr. Garner staid there all night, keeping up the patient's strength with +eggs and brandy, and everything, in short, except medicine; and he also +administered champagne, but at much longer intervals. + +At one o'clock next day the patient gave a dismal groan; Walter and the +others started up in alarm. + +"Good!" said the doctor, calmly; "now I'll go to bed. Call me if there's +any fresh symptom." + +At six o'clock old Baker burst in the room: "Sir, sir, he have swore at +me twice. The Lord be praised!" + +"Excellent!" said the doctor. "Now tell me what disagrees with him most +after champagne?" + +"Why, Green Chartreuse, to be sure," said old Baker. + +"Then give him a table-spoonful," said the doctor. "Get me some +hot water." + +"Which first?" inquired Baker. + +"The patient, to be sure," said Dr. Garner. + +Soon after this the doctor stood by his patient's side, and found him +writhing, and, to tell the truth, he was using bad language occasionally, +though he evidently tried not to. + +Dr. Garner looked at his watch. "I think there's time to catch the +evening train." + +"Why," said Walter, "surely you would not desert us; this is the crisis, +is it not?" + +"It's something more than that," said the doctor; "the disease knows its +old place; it has gone back to the foot like a shot; and if you can keep +it there, the patient will live; he's not the sort of patient that +strikes his colors while there's a bastion left to defend." + +These words pleased the old Colonel so that he waved a feeble hand above +his head, then groaned most dismally, and ground his teeth to avoid +profanity. + +The doctor, with exquisite gentleness, drew the clothes off his feet, and +sent for a lot of fleecy cotton or wool, and warned them all not to touch +the bed, nor even to approach the lower part of it, and then he once more +proposed to leave, and gave his reasons. + +"Now, look here, you know, I have done my part, and if I give special +instructions to the nurses, they can do the rest. I'm rather dear, and +why should you waste your money?" + +"Dear!" said Walter, warmly; "you're as cheap as dirt, and as good as +gold, and the very sight of you is a comfort to us. There's a fast train +at ten; I'll drive you to the station after breakfast myself. Your +fees--they are nothing to us. We love him, and we are the happiest house +in Christendom; we, that were the saddest." + +"Well," said the doctor, "you north countrymen are hearty people. I'll +stay till to-morrow morning--indeed, I'll stay till the afternoon, for my +London day will be lost anyway." + +He staid accordingly till three o'clock, left his patient out of all +present danger, and advised Walter especially against allowing colchicum +to be administered to him until his strength had recovered. + +"There is no medicinal cure for gout," said he; "pain is a mere symptom, +and colchicum soothes that pain, not by affecting the disease, but by +stilling the action of the heart. Well, if you still the action of that +heart there, you'll kill him as surely as if you stilled it with a pistol +bullet. Knock off his champagne in three or four days, and wheel him into +the sun as soon as you can with safety, fill his lungs with oxygen, and +keep all worry and disputes and mental anxiety from him, if you can. +Don't contradict him for a month to come." + +The Colonel had a terrible bout of it so far as pain was concerned, but +after about a fortnight the paroxysms intermitted, the appetite +increased. Everybody was his nurse; everybody, including Julia Clifford, +humored him; Percy Fitzroy was never mentioned, and the name of Bartley +religiously avoided. The Colonel had got a fright, and was more prudent +in his diet, and always in the open air. + +Walter left him only at odd times, when he could hope to get a hasty word +with Mary, and tell her how things were going, and do all that man could +do to keep her heart up, and reconcile her to the present situation. + +Returning from his wife one day, and leaving her depressed by their +galling situation, though she was never peevish, but very sad and +thoughtful, he found his father and Julia Clifford in the library. +Julia had been writing letters for him; she gave Walter a deprecatory +look, as much as to say, "What I am doing is by compulsion, and you +won't like it." Colonel Clifford didn't leave the young man in any +doubt about the matter. He said: "Walter, you heard me speak of Bell, +the counsel who leads this circuit. I was once so fortunate as to do +him a good turn, and he has not forgotten it; he will sleep here the +day after to-morrow, and he will go over that black-guard's lease: he +has been in plenty of mining cases. I have got a sort of half opinion +out of him already; he thinks it contrary to the equity of contracts +that minerals should pass under a farm lease where the surface of the +soil is a just equivalent to the yearly payment; but the old fox won't +speak positively till he has read every syllable of the lease. However, +it stands to reason that it's a fraud; it comes from a man who is all +fraud; but thank God I am myself again." + +He started up erect as a dart. "I'll have him off my lands; I'll drag him +out of the bowels of the earth, him and all his clan." + +With this and other threats of the same character he marched out of the +room, striking the floor hard with his stick as he went, and left Julia +Clifford amazed, and Walter Clifford aghast, at his vindictive fury. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +THE SERPENT LET LOOSE. + + +Walter Clifford was so distressed at this outburst, and the prospect of +actual litigation between his father and his sweetheart's father, that +Julia Clifford pitied him, and, after thinking a little, said she would +stop it for the present. She then sat down, and in five minutes the +docile pen of a female letter-writer produced an ingratiating composition +impossible to resist. She apologized for her apparent insincerity, but +would be candid, and confide the whole truth to Mr. Bell. Then she told +him that Colonel Clifford "had only just been saved from death by a +miracle, and a relapse was expected in case of any great excitement or +irritation, such as a doubtful lawsuit with a gentleman he disliked would +certainly cause. The proposed litigation was, _for various reasons_, most +distressing to his son and successor, Walter Clifford, and would Mr. Bell +be so very kind as to put the question off as long as possible by any +means he thought proper?" + +Walter was grateful, and said, "What a comfort to have a lady on +one's side!" + +"I would rather have a gentleman on mine," said Julia, laughing. + +Mr. Bell wrote a discreet reply. He would wait till the Assizes--six +weeks' delay--and then write to the Colonel, postponing his visit. This +he did, and promised to look up cases meantime. + +But these two allies not only baffled their irascible chief; they also +humored him to the full. They never mentioned the name of Bartley, and +they kept Percy Fitzroy out of sight in spite of his remonstrances, and, +in a word, they made the Colonel's life so smooth that he thought he was +going to have his own way in everything, and he improved in health and +spirits; for you know it is an old saying, "Always get your own way, and +you'll never die in a pet." + +And then what was still a tottering situation was kept on its legs by the +sweet character and gentle temper of Mary Bartley. + +We have already mentioned that she was superior to most women in the +habit of close attention to whatever she undertook. This was the real key +to her facility in languages, history, music, drawing, and calisthenics, +as her professor called female gymnastics. The flexible creature's limbs +were in secret steel. She could go thirty feet up a slack rope hand over +hand with wonderful ease and grace, and hang by one hand for ten minutes +to kiss the other to her friends. So the very day she was surprised into +consenting to marry Walter secretly she sat down to the Marriage Service +and learned it all by heart directly, and understood most of it. + +By this means she realized that now she had another man to obey as well +as her father. So now, when Walter pressed her for secret meetings, she +said, submissively, "Oh yes, if you insist." She even remarked that she +concluded clandestine meetings were the natural consequence of a +clandestine marriage. + +She used to meet her husband in the day when she could, and often for +five minutes under the moon. And she even promised to spend two or three +days with him at the lakes if a safe opportunity should occur. But for +that she stipulated that Mr. Hope must be absent. + +Walter asked her why she was more afraid of Mr. Hope than of her father. + +Her eyes seemed to look inward dimly, and at first she said she +didn't know. But after pondering the matter a little she said, +"Because he watches me more closely than papa, and that is +because--You won't tell anybody?" + +"No." + +"Not a soul, upon your honor?" + +"Not a soul, dearest, upon my honor." + +"Well, then, because he loves me more." + +"Oh, come!" said Walter, incredulously. + +But Mary would neither resign her opinion nor pursue a subject which +puzzled and grieved her. + +We have now indicated the peaceful tenor of things in Derbyshire for a +period of some months. We shall have to show by-and-by that elements of +discord were accumulating under the surface; but at present we must leave +Derbyshire, and deal very briefly with another tissue of events, +beginning years ago, and running to a date three months, at least, ahead +of Colonel Clifford's recovery. The reader will have no reason to regret +this apparent interruption. Our tale hitherto has been rather sluggish; +but it is in narrative as it is in nature, when two streams unite their +forces the current becomes broader and stronger. + +Leonard Monckton was sent to Pentonville, and after some years +transferred to Portland. In both places he played the game of an old +hand; always kept his temper and carnied everybody, especially the +chaplain and the turnkeys. These last he treated as his only masters; and +if they gave him short weight in bread or meat, catch him making matters +worse by appealing to the governor! Toward the end of his time at +Pentonville he had some thought of suicide, but his spirits revived at +Portland, where he was cheered by the conversation of other villains. +Their name was legion; but as he never met one of them again, except Ben +Burnley, all those miscreants are happily irrelevant. And the reader need +not fear an introduction to them, unless he should find himself garroted +in some dark street or suburb, or his home rifled some dark and windy +night. As for Ben Burnley, he was from the North country, imprisoned for +conspiracy and manslaughter in an attack upon non-union miners. Toward +the end of his time he made an attack upon a warder, and got five years +more. Then Monckton showed him he was a fool, and explained to him his +own plan of conduct, and bade him observe how popular he was with the +warders, and reaped all the favor they dared to show him. + +"He treated me like a dog," said the man, sullenly. + +"I saw it," said Leonard. "And if I had been you I would have said +nothing, but waited till my time was out, and then watched for him till +he got his day out, and settled his hash. That is the way for your sort. +As for me, killing is a poor revenge; it is too soon over. Do you think I +don't mean to be revenged on that skunk Bartley, and, above all, on that +scoundrel Hope, who planted the swag in my pockets, and let me into this +hole for fourteen years?" Then, with all his self-command, he burst into +a torrent of curses, and his pale face was ghastly with hate, and his +eyes glared with demoniac fire, for hell raged in his heart. + +Just then a warder approached, and to Burnley's surprise, who did not see +him coming, Monckton said, gently, "And therefore, my poor fellow, do +just consider that you have broken the law, and the warders are only +doing their duty and earning their bread, and if you were a warder +to-morrow, you'd have to do just what they do." + +"Ay," said the warder, in passing, "you may lecture the bloke, but you +will not make a silk purse out of a sow's ear." + +That was true, but nevertheless the smooth villain Monckton obtained a +great ascendency over this rough, shock-headed ruffian Burnley, and he +got into no more scrapes. He finished his two sentences, and left before +Monckton. This precious pair revealed to each other certain passages in +their beautiful lives. Monckton's were only half-confidences, but Burnley +told Monckton he had been concerned with others in a burglary at +Stockton, and also in the death of an overseer in a mine in Wales, and +gave the particulars with a sort of quaking gusto, and washing his hands +nervously in the tainted air all the time. To be sure the overseer had +earned his fate; he had himself been guilty of a crime--he had been true +to his employer. + +The grateful Burnley left Portland at last, and promised faithfully to +send word to a certain friend of Monckton's, in London, where he was, +and what he was doing. Meantime he begged his way northward from +Portland, for the southern provinces were a dead letter to him. + +Monckton's wife wrote to him as often as the rules of the jail permitted, +and her letters were full of affection, and of hope that their separation +would be shortened. She went into all the details of her life, and it was +now a creditable one. Young women are educated practically in Germany; +and Lucy was not only a good scholar, and almost a linguist, but +excellent at all needlework, and, better still, could cut dresses and +other garments in the best possible style. After one or two inferior +places, she got a situation with an English countess; and from that time +she was passed as a treasure from one member of the aristocracy to +another, and received high stipends, and presents of at least equal +value. Being a German, she put by money, and let her husband know it. But +in the seventh year of her enforced widowhood her letters began to +undergo subtle changes, one after another. + +First there were little exhibitions of impatience. Then there were signs +of languor and a diminution of gush. + +Then there were stronger protestations of affection than ever. + +Then there were mixed with these protestations queries whether the +truest affection was not that which provided for the interests of the +beloved person. + +Then in the eighth year of Monckton's imprisonment she added to remarks +of the above kind certain confessions that she was worn out with +anxieties, and felt her lonely condition; that youth and beauty did not +last forever; that she had let slip opportunities of doing herself +substantial service, and him too, if he could look at things as coolly +now as he used to; and she began to think she had done wrong. + +This line once adopted was never given up, though it was accompanied +once or twice with passionate expressions of regret at the vanity of +long-cherished hopes. Then came a letter, or two more in which the fair +writer described herself as torn this way and that way, and not knowing +what to do for the best, and inveighed against Fate. + +Then came a long silence. + +Then came a short letter imploring him, if he loved her as she loved him, +to try and forget her, except as one who would always watch over his +interests, and weep for him in secret. + +"Crocodile!" said Monckton, with a cold sneer. + +All this showed him it was his interest not to lose his hold on her. So +he always wrote to her in a beautiful strain of faith, affection, and +constancy. + +But this part of the comedy was cut short by the lady discontinuing the +correspondence and concealing her address for years. + +"Ah!" said Monckton, "she wants to cure me. That cock won't fight, my +beauty. A month before he was let loose upon society came a surprise--a +letter from his wife, directing him to call at the office of a certain +solicitor in Serjeant's Inn, Fleet Street, when he would receive L50 upon +his personal receipt, and a similar sum from time to time, provided he +made no attempt to discover her, or in any way disturb her life. 'Oh, +Leonard,' said she, 'you ruined me once. Pray do not destroy me again. +You may be sure I am not happy; but I am in peace and comfort, and I am +old enough to know their value. Dear Leonard, I offer them both to you. +Pray, pray do not despise them, and, whatever you do, do not offend +against the law again. You see how strong it is.'" + +Monckton read this with calm indifference. He did not expect a woman to +give him a pension unconditionally, or without some little twaddle by way +of drawback. He called on the lawyer, and sent in his name. He was +received by the lawyer in person, and eyed very keenly. "I am directed +to call here for L50, sir," said he. + +"Yes, Mr. Monckton. I believe the payment is conditional." + +"No, sir; not the first L50. It is the future payments that are to depend +upon my conniving at my wife's infidelity;" and with that he handed him +the letter. + +The lawyer perused it, and said: "You are right, sir. The L50 shall be +paid to you immediately; but we must request you to consider that our +client is your friend, and acts by our advice, and that it will not be +either graceful or delicate to interpret her conduct to her discredit." + +"My good sir," said Monckton, with one of his cynical sneers, "every time +your client pays me L50, put on the receipt that black is white in +matters of conjugal morality, and I'll sign the whole acknowledgment." + +Finding he had such a serpent to deal with, the lawyer cut the dialogue +short, and paid the money. However, as Monckton was leaving, he said: +"You can write to us when you want any more, and would it be discreet of +me to ask where we can address you?" + +"Why not?" said Monckton. "I have nothing to conceal. However, all I can +tell you at present is that I am going to Hull to try and find a couple +of rogues." + +To Hull he went, breathing avarice and vengeance. This dangerous villain +was quite master of Bartley's secret, and Hope's. To be sure, when Hope +first discovered him in Bartley's office, he was puzzled at the sudden +interference of that stranger. He had only seen Hope's back until this, +and, moreover, Hope had been shabbily dressed in black cloth hard worn, +whereas he was in a new suit of tweed when he exposed Monckton's +villainy. But this was explained at the trial, and Monckton instructed +his attorney to cross-examine Hope about his own great fraud; but counsel +refused to do so, either because he disbelieved his client, or thought +such a cross-examination would be stopped, or set the court still more +against his client. + +Monckton raged at this, and, of course, said he had been bought by the +other side. But now he was delighted that his enemies' secret had never +been inquired into, and that he could fall on them both like a +thunder-bolt. + +He was at Hull next day, and rambled about the old shop, and looked in at +the windows. All new faces, and on the door-plate, "Atkinson & Co." + +Then he went in, and asked for Mr. Bartley. + +Name not known. + +"Why, he used to be here. I was in his employ." + +No; nobody knew Mr. Bartley. + +Could he see Mr. Atkinson? + +Certainly. Mr. Atkinson would be there at two o'clock. + +Monckton, after some preamble, asked whether he had not succeeded in this +business to Mr. Robert Bartley. + +No. He had bought the business from Mrs. Duplex, a widow residing in this +town, and he happened to know that her husband had taken it from +Whitaker, a merchant at Boston. + +"Is he alive, sir?" + +"I believe so, and very well known." + +Monckton went off to Whitaker, and learned from him that he had bought +the business from Bartley, but it was many years ago, and he had never +heard of the purchaser since that day. + +Monckton returned to London baffled. What was he to do? Go to a +secret-inquiry office? Advertise that if Mr. Robert Bartley, late of +Hull, would write to a certain agent, he would hear of something to his +advantage? He did not much fancy either of these plans. He wanted to +pounce on Bartley, or Hope, or both. + +Then he argued thus: "Bartley has got lots of money now, or he would not +have given up business. Ten to one he lives in London, or visits it. I +will try the Park." + +Well, he did try the Park, both at the riding hour and the driving hour. +He saw no Bartley at either time. + +But one day in the Lady's Mile, as he listlessly watched the carriages +defile slowly past him, with every now and then a jam, there crawled +past him a smart victoria, and in it a beautiful woman with glorious +dark eyes, and a lovely little boy, the very image of her. It was his +wife and her son. + +Monckton started, but the lady gave no sign of recognition. She bowed, +but it was to a gentleman at Monckton's side, who had raised his hat to +her with marked respect. + +"What a beautiful crechaar!" said a little swell to the gentleman in +question. "You know her?" + +"Very slightly." + +"Who is she? A duchess?" + +"No; a stock-broker's wife, Mrs. Braham. Why, she is a known beauty." + +That was enough for Monckton. He hung back a little, and followed the +carriage. He calculated that if it left the Park at Hyde Park corner, or +the Marble Arch, he could take a hansom and follow it. + +When the victoria got clear of the crowd at the corner, Mrs. Braham +leaned forward a moment and whispered a word to her coachman. Instantly +the carriage dashed at the Chesterfield Gate and into Mayfair at such a +swift trot that there was no time to get a cab and keep it in sight. + +Monckton lighted a cigarette. "Clever girl!" said he, satirically. "She +knew me, and never winked." + +The next day he went to the lawyer and said, "I have a little favor to +ask you, sir." + +The lawyer was on his guard directly, but said nothing. + +"An interview--in this office--with Mrs. Braham." + +The lawyer winced, but went on his guard again directly. + +"Client of ours?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Braham? Braham?" said the lawyer, affecting to search the caverns of +professional memory. + +"Stock-broker's wife." + +"Where do they live?" + +"What! don't you know? Place of _business_--Threadneedle Street. Place of +_bigamy_--Portman Square." + +"I have no authority to grant a personal interview with any such person." + +"But you have no power to hinder one, and it is her interest the meeting +should take place here, and the stock-broker be out of it." + +The lawyer reflected. + +"Will you promise me it shall be a friendly interview? You will never go +to her husband?" + +"Her stock-broker, you mean. Not I. If she comes to me here when I +want her." + +"Will that be often?" + +"I think not. I have a better card to play than Mrs. Braham. I only want +her to help me to find certain people. Shall we say twelve o'clock +to-morrow?" + +The lawyer called on Mrs. Braham, and after an agitated and tearful +interview, persuaded her to keep the appointment. + +"Consider," said he, "what you gain by making our office the place of +meeting. Establish that at once. It's a point of defense." + +The meeting took place in the lawyer's private room, and Mrs. Braham was +so overcome that she nearly fainted. Then she was hysterical, and finally +tears relieved her. + +When she came to this point, Monckton, who had looked upon the whole +exhibition as a mere preliminary form observed by females, said, + +"Come, Lucy, don't be silly. I am not here to spoil your little game, but +to play my own. The question is, will you help me to make my fortune?" + +"Oh, that I will, if you will not break up my home." + +"Not such a fool, my dear. Catch me killing a milk-cow! You give me a +percentage on your profits, and I'm dumb." + +"Then all you want is more money?" + +"That is all; and I shall not want that in a month's time." + +"I have brought L100, Leonard," she said, timidly. + +"Sensible girl. Hand it over." + +Two white hands trembled at the strings of a little bag, and took out ten +crisp notes. + +Leonard took them with satisfaction. + +"There," said he. "This will last me till I have found Bartley and Hope, +and made my fortune." + +"Hope!" said Mrs. Braham. "Oh, pray keep clear of him! Pray don't attack +_him_ again. He is such an able man!" + +"I will not attack him again to be defeated. Forewarned, forearmed. +Indeed, if I am to bleed Bartley, I don't know how I can be revenged on +Hope. _That is the cruel thing_. But don't you trouble about my business, +Lucy, unless," said he, with a sneer, "you can tell me where to find +them, and so save me a lot of money." + +"Well, Leonard," said Lucy, "it can't be so very hard to find Hope. You +know where that young man lives that you--that I--" + +"Oh, Walter Clifford! Yes, of course I know where _he_ lives. At Clifford +Hall, in Derbyshire." + +"Well, Leonard, Hope saved him from prison, and ruined you. That young +man had a good heart. He would not forget such a kindness. He may not +know where Mr. Bartley lives, but surely he will know where Hope is." + +"Lucy," said Leonard, "you are not such a fool as you were. It is a +chance, at all events. I'll go down to that neighborhood directly. I'll +have a first-rate disguise, and spy about, and pick up all I can." + +"And you will never say anything or do anything to--Oh, Leonard, I'm +a bad wife. I never can be a good one now to anybody. But I'm a good +mother; and I thought God had forgiven me, when he sent me my little +angel. You will never ruin his poor mother, and make her darling +blush for her!" + +"Curse me if I do!" said Leonard, betrayed into a moment's warmth. But he +was soon himself again. "There," said he, "I'll leave the little bloke my +inheritance. Perhaps you don't know I'm heir to a large estate in +Westmoreland; no end of land, and half a lake, _and only eleven lives +between the estate and me_. I will leave my 'great expectations' to that +young bloke. What's his Christian name?" + +"Augustus." + +"And what's his father's name?" + +"Jonathan." + +Leonard then left all his property, real and personal, and all that +should ever accrue to him, to Augustus Braham, son of Jonathan Braham, +and left Lucy Braham sole executrix and trustee. + +Then he hurried into the outer office, signed this document, and got it +witnessed. The clerks proposed to engross it. + +"What for?" said he. "This is the strongest form. All in the same +handwriting as the signature; forgery made easy are your engrossed +wills." + +He took it in to Mrs. Braham, and read it to her, and gave it her. He +meant it all as a joke; he read it with a sneer. But the mother's heart +over-flowed. She put it in her bosom, and kissed his hand. + +"Oh, Leonard," said she, "God bless you! Now I see you mean no ill to me +and mine. _You don't love me enough to be angry with me_. But it all +comes back to _me_. A woman can't forget her first. Now promise me one +thing; don't give way to revenge or avarice. You are so wise when you are +cool, but no man can give way to his passions and be wise. Why run any +more risks? He is liberal to me, and I'm not extravagant. I can allow you +more than I said, and wrong nobody." + +Monckton interrupted her, thus: "There, old girl, you are a good sort; +you always were. But not bleed that skunk Bartley, and not be revenged on +that villain Hope? I'd rather die where I stand, for they have turned my +blood to gall, and lighted hell in my heart this many a year of misery." + +He held out his hand to her; it was cold. She grasped it in her warm, +soft palm, and gave him one strange, searching look with her glorious +eyes; and so they parted. + +Next day, at dusk, there arrived at the Dun Cow an elderly man with a +large carpet-bag and a strapped bundle of patterns--tweed, kersey, +velveteen, and corduroys. He had a short gray mustache and beard, very +neat; and appeared to be a commercial traveller. + +In the evening he asked for brandy, old rum, lemons, powdered sugar, a +kettle, and a punch-bowl. A huge one, relic of a past age, was produced. +He mixed delicious punch, and begged the landlady to sit down and taste +it. She complied, and pronounced it first-rate. He enticed her into +conversation. + +She was a rattling gossip, and told him first her own grievances. Here +was the village enlarging, and yet no more custom coming to her because +of the beer-house. The very mention of this obnoxious institution moved +her bile directly. "A pretty gentleman," said she, "to brew his own beer +and undersell a poor widow that have been here all her days and her +father before her! But the Colonel won't let me be driven out altogether, +no more will Mr. Walter: he do manage for the old gentleman now." + +Monckton sipped and waited for the name of Hope, but it did not come. +The good lady deluged him with the things that interested her. She was +to have a bit of a farm added on to the Dun Cow. It was to be grass +land, and not much labor wanted. She couldn't undertake that; was it +likely? But for milking of cows and making butter or cheese, that she +was as good at as here and there one; and if she could have the custom +of the miners for her milk. "But, la, sir," said she, "I'll go bail as +that there Bartley will take and set up a dairy against me, as he have a +beer shop." + +"Bartley?" said Monckton, inquiringly. + +"Ay, sir; him as owns the mine, and the beer shop, and all, worse +luck for me." + +"Bartley? Who is he?" + +"Oh, one of those chaps that rise from nothing nowadays. Came here to +farm; but that was a blind, the Colonel says. Sunk a mine, he did, and +built a pit village, and turns everything into brass [money]. But there, +you are a stranger, sir; what is all this to you?" + +"Why, it is very interesting," said Monckton. "Mistress, I always like to +hear the whole history of every place I stop at, especially from a +sensible woman like you, that sees to the bottom of things. Do have +another glass. Why, I should be as dull as ditch-water, now, if I had not +your company." + +"La, sir, I'm sure you are welcome to my company in a civil way; and for +the matter of that you are right; life is life, and there's plenty to be +learned in a public--do but open your eyes and ears." + +"Have another glass with me. I am praised for my punch." + +"You deserve it, sir. Better was never brewed." + +She sipped and sipped, and smacked her lips, till it was all gone. + +This glass colored her cheeks, brightened her eyes, and even loosened her +tongue, though that was pretty well oiled by nature. + +"Well, sir," said she, "you are a bird of passage, here to-day and gone +to-morrow, and it don't matter much what I tell you, so long as I don't +tell no lies. _There will be a row in this village_." + +Having delivered this formidable prophecy, the coy dame pushed her glass +to her companion for more, and leaning back cozily in the old-fashioned +high-backed chair, observed the effect of her thunder-bolt. + +Monckton rubbed his hands. "I'm glad of it," said he, genially; "that is +to say, provided my good hostess does not suffer by it." + +"I'm much beholden to you, sir," said the lady. "You are the +civilest-spoken gentleman I have entertained this many a day. Here's your +health, and wishing you luck in your business, and many happy days well +spent. My service to you, sir." + +"The same to you, ma'am." + +"Well, sir, in regard to a row between the gentlefolks--not that I call +that there Bartley one--judge for yourself. You are a man of the world +and a man of business, and an elderly man apparently." + +"At all events, I am older than you, madam." + +"That is as may be," said Mrs. Dawson, dryly. "We hain't got the parish +register here, and all the better for me. So once more I say, judge for +yourself." + +"Well, madam," said Monckton, "I will try, if you will oblige me with +the facts." + +"That is reasonable," said Mrs. Dawson, loftily, but after some little +consideration. "The facts I will declare, and not a lie among 'em." + +"That will be a novelty," thought her cynical hearer, but he held his +tongue, and looked respectfully attentive. + +"Colonel Clifford," said Mrs. Dawson, "hates Bartley like poison, and +Bartley him. The Colonel vows he will have him off the land and out +of the bowels of the earth, and he have sent him a lawyer's letter; +for everything leaks out in this village, along of the servants' +chattering. Bartley he don't value a lawyer's letter no more than +that. He defies the Colonel, and they'll go at it hammer and tongs at +the 'Sizes, and spend a mint of money in law. That's one side of the +question. But there's another. Master Walter is deep in love with +Miss Mary." + +"Who is she?" + +"Who is she? Why, Bartley's daughter, to be sure; not as I'd believe it +if I hadn't known her mother, for she is no more like him in her looks or +her ways than a tulip is to a dandelion. She is the loveliest girl in the +county, and better than she's bonny. You don't catch _her_ drawing bridle +at her papa's beer-house, and she never passes my picture. It's 'Oh, Mrs. +Dawson, I _am_ so thirsty, a glass of your good cider, please, and a +little hay and water for Deersfoot.' That's her way, bless your silly +heart! _She_ ain't dry; and Deersfoot, he's full of beans, and his coat's +like satin; but that's Miss Mary's way of letting me know that she's my +customer, and nobody else's in the town. God bless her, and send her many +happy days with the man of her heart, and that is Walter Clifford, for +she is just as fond of him as he is of her. I seen it all from the first +day. 'Twas love at first sight, and still a-growing to this day. Them old +fogies may tear each other to pieces, but they won't part such lovers as +those. There's not a girl in the village that doesn't run to look at +them, and admire them, and wish them joy. Ay, and you mark my words, they +are young, but they have got a spirit, both of them. Miss Mary, she looks +you in the face like a lion and a dove all in one. They may lead her, but +they won't drive her. And Walter, he's a Clifford from top to toe. +Nothing but death will part them two. Them's the facts, sir, without a +lie, which now I'm a-waiting for judgment." + +"Mrs. Dawson," said Monckton, solemnly, "since you do me the honor to ask +my opinion, I say that out of these facts a row will certainly arise, and +a deadly one." + +"It must, sir; and Will Hope will have to take a side. 'Tis no use his +trying to be everybody's friend this time, though that's his natural +character, poor chap." + +Monckton's eyes flashed fire, but he suppressed all appearance of +excitement, and asked who Mr. Hope was. + +Mrs. Dawson brightened at the very name of her favorite, and said, "Who +is Will Hope? Why, the cleverest man in Derbyshire, for one thing; but he +is that Bartley's right-hand man, worse luck. He is inspector of the mine +and factotum. He is the handiest man in England. He invents machines, and +makes fiddles and plays 'em, and mends all their clocks and watches and +wheel-barrows, and charges 'em naught. He makes hisself too common. I +often tell him so. Says I, 'Why dost let 'em all put on thee so? Serve +thee right if I was to send thee my pots and pans to mend.' 'And so do,' +says he, directly. 'There's no art in it, if you can make the sawder, and +I can do that, by the Dick and Harry!' And one day I said to him, 'Do +take a look at this fine new cow of mine as cost me twenty-five good +shillings and a quart of ale. What ever is the matter with her? She looks +like the skin of a cow flattened against the board.' So says he, 'Nay, +she's better drawn than nine in ten; but she wants light and shade. Send +her to my workshop.' 'Ay, ay,' says I; 'thy workshop is like the +church-yard; we be all bound to go there one day or t'other.' Well, sir, +if you believe me, when they brought her home and hung her again she +almost knocked my eye out. There was three or four more women looking on, +and I mind all on us skreeked a bit, and our hands went up in the air as +if one string had pulled the lot; and says Bet Morgan, the carter's wife, +'Lord sake, gie me a bucket somebody, and let me milk her!' 'Nay, but +thou shalt milk me,' said I, and a pint of fourpenny I gave her, then and +there, for complimenting of my cow. Will Hope, he's everybody's friend. +He made the Colonel a crutch with his own hands, which the Colonel can +use no other now. Walter swears by him. Miss Mary dotes on him: he saved +her life in the river when she was a girl. The very miners give him a +good word, though he is very strict with them; and as for Bartley, it's +my belief he owes all his good luck to Will Hope. And to think he was +born in this village, and left it a poor lad; ay, and he came back here +one day as poor as Job, seems but t'other day, with his bundle on his +back and his poor little girl in his hand. I dare say I fed them both +with whatever was going, poor bodies." + +"What was she like?" + +"A poor little wizened thing. She had beautiful golden hair, though." + +"Like Miss Bartley's?" + +"Something, but lighter." + +"Have you ever seen her since?" + +"No; and I never shall." + +"Who knows?" + +"Nay, sir. I asked him after her one day when he came home for good. He +never answered me, and he turned away as if I had stung him. She has +followed her mother, no doubt. And so now she is gone he's well-to-do; +and that is the way of it, sir. God sends mouths where there is no meat, +and meat where there's no mouths. But He knows best, and sees both worlds +at once. We can only see this one--that's full of trouble." + +Monckton now began to yawn, for he wanted to be alone and think over the +schemes that floated before him now. + +"You are sleepy, sir," said Mrs. Dawson. "I'll go and see your bed is +all right." + +He thanked her and filled her glass. She tossed it off like a man this +time, and left him to doze in his chair. + +Doze, indeed! Never did a man's eyes move to and fro more restlessly. +Every faculty was strung to the utmost. + +At first as all the _dramatis personae_ he was in search of came out one +after another from that gossip's tongue, he was amazed and delighted to +find that instead of having to search for one of them in one part of +England, and another in another, he had got them all ready to his hand. +But soon he began to see that they were too near each other, and some of +them interwoven, and all the more dangerous to attack. + +He saw one thing at a glance. That it would be quite a mistake to settle +a plan of action. That is sometimes a great advantage in dealing with the +unguarded. But it creates a stiffness. Here all must be supple and fitted +with watchful tact to the situation as it rose. Everything would have to +be shot flying. + +Then as to the immediate situation, Reader, did ever you see a careful +setter run suddenly into the middle of a covey who were not on their feet +nor close together, but a little dispersed and reposing in high cover in +the middle of the day? No human face is ever so intense or human form +more rigid. He knows that one bird is three yards from his nose, another +the same distance from either ear, and, in short, that they are all about +him, and to frighten one is to frighten all. + +His tail quivers, and then turns to steel, like his limbs. His eyes +glare; his tongue fears to pant; it slips out at one side of his teeth +and they close on it. Then slowly, slowly, he goes down, noiseless as a +cat, and crouches on the long covert, whether turnips, rape, or clover. + +Even so did this designing cur crouch in the Dun Cow. + +The loyal quadruped is waiting for his master, and his anxiety is +disinterested. The biped cur was waiting for the first streak of dawn to +slip away to some more distant and safe hiding-place and sally-port than +the Dun Cow, kept by a woman who was devoted to Hope, to Walter, and to +Mary, and had all her wits about her--mother-wit included. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE SERPENT. + + +Monckton slipped away at the dawn, and was off to Derby to prepare +first-rate disguises. + +At Derby, going through the local papers, he found lodgings offered at a +farm-house to invalids, fresh milk and eggs, home-made bread, etc. The +place was within a few miles of Clifford Hall. Monckton thought this +would suit him much better than being too near. When his disguises were +ready, he hired a horse and dog-cart by the month, and paid a deposit, +and drove to the place in question. He put some shadow under his eyes to +look more like an invalid. He had got used to his own cadaverous tint, so +that seemed insufficient. + +The farmer's wife looked at him, and hesitated. + +"Well, sir," said she, with a blush, "we takes 'em in to cure, not to--" + +"Not to bury," said Monckton. "Don't you be alarmed. I have got no time +to die; I'm too busy. Why, I have been much worse than this. I am +convalescent now." + +"Ye don't say so, sir!" said she. "Well, I see your heart is good" (the +first time he had ever been told that), "and so I've a mind to risk it." + +Then she quickly clapped on ten shillings a week more for color, and he +was installed. He washed his face, and then the woman conceived hopes of +him, and expressed them in rustic fashion. "Well," said she, "dirt is a +disguise. Now I look at you, you have got more mischief to do in the +world yet, I do believe." + +"A deal more, I hope," said he. + +It now occurred to him, all of a sudden, that really he was not in good +health, and that he had difficulties before him which required calm +nerves, and that nerves are affected by the stomach. So, not to throw a +chance away, he had the sense and the resolution to devote a few days to +health and unwholesome meditation. + +This is a discordant world: even vices will not always pull the same +way. Here was a sinister villain distracted between avarice and revenge, +and sore puzzled which way to turn. Of course he could expose the real +parentage of Mary Bartley, and put both Bartley and Hope to shame, and +then the Cliffords would make Bartley disgorge the L20,000. But he, +Monckton, would not make a shilling by that, and it would be a weak +revenge on Bartley, who could now spare L20,000, and no revenge at all on +Hope, for Hope was now well-to-do, and would most likely be glad to get +his daughter back. Then, on the other hand, he could easily frighten +Bartley into giving him L5000 to keep dark, but in that case he must +forego his vengeance on Hope. + +This difficulty had tormented Monckton all along; but now Mrs. Dawson had +revealed another obstacle. Young Clifford and Mary in love with each +other. What Mrs. Easton saw as a friend, with her good mother-wit, this +man saw in a moment as an enemy, viz., that this new combination dwarfed +the L20,000 altogether. Monckton had no idea that his unknown antagonist +Nurse Easton had married the pair, but the very attachment, as the +chatter-box of the Dun Cow described it, was a bitter pill to him. "Who +could have foreseen this?" said he. "It's devilish." We did not ourselves +intend our readers to feel it so, or we would not have spent so much time +over it. But as regards that one adjective, Mr. Monckton is a better +authority than we are. He had a document with him that, skillfully used, +might make mischief for a time between these lovers. But he foresaw there +could be no permanent result without the personal assistance of Mrs. +Braham. That he could have commanded fourteen years ago, but now he felt +how difficult it would be. He would have to threaten and torment her +almost to madness before she would come down to Derbyshire and declare +that this Walter Clifford was the Walter Clifford of the certificate, and +that she was his discarded wife. But Monckton was none the less resolved +she should come if necessary. Leaving him _varius distractum vitiis_, and +weighing every scheme, with its pros and cons, and, like a panther +crouching and watching before he would make his first spring, we will now +bring our other characters up to the same point, and that will not take +us long, for during the months we have skipped there were not many +events, and Mrs. Dawson has told the readers some of them, and the rest +were only detached incidents. + +The most important in our opinion were: + +1. That Colonel Clifford resumed his determination to marry Julia +Clifford to Walter, and pooh-poohed Fitzroy entirely, declaring him to be +five feet nothing, and therefore far below the military standard. + +2. That Hope rented a cottage of Walter about three hundred yards +from the mine, and not upon the land that was leased to Bartley; that +there was a long detached building hard by, which Walter divided for +him, and turned into an office with a large window close to the +ground, and a workshop with a doorway and an aperture for a window, +but no window nor door. + +3. That Hope got more and more uneasy about the L20,000, and observed to +Bartley that they must be robbing _somebody_ of it without the excuse +they once had. He, for his part, would work to disgorge his share. +Bartley replied that the money would have gone to a convent if he had not +saved it from so vile a fate. This said the astute Bartley because one +day Hope, who had his opinions on everything, inveighed against a +convent, and said no private prisons ought to exist in a free country. So +Bartley's ingenious statement stunned Hope for a minute, but did not +satisfy his conscience. + +4. Hope went to London for a week, and Mary spent four days with her +husband at a hotel near the lake; but not the one held by Mrs. Easton's +sister. This change was by advice of Mrs. Easton. On this occasion Mary +played the woman. She requested Walter to get her some orange blossoms, +and she borrowed a diamond bracelet of Julia, and sat down to dinner with +her husband in evening dress, and dazzled him with her lovely arms and +bust, and her diamond bracelet and eyes that outshone it. She seemed ever +so much larger as well as lovelier, and Walter gazed at her with a sort +of loving awe, and she smiled archly at him, and it was the first time +she had really enjoyed her own beauty, or even troubled her head much +about it. They condensed a honey-moon into these four days, and came home +compensated for their patience, and more devoted than ever. But whilst +they were away Colonel Clifford fired his attorney at Mr. Bartley, and +when Mary came home, Bartley, who had lately connived at the love affair, +told Mary this, and forbade her strictly to hold any more intercourse +with Walter Clifford. + +This was the state of things when "the hare with many friends," and only +one enemy, returned to his cottage late in the afternoon. But before +night everybody knew he had come home, and next morning they were all at +him in due order. No sooner was he seated in his workshop, studying the +lines of a new machine he was trying to invent, than he was startled from +intense thought into the attitude of Hogarth's enraged musician by cries +of "Mr. Hope! Mr. Hope! Mr. Hope!" and there was a little lot of eager +applicants. First a gypsy boy with long black curls and continuous +genuflections, and a fiddle, and doleful complaints that he could not +play it, and that it was the fiddle's fault. + +"Well, it is for once," said Hope. "Why, you little duffer, don't you see +the bridge is too low?" + +He slackened the string, removed the bridge, fitted on a higher one, +tuned it, and handed it over. + +"There," said he, "play us one of the tunes of Egypt. 'The Rogue's +March,' eh? and mizzle." + +The supple Oriental grinned and made obeisances, pretended not to know +"The Rogue's March" (to the hen-house), and went off playing "Johnny +Comes Marching Home." (Bridewell to wit.) + +Then did Miss Clifford's French maid trip forward smirking with a parasol +to mend: _Desolee de vous deranger, Monsieur Hope, mais notre demoiselle +est au desespoir: oh, ces parasols Anglais_! + +"_Connu_," said Hope, "_voyons ca_;" and in a minute repaired the +article, and the girl spread it, and went off wriggling and mincing with +it, so that there was a pronounced horse-laugh at her minauderies. + +Then advanced a rough young English nurse out of a farm-house with a +child that could just toddle. She had left an enormous doll with Hope for +repairs, and the child had given her no peace for the last week. Luckily +the doll was repaired, and handed over. The mite, in whose little bosom +maternal feelings had been excited, insisted on carrying her child. The +consequence was that at about the third step they rolled over one +another, and to spectators at a little distance it was hard to say which +was the parent and which the offspring. Them the strapping lass in charge +seized roughly, and at the risk of dislocating their little limbs, tossed +into the air and caught, one on each of her own robust arms, and carried +them off stupidly irritated--for want of a grain of humor--at the +good-natured laugh this caused, and looking as if she would like to knock +their little heads together. + +Under cover of this an old man in a broad hat, and seemingly infirm, +crept slowly by and looked keenly at Hope, but made no application. Only +while taking stock of Hope his eyes flashed wickedly, and much too +brightly for so old a man as he appeared. He did not go far; he got +behind a tree, and watched the premises. Then a genuine old man and +feeble came and brought Hope his clock to mend. Hope wound it up, and it +went to perfection. The old man had been a stout fellow when Hope was a +boy, but now he was weak, especially in the upper story. Hope saw at +once that the young folk had sent him there for a joke, and he did not +approve it. + +"Gaffer," said he, "this will want repairing every eight days; but don't +you come here any more; I'll call on you every week, and repair it for +auld lang syne." + +Whilst he toddled away, and Hope retired behind his lathe to study his +model in peace, Monckton raged at the sight of him and his popularity. + +"Ay," said he, "you are a genius. You can model a steam-engine or mend a +doll, and you outwitted me, and gave me fourteen years. But you will find +me as ingenious as you at one thing, and that's revenge." + +And now a higher class of visitors began to find their way to the general +favorite. The first was a fair young lady of surpassing beauty. She +strolled pensively down the green turf, cast a hasty glance in at the +workshop, and not seeing Hope, concluded he was a little tired after his +journey, and had not yet arrived. She strolled slowly down then, and +seated herself in a large garden chair, stuffed, that Hope had made, and +placed there for Colonel Clifford. That worthy frequented the spot +because he had done so for years, and because it was a sweet turfy slope; +and there was a wonderful beech-tree his father had made him plant when +he was five years old. It had a gigantic silvery stem, and those giant +branches which die crippled in a beech wood but really belong to the +isolated tree, as one Virgil discovered before we were born. Mary Bartley +then lowered her parasol, and settled into the Colonel's chair under the +shade _patulae fagi_--of the wide-spreading beech-tree. + +She sat down and sighed. Monckton eyed her from his lurking-place, and +made a shrewd guess who she was, but resolved to know. + +Presently Hope caught a glimpse of her, and came forward and leaned out +of the window to enjoy the sight of her. He could do that unobserved, for +he was a long way behind her at a sharp angle. + +He was still a widower and this his only child, and lovely as an angel; +and he had seen her grow into ripe loveliness from a sick girl. He had +sinned for her and saved her; he had saved her again from a more terrible +death. He doted on her, and it was always a special joy to him when he +could gloat on her unseen. Then he had no need to make up an artificial +face and hide his adoration from her. + +But soon a cloud came over his face and his paternal heart. He knew she +had a lover; and she looked like a girl who was waiting pensively for +him. She had not come there for him whom she knew only as her devoted +friend. At this thought the poor father sighed. + +Mary's quick senses caught that, and she turned her head, and her sweet +face beamed. + +"You _are_ there, after all, Mr. Hope." + +Hope was delighted. Why, it was him she had come to see, after all. He +came down to her directly, radiant, and then put on a stiff manner he +often had to wear, out of fidelity to Bartley, who did not deserve it. + +"This is early for you to be out, Miss Bartley." + +"Of course it is," said she. "But I know it is the time of day when you +are kind to anybody that comes, and mend all their rubbish for them, and +I could kill them for their impudence in wasting your time so. And I am +as bad as the rest. For here I am wasting your time in my turn. Yes, dear +Mr. Hope, you are so kind to everybody and mend their things, I want you +to be kind to me and mend--my prospects for me." + +Hope's impulse was to gather into his arms and devour with kisses this +sweet specimen of womanly tenderness, frank inconsistency, naivete, +and archness. + +As he could not do that, he made himself extra stiff. + +"Your prospects. Miss Bartley! Why, they are brilliant. Heiress to all +the growing wealth and power around you." + +"Wealth and power!" said the girl. "What is the use of them, if our +hearts are to be broken? Oh, Mr. Hope, papa is so unkind. He has +forbidden me to speak to him." Then, gravely, "That command comes +too late." + +"I fear it does," said Hope. "I have long suspected something." + +"Suspected?" said Mary, turning pale. "What?" + +"That you and Walter Clifford--" + +"Yes," said Mary, trembling inwardly, but commanding her face. + +"Are--engaged." + +Mary drew a long breath. "What makes you think so?" said she, +looking down. + +"Well, there is a certain familiarity--no, that is too strong a word; but +there is more ease between you than there was. Ever since I came back +from Belgium I have seen that the preliminaries of courtship were over, +and you two looked on yourselves as one." + +"Mr. Hope," said this good, arch girl, and left off panting, "you are +a terrible man. Papa is eyes and no eyes. You frighten me; but not +very much, for you would not watch me so closely if you did not love +me--a little." + +"Not a little, Miss Bartley." + +"Mary, please." + +"Mary. I have seen you a sickly child; I have been anxious--who would +not? I have seen you grow in health and strength, and every virtue." + +"And seen me tumble into the water and frighten you out of your senses, +and there's nothing one loves like a downright pest, especially if she +loves us; and I do love you, Mr. Hope, dearly, dearly, and I promise to +be a pest to you all your days. Ah, here he comes at last." She made two +eager steps to meet him, then she said, "Oh! I forgot," and came back +again and looked prodigiously demure and innocent. + +Walter came on with his usual rush, crying, "Mary, how good of you!" + +Mary put her fingers in her ears. "No, no, no; we are forbidden to +communicate." Then, imitating a stiff man of business--for she was a +capital mimic when she chose--"any communication you may wish to honor me +with must be addressed to this gentleman, Mr. Hope; he will convey it to +me, and it shall meet with all the attention it deserves." + +Walter laughed, and said, "That's ingenious." + +"Of course it is ingenuous," said Mary, subtly. "That's my character +to a fault." + +"Well, young people," said Hope, "I am not sure that I have time to +repeat verbal communications to keen ears that heard them. And I think I +can make myself more useful to you. Walter, your father has set his +lawyer on to Mr. Bartley, and what is the consequence? Mr. Bartley +forbids Mary to speak to you, and the next thing will be a summons, +lawsuit, and a great defeat, and loss to your father and you. Mr. Bartley +sent me the lawyer's letter. He hopes to get out of a clear contract by +pleading a surprise. Now you must go to the lawyer--it is no use arguing +with your father in his present heat--and you must assure him there has +been no surprise. Why, I called on Colonel Clifford years ago, and told +him there was coal on that farm; and I almost went on my knees to him to +profit by it." + +"You don't say that, Mr. Hope?" + +"I do say it, and I shall have to swear it. You may be sure Mr. Bartley +will subpoena me, if this wretched squabble gets into court." + +"But what did my father say to you?" + +"He was kind and courteous to me. I was poor as a rat, and dusty with +travel--on foot; and he was a fine gentleman, as he always is, when he is +not in too great a passion. He told me more than one land-owner had +wasted money in this county groping for coal. He would not waste his +money nor dirty his fingers. But he thanked me for my friendly zeal, and +rewarded me with ten shillings." + +"Oh!" cried Walter, and hid his face in his hands. As for Mary, she put +her hand gently but quietly on Hope's shoulder, as if to protect him from +such insults. + +"Why, children," said Hope, pleased at their sympathy, but too manly to +hunt for it, "it was more than he thought the information worth, and I +assure you it was a blessed boon to me. I had spent my last shilling, and +there I was trapesing across the island on a wild-goose chase with my +reaping-hook and my fiddle; and my poor little Grace, that I--that I--" + +Mary's hand went a moment to his other shoulder, and she murmured through +her tears, "You have got _me_." + +Then Hope was happy again, and indeed the simplest woman can find in a +moment the very word that is balm of Gilead to a sorrowful man. + +However, Hope turned it off and continued his theme. The jury, he said, +would pounce on that ten shillings as the Colonel's true estimate of his +coal, and he would figure in the case as a dog in the manger who grudged +Bartley the profits of a risky investment he had merely sneered at and +not opposed, until it turned out well; and also disregarded the interests +of the little community to whom the mine was a boon. "No," said Hope; +"tell your lawyer that I am Bartley's servant, but love equity. I have +proposed to Bartley to follow a wonderful seam of coal under Colonel +Clifford's park. We have no business there. So if the belligerents will +hear reason I will make Bartley pay a royalty on every ton that comes to +the surface from any part of the mine; and that will be L1200 a year to +the Cliffords. Take this to the lawyer and tell him to unfix that hero's +bayonet, or he will charge at the double and be the death of his own +money--and yours." + +Walter threw up his hands with amazement and admiration. "What a +head!" said he. + +"Fiddledee!" said Mary; "what a heart!" + +"In a word, a phoenix," said Hope, dryly. "Praise is sweet, especially +behind one's back. So pray go on, unless you have something better to +say to each other;" and Hope retired briskly into his office. But when +the lovers took him at his word, and began to strut up and down hand in +hand, and murmur love's music into each other's ears, he could not take +his eyes off them, and his thoughts were sad. She had only known that +young fellow a few months, yet she loved him passionately, and he would +take her away from her father before she even knew all that father had +done and suffered for her. When the revelation did come she would +perhaps be a wife and a mother, and then even that revelation would fall +comparatively flat. + +Besides his exceptional grief, he felt the natural pang of a father at +the prospect of resigning her to a husband. Hard is the lot of parents; +and, above all, of a parent with one child whom he adores. Many other +creatures love their young tenderly, and their young leave them. But then +the infancy and youth of those creatures are so short. In a few months +the young shift for themselves, forgetting and forgotten. But with our +young the helpless periods of infancy and youth are so long. Parental +anxiety goes through so many trials and so various, and they all strike +roots into the parent's heart. Yet after twenty years of love and hope +and fear comes a handsome young fellow, a charming highwayman to a +parent's eye, and whisks her away after two months' courtship. Then, oh, +ye young, curb for a moment your blind egotism, and feel a little for the +parents who have felt so much for you! You rather like William Hope, so +let him help you to pity your own parents. See his sad face as he looks +at the love he is yet too unselfish to discourage. To save that tender +root, a sickly child, he transplanted it from his own garden, and still +tended it with loving care for many a year. Another gathers the flower. +He watched and tended and trembled over the tender nestling. The young +bird is trying her wings before his eyes; soon she will spread them, and +fly away to a newer nest and a younger bosom. + +In this case, however, the young people had their troubles too, and their +pretty courtship was soon interrupted by an unwelcome and unexpected +visitor, who, as a rule, avoided that part, for the very reason that +Colonel Clifford frequented it. However, he came there to-day to speak to +Hope. Mr. Bartley, for he it was, would have caught the lovers if he had +come silently; but he was talking to a pitman as he came, and Mary's +quick ears heard his voice round the corner. + +"Papa!" cried she. "Oh, don't let him see us! Hide!" + +"Where?" + +"Anywhere--in here--quick!" and she flew into Hope's workshop, which +indeed offered great facilities for hiding. However, to make sure, they +crouched behind the lathe and a huge plank of beautiful mahogany Hope was +very proud of. + +As soon as they were hidden, Mary began to complain in a whisper. "This +comes of our clandestine m--. Our very life is a falsehood; concealment +is torture--and degradation." + +"I don't feel it. I call this good fun." + +"Oh, Walter! Good fun! For shame! Hush!" + +Bartley bustled on to the green, called Hope out, and sat down in Colonel +Clifford's chair. Hope came to him, and Bartley, who had in his hand some +drawings of the strata in the coal mine, handed the book to Hope, and +said, "I quite agree with you. That is the seam to follow: there's a +fortune in it." + +"Then you are satisfied with me?" + +"More than satisfied." + +"I have something to ask in return." + +"I am not likely to say no, my good friend," was the cordial reply. + +"Thank you. Well, then, there is an attachment between Mary and young +Clifford." + +Bartley was on his guard directly. + +"Her happiness is at stake. That gives me a right to interfere, and say, +'be kind to her.'" + +"Am I not kind to her? Was any parent ever kinder? But I must be wise as +well as kind. Colonel Clifford can disinherit his son." + +At this point the young people ventured to peep and listen, taking +advantage of the circumstance that both Hope and Bartley were at some +distance, with their backs turned to the workshop. + +So they both heard Hope say, + +"Withdraw your personal opposition to the match, and the other difficulty +can be got over. If you want to be kind to a young woman, it is no use +feeding her ambition and her avarice, for these are a man's idols. A +woman's is love." + +Mary wafted the speaker a furtive kiss. + +"To enrich that dear child after your death, thirty years hence, and +break her heart in the flower of her youth, is to be unkind to her; and +if you are unkind to her, our compact is broken." + +"Unkind to her," said Bartley. "What male parent has ever been more kind, +more vigilant? Sentimental weakness is another matter. My affection is +more solid. Can I oblige you in anything that is business?" + +"Mr. Bartley," said Hope, "you can not divert me from the more important +question: business is secondary to that dear girl's happiness. However, I +have more than once asked you to tell me who is the loser of that large +sum, which, as you and I have dealt with it, has enriched you and given +me a competence." + +"That's my business," said Bartley, sharply, "for you never fingered a +shilling of it. So if the pittance I pay you for conducting my business +burns your pocket, why, send it to Rothschild." + +And having made this little point, Bartley walked away to escape further +comment, and Hope turned on his heel and walked into his office, and out +at the back door directly, and proceeded to his duties in the mine; but +he was much displeased with Bartley, and his looks showed it. + +The coast lay clear. The lovers came cautiously out, and silently too, +for what they had heard puzzled them not a little. + +Mary came out first, and wore a very meditative look. She did not say a +word till they got to some little distance from the workshop. Then she +half turned her head toward Walter, who was behind her, and said, "I +suppose you know we have done a contemptible thing--listening?" + +"Well," said Walter, "it wasn't good form; but," added he, "we could +hardly help it." + +"Of course not," said Mary. "We have been guilty of a concealment that +drives us into holes and corners, and all manner of meannesses must be +expected to follow. Well, we _have_ listened, and I am very glad of it; +for it is plain we are not the only people who have got secrets. Now +tell me, please, what does it all mean?" + +"Well, Mary," said Walter, "to tell the truth, it is all Greek to +me, except about the money. I think I could give a guess where that +came from." + +"There, now!" cried Mary; "that is so like you gentlemen. +Money--money--money! Never mind the money part; leave that to take care +of itself. Can you explain what Mr. Hope said to papa about _me_? Mr. +Hope is a very superior man, and papa's adviser _in business_. But, after +all, he is in papa's employment. Papa _pays_ him. Then how comes he to +care more about my happiness than papa does--and say so?" + +"Why, you begged him to intercede." + +"Yes," said Mary, "but not to threaten papa; not to say, 'If you are +unkind to Mary, our compact is broken.'" + +Then she pondered awhile; then she turned to Walter, and said: + +"What sort of compact is that? A compact between a father and another +gentleman that a father shall not be unkind to his own daughter? Did you +ever hear of such a thing?" + +"I can't say I ever did." + +"Did you ever hear tell of such a thing?" + +"Well, now you put it to me, I don't think I ever did." + +"And yet you could run off about money. What's money! This compact is a +great mystery. It's my business from this hour to fathom that mystery. +Please let me think." + +Mary's face now began to show great power and intensity; her eyes seemed +to veil themselves, and to turn down their glances inward. + +Walter was struck with the intensity of that fair brow, those remarkable +eyes, and that beautiful face; they seemed now to be all strung up to +concert pitch. He kept silent and looked at his wife with a certain +reverence, for to tell the truth she had something of the Pythian +priestess about her, when she concentrated her whole mind on any one +thing in this remarkable manner. At last the oracle spoke: + +"Mr. Hope has been deceiving me with some good intention. He pretends to +be subservient to papa, but he is the master. How he comes to be master I +don't know, but so it is, Walter. If it came to a battle royal, Mr. Hope +would side, not with papa, but with me." + +"That's important, if true," said Walter, dryly. + +"It's true," said Mary, "and it's important." Then she turned suddenly +round on him. "How did you feel when you ran into that workshop, and we +both crouched, and hid like criminals or slaves?" + +"Well," said Walter, hanging his head, "to tell the truth, I took a comic +view of the business." + +"I can't do that," said Mary. "I respect my husband, and can't bear him +to hide from the face of any mortal man; and I am proud of my own love, +and indignant to think that I have condescended to hide it." + +"It is a shame," said Walter, "and I hope we sha'n't have to hide it +much longer. Oh, bother, how unfortunate! here's my father. What are +we to do?" + +"I'll tell you," said Mary, resolutely. "You must speak to him at once, +and win him over to our side. Tell him Julia is going to marry Percy +Fitzroy on the first of next month, then tell him all that Mr. Hope said +you were to tell the lawyer, and then tell him what you have made me +believe, that you love me better than your life, and that I love you +better still; and that no power _can_ part us. If you can soften him, Mr. +Hope shall soften papa." + +"But if he is too headstrong to be softened?" faltered Walter. + +"Then," said Mary, "you must defy my papa, and I shall defy yours." + +After a moment's thought she said: "Walter, I shall stay here till he +sees me and you together; then he won't be able to run off about his +mines, and his lawsuits, and such rubbishy things. His attention will be +attracted to our love, and so you will have it out with him, whilst I +retire a little way--not far--and meditate upon Mr. Hope's strange words, +and ponder over many things that have happened within my recollection." + +True to this policy, the spirited girl waited till Colonel Clifford came +on the green, and then made Walter as perfect a courtesy as ever graced a +minuet at the court of Louis le Grand. + +Walter took off his hat to her with chivalric grace and respect. Colonel +Clifford drew up in a stiff military attitude, which flavored rather of +the parade or the field of battle than the court either of the great +monarch or of little Cupid. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +THE SECRET IN DANGER. + + +"Hum!" said the Colonel, dryly; "a petticoat!" + +"Et cetera," suggested Walter, meekly; and we think he was right, for a +petticoat has never in our day been the only garment worn by females, +nor even the most characteristic: fishermen wear petticoats, and don't +wear bonnets. + +"Who is she, sir?" asked the grim Colonel. + +"Your niece, father," said Walter, mellifluously, "and the most beautiful +girl in Derbyshire." + +The Colonel snorted, but didn't condescend to go into the question +of beauty. + +"Why did my niece retire at sight of me?" was his insidious inquiry. + +"Well," said Walter, meekly, "the truth is, some mischief-making fool has +been telling her that you have lost all natural affection for your dead +sister's child." + +The stout Colonel staggered for a moment, snorted, and turned it off. +"You and she are very often together, it seems." + +"All the better for me," said Walter, stoutly. + +"And all the worse for me," retorted the Colonel. And as men gravitate +toward their leading grievance, he went off at a tangent, "What do you +think my feelings must be, to see my son, my only son, spooning the +daughter of my only enemy; of a knave who got on my land on pretense of +farming it, but instead of that he burrowed under the soil like a mole, +sir; and now the place is defiled with coal dust, the roads are black, +the sheep are black, the daisies and buttercups are turning black. +There's a smut on your nose, Walter. I forbid you to spoon his daughter, +upon pain of a father's curse. My real niece, Julia, is a lady and an +heiress, and the beauty of the county. She is the girl for you." + +"And how about the seventh commandment?" inquired Walter, putting his +hands in his pockets. + +"Oh," said the Colonel, indifferently, "you must mind your eye, like +other husbands. But in our walk of life it's the man's fault if the woman +falls out of the ranks." + +"That's not what I mean," said Walter. + +"What do you mean, then, if you mean anything at all?" + +"I mean this, father. She marries Percy Fitzroy in three weeks; so if I +fix my affections on her up to the date of the wedding, shall I not be +tempted to continue, and will not a foolish attachment to another man's +sweetheart end in a vicious attachment to another man's wife?" + +Once more was the Colonel staggered for a moment, and, oh--as the ladies +say--is it not gratifying to find that where honest reasons go for +nothing, humbug can obtain a moment's hearing? The Colonel admitted there +was something in that; but even humbug could not divert him long from +his mania. "The only thing to be done," said he, "is to cut him out +between this and then. Why, he stands five feet nothing." + +"That's the advantage he has over me," suggested Walter; "she is five +feet eight or thereabouts, so he is just the height of her heart." + +The Colonel burst out laughing. "You are no fool," said he; "that's the +second good thing you have said these three years. I forget what the +other was, but I remember it startled me at the time. You are a wit, and +you will cut out that manikin or you are no son of mine." + +"Don't say that, father," said Walter; "and cutting out, why, that's a +naval operation, not military. I am not the son of an admiral." + +"No equivocation, sir; the forces assist one another at a pinch." + +"How can I cut him out?--there's no room, he is tied to her apron +strings." + +"Untie him, then." + +At this moment, whether because Hope attracted everybody in the course of +the day, or because talking about people draws them to the place by some +subtle agency, who should appear in sight but Miss Julia Clifford, and +little Fitzroy wooing her so closely that really he did seem tied to her +apron strings. + +"There," said Walter, "now use your eyes, father; look at this amorous +pair. Do you really think it possible for a fellow to untie those two?" + +"Quite possible," said the Colonel. "Walter," said he, sententiously, +"there's a little word in the English language which is one of the +biggest. I will spell it to you, T--R--Y. Nobody knows what he can do +till he gives that word a fair trial. It was far more impossible to scale +the rock of Gibraltar; but our infantry did it; and there we are, with +all Europe grinding their teeth at us. What's a woman compared with +Gibraltar? However, as you seem to be a bit of a muff, I'll stand +sentinel whilst you cut him out." + +The Colonel then retired into a sort of ambuscade--at least he mingled +with a small clump of three Scotch firs, and stood amongst them so +rectilinear he might have passed for the fourth stump. Walter awaited the +arrival of the foe, but in a spirit which has seldom conducted men to +conquest and glory, for if the English infantry had deviated so far from +their insular habits as to admire the Spaniards, you may be sure that +Gibraltar rock at this day would be a part of the Continent, and not a +detached fragment of Great Britain. In a word, Walter, at sight of the +lovers, was suddenly seized with sentimental sympathy; they both seemed +to him so beautiful in their way. The man was small, but his heart was +not; he stuck to the woman like a man, and poured hot love into her ears, +and almost lost the impediment in his speech. The woman pretended to be +cooler, but she half turned her head toward him, and her half-closed eyes +and heightened color showed she was drinking every word. Her very gayety, +though it affected nonchalance, revealed happiness to such as can read +below the surface of her sex. The Colonel's treacherous ally, after +gazing at them with marked approval, and saying, "I couldn't do it better +myself," which was surely a great admission for a lover to make, slipped +quietly into Hope's workshop not to spoil sport--a juvenile idea which we +recommend to older persons, and to such old maids as have turned sour. +The great majority of old maids are match-makers, whatever cant may keep +saying and writing to the contrary. + +"No wonder at all," said Percy, who was evidently in the middle of some +amorous speech; "you are the goddess of my idolatry." + +"What ardent expressions you do use!" said Julia, smiling. + +"Of c-course I do; I'm over head and ears in love." + +Julia surveyed his proportions, and said, "That's not very deep." + +But Percy had got used to this kind of wit, and did not mind it now. +He replied with dignity: "It's as deep--as the ocean, and as +imp-per-t-t-tur-bable. Confound it! there's your cousin." + +"You are not jealous of him, Mr. Imperturbable, are you?" asked +Julia, slyly. + +"Jealous?" said Percy, changing color rather suspiciously; "certainly +not. Hang him!" + +Walter, finding he was discovered, and feeling himself in the way, came +out at the back behind them, and said, "Never mind me, you two; far be it +from me to deprive the young of their innocent amusements." + +Whilst making this little speech he was going off on the points of his +toes, intending to slip off to Clifford Hall, and tell his father that +both cutting out and untying had proved impossible, but, to his horror, +the Colonel emerged from his ambuscade and collared him. Then took place +two short contemporaneous dialogues: + +_Julia_. "I'd never marry a jealous man." + +_Percy_. "I never could be jealous. I'm above it. Impossible for a nature +like mine to be jealous." + +_Colonel Clifford._ "Well, why don't you cut him out?" + +_Walter_. "They seem so happy without it." + +_Colonel Clifford._ "You are a muff. I'll do it for you. Forward!" + +Colonel Clifford then marched down and seated himself in the chair Hope +had made for him. + +Julia saw him, and whispered Percy: "Ah! here's Uncle Clifford. He is +going to marry me to Walter. Never mind--you are not jealous." + +Percy turned yellow. + +"Well," said Colonel Clifford to all whom it might concern, "this +certainly is the most comfortable chair in England. These fools of +upholsterers never make the bottom of the chair long enough, but Mr. +Hope has made this to run under a gentleman's knees and support him. He's +a clever fellow. Julia, my dear, there's a garden chair for you; come and +sit down by me." + +Julia gave a sly look at Percy, and went to Colonel Clifford. She kissed +him on the forehead to soften the coming negative, and said: "To tell you +the truth, dear uncle, I have promised to go down a coal mine. See! I'm +dressed accordingly." + +"Go down a coal mine!" said the Colonel, contemptuously. "What fool put +that idea in your head?" + +Fitzroy strutted forward like a bantam-cock. "I did, sir. Coal is a very +interesting product." + +"Ay, to a cook." + +"To every English g-gentleman." + +"I disown that imputation for one." + +"Of being an English g-gentleman?" + +There was a general titter at this sly hit. + +"No, sir," said the Colonel, angrily--"of taking an interest in coal." + +"Well, but," said Percy, with a few slight hesitations, "not to t-take an +interest in c-coal is not to take an interest in the n-nation, for this +n-nation is g-great, not by its p-powerful fleet, nor its little b-b-bit +of an army--" + +A snort from the Colonel. + +"--nor its raw m-militia, but by its m-m-manufactures; these depend on +machines that are driven by steam-power, and the steam-engines are +coal-fed, and were made in coal-fed furnaces; our machines do the work of +five hundred million hands, and you see coal keeps them going. The +machinery will be imitated by other nations, but those nations can not +create coal-fields. Should those ever be exhausted, our ingenuity will be +imitated by larger nations, our territory will remain small, and we shall +be a second-rate power; so I say that every man who reads and thinks +about his own c--country ought to be able to say, 'I have been +d--d--down a coal mine.'" + +"Well," said the Colonel, loftily, "and can't you say you have been down +a coal mine? I could say that and sit here. Well, sir, you have been +reading the newspapers, and learning them off by heart as if they were +the Epistle and Gospel; of course _you_ must go down a coal mine; but if +you do, have a little mercy on the fair, and go down by yourself. In the +mean while, Walter, you can take your cousin and give her a walk in the +woods, and show her the primroses." + +Now Julia was surprised and pleased at Percy's good sense, and she did +not care whether he got it from the newspapers or where he got it from; +it was there; so she resisted, and said, coldly and firmly, "Thank you, +uncle, but I don't want the primroses, and Walter does not want me. Come, +Percy _dear_;" and so she marched off; but she had not gone many steps +before, having a great respect for old age, she ordered Percy, in a +whisper, to make some apology to her uncle. + +Percy did not much like the commission. However, he went back, and said, +very civilly, "This is a free country, but I am afraid I have been a +little too free in expressing my opinion; let me hope you are not +annoyed with me." + +"I am never annoyed with a fool," said the implacable Colonel. + +This was too much for any little man to stand. + +"That is why you are always on such good terms with yourself," said +Percy, as red as a turkey-cock. + +The Colonel literally stared with amazement. Hitherto it had been for him +to deliver bayonet thrusts, not to receive them. + +Julia pounced on her bantam-cock, and with her left hand literally pulled +him off the premises, and shook her right fist at him till she got him +out of sight of the foe; then she kissed him on both cheeks, and burst +out laughing; and, indeed, she was so tickled that she kept laughing at +intervals, whether the immediate subject of the conversation was grave or +gay. It is hard not to laugh when a very little fellow cheeks a very big +one. Even Walter, though he admired as well as loved his father, hung his +head, and his shoulders shook with suppressed risibility. Colonel +Clifford detected him in this posture, and in his wrath gave his chair a +whack with his staff that brought Master Walter to the position of a +private soldier when the drill-sergeant cries "ATTENTION!" + +"Did you hear that, sir?" said he. + +"I did," said Walter: "cheeky little beggar. But you know, father, you +were rather hard upon him before his sweetheart, and a little pot is +soon hot." + +"There was nothing to be hot about," said the Colonel, naively; "but that +is neither here nor there. You are ten times worse than he is. He is only +a prating, pedantic puppy, but you are a muff, sir, a most unmitigated +muff, to stand there mum-chance and let such an article as that carry off +the prize." + +"Oh, father," said Walter, "why will you not see that the prize is a +living woman, a woman with a will of her own, and not a French eagle, or +the figure-head of a ship? Now do listen to reason." + +"Not a word," said the Colonel, marching off. + +"But excuse me," said Walter, "I have another thing far more important to +speak to you about: this unhappy lawsuit." + +"That's no business of yours, and I don't want your opinion of it; +there is no more fight in you than there is in a hen-sparrow. I decline +your company and your pacific twaddle; I have no patience with a muff;" +and the Colonel marched off, leaving his son planted there, as the +French say. + +Walter, however, was not long alone; the interview had been watched +from a distance by Mary. She now stole noiselessly on the scene, and +laid her white hand upon her husband's shoulder before he was aware of +her. The sight of her was heaven to him, but her first question clouded +his happy face. + +"Well, dear, have you propitiated him?" + +Walter hung his head sorrowfully, and said hardly anything. + +"He has been blustering at me all the time, and insists upon my +cutting out Percy whether I can or not, and marrying Julia whether she +chooses or not." + +"Then we must do what I said. Indeed there is no other course. We must +own the truth; concealment and deceit will not mend our folly." + +"Oh, hang it, Mary, don't call it folly." + +"Forgive me, dear, but it was the height of folly. Not that I mean to +throw the blame on you--that would be ungenerous; but the truth is you +had no business to marry me, and I had no business to marry you. Only +think--me--Mary Bartley--a clandestine marriage, and then our going to +the lakes again, and spending our honey-moon together just like other +couples--the recklessness--the audacity! Oh, what happiness it was!" + +Walter very naturally pounced upon this unguarded and naive conclusion of +Mary's self-reproaches. "Yes," said he, eagerly; "let us go there again +next week." + +"Not next week, not next month, not next year, nor ever again until we +have told all the world." + +"Well, Mary," said Walter, "it's for you to command and me to obey. I +said so before, and I say so now, if you are not ashamed of me, how can I +be ashamed of you; you say the word, and I will tell my father at +dinner-time, before Julia Clifford and John Baker, and request them to +tell everybody they know, that I am married to a woman I adore, and there +is nobody I care for on earth as I do for her, and nothing I value +compared with her love and her esteem." + +Mary put her arm tenderly around her husband's neck; and now it was +with her as it is often with generous and tender-hearted women, when +all opposition to their wishes is withdrawn, they begin to see the +other side. + +"My dearest," said Mary, "I couldn't bear you to sacrifice your +prospects for me." + +"Why, Mary," said Walter, "what would my love be worth if it shrank from +self-sacrifice? I really think I should feel more pleasure than pain if I +gave up friends, kindred, hope, everything that is supposed to make life +pleasant for you." + +"And so would I for you," said Mary; "and oh, Walter, women have +presentiments, and something tells me that fate has great trials in store +for you or for me, perhaps for both. Yes, you are right, the true measure +of love must be self-sacrifice, and if there is to be self-sacrifice, oh, +let the self-sacrifice fall on me; for I can not think any man can love a +woman quite so deeply as I love you--my darling." + +He had only time to draw her sweet forehead to his bosom, whilst her arm +encircled his neck, when in came an ordinary love by way of contrast. + +Julia Clifford and Percy came in, walking three yards apart: Percy had +untied the apron strings without Walter's assistance. + +"Ah," said she, "you two are not like us. I am ashamed to interrupt you; +but they would not let us go down the mine without an order from Mr. +Hope. Really, I think Mr. Hope is king of this country. Not that we have +wasted our time, for he has been quarrelling with me all the way there +and back." + +"Oh, Mr. Fitzroy!" said Mary Bartley. + +"Miss Bartley," said Percy, very civilly, "I never q-q-quarrel, I merely +dis-distin-guished between right and wrong. I shall make you the judge. +I gave her a di-dia-mond br-bracelet which came down from my ancestors; +she did me the honor to accept it, and she said it should never leave her +day nor night." + +"Oh," cried Julia, "that I never did. I can not afford to stop my +circulation altogether; it's much too little." Then she flew at him +suddenly. "Your ancestors were pigmies." + +Percy drew himself up to his full height, and defied the insinuation. +"They were giants, in chain armor," said he. + +"What," said Julia, without a moment's hesitation, "the ladies? Or was it +the knights that wore bracelets?" + +Some French writer says, "The tongue of a woman is her sword," and Percy +Fitzroy found it so. He could no more answer this sudden thrust than he +could win the high leap at Lillie Bridge. He stood quivering as if a +polished rapier had really been passed clean through him. + +Mary was too kind-hearted to laugh in his face, but she could not help +turning her head away and giggling a little. + +At last Percy recovered himself enough to say, + +"The truth is you have gone and given it to somebody else." + +"Oh, you wicked--bad-hearted--you that couldn't be jealous!" + +By this time Percy was himself again, and said, with some reason, that +"invectives were not arguments. Produce the bracelet." + +"And so I can," said Julia, stoutly. "Give me time." + +"Oh," said Percy, "if it's a mere question of time, there is no more to +be said. You'll find the bracelet in time, and in time I shall feel once +more that confidence in you which induced me to confide to you as to +another self that precious family relic, which I value more than any +other material object in the world." Then Percy, whose character seemed +to have changed, retired with stiff dignity and an air of indomitable +resolution. + +Neither Julia nor Mary had ever seen him like that before. Julia was +unaffectedly distressed. + +"Oh, Mary, why did I ever lend it to you?" + +Now Mary knew very well where the bracelet was, but she was ashamed to +say; she stammered and said, "You know, dear, it is too small, much too +small, and my arm is bigger than yours." + +"There!" said Julia; "you have broken the clasp!" + +Mary colored up to the eyes at her own disingenuousness, and said, +hastily, "But I'll have it mended directly; I'll return it to-morrow at +the latest." + +"I shall be wretched till you do," said Julia, eagerly. "I suppose you +know what I want it for now?" + +"Why," said Mary, "of course I do: to soothe his wounded feelings." + +"Soothe _his_ feelings!" cried Julia, scornfully; "and how about mine? +No; the only thing I want it for now is to fling it in his face. His +soul is as small as his body: he's a little, mean, suspicious, jealous +fellow, and I'm very glad to have lost him." She flounced off all on +fire, looking six feet high, and got quite out of sight before she +began to cry. + +Then the truth came out. Mary, absorbed in conjugal bliss, had left it at +the hotel by the lakes. She told Walter. + +"Oh, hang it!" said Walter; "that's unlucky; you will never see it +again." + +"Oh yes, I shall," said Mary; "they are very honest people at that inn; +and I have written about it, and told them to keep it safe, unless they +have an opportunity of sending it." + +Walter reflected a moment. "Take my advice, Mary," said he. "Let me +gallop off this afternoon and get it." + +"Oh yes, Walter," said Mary. "Thank you so much. That will be the +best way." + +At this moment loud and angry voices were heard coming round the corner, +and Mary uttered a cry of dismay, for her discriminating ear recognized +both those voices in a moment. She clutched Walter's shoulder. + +"Oh, Walter, it's your father and mine quarrelling. How unfortunate that +they should have met! What shall we do?" + +"Hide in Hope's office. The French window is open." + +"Quick, then!" cried Mary, and darted into the office in a moment. Walter +dashed in after her. + +When she got safe into cover she began to complain. + +"This comes of concealment--we are always being driven into holes +and corners." + +"I rather like them with you," said the unabashed Walter. + +It matters little what had passed out of sight between Bartley and +Colonel Clifford, for what the young people heard now was quite enough to +make what Sir Lucius O'Trigger calls a very pretty quarrel. Bartley, +hitherto known to Mary as a very oily speaker, shouted at the top of his +voice in arrogant defiance, "You're not a child, are you? You are old +enough to read papers before you sign them." + +The Colonel shouted in reply, "I am old, sir, but I am old in honor. I +did not expect that any decent tradesman would slip a clause into a farm +lease conveying the minerals below the surface to a farmer. It was a +fraud, sir; but there's law for fraud. My lawyer shall be down on you +to-morrow. Your chimneys disgorge smoke all over my fields. You shall +disgorge your dishonest gains. I'll have you off my land, sir; I'll tear +you out of the bowels of the earth. You are a sharper and a knave." + +At this Bartley roared at him louder still, so that both the young people +winced as they crouched in the recess of the window. "You foul-mouthed +slanderer, I'll indict you for defamation, and give you twelve months in +one of her Majesty's jails." + +"No, you won't," roared the Colonel; "I know the law. My comments on +your character are not written and signed like your knavish lease; it's a +privileged communication--VILLAIN! there are no witnesses--SHARPER! By +Jupiter, there are, though!" + +He had caught sight of a male figure just visible at the side of +the window. + +"Who is it? MY SON!" + +"My DAUGHTER!" cried Bartley, catching sight of Mary. + +"Come out, sir," said the Colonel, no longer loudly, but trembling +with emotion. + +"Come here, Mary," said Bartley, sternly. + +At this moment who should open the back door of the office but +William Hope! + +"Walter," said the Colonel, with the quiet sternness more formidable than +all his bluster, "have not I forbidden you to court this man's daughter?" + +Said Bartley to Mary: "Haven't I forbidden you to speak to this +ruffian's son?" + +Then, being a cad who had lost his temper, he took the girl by the wrist +and gave her a rough pull across him that sent her effectually away from +Walter. She sank into the Colonel's seat, and burst out crying with +shame, pain, and fright. + +"Brute!" said the Colonel. But the thing was not to end there. Hope +strode in amongst them, with a pale cheek and a lowering brow as black as +thunder; his first words were, "Do YOU CALL YOURSELF A FATHER?" Not one +of them had ever seen Hope like that, and they all stood amazed, and +wondered what would come next. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +REMINISCENCES.--THE FALSE ACCUSER.--THE SECRET EXPLODED. + + +The secret hung on a thread. Hope, after denouncing Bartley, as we have +described, was rushing across to Mary, and what he would have said or +done in the first impulse of his wrath, who can tell? + +But the quick-witted Bartley took the alarm, and literally collared him. +"My good friend," said he, "you don't know the provocation. It is the +affront to her that has made me forget myself. Affronts to myself from +the same quarter I have borne with patience. But now this insolent man +has forbidden his son to court her, and that to her face; as if we wanted +his son or him. Haven't I forbidden the connection?" + +"We are agreed for once," said the Colonel, and carried his son off +bodily, sore against his will. + +"Yes," shrieked Bartley after him; "only _I_ did it like a gentleman, and +did not insult the young man to his face for loving my daughter." + +"Let me hear what Mary says," was Hope's reply. + +"Mr. Hope," said Mary, "did you ever know papa to be hard on me before? +He is vexed because he feels I am lowered. We have both been grossly +insulted, and he may well be in a passion. But I am very unhappy." And +she began to cry again. + +"My poor child," said Bartley, coaxingly, "talk it all over with Mr. +Hope. He may be able to comfort you, and, indeed, to advise me. For what +can I do when the man calls me a sharper, a villain, and a knave, before +his son and my daughter?" + +"Is it possible?" said Hope, beginning to relent a little. + +"It is true," replied Mary. + +Bartley then drew Hope aside, and said, "See what confidence I place in +you. Now show me my trust is not misplaced." Then he left them together. + +Hope came to Mary and said, tenderly, "What can I say or do to +comfort you?" + +Mary shook her head. "I asked you to mend my prospects; but you can't do +that. They are desperate. You can do nothing for me now but comfort me +with your kind voice. And mend my poor wrist--ha! ha! ha! oh! oh!" +(Hysterical.) + +"What?" cried Hope, in sudden alarm; "is it hurt? Is it sprained?" + +Mary recovered her composure. "Oh no," said she; "only twisted a little. +Papa was so rough." + +Hope went into a rage again. "Perdition!" cried he. "I'll go and end this +once for all." + +"You will do nothing of the kind," said the quick-witted girl. "Oh, Mr. +Hope, would you break my heart altogether, quarrelling with papa? Be +reasonable. I tell you he couldn't help it, that old monster insulted him +so. It hurts, for all that," said she, naively, and held him out a lovely +white wrist with a red mark on it. + +Hope inspected it. "Poor little wrist," said he. "I think I can cure it." +Then he went into his office for something to bind it with. + +But he had spoken those few words as one speaks to an afflicted child. +There was a mellow softness and an undisguised paternity in his +tones--and what more natural, the girl being in pain? + +But Mary's ear was so acute that these tones carried her out of the +present situation, and seemed to stir the depths of memory. She fell into +a little reverie, and asked herself had she not heard a voice like that +many years ago. + +She was puzzling herself a little over this when Hope returned with a +long thin band of white Indian cotton, steeped in water, and, taking her +hand gently, began to bind her wrist with great lightness and delicacy. +And as he bound it he said, "There, the pain will soon go." + +Mary looked at him full, and said, slowly, "I believe it will." Then, +very thoughtfully, "It did--before." + +These three simple words struck Hope as rather strange. + +"It did before?" said he, and stared at her. "Why, when was that?" + +Mary said, in a hopeless sort of way, "I don't know when, but long +before your time." + +"Before my time, Mary? What, are you older than me?" And he smiled +sweetly on her. + +"One would think not. But let me ask you a question, Mr. Hope?" + +"Yes, Mary." + +"Have you lived _two lives_?" + +Said Hope, solemnly, "I have lived through great changes, but only +one life." + +"Well, then," said Mary, "I have lived two; or more likely it was one +life, only some of it in another world--my other world, I mean." + +Hope left off binding her wrist, and said, "I don't understand you." But +his heart began to pant. + +The words that passed between them were now so strange that both their +voices sank into solemnity, and had an acute observer listened to them he +would have noticed that these two mellow voices had similar beauties, and +were pitched exactly in the same key, though there was, of course, an +octave between them. + +"Understand me? How should you? It is all so strange, so mysterious: I +have never told a soul; but I will tell you. You won't laugh at me?" + +"Laugh at you? Only fools laugh at what they don't understand. Why, Mary, +I hang on every word you say with breathless interest." + +"Dear Mr. Hope! Well, then, I will tell you. Sometimes in the silent +night, when the present does not glare at one, the past comes back to me +dimly, and I seem to have lived two lives: one long, one short--too +short. My long life in a comfortable house, with servants and carriages +and all that. My short life in different places; not comfortable places, +but large places; all was free and open, and there was always a kind +voice in my ear--like yours; and a tender touch--like yours." + +Hope was restraining himself with difficulty, and here he could not help +uttering a faint exclamation. + +To cover it he took her wrist again, and bending his head over it, he +said, almost in a whisper, "And the face?" + +Mary's eyes turned inward, and she seemed to scan the past. + +"The face?" said she--"the face I can not recall. But one thing I do +remember clearly. This is not the first time my wrist--yes--and it was my +right wrist too--has been bound up so tenderly. He did it for me in that +other world, just as you do in this one." + +Hope now thrilled all over at this most unexpected revelation. But though +he glowed with delight and curiosity, he put on a calm voice and manner, +and begged her to tell him everything else she could remember that had +happened in that other life. + +Finding him so serious, so sympathetic, and so interested, put this +remarkable girl on her mettle. She began to think very hard, and show +that intense power of attention she had always in reserve for great +occasions. + +"Then you must not touch me nor speak to me," said she. "The past is +such a mist." + +He obeyed, and left off binding her wrist; and now he literally hung upon +her words. + +Then she took one step away from him; her bright eyes veiled themselves, +and seemed to see nothing external, but looked into the recesses of the +brain. Her forehead, her hand, her very body, thought, and we must try, +though it is almost hopeless, to convey some faint idea of her manner and +her words. + +"Let--me--see." + +Then she paused. + +"I remember--WHITE SWANS." + +A pause. + +"Were they swans?" + +"Or ships?" + +"They floated down the river to the sea." + +She paused. + +"And the kind voice beside me said, 'Darling!' Papa never calls me +'darling.'" + +"Yes, yes," whispered Hope, almost panting. + +"'Darling, we must go with them to some other land, for we are poor.'" +She paused and thought hard. "Poor we must have been; very poor. I can +see that now that I am rich." She paused and thought hard. "But all was +peace and love. There were two of us, yet we seemed one." + +Then in a moment Mary left the past, her eyes resigned the film of +thought, and shone with the lustre of her great heart, and she burst at +once into that simple eloquence which no hearer of hers from John Baker +to William Hope ever resisted. "Ah! sweet memories, treasures of the +past, why are you so dim and wavering, and this hard world so clear and +glaring it seems cut out of stone? Oh, if I had a fairy's wand, I'd say, +'Vanish fine house and servants--vanish wealth and luxury and strife; and +you come back to me, sweet hours of peace--and poverty--and love.'" + +Her arms were stretched out with a grace and ardor that could embellish +even eloquence, when a choking sob struck her ear. She turned her head +swiftly, and there was William Hope, his hands working, his face +convulsed, and the tears running down his cheeks like the very rain. + +It was no wonder. Think of it! The child he adored, yet had parted with +to save her from dire poverty, remembered that sad condition to ask for +it back again, because of his love that made it sweet to her after all +these years of comfort. And of late he had been jealous, and saw, or +thought, he had no great place in her heart, and never should have. + +Ah, it is a rarity to shed tears of joy! The thing is familiarly spoken +of, but the truth is that many pass through this world of tears and never +shed one such tear. The few who have shed them can congratulate William +Hope for this blissful moment after all he had done and suffered. + +But the sweet girl who so surprised that manly heart, and drew those +heavenly tears, had not the key. She was shocked, surprised, distressed. +She burst out crying directly from blind womanly sympathy; and then she +took herself to task. "Oh, Mr. Hope! what have I done? Ah! I have +touched some chord of memory. Wicked, selfish girl, to distress you with +my dreams." + +"Distress me!" cried Hope. "These tears you have drawn from me are pearls +of memory and drops of balm to my sore, tried heart. I, too, have lived +and struggled in a by-gone world. I had a lovely child; she made me rich +in my poverty, and happy in my homelessness. She left me--" + +"Poor Mr. Hope!" + +"Then I went abroad, drudged in foreign mines, came home and saw my child +again in you. I need no fairy's wand to revive the past; you are my +fairy--your sweet words recall those by-gone scenes; and wealth, +ambition, all I live for now, vanish into smoke. The years themselves +roll back, and all is once more peace--and poverty--and love." + +"Dear Mr. Hope!" said Mary, and put her forehead upon his shoulder. + +After a while she said, timidly, "Dear Mr. Hope, now I feel I can trust +you with anything." Then she looked down in charming confusion. "My +reminiscences--they are certainly a great mystery. But I have another +secret to confide to you, if I am permitted." + +"Is the consent of some other person necessary?" + +"Not exactly necessary, Mr. Hope." + +"But advisable." + +Mary nodded her head. + +"Then take your time," said Hope. He took out his watch, and said: "I +want to go to the mine. My right-hand man reports that a ruffian has been +caught lighting his pipe in the most dangerous part after due warning. I +must stop that game at once, or we shall have a fatal accident. But I +will be back in half an hour. You can rest in my office if you are here +first. It is nice and cool." + +Hope hurried away on his errand, and Mary was still looking after him, +when she heard horses' feet, and up came Walter Clifford, escaped from +his father. He slipped off his horse directly at sight of Mary, and they +came together like steel and magnet. + +"Oh, Walter," said Mary, "we are not so unfortunate as we were just now. +We have a powerful friend. Where are you going in such hurry?" + +"That is a good joke. Why, did you not order me to the lakes?" + +"Oh yes, for Julia's bracelet. I forgot all about that." + +"Very likely; but it is not my business to forget your orders." + +"Dear Walter! But, dearest, things of more importance have happened since +then. We have been insulted. Oh, how we have been insulted!" + +"That we have," said Walter. + +"And nobody knows the truth." + +"Not yet." + +"And our secret oppresses me--torments me--degrades me." + +"Pray don't say that." + +"Forgive me. I can't help saying it, I feel it so bitterly. Now, dear, I +will walk a little way with you, and tell you what I want you to do this +very day; and you will be a darling, as you always are, and consent." + +Then Mary told how Mr. Hope had just shown her singular affection; next +she reminded him of the high tone Mr. Hope had taken with her father in +their hearing. "Why," said she, "there is some mysterious compact about +me between papa and him. I don't think I shall ever have the courage to +ask him about that compact, for then I must confess that I listened; but +it is clear we can depend upon Mr. Hope, and trust him. So now, dear, I +want you to indulge your little wife, and let me take Mr. Hope into our +confidence." + +To Mary's surprise and disappointment, Walter's countenance fell. + +"I don't know," said he, after a pause. "Unfortunately it's not Mr. +Bartley only that's against us." + +"Well, but, dear," said Mary, "the more people there are against us, the +more we need one powerful friend and champion. Now you know Mr. Hope is a +man that everybody loves and respects, even your father." + +Walter just said, gloomily, "I see objections, for all that; but do as +you please." + +Mary's tender heart and loving nature couldn't accept an unwilling +assent. She turned her eyes on Walter a little reproachfully. "That's the +way to make me do what you please." + +"I don't intend it so," said Walter. "When a husband and wife love each +other as we do, they must give in to each other." + +"That's not what we said at the altar." + +"Oh, the marriage service is rather one-sided. I promised very different +things to get you to marry me, and I mean to stand by them. If you are +impatient at all of this secrecy, tell Mr. Hope." + +"I can't now," said Mary, a little bitterly. + +"Why not, since I consent?" + +"An unwilling consent is no consent." + +"Mary, you are too tyrannical. How can I downright like a thing I don't +like? I yield my will to yours; there's a certain satisfaction in that. I +really can say no more." + +"Then say no more," said Mary, almost severely. + +"At all events give me a kiss at parting." + +Mary gave him that directly, but it was not a warm one. + +He galloped away upon his errand, and as she paced slowly back toward Mr. +Hope's office she was a good deal put out. What should she say to Mr. +Hope now? She could not defy Walter's evident wishes, and make a clean +breast of the matter. Then she asked herself what was Walter's +objection; she couldn't conceive why he was afraid to trust Mr. Hope. It +was a perfect puzzle to her. + +Indeed this was a most unfortunate dialogue between her and Walter, for +it set her mind speculating and guessing at Walter's mind, and thinking +all manner of things just at the moment when an enemy, smooth as the old +serpent, was watching for an opportunity to make mischief and poison her +mind. Leonard Monckton, who had long been hanging about, waiting to catch +her alone, met her returning from Walter Clifford, and took off his hat +very respectfully to her, and said: + +"Miss Bartley, I think." + +Mary lifted her eyes, and saw an elderly man with a pale face and dark +eyebrows and a cast of countenance quite unlike that of any of her +friends. His face repelled her directly, and she said, very coldly: + +"Yes, sir; but I have not the pleasure of knowing you." + +And she quietly passed on. + +Monckton affected not to see that she was declining to communicate with +him. He walked on quietly, and said: + +"And I have not seen you since you were a child, but I had the honor of +knowing your mother." + +"You knew my mother, sir?" + +"Knew her and respected her." + +"What was she like, sir?" + +"She was tall and rather dark, not like you." + +"So I have heard," said Mary. "Well, sir," said she, for his voice was +ingratiating, and had modified the effect of his criminal countenance, +"as you knew my mother, you are welcome to me." + +The artist in deceit gave a little sigh, and said, "That's more than I +dare hope. For I am here upon a most unpleasant commission; but for my +respect for your mother I would not have undertaken it, for really my +acquaintance with the other lady is but slight." + +Mary looked a little surprised at this rigmarole, and said, "But this +commission, what is it?" + +"Miss Bartley," said he, solemnly, yet gravely, "I have been requested to +warn you against a gentleman who is deceiving you." + +"Who is that?" said Mary, on her guard directly. + +"It is a Mr. Walter Clifford." + +"Walter Clifford!" said Mary. "You are a slanderer; he is incapable +of deceit." + +The rogue pretended to brighten up. + +"Well, I hope so," said he, "and I told the lady as much; he comes from a +most honorable stock. So then he has _told_ you about Lucy Monckton?" + +"Lucy Monckton!" cried Mary. "No; who is she?" + +"Miss Bartley," said the villain, very gravely and solemnly, "she is +his wife." + +"His wife, sir?" cried Mary, contemptuously--"his wife? You must be mad. +I'll hear no more against him behind his back." Then, threatening her +tormentor: "He will be home again this evening; he has only ridden to the +Lake Hotel; you shall repeat this to his face, if you dare." + +"It will be my painful duty," said the serpent, meekly. + +"His wife!" said Mary, scornfully, but her lips trembled. + +"His wife," replied Monckton, calmly; "a respectable woman whom, it +seems, he has deserted these fourteen years. My acquaintance with her is +slight, but she is in a good position, and, indeed, wealthy, and has +never troubled him. However, she heard somehow he was courting you, and +as I often visit Derby upon business, she requested me to come over here +and warn you in time." + +"And do you think," said Mary, scornfully, "I shall believe this from a +stranger?" + +"Hardly," said Monckton, with every appearance of candor. "Mrs. Walter +Clifford directed me to show you his marriage certificate and hers." + +"The marriage certificate!" cried Mary, turning pale. + +"Yes," said Monckton; "they were married at the Registry Office on the +11th June, 1868," and he put his hand in his breast pocket to search for +the certificate. He took this opportunity to say, "You must not fancy +that there is any jealousy or ill feeling after fourteen years' +desertion, but she felt it her duty as a woman--" + +"The certificate!" said Mary--"the certificate!" + +He showed her the certificate; she read the fatal words, "Walter +Clifford." The rest swam before her eyes, and to her the world seemed at +an end. She heard, as in a dream, the smooth voice of the false accuser, +saying, with a world of fictitious sympathy, "I wish I had never +undertaken this business. Mrs. Walter Clifford doesn't want to distress +you; she only felt it her duty to save you. Don't give way. There is no +great harm done, unless you were to be deluded into marrying him." + +"And what then?" inquired Mary, trembling. + +Monckton appeared to be agitated at this question. + +"Oh, don't speak of it," said he. "You would be ruined for life, and he +would get seven years' penal servitude; and that is a sentence few +gentlemen survive in the present day when prisons are slaughter-houses. +There, I have discharged the most disagreeable office I ever undertook in +my life; but at all events you are warned in time." + +Then he bowed most respectfully to her, and retired, exhaling his pent-up +venom in a diabolical grin. + +She, poor victim, stood there stupefied, pierced with a poisoned arrow, +and almost in a state of collapse; then she lifted her hands and eyes for +help, and saw Hope's study in front of her. Everything swam confusedly +before her; she did not know for certain whether he was there or not; +she cried to that true friend for help. + +"Mr. Hope--I am lost--I am in the deep waters of despair--save me _once +more_, save me!" Thus speaking she tottered into the office, and sank all +limp and powerless into a chair, unable to move or speak, but still not +insensible, and soon her brow sank upon the table, and her hands spread +themselves feebly out before her. + +It was all villainous spite on Monckton's part. He did not for a moment +suppose that his lie could long outlive Walter Clifford's return; but he +was getting desperate, and longing to stab them all. Unfortunately fate +befriended the villain's malice, and the husband and wife did not meet +again till that diabolical poison had done its work. + +Monckton retired, put off his old man's disguise behind the fir-trees, +and went toward another of his hiding-places, an enormous oak-tree which +stood in the hedge of Hope's cottage garden. The subtle villain had made +this hollow tree an observatory, and a sort of sally-port, whence he +could play the fiend. + +The people at the hotel were, as Mary told Julia Clifford, very +honest people. + +They showed Percy Fitzroy's bracelet to one or two persons, and found it +was of great value. This made them uneasy, lest something should happen +to it under their charge; so the woman sent her husband to the +neighborhood of Clifford Hall to try and find out if there was a lady of +that name who had left it. The husband was a simple fellow, very unfit to +discharge so delicate a commission. He went at first, as a matter of +course, to the public-house; they directed him to the Hall, but he missed +it, and encountered a gentleman, whose quick eye fell upon the bracelet, +for the foolish man had shown it to so many people that now he was +carrying it in his hand, and it blazed in the meridian sun. This +gentleman said, "What have you got there?" + +"Well, sir," said the man, "it was left at our hotel by a young couple +from these parts. Handsome couple they were, sir, and spending their +honey-moon." + +"Let me see it," said Mr. Bartley, for he was the gentleman. He had come +back in some anxiety to see whether Hope had pacified Mary, or whether +he must exert himself to make matters smooth with her again. Whilst he +was examining the bracelet, who should appear but Percy Fitzroy, the +owner. Not that he came after the bracelet; on the contrary, that +impetuous young gentleman had discovered during the last two hours that +he valued Miss Clifford's love a great deal more than all the bracelets +in the world, for all that he was delighted at the unexpected sight of +his property. + +"Why, that's mine," said he. "It's an heirloom. I lent it to Miss Julia +Clifford, and when I asked her for it to-day she could not produce it." + +"Oho!" said Mr. Bartley. "What, do the ladies of the house of Clifford go +in for clandestine marriages?" + +"Certainly not, sir," said Fitzroy. "Don't you know the difference +between a wedding ring and a bracelet?" Then he turned to the man, "Here +is a sovereign for your trouble, my man. Now give me my bracelet." + +To his surprise the hotel-keeper put it behind his back instead of giving +it to him. + +"Nay," said he, shaking his head knowingly, "you are not the gentleman +that spent the honey-moon with the lady as owns it. My mistress said I +was not to give it into no hands but hers." + +This staggered Percy dreadfully, and he looked from one to another to +assist him in solving the mystery. + +Bartley came to the assistance of his understanding, but with no regard +to the feelings of his heart. "It's clear enough what it means, sir; your +sweetheart is playing you false." + +That went through the true-lover's heart like a knife, and poor little +Percy leaned in despair against Hope's workshop window transfixed by the +poisoned arrow of jealousy. + +At this moment the voice of Colonel Clifford was heard, loud and ringing +as usual. Julia Clifford had decoyed him there in hopes of falling in +with Percy and making it up; and to deceive the good Colonel as to her +intentions she had been running him down all the way; so the Colonel was +heard to say, in a voice for all the village to hear, "Jealous is he, and +suspicious? Then you take my advice and give him up at once. You will +easily find a better man and a bigger." After delivering this, like the +word of command upon parade, the Colonel was crossing the turf, a yard or +two higher up than Hope's workshop, when the spirit of revenge moved +Bartley to retort upon his insulter. + +"Hy, Colonel Clifford!" + +The Colonel instantly halted, and marched down with Julia on his arm, +like a game-cock when another rooster crows defiance. + +"And what can you have to say to me, sir?" was his haughty inquiry. + +"To take you down a peg. You rode the high horse pretty hard to-day. The +spotless honor of the Cliffords, eh?" + +Then it was fixed bayonets and no quarter. + +"Have the Cliffords ever dabbled in trade or trickery? Coal merchants, +coal heavers, and coal whippers may defile our fields with coal dust and +smoke, but they can not defile our honor." + +"The men are brave as lions, and the women as chaste as snow?" +sneered Bartley. + +"I don't know about lions and snow. I have often seen a lion turn tail, +and the snow is black slush wherever you are. But the Cliffords, being +gentlemen, are brave, and being ladies, are chaste." + +"Oh, indeed!" hissed Bartley. "Then how comes it that your niece +there--whose name is _Miss_ Clifford, I believe--spent what this good man +calls a honey-moon, with a young gentleman, at this good man's inn?" + +Here the good man in question made a faint endeavor to interpose, but the +gentlefolks by their impetuosity completely suppressed him. + +"It's a falsehood!" cried Julia, haughtily. + +"You scurrilous cad!" roared the Colonel, and shook his staff at him, and +seemed on the point of charging him. + +But Bartley was not to be put down this time. He snatched the bracelet +from the man, and held it up in triumph. + +"And left this bracelet there to prove it was no falsehood." + +Then Julia got frightened at the evidence and the terrible nature of the +accusation. "Oh!" cried she, in great distress, "can any one here believe +that I am a creature so lost? I have not seen the bracelet these two +months. I lent it--to--ah, here she is! Mary, save me from shame; you +know I am innocent." + +Mary, who was standing at the window in Hope's study, came slowly +forward, pale as death with her own trouble, to do an act of womanly +justice. "Miss Clifford," said she, languidly, as one to whom all human +events were comparatively indifferent--"Miss Clifford lent the bracelet +to me, and I left it at that man's inn." This she said right in the +middle of them all. + +The hotel-keeper took the bracelet from the unresisting hand of Bartley, +touched his hat, and gave it to her. + +"There, mistress," said he. "I could have told them you was the lady, but +they would not let a poor fellow get a word in edgeways." He retired with +an obeisance. + +Mary handed the bracelet to Julia, and then remained passive. + +A dead silence fell upon them all, and a sort of horror crept over Mary +Bartley at what must follow; but come what might, no power should +induce her to say the word that should send Walter Clifford to jail for +seven years. + +Bartley came to her; she trembled, and her hands worked. + +"What are you saying, you fool?" he whispered. "The lady that left the +bracelet was there with a gentleman." + +Mary winced. + +Then Bartley said, sternly, "Who was your companion?" + +"I must not say." + +"You will say one thing," said Bartley, "or I shall have no mercy on you. +Are you secretly married?" + +Then a single word flashed across Mary's almost distracted +mind--SELF-SACRIFICE. She held her tongue. + +"Can't you speak? Are you a wife?" He now began to speak so loud in his +anger that everybody heard it. + +Mary crouched a little and worked her hands convulsively under the +torture, but she answered with such a doggedness that evidently she would +have let herself be cut to pieces sooner than said more. + +"I--don't--know." + +"You don't know?" roared Bartley. + +Mary paused, and then, with iron doggedness, "I--don't--know." + +This apparent insult to his common-sense drove Bartley almost mad. "You +have given these cursed Cliffords a triumph over me," he cried; "you have +brought shame to my door; but it shall never pass the threshold." Here +the Colonel uttered a contemptuous snort. This drove Bartley wild +altogether; he rushed at the Colonel, and shook his fist in his face. +"You stand there sneering at my humiliation; now see the example I can +make." Then he was down upon Mary in a moment, and literally yelled at +her in his fury. "Go to your paramour, girl; go where you will. You never +enter my door again." And he turned his back furiously upon her. + +This terrible denunciation overpowered poor Mary's resolution; she clung +to him in terror. "Oh, mercy, mercy, papa! I'll explain to _you_, have +pity on your child!" + +Bartley flung her so roughly from him that she nearly fell, "You are my +child no more." + +But at that moment in strode William Hope, looking seven feet high, and +his eyes blazing. "Liar and hypocrite," he roared, "_she never was your +child_!" Then, changing to a tone of exquisite love, and stretching out +both his hands to Mary, "SHE IS MINE!" + +Mary, being now between the two men, turned swiftly first to one, then to +the other, and with woman's infallible eye knew her own flesh and blood +in that half-moment. She uttered a cry of love and rapture that went +through every heart that heard it; and she flung herself in a moment upon +her father's bosom. + +He whirled her round like a feather on to his right arm, then faced both +her enemies, Clifford and Bartley, with haughty defiance, head thrown +back, and eyes that flashed black lightning in defense of his child. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +LOVERS' QUARRELS. + + +It was a living picture. The father protecting his child like an eagle; +Bartley cooled in a moment, and hanging his head apart, gloomy and +alarmed at the mad blunder rage had betrayed him into; Colonel Clifford +amazed and puzzled, and beginning to see the consequences of all this; +Julia clasping her hands in rapture and thrilling interest at so +romantic an incident; Fitzroy beaming with delight at his sweetheart +being cleared; and, to complete the picture, the villainous face of +Leonard Monckton, disguised as an old man, showed itself for a moment +sinister and gloomy; for now all hope of pecuniary advantage to him was +gone, and nothing but revenge was on the cards, and he could not see his +way clear to that. + +But Hope was no posture-maker; he turned the next moment and said a word +or two to all present. + +"Yes, this is Grace Hope, my daughter. We were very poor, and her life +was in danger; I saw nothing else but that; my love was stronger than my +conscience; I gave her to that man upon a condition which he has now +broken. He saved her life and was kind to her. I thanked him; I thank him +still, and I did my best to repay him. But now he has trusted to +appearances, and not to her; he has belied and outraged her publicly. But +I am as proud of her as ever, and don't believe appearances against her +character and her angel face and--" + +"No more do I," cried Julia Clifford, eagerly. "I know her. She's purity +itself, and a better woman than I shall ever be." + +"Thank you, Miss Clifford," said Hope, in a broken voice; "God bless you. +Come, Grace, and share my humble home. At all events, it will shelter you +from insult." + +And so the pair went lovingly away, Grace clinging to her father, +comforted for the moment, but unable to speak, and entered Hope's little +cottage. It was but a stone's-throw from where they stood. + +This broke up the party. + +"And my house is yours," said Colonel Clifford to Julia. "I did not +believe appearances against a Clifford." With these words he took two +steps toward his niece and held out his arm. She moved toward him. Percy +came forward radiant to congratulate her. She drew up with a look of +furious scorn that made him recoil, and she marched proudly away with +her uncle. He bestowed one parting glance of contempt upon the +discomfited Bartley, and marched his niece proudly off, more determined +than ever that she should be his daughter. But for once he was wise +enough not to press that topic: he let her indignation work alone. +Moreover, though he was a little wrong-headed and not a little +pig-headed, he was a noble-minded man, and nothing noble passed him +unobserved or unappreciated. + +"_That_ Bartley's daughter!" said he to Julia. "Ay, when roses spring +from dunghills, and eagles are born of sparrow-hawks. Brave +girl!--brave girl!" + +"Oh, uncle," said Julia, "I am so glad you appreciate her!" + +"Appreciate her!" said the Colonel; "what should I be worth if I did not? +Why, these are the women that win Waterloo in the persons of their sons. +That girl could never breed a coward nor a cheat." Then his incisive +voice mellowed suddenly. "Poor young thing," said he, with manly emotion, +"I saw her come out of that room pale as death to do another woman +justice. She's no fool, though that ruffian called her one. She knew what +she was doing, yet for all her woman's heart she faced disgrace as +unflinchingly as if it was, only death. It was a great action, a noble +action, a just action, and a manly action, but done like a very woman. +Where the two sexes meet like that in one brave deed it's grand. I +declare it warms an old soldier's heart, and makes him thank God there +are a few creatures in the world that do humanity honor." + +As the Colonel was a man that stuck to a topic when he got upon it, this +was the main of his talk all the way to Clifford Hall. He even remarked +to his niece that, so far as his observations of the sex extended, great +love of justice was not the leading feature of the female mind; other +virtues he ventured to think were more prominent. + +"So everybody says," was Julia's admission. + +"Everybody is right for once," said the Colonel. + +They entered the house together, and Miss Clifford went up to her room; +there she put on a new bonnet and a lovely shawl, recently imported from +Paris. Who could this be for? She sauntered upon the lawn till she found +herself somehow near the outward boundary, where there was a gate leading +into the Park. As she walked to and fro by this gate she observed, out of +the tail of her eye of course, the figure of a devoted lover creeping +toward her. Whether this took her by surprise, or whether the lovely +creature was playing the part of a beautiful striped spider waiting for +her fly, the reader must judge for himself. + +Percy came to the gate; she walked past him twice, coming and going with +her eyes fixed upon vacancy. She passed him a third time. He murmured in +a pleading voice, + +"Julia!" + +She neither saw nor heard, so attractive had the distant horizon become. + +Percy opened the gate and came inside, and stood before her the next time +she passed. She started with _surprise_. + +"What do you want here?" said she. + +"To speak to you." + +"How dare you speak to me after your vile suspicions?" + +"Well, but, Julia--" + +"How dare you call me Julia?" + +"Well, Miss Clifford, won't you even hear me?" + +"Not a word. It's through you poor dear Mary and I have both been +insulted by that wretch of a father of hers." + +"Which father?" + +"I said wretch. To whom does that term apply except to Mr. Bartley, and" +(with sudden vigor) "to you." + +"Then you think I am as bad as old Bartley," said Percy, firing up. + +"No, I don't." + +"Ah," said Percy, glad to find there was a limit. + +But Julia explained: "I think you are a great deal worse. You pretend to +love me, and yet without the slightest reason you doubt me." + +"What did I doubt? I thought you had parted with my bracelet to another +person, and so you had. I never doubted your honor." + +"Oh yes, you did; I saw your face." + +"I am not r--r--responsible for my face." + +"Yes, you are; you had no business to look broken-hearted, and miserable, +and distrustful, and abominable. It was your business, face and all, to +distrust appearances, and not me." + +"Ap--pear--ances were so strong that not to look m--miserable would have +been to seem indifferent; there is no love where there is no jealousy." + +"Oh," said Julia, "he has let that out at last, after denying it a +hundred times. Now I say there is no true love without respect and +confidence, and this doesn't exist where there is jealousy, and all about +a trumpery bracelet." + +"Anything but tr--ump--ump--umpery; it came down from my ancestors." + +"You never had any; your behavior shows that." + +"I tell you it is an heirloom. It was given to my mother by--" + +"Oh, we know all about that," said Julia. "'This bracelet did an Egyptian +to my mother give.' But you are not going to play Othello with me." + +"I shouldn't have a very gentle Desdemona." + +"No, you wouldn't, candidly. No man shall ever bully and insult me, and +then wake me out of my first sleep to smother me because my maid has lost +one of his handkerchiefs at the wash." + +He burst out laughing at this, and tried to inveigle her into good-humor. + +"Say no more about it," said he, "and I'll forgive you." + +"Forgive me, you little wretch!" cried Julia. "Why, haven't you the +sense to see that it is serious this time, and my patience is exhausted, +and that our engagement is broken off, and I never mean to see you +again--except when you come to my wedding?" + +"Your wedding!" cried Percy, turning pale. "With whom?" + +"That's my business; you leave that to me, sir. Hold out your hand--both +hands; here is the ancestral bracelet--it shall pinch me no longer, +neither my wrist nor my heart; here's the brooch you gave me--I won't be +pinned to it any longer, nor to you neither; and there is your bunch of +charms; and there is your bundle of love-letters--stupid ones they are;" +and she crammed all the aforesaid treasures into his hands one after the +other. So this was what she went to her room for. + +Percy looked down on his handful ruefully. "My very letters! There was no +jealousy in them; they were full of earnest love." + +"Fuller of bad spelling," said the relentless girl. Then she went into +details: "You spell abominable with two m's--and that's abominable; you +spell ridiculous with a k--and that's ridicklous. So after this don't you +presume to speak to me, for I shall never speak to you again." + +"Very well, then," said Percy. "I, too, will be silent forever." + +"Oh, I dare say," said Julia; "a chatter-box like you." + +"Even chatter-boxes are silent in the grave," suggested Percy; "and if we +are to part like this forever to-day, to-morrow I shall be no more." + +"Well, you could not be much less," said Julia, but with a certain +shame-faced change of tone that perhaps, if Percy had been more +experienced, might have given him a ray of hope. + +"Well," said he, "I know one lady that would not treat these presents +with quite so much contempt." + +"Oh, I have seen her," said Julia, spitefully. "She has been setting +her cap at you for some time; it's Miss Susan Beckley--a fine +conquest--great, fat, red-haired thing." + +"Auburn." + +"Yes, all-burn, scarlet, carrots, _flamme d'enfer_. Well, go and give her +my leavings, yourself and your ancestral--paste." + +"Well," said Percy, gloomily, "I might do worse. You never really loved +me; you were always like an enemy looking out for faults. You kept +postponing our union for something to happen to break it off. But I won't +be any woman's slave; I'll use one to drive out the other. None of you +shall trample on me." Then he burst forth into singing. Nobody stammers +when he sings. + +"Shall I, wasting in despair, +Sigh because a woman's fair? +Shall my cheeks grow pale with care +Because another's rosy are? +If she be not kind to me, +What care I how fair she be?" + +This resolute little gentleman passed through the gate as he concluded +the verse, waved his hand jauntily by way of everlasting adieu, and +went off whistling the refrain with great spirit, and both hands in +his pockets. + +"You impudent!" cried Julia, almost choking; then, authoritatively, +"Percy--Mr. Fitzroy;" then, coaxingly, "Percy _dear_." + +Percy heard, and congratulated himself upon his spirit. "That's the way +to treat them," said he to himself. + +"Well?" said he, with an air of indifference, and going slowly back to +the gate. "What is it now?" said he, a little arrogantly. + +She soon let him know. Directly he was quite within reach she gave him a +slap in the face that sounded like one plank falling upon another, and +marched off with an air of royal dignity, as if she had done the most +graceful and lady-like thing in all the world. + +How happy are those choice spirits who can always preserve their dignity! + +Percy retired red as fire, and one of his cheeks retained that high +color for the rest of the day. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +APOLOGIES. + + +We must now describe the place to which Hope conducted his daughter, and +please do not skip our little description. It is true that some of our +gifted contemporaries paint Italian scenery at prodigious length _a +propos de bottes_, and others show in many pages that the rocks and the +sea are picturesque objects, even when irrelevant. True that others gild +the evening clouds and the western horizon merely to please the horizon +and the clouds. But we hold with Pope that + +"The proper study of mankind is man," + +and that authors' pictures are bores, except as narrow frames to big +incidents. The true model, we think, for a writer is found in the opening +lines of "Marmion," where the castle at even-tide, its yellow lustre, its +drooping banner, its mail-clad warders reflecting the western blaze, the +tramp of the sentinel, and his low-hummed song, are flung on paper with +the broad and telling touch of Rubens, not from an irrelevant admiration +of old castles and the setting sun, but because the human figures of the +story are riding up to that sun-gilt castle to make it a scene of great +words and deeds. + +Even so, though on a much humbler scale, we describe Hope's cottage and +garden, merely because it was for a moment or two the scene of a +remarkable incident never yet presented in history or fiction. + +This cottage, then, was in reality something between a villa and a +cottage; it resembled a villa in this, that the rooms were lofty, and the +windows were casements glazed with plate glass and very large. Walter +Clifford had built it for a curate, who proved a bird of passage, and +the said Walter had a horror of low rooms, for he said, "I always feel as +if the ceiling was going to flatten me to the floor." Owing to this the +bedroom windows, which looked westward on the garden, were a great height +from the ground, and the building had a Gothic character. + +Still there was much to justify the term cottage. The door, which looked +southward on the road, was at the side of the building, and opened, not +into a hall, but into the one large sitting-room, which was thirty feet +long and twenty-five feet broad, and instead of a plaster ceiling there +were massive joists, which Hope had gilded and painted till they were a +sight to behold. Another cottage feature: the walls were literally +clothed with verdure and color; in front, huge creeping geraniums, +jasmine, and Virginia creepers hid the brick-work; and the western walls, +to use the words of a greater painter than ourselves, were + +"Quite overcanopied with lush woodbine, +With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine." + +In the next place, the building stood in a genuine cottage garden. It was +close to the road. The southern boundary was plain oak paling, made of +upright pieces which Hope had varnished so that the color was now a fine +amber; the rest of the boundary was a quick-set hedge, in the western +division of which stood an enormous oak-tree, hollow at the back. And the +garden was fair with humble flowers--pinks, sweet-williams, crimson +nasturtiums, double daisies, lilies, and tulips; but flower beds shared +the garden with friendly cabbages, potatoes, onions, carrots, and +asparagus. + +To this humble but pleasant abode Hope conducted his daughter, and +insisted upon her lying down on the sofa in the sitting-room. Then he +ordered the woman who kept the house for him to prepare the spare +bedroom, which looked into the garden, and to cut some of the +sweet-smelling flowers. He himself had much to say to his daughter, and, +above all, to demand her explanation of the awkward circumstances that +had been just revealed. But she had received a great shock, and, like +most manly men, he had a great consideration for the weakness of women, +and his paternal heart said, "Let her have an hour or two of absolute +repose before I subject her to any trial whatever." So he opened the +window to give her air, enjoining her most strictly not to move, and even +to go to sleep if she could; and then he put on his shooting coat, with +large inside pocket, to go and buy her a little wine--a thing he never +touched himself--and what other humble delicacies the village afforded. +He walked briskly away from his door without the least idea that all his +movements were watched from a hiding-place upon his own premises, no +other than the great oak-tree, hollow and open at the back, in which +Leonard Monckton had bored two peep-holes, and was now ensconced there +watching him. + +Hope had not gone many yards from his own door when he was confronted +by one of those ruffians who, by their way of putting it, are the +eternal butt of iniquitous people and iniquitous things, namely, honest +men, curse them! and the law, confound it! This was no other than that +Ben Burnley, who, being a miner, had stuck half-way between Devonshire +and Durham, and had been some months in Bartley's mine. He opened on +Hope in a loud voice, and dialect which we despair of conveying with +absolute accuracy. + +"Mr. Hope, sir, they won't let me go down t' mine." + +"No; you're discharged." + +"Who by?" + +"By me." + +"What for?" + +"For smoking in the mine, in spite of three warnings." + +"Me smoking in t' mine! Who telt you yon lie?" + +"You were seen to pick the lock of your Davylamp, and that put the mine +in danger. Then you were seen to light your pipe at the bare light, and +that put it in worse peril." + +"That's a lie. What mak's yer believe my skin's nowt to me? It's all one +as it is to them liars that would rob me of my bread out of clean spite." + +"It's the truth, and proved by four honest witnesses. There are a hundred +and fifty men and twenty ponies in that mine, and their lives must not be +sacrificed by one two-legged brute that won't hear reason. You are +discharged and paid; so be good enough to quit the premises and find work +elsewhere; and Lord help your employer, whoever he is!" + +Hope would waste no more time over this fellow. He turned his back, and +went off briskly on his more important errand. + +Burnley shook his fist at him, and discharged a volley of horrible curses +after him. Whilst he was thus raging after the man that had done his duty +he heard a satirical chuckle. He turned his head, and, behold! there was +the sneering face of his fellow jail-bird Monckton. Burnley started. + +"Yes, mate," said Monckton, "it is me. And what sort of a pal are you, +that couldn't send me a word to Portland that you had dropped on to this +rascal Hope? You knew I was after him. You might have saved me the +trouble, you selfish brute." + +Burnley submitted at once to the ascendency of Monckton; he hung his +head, and muttered, "I am no scholard to write to folk." + +"You grudged a joey to a bloke to write for you. Now I suppose you expect +me to be a good pal to you again, all the same?" + +"Why not?" said Burnley. "He is poison to you as well as to me. He +gave you twelve years' penal; you told me so at Portland; let's be +revenged on him." + +"What else do you think I am here for, you fool? But empty revenge, +that's child's play. The question is, can you do what you are told?" + +"Ay, if I see a chance of revenge. Why, I always did what you told me." + +"Very well, then; there's nothing ripe yet." + +"Yer don't mean I am to wait a year for my revenge." + +"You will have to wait an opportunity. Revenge is like other luxuries, +there's a time for it. Do you think I am such a fool as to go in for +blindfold revenge, and get lagged or stretched? Not for Joseph, nor for +you, either, Benjamin. I'll tell you what, though, I think this will be a +busy day; it must be a busy day. That old fox Bartley has found out his +blunder before now, and he'll try something on; then the Cliffords, they +won't go to sleep on it." + +"I don't know what yer talking about," says Burnley. + +"Remain in your ignorance, Ben. The best instrument is a blind +instrument; you shall have your revenge soon or late." + +"Let it be soon, then." + +"In the meantime," said Monckton, "have you got any money?" + +"Got my wages." + +"That will do for you to-day. Go to the public-house and get half-drunk." + +"Half-drunk?" + +"Half-drunk! Don't I speak plain?" + +"Miners," said Burnley, candidly, "never get half-drunk in t' county +Durham; they are that the best part of their time." + +"Then you get half-drunk, neither more nor less, or I'll discharge you as +Hope has done, and that will be the worst discharge of the two for you. +When you are half-drunk come here directly, and hang about this place. +No; you had better be under that tree in the middle of the field there, +and pretend to be sleeping off your liquor. Come, mizzle!" + +When he had packed off Burnley, he got back into his hiding-place, and +only just in time, for Hope came back again upon the wings of love, and +Grace, whose elastic nature had revived, saw him coming, and came out to +meet him. Hope scolded her urgently: why had she got off the sofa when +repose was so necessary for her? + +"You are mistaken, dear father," said she. "I am wonderfully strong and +healthy; I never fainted away in my life, and my mind will not let me +rest at present--I have been longing so for my father." + +"Ah, precious word!" murmured Hope. "Keep saying that word to me, +darling. Oh, the years that I have pined for it!" + +"Dear father, we will make up for all those years. Oh, papa, let us not +part again, never, never, not even for a day." + +"My child, we never will. What am I saying? I shall have to give you back +to one who has a stronger claim than I--to your husband." + +"My husband?" said Mary, turning pale. + +"Yes," said Hope; "for you know you have a husband. Oh, I heard a few +words there before I interfered; but it is not to me you'll say '_I +don't know_.' That was good enough for Bartley and a lot of strangers. +Come, Grace dear, take my arm; have no concealments from me. Trust to a +father's infinite love, even if you have been imprudent or betrayed; but +that's a thing I shall never believe except from your lips. Take a turn +with me, my child, since you can not lie down and rest; a little air, +and gentle movement on your father's arm, and close to your father's +heart, will be the next best thing for you." Then they walked to and fro +like lovers. + +"Why, Grace, my child," said he, "of course I understand it all. No +doubt you promised to keep your marriage secret, or had some powerful +reason for withholding it from strangers; and, indeed, why should you +reveal such a secret to insolence or to mere curiosity. But you will tell +the truth to me, your father and your best friend; you will tell me you +are a wife." + +"Father," said Mary, trembling, and her eyes roved as if she was looking +out for the means of flight. + +Hope saw this look, and it made him sick at heart, for he had lived too +long, and observed too keenly, not to know that innocence and purity are +dangers, and are more often protected by the safeguards of society than +by themselves. + +"Oh, my child," said he, "anything is better than this suspense; why +do you not answer me? Why do you torture me? Are you Walter +Clifford's wife?" + +Mary began to pant and sob. "Oh papa, have patience with me. You do not +know the danger. Wait till he comes back. I dare not; I can not." + +"Then, by Heaven, he shall!" + +He dropped her arm, and his countenance became terrible. She clung to +him directly. + +"No, no; wait till I have seen him. He will be back this very +evening. Do not judge hastily; and oh, papa, as you love your child, +do not act rashly." + +"I shall act firmly," was Hope's firm reply. "You have come from a sham +father to a real one, and you will be protected as well as loved. This +lover has forbidden you to confide in your father (he did not know that I +was your father, but that makes no difference); it looks very ugly, and +if he has wronged you he shall do you justice, or I will have his life." + +"Oh, papa," screamed Mary, "his life? Why, mine is bound up with it." + +"I fear so," said Hope. "But what's our life to us without our honor, +especially to a woman? He is the true Cain that destroys a pure virgin." + +Then he put both his hands on her shoulder, and said, "Look at me, +Grace." She looked at him full with eyes as brave as a lion's and as +gentle as a gazelle's. + +In a moment his senses enlightened him beyond the power of circumstances +to deceive. "It's a lie," said he; "men are always lying and +circumstances deceiving; there is no blush of shame upon these cheeks, no +sin nor frailty in these pure eyes. You are his wife?" + +"I am!" cried Grace, unable to resist any longer. + +"Thank God!" cried Hope, and father and daughter were locked that moment +in a tender embrace. + +"Yes, papa, you shall know all, and then I shall have to fall on my knees +and ask you not to punish one I love--for--a fault committed years ago. +You will have pity on us both. Walter and I were married at the altar, +and I am his wife in the eyes of Heaven. But, oh, papa, I fear I am not +his lawful wife." + +"Not his lawful wife, child! Why, what nonsense!" + +"I would to Heaven it was; but this morning I learned for the first time +that he had been married before. Oh, it was years ago; but she is alive." + +"Impossible! He could not be so base." + +"Papa," said Mary, very gravely, "I have seen the certificate." + +"The certificate!" said Hope, in dismay. "What certificate?" + +"Of the Registry Office. It was shown me by a gentleman she sent +expressly to warn me; she had no idea that Walter and I were married, but +she had heard somehow of our courtship. I try to thank her, and I tried, +and always will, to save him from a prison and his family from disgrace." + +"And sacrifice yourself?" cried Hope, in agony. + +"I love him," said Mary, "and you must spare him." + +"I will have justice for my child." + +Grace was in such terror lest her father should punish Walter that she +begged him to consider whether in sacrificing herself she really had not +been unintentionally wise. What could she gain by publishing that she had +married another woman's husband "I have lost my husband," said she "but I +have found my father. Oh take me away and let me rest my broken heart +upon yours far from all who know me. Every wound seems to be cured in +this world, and if time won't cure this my wound, even with my father's +help, the grave _will_." + +"Oh, misery!" cried Hope; "do I hear such words as these from my child +just entering upon life and all its joys?" + +"Hush, papa," said Grace; "there is that man." + +That man was Mr. Bartley. He looked very much distressed, and proceeded +at once to express his penitence. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +A WOMAN OUTWITS TWO MEN. + + +"Oh, Mary, what can I say? I was simply mad, stung into fury by that +foul-mouthed ruffian. Mary, I am deeply sorry, and thoroughly ashamed of +my violence and my cruelty, and I implore you to think of the very many +happy years we have spent together without an angry word--not that you +ever deserved one. Let us silence all comments; return to me as the head +of my house and the heiress of my fortune; you will bind Mr. Hope to me +still more strongly, he shall be my partner, and he will not be so +selfish as to ruin your future." + +"Ay," said Hope, "that's the same specious argument you tempted me with +twelve years ago. But she was a helpless child then; she is a woman now, +and can decide for herself. As for me, I will not be your partner. I have +a small royalty on your coal, and that is enough for me; but Grace shall +do as she pleases. My child, will you go to the brilliant future that his +wealth can secure you, or share my modest independence, which will need +all my love to brighten it. Think before you answer; your own future life +depends upon yourself." + +With this he turned his back and walked for some distance very stoutly, +then leaned upon the palings with his back toward Grace; but even a back +can speak, and the young lady looked at him and her eyes filled; then she +turned them toward Bartley, and those clear eyes dried as if the fire in +the heart had scorched them. + +"In the first place, sir," said she, with a cold and cutting voice, very +unusual to her, "my name is not Mary, it is Grace; and, be assured of +this, if there was not another roof in all the world to shelter me, if I +was helpless, friendless and fatherless, I would die in the nearest ditch +rather than set my foot in the house from which I was thrust out with +shame and insult such as no lady ever yet forgave. But, thank Heaven, I +am not at your mercy at all. He to whom nature has drawn me all these +years is my father--Oh, papa, come to me; is it for _you_ to stand aloof? +It is into your hands, with all the trust and love you have earned so +well from your poor Grace, I give my love, my veneration, and my heart +and soul forever." Then she flung herself panting on his bosom, and he +cried over her. The next moment he led her to the house, where he made +her promise to repose now after this fresh trial; and, indeed, he would +have followed her, but Bartley implored him so piteously, for the sake of +old times, not to refuse him one word more, that he relented so far as to +come out to him, though he felt it was a waste of time. + +He said, "Mr. Bartley, it's no use; nothing can undo this morning's +work: our paths lie apart. From something Walter Clifford let fall one +day, I suspect he is the person you robbed, and induced me to rob, of a +large fortune." + +"Well, what is he to you? Have pity upon me; be silent, and name your +own price." + +"Wrong Walter Clifford with my eyes open? He is the last man in the +world that I would wrong in money matters. I have got a stern account +against him, and I will begin it by speaking the truth and giving him +back his own." + +Here the interview was interrupted by an honest miner, one Jim Perkins. +He came in hurriedly, and, like people of that class, thrust everybody +else's business out of his way. "You are wanted at the mine, Mr. Hope. +The shoring of the old works is giving way, and there's a deal of water +collecting in another part." + +"I'll come at once," said Hope; "the men's lives must not be endangered. +Have the cage ready." Jim walked away. + +Hope turned to Bartley. + +"Pray understand, Mr. Bartley, that this is my last visit to your mine." + +"One moment, Hope," cried Bartley in despair; "we have been friends so +long, surely you owe me something." + +"I do." + +"Well, then, I'll make you rich for life if you will but let Mary return +to me and only just be silent; speak neither for me nor against me; +surely that is not much for an old friend to ask. What is your answer?" + +"That I will speak the truth, and keep my conscience and my child." + +This answer literally crushed Bartley. His very knees knocked together; +he leaned against the palings sick at heart. He saw that Colonel Clifford +would extort not only Walter's legacy, but what the lawyers call the +mesne profits, that is to say, the interest and the various proceeds +from the fraud during fourteen years. + +Whilst he was in this condition of bodily collapse and mental horror a +cold, cynical voice dropped icicles, so to speak, into his ear. + +"In a fix, governor, eh? The girl won't come back, and Hope won't hold +his tongue." + +Bartley looked round in amazement, and saw the cadaverous face and +diabolical sneer of Leonard Monckton. Fourteen years and evil passions +had furrowed that bloodless cheek; but there was no mistaking the man. It +was a surprise to Bartley to see him there and be spoken to by a knave +who had tried to rob him; but he was too full of his immediate trouble to +think much of minor things. + +"What do you know about it?" said he, roughly. + +"I'll tell you," said Monckton, coolly. + +He then walked in a most leisurely way to the gate that led into the +meadow whose eastern boundary was Hope's quick-set hedge, and he came in +the same leisurely way up to Mr. Bartley, and leaned his back, with his +hands behind him, with perfect effrontery, against the palings. + +"I know all," said he. "I overheard you in your office fourteen years +ago, when you changed children with Hope." + +Bartley uttered an exclamation of dismay. + +"And I've been hovering about here all day, and watched the little game, +and now I am fly, and no mistake." + +Bartley threw up his hands in dismay. "Then it's all over; I am doubly +ruined. I can not hope to silence you both." + +"Don't speak so loud, governor." + +"Why not?" said Bartley, "others will, if I don't." He lowered his voice +for all that, and wondered what was coming. + +"Listen to me," said Monckton, exchanging his cynical manner for a quiet +and weighty one. + +Bartley began to wonder, and look at him with a sort of awe. The words +now dropped out of Monckton's thin lips as if they were chips of granite, +so full of meaning was every syllable, and Bartley felt it. + +"It's not so bad as it looks. There are only two men that know you +are a felon." + +Bartley winced visibly. + +"Now one of those men is to be bought"--Bartley lifted his head with a +faint gleam of hope at that--"and the other--has gone--down a coal-mine." + +"What good will that do me?" + +The villain paused, and looked Bartley in the face. + +"That depends. Suppose you were to offer me what you offered Hope, and +suppose Hope--was never--to come up--again?" + +"No such luck," said Bartley, shaking his head sorrowfully. + +"Luck," said Monckton, contemptuously; "we make our own luck. Do you see +that vagabond lying under the tree, that's Ben Burnley." + +"Ah!" said Bartley, "the ruffian Hope discharged." + +"The same, and a man that is burning to be revenged on him: _he's_ your +luck, Mr. Bartley; I know the man, and what he has done in a mine +before to-day." + +Then he drew near to Bartley's ear, and hissed into it these +fearful words: + +"Send him down the mine, promise him five hundred pounds--if William +Hope--never comes up again--and William Hope never will." + +Bartley drew back aghast. "Assassination!" he cried, and by a generous +impulse of horror he half fled from the tempter; but Monckton followed +him up and laid his hand upon his shoulder. + +"Hush," said he, "you are getting too near that window; and it is open. +Let me see there's nobody inside." + +He looked in. There was nobody. Grace was upstairs, but it did so happen +that she came into the room soon after. + +"Nothing of the kind. Accident. Accidents will happen in mines, and +talking of luck, this mine was declared dangerous this very day." + +"No, no," groaned Bartley, trembling in every limb, "it's a horrible +crime; I dare not risk it." + +"It is but a risk. The alternative is certain. You will be indicted for +fraud by the Cliffords." + +Bartley groaned. + +"They'll live in your home, they'll revel in your money, while you wear a +cropped head--and a convict dress--in a stone cell at Portland." + +"No, never!" screamed Bartley. "Man, man; you are tempting me to my +perdition!" + +"I am saving you. Just consider--where is the risk? It is only an +accident, and who will suspect you? Men don't ruin their own mines. Here, +just let me call him." + +Bartley made a faint gesture to forbid it, but Monckton pretended to take +that as an assent. + +"Hy, Ben," he cried, "come here." + +"No, no," cried Bartley, "I'll have nothing to do with him." + +"Well," said Monckton, "then don't, but hear what he has got to say; +he'll tell you how easily accidents happen in a mine." + +Then Burnley came in, but stood at some distance. Bartley turned his back +upon them both, and edged away from them a little; but Monckton stood +between the two men, determined to bring them together. + +"Ben," said he, "Mr. Bartley takes you on again at my request, no thanks +to Mr. Hope." + +"No, curse him; I know that." + +"Talking of that, Ben, how was it that you got rid of that troublesome +overseer in the Welsh colliery?" + +Ben started, and looked aghast for a moment, but soon recovered himself +and told his tale of blood with a strange mixture of satisfaction and +awe, washing his hands in the air nervously all the time. + +"Well, you see, sir, we put some gun-cotton in a small canister, with a +fuse cut to last fowr minutes, and hid it in one of the old workings the +men had left; then they telt t' overseer they thowt t' water was coming +in by quickly. He got there just in time; and what with t' explosion, +fire-damp, and fallen coal, we never saw t' over-seer again." + +"Dear me," said Monckton, "and Mr. Hope has gone down the mine expressly +to inspect old workings. Is it not a strange coincidence? Now if such an +accident was to befall Mr. Hope, it's my belief Mr. Bartley would give +you five hundred pounds." + +Bartley made no reply, the perspiration was pouring down his face, and he +looked a picture of abject guilt and terror. + +Monckton looked at him, and decided for him. He went softly, like a cat, +to Ben Burnley and said, "If an accident does occur, and that man never +comes up again, you are to have five hundred pounds." + +"Five hundred pounds!" shouted Ben. "I do t' job. Nay, _nay_, but," said +he, and his countenance fell, "they will not let me go down the mine." + +The diabolical agent went cat-like to Bartley. + +"Please give me a written order to let this man go to work again in +the mine." + +Bartley trembled and hesitated, but at last took out his pocket-book and +wrote on a leaf, + +"Take Burnley on again. + +"R. BARTLEY." + +Whilst writing it his hand shook, and when it was written he would not +tear it out. He panted and quivered and was as pale as ashes, and said, +"No, no, it's a death-warrant; I can not;" and his trembling hand tried +to convey the note-book back to his pocket, but it fell from his shaking +fingers, and Monckton took it up and quietly tore the leaf out, and took +it across to Burnley, in spite of a feeble gesture the struggling wretch +made to detain him. He gave Ben the paper, and whispered, "Be off before +he changes his mind." + +"You'll hear of an accident in the mine before the day is over," said +Burnley, and he went off without a grain of remorse under the double +stimulus of revenge and lucre. + +"He'll do it," cried Monckton, triumphantly, "and Hope will end his days +in the Bartley mine." + + * * * * * + +These words were hardly out of his lips when Grace Hope walked out of the +house, pale, and with her eyes gleaming, and walked rapidly past them. +She had nothing on her head but a white handkerchief that was tied under +her chin. Her appearance and her manner struck the conspirators with +terror. Bartley stood aghast; but the more resolute villain seized her as +she passed him. She was not a bit frightened at that, but utterly amazed. +It was a public road. + +"How dare you touch me, you villain!" she cried. "Let me go. Ah, I shall +know you again, with your face like a corpse and your villainous eyes. +Let me go, or I'll have you hung." + +"Where are you going?" said Bartley, trembling. + +"To my father." + +"He is not your father; it is a conspiracy. You must come home with me." + +"Never!" cried Mary, and by a sudden and violent effort she flung +Monckton off. + +But Bartley, mad with terror, seized her that moment, and that gave +Monckton time to recover and seize her again by the arm. + +"You are not of age," cried Bartley; "you are under my authority, and you +shall come home with me." + +"No! no!" cried Mary. "Help! help! murder! help!" + +She screamed, and struggled so violently that with all their efforts +they could hardly hold her. Then the devil Monckton began to cry louder +still, "She's mad! she's mad! help to secure a mad woman." This terrified +Grace Hope. She had read of the villainies that had been done under cover +of that accusation, which indeed has too often prevented honest men from +interfering with deeds of lawless violence. But she had all her wits +about her, woman's wit included. She let them drag her past the cottage +door. Then she cried out with delight, "Ah! here is my father." They +followed the direction of her eye, and relaxed their grasp. Instantly she +drew her hands vigorously downward, got clear of them, gave them each a +furious push that sent them flying forward, then darted back through the +open door, closed it, and bolted it inside just as Monckton, recovering +himself, quickly dashed furiously against it--in vain. + +The quick-witted villain saw the pressing danger in a moment. "To the +back door or we are lost!" he yelled. Bartley dashed round to that door +with a cry of dismay. + +But Grace was before him just half a minute. She ran through the house. + +Alas! the infernal door was secure. The woman had locked it when she went +out. Grace came flying back to the front, and drew the bolt softly. But +as she did so she heard a hammering, and found the door was fast. +Unluckily, Hope's tool-basket was on the window-ledge, and Monckton drove +a heavy nail obliquely through the bottom of the door, and it was +immovable. Then Mary slipped with cat-like step to the window, and had +her hand on the sill to vault clean out into the road; she was perfectly +capable, it being one of her calisthenic exercises. But here again her +watchful enemy encountered her. He raised his hammer as if to strike her +hand--though perhaps he might not have gone that length--but she was a +woman, and drew back at that cruel gesture. Instantly he closed the +outside shutters; he didn't trouble about the window, but these outside +shutters he proceeded to nail up; and, as the trap was now complete, he +took his time, and by a natural reaction from his fears, he permitted +himself to exult a little. + +"Thank you, Mr. Hope, for the use of your tools." (Rat-tat.) +"There, my little bird, you're caged." (Rat-tat-tat.) "Did you +really think--(rat-tat)--two men--(rat-tat-tat)--were to be beaten +by one woman?" + +The prisoner thus secured, he drew aside with justifiable pride to admire +his work. This action enabled him to see the side of the cottage he had +secured so cleverly in front and behind, and there was Grace Hope coming +down from her bedroom window; she had tied two crimson curtains together +by a useful knot, which is called at sea a fisherman's bend, fastened one +end to the bed or something, and she was coming down this extemporized +rope, hand over hand alternately, with as much ease and grace as if she +were walking down marble steps. Monckton flung his arm and body wildly +over the paling and grabbed her with his finger ends, she gave a spang +with her heels against the wall, and took a bold leap away from him into +a tulip-bed ten feet distant at least: he yelled to Bartley, "To the +garden;" and not losing a moment, flung his leg over the paling to catch +her, with Bartley's help, in this new trap. Mary dashed off without a +moment's hesitation at the quick-set hedge; she did not run up to it and +hesitate like a woman, for it was not to be wriggled through; she went at +it with the momentum and impetus of a race-horse, and through it as if it +was made of blotting-paper, leaving a wonderfully small hole, but some +shreds of her dress, and across the meadow at a pace that neither +Bartley nor Monckton, men past their prime, could hope to rival even if +she had not got the start. They gazed aghast at one another; at the +premises so suddenly emptied as if by magic; at the crimson curtain +floating like a banner, and glowing beautifully amongst the green +creepers; and at that flying figure, with her hair that glittered in the +sun, and streamed horizontal in the wind with her velocity, flying to the +mine to save William Hope, and give these baffled conspirators a life of +penal servitude. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +CALAMITY. + + +The baffled conspirators saw Grace Hope bound over a stile like a deer +and dash up to the mine; then there was a hurried colloquy, and some men +were seen to start from the mine and run toward Hope's cottage. What +actually took place was this: She arrived panting, and begged to be sent +down the mine at once; the deputy said, "You cannot, miss, without an +order from Mr. Hope." + +"I am his daughter, sir," said she; "he has claimed me from Mr. Bartley +this day." + +At that word the man took off his hat to her. + +"Let me down this instant; there's a plot to fire the mine, and destroy +my dear father." + +"A plot to fire the mine!" said the man, all aghast. "Why, who by? Hy! +cage ready there!" + +"One Burnley, but he's bribed by a stranger. Send me down to warn my +father; but you run and seize that villain; you can not mistake him. He +wears a light suit of tweed, all one color. He has very black eyebrows, +and a face like a corpse, and a large gold ring on the little finger of +his right hand. You will find him somewhere near my father's cottage. +Neither you nor I have a moment to lose." + +Then the deputy called three more men, and made for Hope's cottage, while +Grace went down in the cage. + +Bartley fled in mortal terror to his own house, and began to pack up his +things to leave the country. Monckton withdrew to the clump of fir-trees, +and from that thin shelter watched the mine, intending to levant as soon +as he should see Hope come up safe and sound; but, when he saw three or +four men start from the mine and run across to him, he took the alarm and +sought the thicker shelter of a copse hard by. It was a very thick cover, +good for temporary concealment; but he soon found it was so narrow that +he couldn't emerge from it on either side without being seen at once, and +his quick wit told him that Grace had denounced him, and probably +described him accurately to the miners; he was in mortal terror, but not +unprepared for this sort of danger. The first thing he did was to whip +off his entire tweed suit and turn it inside out; he had had it made on +purpose; it was a thin tweed, doubled with black kerseymere, so that this +change was a downright transformation. Then he substituted a black tie +for a colored one, whipped out a little mirror and his hare's-foot, etc., +browned and colored his cheek, put on an admirable gray wig, whiskers, +mustache, and beard, and partly whitened his eyebrows, and hobbled feebly +out of the little wood an infirm old man. Presently he caught sight of +his gold ring. "Ah!" said he, "she is a sharp girl; perhaps she noticed +that in the struggle?" He took it off and was going to put it in his +pocket, but thought better of that, and chucked it into a ditch. Then he +made for the village. The pursuers hunted about the house and, of course, +didn't find him; but presently one of them saw him crossing a meadow not +far off, so they ran toward him and hailed him. + +"Hy! mister!" + +He went feebly on, and did not seem to hear; then they hailed him again +and ran toward him; then he turned and stopped, and seeing men running +toward him, took out a large pair of round spectacles, and put them on to +look at them. By this artifice that which in reality completed his +disguise seemed but a natural movement in an old man to see better who it +was that wanted him. + +"What be you doing here?" said the man. + +"Well, my good man," said Monckton, affecting surprise, "I have been +visiting an old friend, and now I'm going home again. I hope I am not +trespassing. Is not this the way to the village? They told me it was." + +"That's right enough," said the deputy, "but by the way you come you just +have seen him." + +"No, sir," said Monckton, "I haven't seen anybody except one gentleman, +that came through that wood there as I passed it." + +"What was he like, sir?" + +"Well, I didn't take particular notice, and he passed me all in a hurry." + +"That would be the man," said the deputy. "Had he a very pale face?" + +"Not that I remarked; he seemed rather heated with running." + +"How was he dressed, sir?" + +"Oh, like many of the young people, all of one pattern." + +"Light or dark?" + +"Light, I think." + +"Was it a tweed suit?" + +"I almost think it was. What had he been doing--anything wrong? He seemed +to me to be rather scared-like." + +"Which way did he go, sir?" + +"I think he made for that great house, sir." + +"Come on," said the deputy, and he followed this treacherous indication, +hot in pursuit. + +Monckton lost no time. He took off twenty years, and reached the Dun Cow +as an old acquaintance. He hired the one vehicle the establishment +possessed, and was off like a shot to Derby; thence he dispatched a note +to his lodgings to say he was suddenly called to town, but should be back +in a week. Not that he ever intended to show his face in that +neighborhood again. + +Nevertheless events occasioned that stopped both his flight and +Bartley's, and yet broke up their unholy alliance. + +It was Hope's final inspection of the Bartley mine, and he took things in +order. Months ago a second shaft had been sunk by his wise instructions, +and but for Bartley's parsimony would have been now completed. Hope now +ascertained how many feet it was short, and noted this down for Bartley. + +Then, still inspecting, he went to the other extremity of the mine, and +reached a sort of hall or amphitheatre much higher than the passages. +This was a centre with diverging passages on one side, but closed on the +other. Two of these passages led by oblique routes to those old works, +the shoring of which had been reported unsafe. + +This amphitheatre was now a busy scene, empty trucks being pushed off, +full trucks being pushed on, all the men carrying lighted lanterns, that +wavered and glinted like "wills of the wisp." Presently a bell rung, and +a portion of the men, to whom this was a signal, left off work and began +to put on their jackets and to await the descent of the cage to take them +up in parties. At this moment Hope met, to his surprise, a figure that +looked like Ben Burnley. He put up his lamp to see if he was right, and +Ben Burnley it was. The ruffian had the audacity to put up his lamp, as +if to scrutinize the person who examined him. + +"Did I not discharge you?" said Hope. + +"Ay, lad," said Ben; "but your master put me on again." With that he +showed Bartley's order and signature. + +Hope bit his lips, but merely said, "He will rue it." Burnley sidled +away; but Hope cried to one or two men who were about, + +"Keep a sharp lookout on him, my men, your lives are not safe whilst he's +in the mine." + +Burnley leaned insolently against a truck and gave the men nothing to +observe; the next minute in bustled the honest miner at whose instance +Hope had come down the mine, and begged him to come and visit the +shoring at once. + +Hope asked if there were any other men there; the miner replied in +the negative. + +"Very well, then," said Hope, "I'll just take one look at the water here, +and I'll be at the shoring in five minutes." + +Unfortunately this unwary statement let Burnley know exactly what to do; +he had already concealed in the wood-work a canister of dynamite, and a +fuse to it to last about five minutes. He now wriggled away under cover +of Hope's dialogue and lighted the fuse, then he came flying back to get +safe out of the mine, and leave Hope in his death-trap. + +But in the meantime Grace Hope came down in the cage, and caught sight of +her father and came screaming to him, "Father, father!" + +"You here, my child!" + +"There's a plot to murder you! A man called Burnley is to cause an +explosion at the old works just as you visit them." + +"An explosion!" cried Hope, "and fire-damp about. One explosion will +cause fifty--ring the bell--here men! danger!" + +Then there was a rush of men. + +"Ben Burnley is firing the mine." + +There was a yell of fury; but a distant explosion turned it to one +of dismay. Hope caught his daughter up in his arms and put her +into a cavity. + +"Fly, men, to the other part of the mine," he cried. + +There was a louder explosion. In ran Burnley terrified at his own work, +and flying to escape. Hope sprang out upon him. "No you don't--living or +dead, you are the last to leave this mine." + +Burnley struggled furiously, but Hope dashed him down at his feet. Just +as a far more awful explosion than all took place, one side of that +amphitheatre fell in and the very earth heaved. The corner part of the +shaft fell in upon the cage and many poor miners who were hoping to +escape by it; but those escaped for the present who obeyed Hope's order +and fled to another part of the mine, and when the stifling vapors +drifted away there stood Hope pale as death, but strong as iron, with the +assassin at his feet, and poor Grace crouching and quivering in her +recess. Their fate now awaited these three, a speedy death by choke-damp, +or a slow death by starvation, or a rescue from the outside under +circumstances of unparalleled difficulty, since there was but one shaft +completed, and that was now closed by a mountain of debris. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +BURIED ALIVE. + + +The explosions so tremendously loud below were but muffled sounds at the +pit's mouth; but, alas! these muffled sounds, and one flash of lurid +flame that shot up into the air, told the tale of horror to every +experienced pitman and his wife, and the cry of a whole village went up +to heaven. + +The calamity spread like wildfire. It soon found its way to Clifford +Hall, and the deputy ran himself with the news to Mr. Bartley. Bartley +received it at first with a stony glare, and trembled all over; then the +deputy, lowering his voice, said, "Sir, the worst of it is, there is foul +play in it. There is good authority to say that Ben Burnley fired the +mine to destroy his betters, and he has done it; for Mr. Hope and Miss +Hope that is, Miss Bartley that was, are both there." He added, in a +broken voice, "And if they are not buried or stifled, it will be hard +work to save them. The mine is a ruin." + +Bartley delivered a wild scream, and dashed out of the house at once; he +did not even take his hat, but the deputy, more self-possessed, took one +out of the hall and followed him. + +Bartley hurried to the mine, and found that several stout fellows had +gone down with their pickaxes and other tools to clear the shaft, but +that it must be terribly slow work, so few men could work at a time in +that narrow space. Bartley telegraphed to Derby for a more powerful +steam-engine and experienced engineers, and set another gang to open the +new shaft to the bottom, and see if any sufferers could be saved that +way. Whatever he did was wise, but his manner was frenzied. None of his +people thought he had so much feeling, and more than one of the quaking +women gave him a kind word; he made no reply, he did not even seem to +hear. He wandered about the mine all night wringing his hands, and at +last he was taken home almost by force. + +Humanity overpowered prejudice, and Colonel Clifford came to the mine to +see if he could be of any use to the sufferers. He got hold of the deputy +and learned from him what Bartley was doing. He said he thought that was +the best course, as there would be division of labor; but, said he, "I am +an old campaigner, and I know that men can not fight without food, and +this work will be a fight. How will you house the new-comers?" + +"There are forty-seven men missing, and the new men can sleep in their +cottages." + +"That's so," said the Colonel, "but there are the wives and the children. +I shall send sleeping tents and eating tents, and provisions enough to +feed a battalion. Forty-seven lives," said he, pityingly. + +"Ay, sir," said the deputy, "and such lives, some of them; for Mr. Hope +and Miss Mary Bartley--leastways that is not her name now, she's Mr. +Hope's daughter." + +"Why, what has she to do with it?" + +"I am sorry to say, sir, she is down the mine." + +"God forbid!" said the Colonel; "that noble girl dead, or in +mortal danger." + +"She is, sir," and, lowering his voice, "by foul play;" then seeing the +Colonel greatly shocked and moved, he said, "and I ought not to keep it +from you. You are our nearest magistrate; the young lady told me at the +pit mouth she is Mr. Hope's daughter." + +"And so she is." + +"And she said there was a plot to destroy her father in the mine by +exploding the old workings he was going to visit. One Ben Burnley was to +do it; a blackguard that has a spite against Mr. Hope for discharging +him. But there was money behind him and a villain that she described to +us--black eyebrows, a face like a corpse, and dressed in a suit of tweed +one color. We hoped that she might have been mistaken, or she might have +warned Mr. Hope in time; but now it is to be seen that there was no +mistake, and she had not time to warn him. The deed is done; and a darker +deed was never done, even in the dark." + +Colonel Clifford groaned: after a while he said, "Seize that Ben Burnley +at once, or he will soon leave this place behind him." + +"No, he won't," said the deputy. "He is in the mine, that is one comfort; +and if he comes out alive his life won't be worth much, with the law on +one side of the blackguard and Judge Lynch on t'other." + +"The first thing," said the Colonel, "is to save these precious lives. +God help us and them." + +He then went to the Railway, and wired certain leading tradesmen in +Derby for provisions, salt and fresh, on a large scale, and for new +tents. He had some old ones stored away in his own house. He also secured +abundance of knives, forks, plates, buckets, pitchers, and jugs, and, in +short, he opened a commissariat. He inquired for his son Walter, and why +he was so late. He could learn nothing but that Walter had mounted a +hunter and left word with Baker that he should not be home till eight +o'clock. "John," said the Colonel, solemnly, "I am in great trouble, and +Walter is in worse, I fear. Let nobody speak to him about this accident +at the mine till he has seen me." + + * * * * * + +Walter Clifford rode to the Lake Hotel to inquire after the bracelet. The +landlady told him she had sent her husband over with it that day. + +"Confound it," said Walter; "why, he won't know who to take it to." + +"Oh, it's all right, sir," said she. "My Sam won't give it to the wrong +person, you may be sure." + +"How do I know that?" said Walter; "and, pray, who did you tell him to +give it to?" + +"Why, to the lady as was here with you." + +"And how the deuce is he to find her? He does not know her name. It's a +great pity you could not keep it till I came." + +"Well, sir, you was so long a-coming." + +"That's true," said Walter; "let us make the best of it. I shall feed my +horse, and get home as quickly as I can." + +However, he knew he would be late, and thought he had better go straight +home. He sent a telegram to Mary Bartley: "Landlord gone to you with +bracelet;" and this he signed with the name of the landlady, but no +address. He was afraid to say more, though he would have liked to put his +wife upon her guard; but he trusted to her natural shrewdness. He mounted +his horse and went straight home, but he was late for dinner, and that +vexed him a little, for it was a matter Colonel Clifford was particular +about. He dashed up to his bedroom and began to dress all in a hurry. + +John Baker came to him wearing a very extraordinary look, and after +some hesitation said, "I would not change my clothes if I were you, +Mr. Walter." + +"Oh," said Walter, "I am too late, you know; in for a penny, in +for a pound." + +"But, sir," said old John, "the Colonel wants to speak to you in the +drawing-room." + +Now Walter was excited with the events of the day, irritated by the +affront his father had put upon him and Mary, strung up by hard riding, +etc. He burst out, "Well, I shall not go to him; I have had enough of +this--badgered and bullied, and my sweetheart affronted--and now I +suppose I am to be lectured again; you say I am not well, and bring my +dinner up here." + +"No, Mr. Walter," said the old man, gravely, "I must not do that. Sir, +don't you think as you are to be scolded, or the angel you love +affronted; all that is over forever. There has been many a strange thing +happened since you rode out of our stable last, but I wish you would go +to the Colonel and let him tell you all; however, I suppose I may tell +you so much as this, that your sweetheart is not Mary Bartley at all; she +is Mr. Hope's daughter." + +"What!" cried Walter, in utter amazement. + +"There is no doubt about it, sir," said the old man, "and I believe it is +all out about you and her, but that would not matter, for the Colonel he +takes it quite different from what you might think. He swears by her now. +I don't know really how that came about, sir, for I was not there, but +when I was dressing the Colonel he said to me, 'John, she's the grandest +girl in England, and an honor to her sex, and there is not a drop of +Bartley's blood in her.'" + +"Oh, he has found that out," said Walter. "Then I'll go to him like a +bird, dear old fellow. So that is what he wanted to tell me." + +"No," said John Baker, gravely. + +"No," said Walter; "what then?" + +"It's trouble." + +"Trouble," said Walter, puzzled. + +"Ay, my poor young master," said Baker, tenderly--"sore trouble, such +trouble as a father's heart won't let me, or any man break to you, while +he lives to do it. I know my master. Ever since that fellow Bartley came +here we have seen the worst of him; now we shall see the best of him. Go +to him, dear Master Walter. Don't waste time in talking to old John +Baker. Go to your father and your friend." + +Walter Clifford cast a look of wonder and alarm on the old man, and went +down at once to the drawing-room. His father was standing by the fire. He +came forward to him with both hands, and said, + +"My son!" + +"Father," said Walter, in a whisper, "what is it?" + +"Have you heard nothing?" + +"Nothing but good news, father--that you approve my choice." + +"Ah, John told you that!" + +"Yes, sir." + +"And did he tell you anything else?" + +"No sir, only that some great misfortune is upon me, and that I have my +father's sympathy." + +"You have," said the Colonel, "and would to God I had known the truth +before. She is not Bartley's daughter at all; she is Hope's daughter. Her +virtue shines in her face; she is noble, she is self-denying, she is +just, she is brave; and no doubt she can account for her being at the +Lake Hotel in company with some man or other. Whatever that lady says +will be the truth. That's not the trouble, Walter; all that has become +small by comparison. But shall we ever see her sweet face again or hear +her voice?" + +"Father," said Walter, trembling, "you terrify me. This sudden change in +your voice that I never heard falter before; some great calamity must +have happened. Tell me the worst at once." + +"Walter," said the old man, "stand firm; do not despair, for there is +hope." + +"Thank God for that, father! now tell me all." + +"Walter, there has been an explosion in the mine--a fearful explosion; +the shaft has fallen in; there is no getting access to the mine, and all +the poor souls confined there are in mortal peril. Those who are best +acquainted with the mine do not think that many of them have been +destroyed by the ruin, but they tell me these explosions let loose +poisonous gases, and so now those poor souls are all exposed to three +deadly perils--choke-damp, fire-damp, and starvation." + +"It's pitiable," said Walter, "but surely this is a calamity to Bartley, +and to the poor miners, but not to any one that I love, and that you have +learnt to respect." + +"My son," said the Colonel, solemnly, "the mine was fired by foul play." + +"Is it possible?" + +"It is believed that some rival owner, or else some personal enemy of +William Hope, bribed a villain to fire some part of the mine that Hope +was inspecting." + +"Great heavens!" said Walter, "can such villains exist? Poor, poor Mr. +Hope: who would think he had an enemy in the world?" + +"Alas!" said the Colonel, "that is not all. His daughter, it seems, +over-heard the villain bribing the ruffian to commit this foul and +terrible act, and she flew to the mine directly. She dispatched some +miners to seize that hellish villain, and she went down the mine to save +her father." + +"Ah!" said Walter, trembling all over. + +"She has never been seen since." + +The Colonel's head sank for a moment on his breast. + +Walter groaned and turned pale. + +"She came too late to save him; she came in time to share his fate." + +Walter sank into a chair, and a deadly pallor overspread his face, his +forehead, and his very lips. + +The Colonel rushed to the door and called for help, and in a moment John +Baker and Mrs. Milton and Julia Clifford were round poor Walter's chair +with brandy and ether and salts, and every stimulant. He did not faint +away; strong men very seldom do at any mere mental shock. + +The color came slowly back to his cheeks and his pale lips, and his eyes +began to fill with horror. The weeping women, and even the stout Colonel, +viewed with anxiety his return to the full consciousness of his calamity. +"Be brave," cried Colonel Clifford; "be a soldier's son; don't despair; +fight: nothing has been neglected. Even Bartley is playing the man; he +has got another engine coming up, and another body of workmen to open the +new shaft as well as the old one." + +"God bless him!" said Walter. + +"And I have an experienced engineer on the road, and the things civilians +always forget--tents and provisions of all sorts. We will set an army to +work sooner than your sweetheart, poor girl, shall lose her life by any +fault of ours." + +"My sweetheart," cried Walter, starting suddenly from his chair. "There, +don't cling to me, women. No man shall head that army but I. My +sweetheart! God help me--SHE'S MY WIFE." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +REMORSE. + + +In a work of this kind not only the external incidents should be noticed, +but also what may be called the mental events. We have seen a calamity +produce a great revulsion in the feelings of Colonel Clifford; but as for +Robert Bartley his very character was shaken to the foundation by his +crime and its terrible consequences. He was now like a man who had glided +down a soft sunny slope, and was suddenly arrested at the brink of a +fathomless precipice. Bartley was cunning, selfish, avaricious, +unscrupulous in reality, so long as he could appear respectable, but he +was not violent, nor physically reckless, still less cruel. A deed of +blood shocked him as much as it would shock an honest man. Yet now +through following his natural bent too far, and yielding to the influence +of a remorseless villain, he found his own hands stained with blood--the +blood of a man who, after all, had been his best friend, and had led him +to fortune; and the blood of an innocent girl who had not only been his +pecuniary benefactress for a time, but had warmed and lighted his house +with her beauty and affection. + +Busy men, whose views are all external, are even more apt than others to +miss the knowledge of their own minds. This man, to whom everything was +business, had taken for granted he did not actually love Grace Hope. Why, +she was another man's child. But now he had lost her forever, he found he +had mistaken his own feelings. He looked round his gloomy horizon and +realized too late that he did love her; it was not a great and +penetrating love like William Hope's; he was incapable of such a +sentiment; but what affection he had to bestow, he had given to this +sweet creature. His house was dark without her; he was desolate and +alone, and, horrible to think of, the instrument of her assassination. +This thought drove him to frenzy, and his frenzy took two forms, furious +excitement and gloomy despair; this was now his life by night and day, +for sleep deserted him. At the mine his measures were all wise, but his +manner very wild; the very miners whispered amongst themselves that he +was going mad. At home, on the contrary, he was gloomy, with sullen +despair. He was in this latter condition the evening after the explosion, +when a visitor was announced. Thinking it was some one from the mine, he +said, faintly, "Admit him," and then his despondent head dropped on his +breast; indeed, he was in a sort of lethargy, worn out with his labors, +his remorse and his sleeplessness. + +In that condition his ear was suddenly jarred by a hard, metallic voice, +whose tone was somehow opposed to all the voices with which goodness and +humanity have ever spoken. + +"Well, governor, here's a slice of luck." + +Bartley shivered. "Is that the devil speaking to me?" he muttered, +without looking up. + +"No," said Monckton, jauntily, "only one of his servants, and your +best friend." + +"My friend," said Bartley, turning his chair and looking at him with a +sort of dull wonder. + +"Ay," said Monckton, "your friend; the man that found you brains and +resolution, and took you out of the hole, and put Hope and his +daughter in it instead; no, not his daughter, she did that for us, she +was so clever." + +"Yes," said Bartley, wildly, "it was you who made me an assassin. +But for you, I should only have been a knave; now I am a +murderer--thanks to you." + +"Come, governor," said Monckton, "no use looking at one side of the +picture. You tried other things first. You made him liberal offers, you +know; but he would have war to the knife, and he has got it. He is buried +at the bottom of that shaft." + +"God forbid!" + +"And you are all right." + +"I am in hell," shrieked Bartley. + +"Well, come out of it," said Monckton, "and let's talk sense. I--I read +the news at Derby, just as I was starting for London. I have been as near +the mine as I thought safe. They seem to be very busy clearing out both +shafts--two steam-engines, constant relays of workmen. Who has got the +job in hand?" + +"I have," said Bartley. + +"Well, that's clever of you to throw dust in their eyes, and put our +little game off your own shoulders. You want to save appearances? You +know you can not save William Hope." + +"I can save him, and I will save him. God will have mercy on a penitent +assassin, as he once had upon a penitent thief." + +Monckton stared at him and smiled. + +"Who has been talking to you--the parson?" + +"My own conscience. I abhor myself as much as I do you, you black +villain." + +"Ah!" said Monckton, with a wicked glance, "that's how a man patters +before he splits upon his pals, to save his own skin. Now, look here, old +man, before you split on me ask yourself who had the greatest interest in +this job. You silenced a dangerous enemy, but what have I gained? you +ought to square with me first, as you promised. If you split upon me +before that, you will put yourself in the hole and leave me out of it." + +"Villain and fool!" said Bartley, "these trifles do not trouble me now. +If Hope and my dear Mary are found dead in that mine, I'll tell how they +came by their death, and I'll die by my own hand." + +Monckton said nothing, but looked at him keenly, and began at last to +feel uneasy. + +"A shaft is but a narrow thing," Bartley rejoined; "why should they be +buried alive? let's get to them before they are starved to death. We may +save them yet." + +"Why, you fool, they'll denounce us!" + +"What do I care? I would save them both to-night if I was to stand in the +dock to-morrow." + +"And swing on the gallows next week, or end your days in a prison." + +"I'd take my chance," said Bartley, desperately. "I'll undo my crime if +I can. No punishment can equal the agony I am in now, thanks to you, +you villain." + +Then turning on him suddenly, and showing him the white of his eyes like +a maniac, or a dangerous mastiff, he hissed out, "You think nothing of +the lives of better men; perhaps you don't value your own?" + +"Oh, I beg your pardon," said Monckton. "That's a very different thing." + +"Oh, you do value your own foul life?" + +"At any amount of money," said Monckton. + +"Then why do you risk it?" + +"Excuse me, governor, that's a thing I make a point of not doing. I risk +my instruments, not my head, Ben Burnley to wit." + +"You are risking it now," said Bartley, looking still more +strangely at him. + +"How so, pray?" said Monckton, getting a little uneasy, for this was not +the Bartley he had known till then. + +Bartley took the poker in his hand and proceeded to poke the fire; but +somehow he did not look at the fire. He looked askant at Monckton, and he +showed the white of his eyes more and more. Monckton kept his eye upon +him and put his hand upon the handle of the door. + +"I'll tell you," said Bartley--"by coming here to tempt, provoke, and +insult the wretch whose soul you destroyed, by forcing me to assassinate +the best man and the sweetest girl in England, when there were vipers and +villains about whom it's a good action to sweep off God's earth. Villain! +I'll teach you to come like a fool and madden a madman. I was only a +rogue, you have made me a man of blood. All the worse for you. I have +murdered _them_, I'll execute _you_," and with these words he bounded on +him like a panther. + +Monckton tore the doors open, and dashed out, but a furious blow fell +before he was quite clear of the doorway. With such force was it +delivered that the blunt metal cut into the edge of the door like a +sword; the jamb was smashed, and even Monckton, who received but +one-fourth of the blow, fell upon his hands and knees into the hall and +was stunned for a moment, but fearing worse, staggered out of the hall +door, which, luckily for him, was open, and darting into a little grove +of shrubs, that was close by, grovelled there in silence, bleeding like a +pig, and waiting for his chance to escape entirely; but the quaking +reptile ran no further risk. + +Bartley never followed him beyond his own room; he had been goaded into a +maniacal impulse, and he returned to his gloomy sullenness. + + * * * * * + +Walter's declaration, made so suddenly before four persons, startled +them greatly for a moment--but only for a moment. Julia was the +first to speak. + +"We might have known it," she said, "Mary Bartley is a young lady +incapable of misconduct; she is prudence, virtue, delicacy, and purity in +person; the man she was with at that place was sure to be her husband, +and who should that be but Walter, whom she loved?" + +Then the servants looked anxiously at their master to see how he took +this startling revelation. Well, the Colonel stood firm as if he was at +the head of a column in the field. He was not the man to retreat from any +position, he said, "All we have to do is to save her; then my house and +arms are open to my son's wife." + +"God bless you, father!" cried Walter, in a broken voice; "and God +bless you, dear cousin. Yes, it's no time for words." And he was gone +in a moment. + +"Now Milton," said the Colonel, "he won't sleep here till the work is +done, and he won't sleep at all if we don't get a bed for him near the +mine. You order the break out, and go to the Dun Cow and do what you +can for him." + +"That I will, sir; I'll take his own sheets and bedding with me. I won't +trust that woman--she talks too much; and, if you please, sir, I'll stay +there a day or two myself, for maybe I shall coax him to eat a morsel of +my cooking, and to lie down a bit, when he would not listen to a +stranger." + +"You're a faithful creature," said the Colonel, rather aggressively, not +choosing to break down, "so are you, John; and it is at these moments we +find out our friends in the house; and, confound you, I forbid you both +to snivel," said he, still louder. Then, more gravely, "How do we know? +many a stormy day ends well; this calamity may bring happiness and peace +to a divided house." + +Colonel Clifford prophesied right. Walter took the lead of a working gang +and worked night and day, resting two hours only in the twenty-four, and +even that with great reluctance. Outside the scene was one of bustle and +animation. Little white tents, for the strange workmen to sleep in, +dotted the green, and two snowy refreshment tents were pitched outside +the Dun Cow. That establishment had large brick ovens and boilers, and +the landlady, and the women she had got to help her, kept the tables +always groaning under solid fare that never once flagged, being under the +charge of that old campaigner, Colonel Clifford. The landlady tried to +look sad at the occasion which called forth her energy and talents; but +she was a woman of business, and her complacency oozed through her. Ah, +it was not so at the pit mouth; the poor wives whose husbands were +entombed below, alive or dead, hovered and fluttered about the two shafts +with their aprons to their eyes, and eager with their questions. Deadly +were their fears, their hopes fainter and fainter, as day after day went +by, and both gangs, working in so narrow a space, made little progress, +compared with their own desires, and the prayers of those who trembled +for the result. It was a race and a struggle of two gallant parties, and +a short description of it will be given; but as no new incidents happened +for six days we shall preserve the chronological order of events, and now +relate a daring project which was revived in that interval. + +Monckton and Bartley were now enemies. Sin had united, crime and remorse +had disunited them. Monckton registered a vow of future vengeance upon +his late associate, but in the meantime, taking a survey of the present +circumstances, he fell back upon a dark project he had conceived years +ago on the very day when he was arrested for theft in Bartley's office. + +Perhaps our readers, their memory disturbed by such a number of various +matters as we have since presented to them, may have forgotten that +project, but what is about to follow will tend to revive their +recollection. Monckton then wired to Mrs. Braham's lawyer demanding an +immediate interview with that lady; he specified the hour. + +The lawyer went to her directly, the matter being delicate. He found +her in great distress, and before he could open his communication she +told him her trouble. She said that her husband, she feared, was going +out of his mind; he groaned all night and never slept, and in the +daytime never spoke. + +There had been just then some surprising falls and rises in foreign +securities, and the shrewd lawyer divined at once that the stock-broker +had been doing business on his own account, and got pinched; so he said, +"My dear madam, I suspect it is business on the Exchange; he will get +over that, but there is something that is immediately pressing," and he +then gave her Monckton's message. + +Now her nerves were already excited, and this made matters worse. She +cried and trembled, and became hysterical, and vowed she would never +go near Leonard Monckton again; he had never loved her, had never been +a friend to her as Jonathan Braham had. "No," said she; "if he wants +money, take and sell my jewels; but I shall stay with my husband in +his trouble." + +"He is not your husband," said the lawyer, quietly; "and this man is your +husband, and things have come to my knowledge lately which it would be +imprudent at present to disclose either to him or you; but we are old +friends. You can not doubt that I have your interest at heart." + +"No, I don't doubt that," said Lucy, hastily, and held out her +hand to him. + +"Well, then," said he, "be persuaded and meet the man." + +"No, I will not do that," said she. "I am not a good woman, I know; but +it is not for want of the wish. I will not play double any more." And +from that nothing he could say could move her. + +The lawyer returned to his place, and when Monckton called next day he +told him he was sorry to say Mr. Braham was ill and in trouble, and the +lady couldn't meet him. She would make any reasonable sacrifice for his +convenience except that. + +"And I," said Monckton, "insist upon that, and nothing else." + +The lawyer endeavored to soften him, and hinted that he would advance +money himself sooner than his client should be tormented. + +But Monckton was inflexible. He said, "It is about a matter that she can +not communicate to you, nor can I. However, I am obliged to you for your +information. She won't leave her stock-broker, eh? Well, then I know +where to find her;" and he took up his hat to go. + +"No, pray don't do that," said Mr. Middleton, earnestly. "Let me try her +again. She has had time to sleep over it." + +"Try her," said Monckton, sternly, "and if you are her friend, take +her husband's side in this one thing; it's the last time I shall +trouble her." + +"I am her friend," said the lawyer. "And if you must know, I rather +wish her to meet you and get it over. Will you come here again at +five o'clock?" + +"All right," said Monckton. + +Monckton was struck with lawyer Middleton's manner, and went away +puzzling over it. + +"What's _his_ little game, I wonder?" said he. + +The lawyer went post-haste to his client's house. He found her in tears. +She handed him an open letter. + +Braham was utterly ruined, and besides that had done something or other +he did not care to name; he was off to America, leaving her what money +she could find in the house and the furniture, which he advised her to +sell at once before others claimed it; in short, the man was wild with +fear, and at present thought but little of anybody but himself. + +Then the lawyer set himself to comfort her as well as he could, and +renewed his request that she would give Monckton a meeting. + +"Yes," said she, wearily--"it is no use trying to resist _him_; he can +come here." + +The lawyer demurred to that. "No," said he, "keep your own counsel, don't +let him know you are deserted and ruined; make a favor of coming, but +_come_: and a word in your ear--he can do more for you than Braham can, +or will ever do again. So don't you thwart him if you can help." + +She was quick enough to see there was something weighty behind, and she +consented. He took her back with him; only she was such a long time +removing the traces of tears, and choosing the bonnet she thought she +should look best in, that she made him twenty minutes late and rather +cross. It is a way women have of souring that honeycomb, a man. + +When the trio met at the office the husband was pale, the wife dull +and sullen. + +"It's the last time I shall trouble you, Lucy," said Monckton. + +"As you please, Leonard." + +"And I want you to make my fortune." + +"You have only to tell me how." (Quite incredulously.) + +"You must accompany me to Derbyshire, or else meet me at Derby, whichever +you please. Oh, don't be alarmed. I don't ask you to travel with me as +man and wife." + +"It doesn't much matter, I suppose," said Lucy, doggedly. + +"Well, you are accommodating; I'll be considerate." + +"No doubt you will," said Lucy; then turning her glorious eyes full +upon him, "WHAT'S THE CRIME?" + +"The crime!" said Monckton, looking all about the room to find it. +"What crime?" + +"The crime I'm wanted for; all your schemes are criminal, you know." + +"Well, you're complimentary. It's not a crime this time; it's only a +confession." + +"Ah! What am I to confess--bigamy?" + +"The idea! No. You are to confess--in a distant part of England, what you +can deny in London next day--that on a certain day you married a +gentleman called Walter Clifford." + +"I'll say that on the eleventh day of June, 1868, I married a gentleman +who was called Walter Clifford." + +This was Lucy's reply, and given very doggedly. + +"Bravo! and will you stand to it if the real Walter Clifford says it +is a lie?" + +Lucy reflected. "No, I will not." + +"Well, well, we shall have time to talk about that: when can you start?" + +"Give me three days." + +"All right." + +"You won't keep me there long after I have done this wicked thing?" + +"No, no. I will send you home with flying colors, and you shall have your +share of the plunder." + +"I'd rather go into service again and work my fingers to the bone." + +"Since you have such a contempt for money, perhaps you'll stand +fifty pounds?" + +"I have no money with me, but I'll ask Mr. Middleton to advance me some." + +She opened the door, and asked one of the clerks if she could see the +principal for a moment. He came to her directly. She then said to him, +"He wants fifty pounds; could you let me have it for him?" + +"Oh," said the lawyer, cheerfully, "I shall be happy to lend Mr. Monckton +fifty or a hundred pounds upon his own note of hand." + +They both stared at him a little; but a blank note of hand was +immediately produced, drawn and signed at six months' date for L52 10s., +and the lawyer gave Monckton his check for L50. Husband and wife then +parted for a time. Monckton telegraphed to his lodgings to say that his +sister would come down with him for country air, and would require good +accommodation, but would pay liberally. + +In most mining accidents the shafts are clear, and the debris that has to +be picked through to get to the entombed miners is attacked with this +advantage, that a great number of men have room to use their arms and +pickaxes, and the stuff has not to be sent up to the surface. But in this +horrible accident both gangs of workers were confined to a small area and +small cages, and the stuff had to be sent up to the surface. + +Bartley, who seemed to live only to rescue the sufferers by his own +fault, provided miles of rope, and had small cages knocked together, so +that the debris was continually coming up from both the shafts, and one +great source of delay was averted. But the other fatal cause of delay +remained, and so daylight came and went, and the stars appeared and +disappeared with incredible rapidity to poor Walter and the other gallant +workers, before they got within thirty feet of the pit: those who worked +in the old shafts, having looser stuff to deal with, gained an advance of +about seven feet upon the other working party, and this being reported to +Walter he went down the other shaft to inspire the men by words and +example. He had not been down two hours when one of the miners cried, +"Hold hard, they are working up to us," and work was instantly suspended +for a moment. Then sure enough the sounds of pickaxes working below were +just audible. + +There was a roar of exultation from the rescuing party, and a man was +sent up with his feet in a bucket, and clinging to a rope, to spread the +joyful tidings; but the work was not intermitted for more than a moment, +and in a few hours it became necessary to send the cage down and suspend +the work to avoid another accident. The thin remaining crust gave way, +the way was clear, lamps were sent down, and the saving party were soon +in the mine, with a sight before them never to be forgotten. + +The few men who stood erect with picks in their hands were men of rare +endurance; and even they began to fall, exhausted with fatigue and +hunger. Five times their number lay dotted about the mine, prostrated by +privation, and some others, alas! were dead. None of the poor fellows +were in a condition to give a rational answer, though Walter implored +them to say where Hope was and his daughter. These poor pale wretches, +the shadows of their former selves, were sent up in the cages with all +expedition, and received by Bartley, who seemed to forget nothing, for he +had refreshment tents ready at the pit mouth. + +Meantime, Walter and others, whose hearts were with him, ran wildly +through the works, and groped on their knees with their lamps to find +Hope and his daughter, but they were not to be found, and nine miners +beside them were missing, including Ben Burnley. Then Walter came wildly +up to the surface, wringing his hands with agony, and crying, "they are +lost! they are lost!" + +"No," cried Bartley, "they must not be lost; they shall not be lost. One +man has come to himself. I gave him port-wine and brandy." Then he +dragged the young man into the tent. There was stout Jim Davies propped +up and held, but with a great tumbler of brandy and port in his hand. + +"Now, my man," said, or rather screamed, Bartley, "tell him where Hope +is, and Mary--that I--Oh, God! oh, God!" + +"Master," said Jim, faintly, "I was in the hall with Mr. Hope and the +lady when the first explosion came. Most of us ran past the old shaft and +got clear. A few was caught by the falling shaft, for I looked back and +saw it. But I never saw Master Hope among them. If he was, he is buried +under the shaft; but I do really think that he was that taken up with his +girl, and that darned villain that fired the mine, as he's like to be in +the hall either alive or dead." + +He could say no more, but fell into a sort of doze, the result of the +powerful stimulant on his enfeebled frame and empty stomach. Then +Bartley, with trembling hands, brought out a map of the mine and showed +Walter where the second party had got to. + +"See," said he, "they are within twenty feet of the bottom, and the hall +is twenty-three feet high. Hope measured it. Give up working downward, +pick into the sides of that hall, for in that hall I see them at night; +sometimes they are alive, sometimes they are dead, sometimes they are +dying. I shall go mad, I shall go mad!" + +With this he went raging about, giving the wildest orders, with the looks +and tones of a madman. In a minute he had a cage ready for Walter, and +twenty fresh-lit lamps, and down went Walter with more men and pickaxes. +As soon as he got out of the cage he cried, wildly, "Stop that, men, and +do as I do." + +He took a sweep with his pick, and delivered a horizontal blow at the +clay on that side of the shaft Bartley had told him to attack. His +pickaxe stuck in it, and he extricated it with difficulty. + +"Nay, master," cried a miner who had fallen in love with him, "drive thy +pick at t' coal." + +Walter then observed that above the clay there was a narrow seam of coal; +he heaved his pick again, but instead of striking it half downward, as he +ought to have done, he delivered a tremendous horizontal blow that made +the coal ring like a church bell, and jarred his own stout arms so +terribly that the pick fell out of his numbed hand. + +Then the man who had advised him saw that he was disabled for a time, and +stepped into his place. + +But in that short interval an incident occurred so strange and thrilling +that the stout miners uttered treble cries, like women, and then one +mighty "Hah!" burst like a diapason from their manly bosoms. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +BURIED ALIVE.--THE THREE DEADLY PERILS. + + +Seven miners were buried under the ruins of the shaft; but although +masses of coal and clay fell into the hall from the side nearest to +the explosions, and blocked up some of the passages, nobody was +crushed to death there; only the smoke was so stifling that it seemed +impossible to live. + +That smoke was lighter than the air; its thick pall lifted by degrees and +revealed three figures. + +Grace Hope, by happy instinct, had sunk upon the ground to breathe in +that stifling smoke. Hope, who had collared Ben Burnley, had sunk to the +ground with him, but still clutched the assassin. These were the three +left alive in the hall, and this was their first struggle for life. + +As soon as it was possible to speak Hope took up his lamp, which had +fallen, and holding it up high, he cried, "Grace, my child, where are +you?" She came to him directly; he took her in his arms and thanked God +for this great preservation. + +Then he gave Burnley a kick, and ordered him to the right hand of the +hall. "You'll keep to that side," he said, "and think of what you have +done; your victims will keep this side, and comfort each other till +honest men undo your work, you villain." + +Burnley crouched, and wriggled away like a whipped hound, and flung +himself down in bitter despair. + +"Oh, papa," said Grace, "we have escaped a great danger, but shall we +ever see the light of day?" + +"Of course we shall, child; be sure that great efforts will be made to +save us. Miners have their faults, but leaving other men to perish is not +one of them; there are no greater heroes in the world than those rough +fellows, with all their faults. What you and I must do at once is to +search for provisions and lamps and tools; if there are no poisonous +gases set free, it is a mere question of time. My poor child has a hard +life before her; but only live, and we shall be rescued." + +These brave words comforted Grace, as they were intended to do, and she +accompanied her father down the one passage which was left open after the +explosion. Fortunately this led to a new working, and before he had gone +many yards Hope found a lamp that had been dropped by some miner who had +rushed into the hall as the first warning came. Hope extinguished the +light, and gave it to Grace. + +"That will be twenty-four hours' light to us," said he; "but, oh, what I +want to find is food. There must be some left behind." + +"Papa," said Grace, "I think I saw a miner throw a bag into an empty +truck when the first alarm was given." + +"Back! back! my child!" cried Hope, "before that villain finds it!" + +He did not wait for her but ran back, and he found Ben Burnley in the +neighborhood of that very truck: but Burnley sneaked off at his +approach. Hope, looking into the truck, found treasures--a dozen new +sacks, a heavy hammer, a small bag of nails, a can of tea, and a bag +with a loaf in it, and several broken pieces of bread. He put his lamp +out directly, for he had lucifer-matches in his pocket, and he hid the +bag of bread; then he lighted his lamp again and fastened it up by a +nail in the centre of the hall. + +"There," said he to Burnley, "that's to light us both equally; when it +goes out you must hang up yours in its place." + +"That's fair," said Burnley, humbly. + +There were two trucks on Hope's side of the hall--the empty one in +question, and one that was full of coal. Both stood about two yards from +Hope's side of the hall. Hope turned the empty truck and brought it +parallel to the other; then he nailed two sacks together, and fastened +them to the coal truck and the debris; then he laid sacks upon the ground +for Grace to lie on, and he kept two sacks for himself, and two in +reserve, and he took two and threw them to Ben Burnley. + +"I give you two, and I keep two myself," said he. "But my daughter shall +have a room to herself even here; and if you molest her I'll brain you +with this hammer." + +"I don't want to molest her," said Burnley. "It ain't my fault +she's here." + +Then there was a gloomy silence, and well there might be. The one lamp, +twinkling faintly against the wall, did but make darkness visible, and +revealed the horror of this dismal scene. The weary hours began to crawl +away, marked only by Hope's watch, for in this living tomb summer was +winter, and day was night. + +The horrors of entombment in a mine have, we think, been described +better than any other calamity which befalls living men. Inspired by +this subject novelists have gone beyond themselves, journalists have +gone beyond themselves; and, without any affectation, we say we do not +think we could go through the dismal scene before us in its general +details without falling below many gifted contemporaries, and adding +bulk without value to their descriptions. The true characteristic +feature of _this_ sad scene was not, we think, the alternations of hope +and despair, nor the gradual sinking of frames exhausted by hunger and +thirst, but the circumstance that here an assassin and his victims were +involved in one terrible calamity; and as one day succeeded to another, +and the hoped for rescue came not, the hatred of the assassin and his +victims was sometimes at odds with the fellowship that sprang out of a +joint calamity. About twelve hours after the explosion Burnley detected +Hope and his daughter eating, and moistening their lips with the tea and +a spoonful of brandy that Hope had poured into it out of his flask to +keep it from turning sour. + +"What, haven't you a morsel for me?" said the ruffian, in a +piteous voice. + +Hope gave a sort of snarl of contempt, but still he flung a crust to him +as he would to a dog. + +Then, after some slight hesitation, Grace rose quietly and took the +smaller can, and tilled it with tea, and took it across to him. + +"There," said she, "and may God forgive you." + +He took it and stared at her. + +"It ain't my fault that you are here," said he; but she put up her hand +as much as to say, "No idle words." + + * * * * * + +Two whole days had now elapsed. The food, though economized, was all +gone. Burnley's lamp was flickering, and utter darkness was about to be +added to the horrors which were now beginning to chill the hopes with +which these poor souls had entered on their dire probation. Hope took the +alarm, seized the expiring lamp, trimmed it, and carried it down the one +passage that was open. This time he did not confine his researches to the +part where he could stand upright, but went on his hands and knees down +the newest working. At the end of it he gave a shout of triumph, and in a +few minutes returned to his daughter exhausted, and blackened all over +with coal; but the lamp was now burning brightly in his hand, and round +his neck was tied a can of oil. + +"Oh, my poor father," said Grace, "is that all you have discovered?" + +"Thank God for it," said Hope. "You little know what it would be to pass +two more days here without light, as well as without food." + + * * * * * + +The next day was terrible. The violent pangs of hunger began to gnaw like +vultures, and the thirst was still more intolerable; the pangs of hunger +intermitted for hours at a time, and then returned to intermit again: +they exhausted but did not infuriate; but the rage of thirst became +incessant and maddening. Ben Burnley suffered the most from this, and the +wretch came to Hope for consolation. + +"Where's the sense of biding here," said he, "to be burned to deeth wi' +drought? Let's flood the mine, and drink or be drooned." + +"How can I flood the mine?" said Hope. + +"Yow know best, maister," said the man. "Why, how many tons of water did +ye draw from yon tank every day?" + +"We conduct about five tons into a pit, and we send about five tons up to +the surface daily." + +"Then how much water will there be in the tank now?" + +Hope looked at his watch and said, "There was a good deal of water in +the tank when you blew up the mine; there must be about thirty tons +in it now." + +"Well, then," said Burnley, "you that knows everything, help me brust the +wall o' tank; it's thin enow." + +Hope reflected. + +"If we let in the whole body of water," said he, "it would shatter us to +pieces, and crush us against the wall of our prison and drown us before +it ran away through the obstructed passages into the new workings. +Fortunately, we have no pickaxe, and can not be tempted to +self-slaughter." + +This silenced Burnley for the day, and he remained sullenly apart; still +the idea never left his mind. The next day, toward evening, he asked Hope +to light his own lamp, and come and look at the wall of the tank. + +"Not without me," whispered Grace. "I see him cast looks of hatred at +you." + +They went together, and Burnley bade Hope observe that the water was +trickling through in places, a drop at a time; it could not penetrate the +coaly veins, nor the streaks of clay, but it oozed through the porous +strata, certain strips of blackish earth in particular, and it trickled +down, a drop at a time. Hope looked at this feature with anxiety, for he +was a man of science, and knew by the fate of banked reservoirs, great +and small, the strange explosive power of a little water driven through +strata by a great body pressing behind it. + +"You'll see, it will brust itsen," said Burnley, exultantly, "and the +sooner the better for me; for I'll never get alive out on t' mine; yow +blowed me to the men, and they'll break every bone in my skin." + +Hope did not answer this directly. + +"There, don't go to meet trouble, my man," said he. "Give me the +can, Grace. Now, Burnley, hold this can, and catch every drop till +it is full." + +"Why, it will take hauf a day to fill it," objected Burnley, "and it will +be hauf mud when all is done." + +"I'll filter it," said Hope. "You do as you are bid." + +He darted to a part of the mine where he had seen a piece of charred +timber; he dragged it in with him, and asked Grace for a +pocket-handkerchief; she gave him a clean cambric one. He took his +pocket-knife and soon scraped off a little heap of charcoal; and then he +sewed the handkerchief into a bag--for the handy man always carried a +needle and thread. + +Slowly, slowly the muddy water trickled into the little can, and then the +bag being placed over the larger can, slowly, slowly the muddy water +trickled through Hope's filter, and dropped clear and drinkable into the +larger can. In that dead life of theirs, with no incidents but torments +and terrors, the hours passed swiftly in this experiment. Hope sat upon a +great lump of coal, his daughter kneeled in front of him, gazing at him +with love, confidence, reverence; and Burnley kneeled in front of him +too, but at a greater distance, with wolfish eyes full of thirst and +nothing else. + +At last the little can was two-thirds full of clear water. Hope took the +large iron spoon which he had found along with the tea, and gave a full +spoonful to his daughter. "My child," said he, "let it trickle very +slowly over your tongue and down your throat; it is the throat and the +adjacent organs which suffer most from thirst." He then took a spoonful +himself, not to drink after an assassin. He then gave a spoonful to +Burnley with the same instructions, and rose from his seat and gave the +can to Grace, and said, "The rest of this pittance must not be touched +for six hours at least." + +Burnley, instead of complying with the wise advice given him, tossed the +liquid down his throat with a gesture, and then dashing down the spoon, +said, "I'll have the rest on't if I die for it," and made a furious rush +at Grace Hope. + +She screamed faintly, and Hope met him full in that incautious rush, and +felled him like a log with a single blow. Burnley lay there with his +heels tapping the ground for a little while, then he got on his hands +and knees, and crawled away to the farthest corner of his own place, and +sat brooding. + +That night when Grace retired to rest Hope lay down at her feet, with his +hammer in his hand, and when one slept the other watched, for they feared +an attack. Toward the morning of the next day Grace's quick senses heard +a mysterious noise in Burnley's quarter; she woke her father. Directly he +went to the place, and he found Burnley at work on his knees tearing away +with his hands and nails at the ruins of the shaft. Apparently fury +supplied the place of strength, for he had raised quite a large heap +behind him, and he had laid bare the feet up to the knees of a dead +miner. Hope reported this in a hushed voice to Grace, and said, solemnly, +"Poor wretch, he's going mad, I fear." + +"Oh no," said Grace, "that would be too horrible. Whatever should we do?" + +"Keep him to his own side, that is all," said Hope. + +"But," objected Grace in dismay, "if he is mad, he won't listen, and he +will come here and attack me." + +"If he does," said Hope, simply, "I must kill him, that's all." + +Burnley, however, in point of fact, kept more and more aloof for many +hours; he never left his work till he laid bare the whole body of that +miner, and found a pickaxe in his dead hand. This he hid, and reserved it +for deadly uses; he was not clear in his mind whether to brain Hope with +it, and so be revenged on him for having shut him up in that mine, or +whether to peck a hole in the tank and destroy all three by a quicker +death than thirst or starvation. The savage had another and more horrible +reason for keeping out of sight; maddened by thirst he had recourse to +that last extremity better men have been driven to; he made a cut with +his clasp-knife in the breast of the dead miner, and tried to swallow +jellied blood. + +This horrible relief never lasts long, and the penalty follows in a few +hours; but in the meantime the savage obtained relief, and even vigor, +from this ghastly source, and seeing Hope and his daughter lying +comparatively weak and exhausted, he came and sat down at a little +distance in front of them: that was partly done to divert Hope from +examining his shambles and his unnatural work. + +"Maister," said he, "how long have we been here?" + +"Six days and more," said Hope. + +"Six days," said Grace, faintly, for her powers were now quite +exhausted--"and no signs of help, no hope of rescue." + +"Do not say so, Grace. Rescue in time is certain, and, therefore, while +we live there is hope." + +"Ay," said Burnley, "for you tew but not for me. Yow telt the men that I +fired t' mine, and if one of those men gets free they'll all tear me limb +from jacket. Why should I leave one grave to walk into another? But for +yow I should have been away six days agone." + +"Man," said Hope, "can not you see that my hand was but the instrument? +it was the hand of Heaven that kept you back. Cease to blame your +victims, and begin to see things as they are and to repent. Even if you +escape, could the white faces ever fade from your sight, or the dying +shrieks ever leave your ear, of the brave men you so foully murdered? +Repent, monster, repent!" + +Burnley was not touched, but he was scared by Hope's solemnity, and went +to his own corner muttering, and as he crouched there there came over his +dull brain what in due course follows the horrible meal he had made--a +feverish frenzy. + +In the meantime Grace, who had been lying half insensible, raised her +head slowly and said, in a low voice, "Water, water!" + +"Oh, my girl," said Hope, in despair, "I'll go and get enough to moisten +your lips; but the last scrap of food has gone, the last drop of oil is +burning away, and in an hour we shall be in darkness and despair." + +"No, no, father," said Grace, "not while there is water there, +beautiful water." + +"But you can not drink _that_ unfiltered; it is foul, it is poisonous." + +"Not that, papa," said Grace, "far beyond that--look! See that clear +river sparkling in the sunlight; how bright and beautiful it shines! Look +at the waving trees upon the other side, the green meadows and the bright +blue sky, and there--there--there--are the great white swans. No, no. I +forgot, they are not swans, they are ships sailing to the bright land you +told me of, where there is no suffering and no sorrow." + +Then Hope, to his horror, began to see that this must be the very +hallucination of which he had read, a sweet illusion of green fields and +crystal water, which often precedes actual death by thirst and +starvation. He trembled, he prayed secretly to God to spare her, and not +to kill his new-found child, his darling, in his arms. + +By-and-by Grace spoke again, but this time her senses were clear; "How +dark it's grown!" she said. "Ah, we are back again in that awful mine." +Then, with the patient fortitude of a woman when once she thinks the will +of the Almighty is declared, she laid her hand upon his shoulder, and she +said, soothingly, "Dear father, bow to Heaven's will;" then she held up +both her feeble arms to him--"kiss me, father--FOR WE ARE TO DIE!" + +With these firm and patient words, she laid her sweet head upon the +ground, and hoped and feared no more. + +But the man could not bow like the woman. He kissed her as she bade him, +and laid her gently down; but after that he sprang wildly to his feet in +a frenzy, and raged aloud, as his daughter could no longer hear him. +"No, no," he cried, "this thing can not be, they have had seven days to +get to us. + +"Ah, but there are mountains and rocks of earth and coal piled up between +us. We are buried alive in the bowels of the earth. + +"Well, and shouldn't I have blasted a hundred rocks, and picked through +mountains, to save a hundred lives, or to save one such life as this, no +matter whose child she was? + +"Ah! you poor scum, you came to me whenever you wanted me, and you never +came in vain. But now that I want you, you smoke your pipes, and walk +calmly over this living tomb I lie in. + +"Well, call yourselves men, and let your friends perish; I am a man, and +I can die." + +Then he threw himself wildly on his knees over his insensible daughter. + +"But my child! Oh God! look down upon my child! Do, pray, see the horror +of it. The horror and the hellish injustice! She has but just found her +father. She is just beginning life; it's not her time to die! Why, you +know, she only came here to save her father. Heaven's blessing is the +right of pious children; it's promised in God's Word. They are to live +long upon earth, not to be cut off like criminals." + +Then he rose wildly, and raged about the place, flinging his arms on +high, so that even Burnley, though his own reason was shaken, cowered +away from the fury of a stronger mind. + +"Men and angels cry out against it!" he screamed, in madness and despair. +"Can this thing be? Can Heaven and earth look calmly on and see this +horror? Are men all ingratitude? IS GOD ALL APATHY?" + +A blow like a hammer striking a church bell tinkled outside the wall, and +seemed to come from a great distance. + +To him who, like the rugged Elijah, had expostulated so boldly with his +Maker, and his Maker, who is not to be irritated, forgave him, that blow +seemed at first to ring from heaven. He stood still, and trembled like a +leaf; he listened; the sound was not repeated. + +"Ah," said he, "it was an illusion like hers." + + * * * * * + +But for all that he seized his hammer, and darted to the back of the +hall, and mounting on a huge fragment of coal struck the seam high above +his head. He gave two blows at longish intervals, and then three blows in +quick succession. + +Grace heard, and began to raise herself on her hands in wonder. + +Outside the wall came two leisurely blows that seemed a mile off, though +they were not ten feet, and then three blows in quick succession. + +"My signal echoed," yelled Hope. "Do you hear, child, my signal answered? +Thank God! thank God! thank God!" + +He fell on his knees and cried like a child. The next minute, burning +with hope and joy, he was by Grace's side, with his arms round her. + +"You can't give way now. Fight on a few minutes more. Death, I defy you; +I am a father; I tear my child from your clutches." With this he raised +her in his arms with surprising vigor. It was Grace's turn to shake off +all weakness, under the great excitement of the brain. + +"Yes, I'll live," she cried, "I'll live for you. Oh, the gallant men! +Hear, hear the pickaxes at work; an army is coming to our rescue, father; +the God you doubted sends them, and some hero leads them." + +The words had scarcely left her lips when Hope set her down in fresh +alarm. An enemy's pickaxe was at work to destroy them; Burnley was +picking furiously at the weak part of the tank, shrieking, "They will +tear me to pieces; there is no hope in this world nor the next for me." + +"Madman," cried Hope--"he'll let the water in before they can save us." +He rushed at Burnley and seized him; but his frenzy was gone, and +Burnley's was upon him; after a short struggle Burnley flung him off with +prodigious power. Hope flew at him again, but incautiously, and the +savage lowering his head, drove it with such fury into Hope's chest that +he sent him to a distance, and laid him flat on his back utterly +breathless. Grace flew to him and raised him. + +He was not a man to lose his wits. "To the truck," he gasped, "or we +are lost." + +"I'll flood the mine! I'll flood the mine!" yelled Burnley. + +Hope made his daughter mount a large fragment of coal we have already +mentioned, and from that she sprang to the truck, and with her excitement +and with her athletic power she raised herself into the full truck, and +even helped her father in after her. But just as she got him on to the +truck, and while he was still only on his knees, that section of the wall +we have called the tank rent and gaped under Burnley's pickaxe, and +presently exploded about six feet from the ground, and a huge volume of +water drove masses of earth and coal before it, and came roaring like a +solid body straight at the coal truck, and drove it against the opposite +wall, smashed the nearest side in, and would have thrown Grace off it +like a feather, but Hope, kneeling and clinging to the side, held her +like a vise. + +Grace screamed violently. Immediately there was a roar of exultation +outside from the hitherto silent workers; for that scream told that the +_woman_ was alive, too: the wife of the brave fellow who had won all +their hearts and melted away the icy barrier of class. + +Three gigantic waves struck the truck and made it quiver. + +The first came half-way up; the second came full two-thirds; the third +dashed the senseless body of Ben Burnley, with bleeding head and broken +bones, against the very edge of the truck, then surged back with him into +a whirling vortex. + +Grace screamed continuously; she gave herself up now for lost; and the +louder she screamed, the louder and the nearer the saving party shouted +and hurrahed. + +"No, do not fear," cried Hope; "you shall not die. Love is stronger +than death." + +The words were scarce out of his mouth when the point of a steel pick +came clean through the stuff; another followed above it; then another, +then another, and then another. Holes were made; then gaps, then larger +gaps, then a mass of coal fell in; furious picks--a portion of the mine +knocked away--and there stood in a red blaze of lamps held up, the +gallant band roaring, shouting, working, led by a stalwart giant with +bare arms, begrimed and bleeding, face smoked, hair and eyebrows black +with coal-dust, and eyes flaming like red coals. He sprang with one +fearless bound down to the coal-truck, and caught up his wife in his +arms, and held her to his panting bosom. Ropes, ladder, everything--and +they were saved; while the corpse of the assassin whirled round and round +in the subsiding eddies of the black water, and as that water ran away +into the mine, lay, coated with mud, at the feet of those who had saved +his innocent victims. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +STRANGE COMPLICATIONS. + + +Exert all the powers of your mind, and conceive, if you can, what that +mother felt whose only son sickened, and, after racking her heart with +hopes and fears, died before her eyes, and was placed in his coffin and +carried to his rest. Yet One in the likeness of a man bade the bearers +stand still, then, with a touch, made the coffin open, the dead come +back, blooming with youth and health, and handed him to his mother. + +That picture no mortal mind can realize; but the effort will take you +so far as this: you may imagine what Walter Clifford felt when, almost +at the climax of despair, he received from that living tomb the good +and beautiful creature who was the light of his eyes and the darling of +his heart. + +How he gloated on her! How he murmured words of comfort and joy over her +as the cage carried her and Hope and him up again into the blessed +sunshine! And there, what a burst of exultation and honest rapture +received them! + +Everybody was there. The news of Hope's signal had been wired to the +surface. An old original telegraph had been set up by Colonel Clifford, +and its arms set flying to tell him. That old campaigner was there, with +his spring break and mattresses, and an able physician. Bartley was +there, pale and old, and trembling, and crying. He fell on his knees +before Hope and Grace. She drew back from him with repulsion; but he +cried out, "No matter! no matter! They are saved! they are saved!" + +Walter carried her to his father, and left Bartley kneeling. Then he +dashed back for Hope, who did not move, and found him on his knees +insensible. A piece of coal, driven by one of the men's picks, had struck +him on the temple. The gallant fellow had tried to hide his hurt with his +handkerchief, but the handkerchief was soaked with blood, and the man, +exhausted by hunger, violent emotions, and this last blow, felt neither +his trouble nor his joy. He was lifted with tender pity into the break, +and the blood stanched, and stimulants applied by the doctor. But Grace +would have his head on her bosom, and her hand in Walter's. Fortunately, +the doctor was no other than that physician who had attended Colonel +Clifford in his dangerous attack of internal gout. We say fortunately, +for patients who have endured extremities of hunger have to be treated +with very great skill and caution. Gentle stimulants and mucilages must +precede solid food, and but a little of anything be taken at a time. +Doctor Garner began his treatment in the very break. The first spoonful +of egg and brandy told upon Grace Hope. Her deportment had been strange. +She had seemed confused at times, and now and then she would cast a look +of infinite tenderness upon Walter, and then again she would knit her +brow and seem utterly puzzled. + +But now she gave Walter a look that brought him nearer to her, and she +said, with a heavenly smile, "You love me best; better than the other." +Then she began to cry over her father. + +"Better than the other," said Walter, aloud. "What other?" + +"Be quiet," said the doctor. "Do you really think her stomach can be +empty for six days, and her head be none the worse? Come, my dear, +another spoonful. Good girl! Now et me look at you, Mr. Walter." + +"Why, what is the matter with _him_?" said the Colonel. "I never saw him +look better in all my life." + +"Indeed! Red spots on his cheek-bones, ditto on his temples, and his +eyes glaring." + +"Excitement and happiness," said Walter. + +The doctor took no notice of him. "He has been outraging nature," +said he, "and she will have her revenge. We are not out of the wood +yet, Colonel Clifford, and you had better put them all three under +my command." + +"I do, my good friend; I do," said Colonel Clifford, eagerly. "It is your +department, and I don't believe in two commanders." + +They drew up at the great door of Clifford Hall. It seemed to open of +itself, and there were all the servants drawn up in two lines. + +They all showed eager sympathy, but only John Baker and Mrs. Milton +ventured to express it. "God bless you all!" said Colonel Clifford. "But +it is our turn now. They are all in the doctor's hands. My whole +household obey him to the letter. It is my order. Doctor Garner, this is +Mrs. Milton, my housekeeper. You will find her a good lieutenant." + +"Mrs. Milton," said the doctor, sharply, "warm baths in three rooms, and +to bed with this lot. Carry Mr. Hope up; he is my first patient. Bring me +eggs, milk, brandy, new port-wine. Cook!" + +"Sir?" + +"Hammer three chickens to pieces with your rolling-pin, then mince them; +then chuck them into a big pot with cold water, stew them an hour, and +then boil them to a jelly, strain, and serve. Meantime, send up three +slices of mutton half raw; we will do a little chewing, not much." + +The patients submitted like lambs, only Walter grumbled a little, but at +last confessed to a headache and sudden weariness. + +Julia Clifford took special charge of Grace Hope, the doctor of William +Hope, and Colonel Clifford sat by Walter, congratulating, soothing, and +encouraging him, until he began to doze. + + * * * * * + +Doctor Garner's estimate of his patients proved correct. The next day +Walter was in a raging fever. + +Hope remained in a pitiable state of weakness, and Grace, who in theory +was the weaker vessel, began to assist Julia in nursing them both. To be +sure, she was all whip-cord and steel beneath her delicate skin, and had +always been active and temperate. And then she was much the youngest, and +the constitutions of such women are anything but weak. Still, it was a +most elastic recovery from a great shock. + +But the more her body recovered its strength, and her brain its +clearness, the more was her mind agitated and distressed. + +Her first horrible anxiety was for Walter's life. The doctor showed no +fear, but that might be his way. + +It was a raging fever, with all the varieties that make fever terrible to +behold. He was never left without two attendants; and as Hope was in no +danger now, though pitiably weak and slowly convalescent, Grace was often +one of Walter's nurses. So was Julia Clifford. He sometimes recognized +them for a little while, and filled their loving hearts with hope. But +the next moment he was off into the world of illusions, and sometimes +could not see them. Often he asked for Grace most piteously when she was +looking at him through her tears, and trying hard to win him to her with +her voice. On these occasions he always called her Mary. One unlucky day +that Grace and Julia were his only attendants he became very restless and +wild, said he had committed a great crime, and the scaffold was being +prepared for him. "Hark!" said he; "don't you hear the workmen? Curse +their hammers; their eternal tip-tapping goes through my brain. The +scaffold! What would the old man say? A Clifford hung! Never! I'll save +him and myself from that." + +Then he sprang out of bed and made a rush at the window. It was open, +unluckily, and he had actually got his knee through when Grace darted to +him and seized him, screaming to Julia to help her. Julia did her best, +especially in the way of screaming. Grace's muscle and resolution impeded +the attempt no more; slowly, gradually, he got both knees upon the +window-sill. But the delay was everything. In came a professional nurse. +She flung her arms round Walter's waist and just hung back with all her +weight. As she was heavy, though not corpulent, his more active strength +became quite valueless; weight and position defeated him hopelessly; and +at last he sank exhausted into the nurse's arms, and she and Grace +carried him to bed like a child. + +Of course, when it was all over, half a dozen people came to the rescue. +The woman told what had happened, the doctor administered a soothing +draught, the patient became very quiet, then perspired a little, then +went to sleep, and the cheerful doctor declared that he would be all the +better for what he called this little outbreak. But Grace sat there +quivering for hours, and Colonel Clifford installed two new nurses that +very evening. They were pensioners of his--soldiers who had been +invalided from wounds, but had long recovered, and were neither of them +much above forty. They had some experience, and proved admirable +nurses--quiet, silent, vigilant as sentinels. + +That burst of delirium was the climax. Walter began to get better +after that. But a long period of convalescence was before him; and the +doctor warned them that convalescence has its very serious dangers, +and that they must be very careful, and, above all, not irritate nor +even excite him. + +All this time torments of another kind had been overpowered but never +suppressed in poor Grace's mind; and these now became greater as Walter's +danger grew less and less. + +What would be the end of all this? Here she was installed, to her +amazement, in Clifford Hall, as Walter's wife, and treated, all of a +sudden, with marked affection and respect by Colonel Clifford, who had +hitherto seemed to abhor her. But it was all an illusion; the whole house +of cards must come tumbling down some day. + +Some days before the event last described Hope had said to her, + +"My child, this is no place for you and me." + +"No more it is, papa," said Grace. "I know that too well." + +"Then why did you let them bring us here?" + +"Papa," said Grace, "I forgot all about _that_." + +"Forgot it!" + +"It seems incredible, does it not? But what I saw and felt thrust what I +had only heard out of my mind. Oh, papa! you were insensible, poor dear; +but if you had only seen Walter Clifford when he saved us! I took him for +some giant miner. He seemed ever so much bigger than the gentleman I +loved--ay, and I shall love him to my dying day, whether or not he +has--But when he sprang to my side, and took me with his bare, bleeding +arms to his heart, that panted so, I thought his heart would burst, and +mine, too, could I feel another woman between us. All that might be true, +but it was unreal. That he loved me, and had saved me, _that_ was real. +And when we sat together in the carriage, your poor bleeding head upon my +bosom, and his hand grasping mine, and his sweet eyes beaming with love +and joy, what could I realize except my father's danger and my husband's +mighty love? I was all present anxiety and present bliss. His sin and my +alarms seemed hundreds of miles off, and doubtful. And even since I have +been here, see how greater and nearer things have overpowered me. Your +deadly weakness--you, who were strong, poor dear--oh, let me kiss you, +dear darling--till you had saved your child; Walter's terrible danger. +Oh, my dear father, spare me. How can a poor, weak woman think of such +different woes, and realize and suffer them all at once? Spare me, dear +father, spare me! Let me see you stronger; let me see _him_ safe, and +then let us think of that other cruel thing, and what we ought to say to +Colonel Clifford, and what we ought to do, and where we are to go." + +"My poor child," said Hope, faintly, with tears in his eyes, "I say no +more. Take your own time." + +Grace did not abuse this respite. So soon as the doctor declared Walter +out of immediate danger, and indeed safe, if cautiously treated, she +returned of her own accord to the miserable subject that had been +thrust aside. + +After some discussion, they both agreed that they must now confide their +grief to Colonel Clifford, and must quit his home, and make him master of +the situation, and sole depository of the terrible secret for a time. + +Hope wished to make the revelation, and spare his daughter that pain. She +assented readily and thankfully. + +This was a woman's first impulse--to put a man forward. + +But by-and-by she had one of her fits of hard thinking, and saw that +such a revelation ought not to be made by one straightforward man to +another, but with all a woman's soothing ways. Besides, she had already +discovered that the Colonel had a great esteem and growing affection for +her; and, in short, she felt that if the blow could be softened by +anybody, it was by her. + +Her father objected that she would encounter a terrible trial, from +which he could save her; but she entreated him, and he yielded to her +entreaty, though against his judgment. + +When this was settled, nothing remained but to execute it. + +Then the woman came uppermost, and Grace procrastinated for one +insufficient reason and another. + +However, at last she resolved that the very next day she would ask John +Baker to get her a private interview with Colonel Clifford in his study. + +This resolution had not been long formed when that very John Baker tapped +at Mr. Hope's door, and brought her a note from Colonel Clifford asking +her if she could favor him with a visit in his study. + +Grace said, "Yes, Mr. Baker, I will come directly." + +As soon as Baker was gone she began to bemoan her weak procrastination, +and begged her father's pardon for her presumption in taking the matter +out of his hands. "You would not have put it off a day. Now, see what I +have done by my cowardice." + +Hope did not see what she had done, and the quick-witted young lady +jumping at once at a conclusion, opened her eyes and said, + +"Why, don't you see? Some other person has told him what it was so +important he should hear first from me. Ah! it is the same gentleman that +came and warned me. He has heard that we are actually married, for it is +the talk of the place, and he told me she would punish him if he +neglected her warning. Oh, what shall I do?" + +"You go too fast, Grace, dear. Don't run before trouble like that. Come, +go to Colonel Clifford, and you will find it is nothing of the kind." + +Grace shook her head grandly. Experience had given her faith in her own +instincts, as people call them--though they are subtle reasonings the +steps of which are not put forward--and she went down to the study. + +"Grace, my dear," said the Colonel, "I think I shall have a fit of +the gout." + +"Oh no," said Grace. "We have trouble enough." + +"It gets less every day, my dear; that is one comfort. But what I meant +was that our poor invalids eclipse me entirely in your good graces. That +is because you are a true woman, and an honor to your sex. But I should +like to see a little more of you. Well, all in good time. I didn't send +for you to tell you that. Sit down, my girl; it is a matter of business." + +Grace sat down, keenly on her guard, though she did not show it in the +least. Colonel Clifford resumed, + +"You may be sure that nothing has been near my heart for some time but +your danger and my dear son's. Still, I owe something to other sufferers, +and the poor widows whose husbands have perished in that mine have cried +to me for vengeance on the person who bribed that Burnley. I am a +magistrate, too, and duty must never be neglected. I have got detectives +about, and I have offered five hundred guineas reward for the discovery +of the villain. One Jem Davies described him to me, and I put the +description on the placard and in the papers. But now I learn that +Davies's description is all second-hand. He had it from you. Now, I must +tell you that a description at second-hand always misses some part or +other. As a magistrate, I never encourage Jack to tell me what Jill says +when I can get hold of Jill. You are Jill, my dear, so now please verify +Jack's description or correct it. However, the best way will be to give +me your own description before I read you his." + +"I will," said Grace, very much relieved. "Well, then, he was a man not +over forty, thin, and with bony fingers; an enormous gold ring on the +little finger of his right hand. He wore a suit of tweed, all one color, +rather tight, and a vulgar neck-handkerchief, almost crimson. He had a +face like a corpse, and very thin lips. But the most remarkable things +were his eyes and his eyebrows. His eyes were never still, and his brows +were very black, and not shaped like other people's; they were neither +straight, like Julia Clifford's, for instance, nor arched like Walter's; +that is to say, they were arched, but all on one side. Each brow began +quite high up on the temple, and then came down in a slanting drop to the +bridge of the nose, and lower than the bridge. There, if you will give me +a pencil I will draw you one of his eyebrows in a minute." + +She drew the eyebrow with masterly ease and rapidity. + +"Why, that is the eyebrow of Mephistopheles." + +"And so it is," said Grace, naively. "No wonder it did not seem +human to me." + +"I am sorry to say it is human. You can see it in every convict jail. +But," said he, "how came this villain to sit to you for his portrait?" + +"He did not, sir. But when he was struggling with me to keep me from +rescuing my father--" + +"What! did the ruffian lay hands on you?" + +"That he did, and so did Mr. Bartley. But the villain was the leader of +it all; and while he was struggling with me--" + +"You were taking stock of him? Well, they talk of a Jew's eye; give me a +woman's. My dear, the second-hand description is not worth a button. I +must write fresh notices from yours, and, above all, instruct the +detectives. You have given me information that will lead to that man's +capture. As for the gold ring and the tweed suit, they disappeared into +space when my placard went up, you may be sure of that, and a felon can +paint his face. But his eyes and eyebrows will do him. They are the mark +of a jail-bird. I am a visiting justice, and have often noticed the +peculiarity. Draw me his eyebrows, and we will photograph them in Derby; +and my detectives shall send copies to Scotland Yard and all the convict +prisons. We'll have him." + +The Colonel paused suddenly in his triumphant prediction, and said, "But +what was that you let fall about Bartley? He was no party to this foul +crime. Why, he has worked night and day to save you and Hope. Indeed, you +both owe your lives to him." + +"Indeed!" + +"Yes. He set the men on to save you within ten minutes of the explosion. +He bought rope by the mile, and great iron buckets to carry up the debris +that was heaped up between you and the working party. He raved about the +pit day and night lamenting his daughter and his friend; and why I say he +saved you, 'twas he who advised Walter. I had this from Walter himself +before his fever came on. He advised and implored him not to attempt to +clear the whole shaft, but to pick sideways into the mine twenty feet +from the ground. He told Walter that he never really slept at night, and +in his dreams saw you in a part of the mine he calls the hall. Now, +Walter says that but for this advice they would have been two days more +getting to you." + +"We should have been dead," said Grace, gravely. Then she reflected. + +"Colonel Clifford," said she, "I listened to that villain and Mr. Bartley +planning my father's destruction. Certainly every word Mr. Bartley _said_ +was against it. He spoke of it with horror. Yet, somehow or other, that +wretched man obtained from him an order to send the man Burnley down the +mine, and what will you think when I tell you that he assisted the +villain to hinder me from going to the mine?" Then she told him the whole +scene, and how they shut her up in the house, and she had to go down a +curtain and burst through a quick-set hedge. But all the time she was +thinking of Walter's bigamy and how she was to reveal it; and she +related her exploits in such a cold, languid manner that it was hardly +possible to believe them. + +Colonel Clifford could not help saying, "My dear, you have had a great +shock; and you have dreamt all this. Certainly you are a fine girl, and +broad-shouldered. I admire that in man or woman--but you are so delicate, +so refined, so gentle." + +Grace blushed and said, languidly, "For all that, I am an athlete." + +"An athlete, child?" + +"Yes, sir. Mr. Bartley took care of that. He would never let me wear a +corset, and for years he made me do calisthenics under a master." + +"Calisthenics?" + +"That is a fine word for gymnastics." Then, with a double dose of +languor, "I can go up a loose rope forty feet, so it was nothing to me to +come down one. The hedge was the worst thing; but my father was in +danger, and my blood was up." She turned suddenly on the Colonel with a +flash of animation, "You used to keep race-horses, Walter told me." The +Colonel stared at this sudden turn. + +"That I did," said he, "and a pretty penny they cost me." + +"Well, sir, is not a race-horse a poor mincing thing until her blood gets +up galloping?" + +"By Jove! you are right," said he, "she steps like a cat upon hot bricks. +But the comparison is not needed. Whatever statement Mrs. Walter Clifford +makes to me seriously is gospel to me, who already know enough of her to +respect her lightest word. Pray grant me this much, that Bartley is a +true penitent, for I have proof of it in this drawer. I'll show it you." + +"No, no, please not," said Grace, in no little agitation. "Let me take +your word for that, as you have taken mine. Oh, sir, he is nothing to me +compared with what I thought you wished to say to me. But it is I who +must find the courage to say things that will wound you and me still +more. Colonel Clifford, pray do not be angry with me till you know all, +but indeed your house is not the place for my father or for me." + +"Why not, madam," said the Colonel, stiffly, "since you are my +daughter-in-law?" + +She did not reply. + +"Ah!" said he, coloring high and rising from his chair. He began to walk +the room in some agitation. "You are right," said he; "I once affronted +you cruelly, unpardonably. Still, pray consider that you passed for +Bartley's daughter; that was my objection to you, and then I did not know +your character. But when I saw you come out pale and resolved to +sacrifice yourself to justice and another woman, that converted me at +once. Ask Julia what I said about you." + +"I must interrupt you," said Grace. "I can not let such a man as you +excuse yourself to a girl of eighteen who has nothing but reverence for +you, and would love you if she dared." + +"Then all I can say is that you are very mysterious, my dear, and I wish +you would speak out." + +"I shall speak out soon enough," said Grace, solemnly, "now I have begun. +Colonel Clifford, you have nothing to reproach yourself with. No more +have I, for that matter. Yet we must both suffer." She hesitated a +moment, and then said, firmly, "You do me the honor to approve my conduct +in that dreadful situation. Did you hear all that passed? did you take +notice of all I said?" + +"I did," said Colonel Clifford. "I shall never forget that scene, nor the +distress, nor the fortitude of her I am proud to call my daughter." + +Grace put her hands before her face at these kind words, and he saw the +tears trickle between her white fingers. He began to wonder, and to feel +uneasy. But the brave girl shook off her tears, and manned herself, if +we may use such an expression. + +"Then, sir," said she, slowly and emphatically, though quietly, "did +you not think it strange that I should say to my father, 'I don't +know?' He asked me before you all, 'Are you a wife?' Twice I said to my +father--to him I thought was my father--'I don't know.' Can you account +for that, sir?" + +The Colonel replied, "I was so unable to account for it that I took Julia +Clifford's opinion on it directly, as we were going home." + +"And what did she say?" + +"Oh, she said it was plain enough. The fellow had forbidden you to own +the marriage, and you were an obedient wife; and, like women in general, +strong against other people, but weak against one." + +"So that is a woman's reading of a woman," said Grace. "She will +sacrifice her honor, and her father's respect, and court the world's +contempt, and sully herself for life, to suit the convenience of a +husband for a few hours. My love is great, but it is not slavish or +silly. Do you think, sir, that I doubted for one moment Walter Clifford +would own me when he came home and heard what I had suffered? Did I think +him so unworthy of my love as to leave me under that stigma? Hardly. Then +why should I blacken Mrs. Walter Clifford for an afternoon, just to be +unblackened at night?" + +"This is good sense," said the Colonel, "and the thing is a mystery. Can +you solve it?" + +"You may be sure I can--and woe is me--I must." + +She hung her head, and her hands worked convulsively. + +"Sir," said she, after a pause, "suppose I could not tell the truth to +all those people without subjecting the man I loved--and I love him now +dearer than ever--to a terrible punishment for a mere folly done years +ago, which now has become something much worse than folly--but how? +Through his unhappy love for me!" + +"These are dark words," said the Colonel. "How am I to understand them?" + +"Dark as they are," said Grace, "do they not explain my conduct in that +bitter trial better than Julia Clifford's guesses do, better than +anything that has occurred since?" + +"Mrs. Walter Clifford," said the Colonel, with a certain awe, "I see +there is something very grave here, and that it affects my son. I begin +to know you. You waited till he was out of danger; but now you do me the +honor to confide something to me which the world will not drag out of +you. So be it; I am a man and a soldier. I have faced cavalry, and I can +face the truth. What is it?" + +"Colonel Clifford," said Grace, trembling like a leaf, "the truth will +cut you to the heart, and will most likely kill me. Now that I have gone +so far, you may well say, 'Tell it me;' but the words once past my lips +can never be recalled. Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?" + +The struggle overpowered her, and almost for the first time in her life +she turned half faint and yet hysterical; and such was her condition that +the brave Colonel was downright alarmed, and rang hastily for his people. +He committed her to the charge of Mrs. Milton. It seemed cruel to demand +any further explanation from her just then; so brave a girl, who had gone +so far with him, would be sure to tell him sooner or later. Meantime he +sat sombre and agitated, oppressed by a strange sense of awe and mystery, +and vague misgiving. While he brooded thus, a footman brought him in a +card upon a salver: "The Reverend Alleyn Meredith." "Do I know this +gentleman?" said the Colonel. + +"I think not, sir," said the footman. + +"What is he like?" + +"Like a beneficed clergyman, sir." + +Colonel Clifford was not in the humor for company; but it was not his +habit to say not at home when he was at home; and being a magistrate, he +never knew when a stranger sent in his card, that it might not be his +duty to see him; so he told the footman to say, "that he was in point of +fact engaged, but was at this gentleman's service for a few minutes." + +The footman retired, and promptly ushered in a clergyman who seemed the +model of an archdeacon or a wealthy rector. Sleek and plump, without +corpulence, neat boots, clothes black and glossy, waistcoat up to the +throat, neat black gloves, a snowy tie, a face shaven like an egg, hair +and eyebrows grizzled, cheeks rubicund, but not empurpled, as one who +drank only his pint of port, but drank it seven days in the week. + +Nevertheless, between you and us, this sleek, rosy personage, archdeacon +or rural dean down to the ground was Leonard Monckton, padded to the +nine, and tinted as artistically as any canvas in the world. + + * * * * * + +The first visit Monckton had paid to this neighborhood was to the mine. +He knew that was a dangerous visit, so he came at night as a decrepit old +man. He very soon saw two things which discouraged farther visits. One +was a placard describing his crime in a few words, and also his person +and clothes, and offering 500 guineas reward. As his pallor was +specified, he retired for a minute behind a tent, and emerged the color +of mahogany; he then pursued his observations, and in due course fell in +with the second warning. This was the body of a man lying upon the slack +at the pit mouth; the slack not having been added to for many days was +glowing very hot, and fired the night. The body he recognized +immediately, for the white face stared at him; it was Ben Burnley +undergoing cremation. To this the vindictive miners had condemned him; +they had sat on his body and passed a resolution, and sworn he should not +have Christian burial, so they managed to hide his corpse till the slack +got low, and then they brought him up at night and chucked him like a dog +on to the smouldering coal; one-half of him was charred away when +Monckton found him, but his face was yet untouched. Two sturdy miners +walked to and fro as sentinels, armed with hammers, and firmly resolved +that neither law nor gospel should interfere with this horrible example. + +Even Monckton, the man of iron nerves, started back with a cry of dismay +at the sight and the smell. + +One of the miners broke into a hoarse, uneasy laugh. "Yow needn't to +skirl, old man." he cried. "Yon's not a man; he's nobbut a murderer. He's +fired t' mine and made widows and orphans by t' score," "Ay," said the +other, "but there's a worse villain behoind, that found t' brass for t' +job and tempted this one. We'll catch him yet; ah, then we'll not trouble +judge, nor jury, nor hangman neether." + +"The wretches!" said Monckton. "What! fire a mine! No punishment is +enough for them." With this sentiment he retired, and never went near the +mine again. He wired for a pal of his and established him at the Dun Cow. +These two were in constant communication. Monckton's friend was a very +clever gossip, and knew how to question without seeming curious, and the +gossiping landlady helped him. So, between them, Monckton heard that +Walter was down with a fever and not expected to live, and that Hope was +confined to his bed and believed to be sinking. Encouraged by this state +of things, Monckton made many artful preparations, and resolved to levy a +contribution upon Colonel Clifford. + +At this period of his manoeuvres fortune certainly befriended him +wonderfully; he found Colonel Clifford alone, and likely to be +alone; and, at the same time, prepared by Grace Clifford's half +revelation, and violent agitation, to believe the artful tale this +villain came to tell him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +RETRIBUTION. + + +Monckton, during his long imprisonment at Dartmoor, came under many +chaplains, and he was popular with them all; because when they inquired +into the state of his soul he represented it as humble, penitent, and +purified. Two of these gentlemen were High-Church, and he noticed their +peculiarities: one was a certain half-musical monotony in speaking which +might be called by a severe critic sing-song. Perhaps they thought the +intoning of the service in a cathedral could be transferred with +advantage to conversation. + +So now, to be strictly in character, this personage not only dressed +High-Church, but threw a sweet musical monotony into the communication he +made to Colonel Clifford. + +And if the reader will compare this his method of speaking with the +matter of his discourse, he will be sensible of a singular contrast. + +After the first introduction, Monckton intoned very gently that he had a +communication to make on the part of a lady which was painful to him, and +would be painful to Colonel Clifford; but, at all events, it was +confidential, and if the Colonel thought proper, would go no further. + +"I think, sir, you have a son whose name is Walter?" + +"I have a son, and his name is Walter," said the Colonel, stiffly. + +"I think, sir," said musical Monckton, "that he left your house about +fourteen years ago, and you lost sight of him for a time?" + +"That is so, sir." + +"He entered the service of a Mr. Robert Bartley as a merchant's clerk." + +"I doubt that, sir." + +"I fear, sir," sighed Monckton, musically, "that is not the only +thing he did which has been withheld from you. He married a lady +called Lucy Muller." + +"Who told you that?" cried the Colonel. "It's a lie!" + +"I am afraid not," said the meek and tuneful ecclesiastic. "I am +acquainted with the lady, a most respectable person, and she has shown me +the certificate of marriage." + +"The certificate of marriage!" cried the Colonel, all aghast. + +"Yes, sir, and this is not the first time I have given this information +in confidence. Mrs. Walter Clifford, who is a kind-hearted woman, and has +long ceased to suffer bitterly from her husband's desertion, requested me +to warn a young lady, whose name was Miss Mary Bartley, of this fact. I +did so, and showed her the certificate. She was very much distressed, and +no wonder, for she was reported to be engaged to Mr. Walter Clifford; but +I explained to Miss Bartley that there was no jealousy, hostility, or +bitterness in the matter; the only object was to save her from being +betrayed into an illegal act, and one that would bring ruin upon herself, +and a severe penalty upon Mr. Walter Clifford." + +Colonel Clifford turned very pale, but he merely said, in a hoarse voice, +"Go on, sir." + +"Well, sir," said Monckton, "I thought the matter was at an end, and, +having discharged a commission which was very unpleasant to me, I had at +all events saved an innocent girl from tempting Mr. Walter Clifford to +his destruction and ruining herself. I say, I thought and hoped so. But +it seems now that the young lady has defied the warning, and has married +your son after all. Mrs. Walter Clifford has heard of it in Derby, and +she is naturally surprised, and I am afraid she is now somewhat +incensed." + +"Before we go any further, sir," said Colonel Clifford, "I should like +to see the certificate you say you showed to Miss Bartley." + +"I did, sir," said Monckton, "and here it is--that is to say, an attested +copy; but of course sooner or later you will examine the original." + +Colonel Clifford took the paper with a firm hand, and examined it +closely. "Have you any objection to my taking a copy of this?" said +he, keenly. + +"Of course not," said Monckton; "indeed, I don't see why I should not +leave this document with you; it will be in honorable hands." + +The Colonel bowed. Then he examined the document. + +"I see, sir," said he, "the witness is William Hope. May I ask if you +know this William Hope?" + +"I was not present at the wedding, sir," said Monckton, "so I can say +nothing about the matter from my own knowledge; but if you please, I will +ask the lady." + +"Why didn't she come herself instead of sending you?" asked the Colonel, +distrustfully. + +"That's just what I asked her. And she said she had not the heart nor the +courage to come herself. I believe she thought as I was a clergyman, and +not directly interested, I might be more calm than she could be, and give +a little less pain." + +"That's all stuff! If she is afraid to come herself, she knows it's an +abominable falsehood. Bring her here with whatever evidence she has got +that this Walter Clifford is my son, and then we will go into this matter +seriously." + +Monckton was equal to the occasion. + +"You are quite right, sir," said he. "And what business has she to put me +forward as evidence of a transaction I never witnessed? I shall tell her +you expect to see her, and that it is her duty to clear up the affair in +person. Suppose it should be another Mr. Walter Clifford, after all? When +shall I bring her, supposing I have sufficient influence?" + +"Bring her to-morrow, as early as you can." + +"Well, you know ladies are not early risers: will twelve o'clock do?" + +"Twelve o'clock to-morrow, sir," said the Colonel. + +The sham parson took his leave, and drove away in a well-appointed +carriage and pair. For we must inform the reader that he had written to +Mr. Middleton for another L100, not much expecting to get it, and that it +had come down by return of post in a draft on a bank in Derby. + + * * * * * + +Stout Colonel Clifford was now a very unhappy man. The soul of honor +himself, he could not fully believe that his own son had been guilty of +perfidy and crime. But how could he escape _doubts_, and very grave +doubts too? The communication was made by a gentleman who did not seem +really to know more about it than he had been told, but then he was a +clergyman, with no appearance of heat or partiality. He had been easily +convinced that the lady herself ought to have come and said more about +it, and had left an attested copy of the certificate in his (Colonel +Clifford's) hands with a sort of simplicity that looked like one +gentleman dealing with another. One thing, however, puzzled him sore in +this certificate--the witness being William Hope. William Hope was not a +very uncommon name, but still, somehow, that one and the same document +should contain the names of Walter Clifford and William Hope, roused a +suspicion in his mind that this witness was the William Hope lying in his +own house so weak and ill that he did not like to go to him, and enter +upon such a terrible discussion as this. He sent for Mrs. Milton, and +asked her if Mrs. Walter Clifford was quite recovered. + +Mrs. Milton reported she was quite well, and reading to her father. The +Colonel went upstairs and beckoned her out. + +"My child," said he, "I am sorry to renew an agitating subject, but you +are a good girl, and a brave girl, and you mean to confide in me sooner +or later. Can you pity the agitation and distress of a father who for the +first time is compelled to doubt his son's honor?" + +"I can," said Grace. "Ah, something has happened since we parted; +somebody has told you: that man with a certificate!" + +"What, then," said the Colonel, "is it really true? Did he really show +you that certificate?" + +"He did." + +"And warned you not to marry Walter?" + +"He did, and told me Walter would be put into prison if I did, and would +die in prison, for a gentleman can not live there nowadays. Oh, sir, +don't let anybody know but you and me and my father. He won't hurt him +for my sake; he has wronged me cruelly, but I'll be torn to pieces before +I'll own my marriage, and throw him into a dungeon." + +"Come to my arms, you pearl of goodness and nobility and unselfish love!" +cried Colonel Clifford. "How can I ever part with you now I know you? +There, don't let us despair, let's fight to the last. I have one question +to submit to you. Of course you examined the certificate very carefully?" + +"I saw enough to break my heart. I saw that on a certain day, many years +ago, one Lucy Muller had married Walter Clifford." + +"And who witnessed the marriage?" asked the Colonel, eyeing her keenly. + +"Oh, I don't know that," said Grace. "When I came to Walter Clifford, +everything swam before my eyes; it was all I could do to keep from +fainting away. I tottered into my father's study, and, as soon as I came +to myself, what had I to do? Why, to creep out again with my broken +heart, and face such insults--All! it is a wonder I did not fall dead at +their feet." + +"My poor girl!" said Colonel Clifford. Then he reflected a moment. "Have +you the courage to read that document again, and to observe in particular +who witnessed it?" + +"I have," said she. + +He handed it to her. She took it and held it in both hands, though +they trembled. + +"Who is the witness?" + +"The witness," said Grace, "is William Hope." + +"Is that your father?" + +"It's my father's name," said Grace, beginning to turn her eyes inward +and think very hard. + +"But is it your father, do you think?" + +"No, sir, it is not." + +"Was he in that part of the world at the time? Did he know Bartley? the +clergyman who brought me this certificate--" + +"The clergyman!" + +"Yes, my dear, it was a clergyman, apparently a rector, and he told me--" + +"Are you sure he was a clergyman?" + +"Quite sure; he had a white tie, a broad-brimmed hat, a clergyman all +over; don't go off on that. Did your father and my son know each +other in Hull?" + +"That they did. You are right," said Grace, "this witness was my father; +see that, now. But if so--Don't speak to me; don't touch me; let me +think--there is something hidden here;" and Mrs. Walter Clifford showed +her father-in-law that which we have seen in her more than once, but it +was quite new and surprising to Colonel Clifford. There she stood, her +arms folded, her eyes turned inward, her every feature, and even her +body, seemed to think. The result came out like lightning from a cloud. +"It's all a falsehood," said she. + +"A falsehood!" said Colonel Clifford. + +"Yes, a falsehood upon the face of it. My father witnessed this +marriage, and therefore if the bridegroom had been our Walter he would +never have allowed our Walter to court me, for he knew of our courtship +all along, and never once disapproved of it." + +"Then do you think it is a mistake?" said the Colonel, eagerly. + +"No, I do not," said Grace. "I think it is an imposture. This man was not +a clergyman when he brought me the certificate; he was a man of business, +a plain tradesman, a man of the world; he had a colored necktie, and some +rather tawdry chains." + +"Did he speak in a kind of sing-song?" + +"Not at all; his voice was clear and cutting, only he softened it down +once or twice out of what I took for good feeling at the time. He's an +impostor and a villain. Dear sir, don't agitate poor Walter or my dear +father with this vile thing (she handed him back the certificate). It has +been a knife to both our hearts; we have suffered together, you and I, +and let us get to the bottom of it together." + +"We shall soon do that," said the Colonel, "for he is coming here +to-morrow again." + +"All the better." + +"With the lady." + +"What lady?" + +"The lady that calls herself Mrs. Walter Clifford." + +"Indeed!" said Grace, quite taken aback. "They must be very bold." + +"Oh, for that matter," said the Colonel, "I insisted upon it; the man +seemed to know nothing but from mere hearsay. He knew nothing about +William Hope, the witness, so I told him he must bring the woman; and, to +be just to the man, he seemed to think so too, and that she ought to do +her own business." + +"She will not come," said Grace, rather contemptuously. "He was obliged +to say she would, just to put a face upon it. To-morrow he'll bring an +excuse instead of her. Then have your detectives about, for he is a +villain; and, dear sir, please receive him in the drawing-room; then I +will find some way to get a sight of him myself." + +"It shall be done," said the Colonel. "I begin to think with you. At all +events, if the lady does not come, I shall hope it is all an imposture or +a mistake." + +With this understanding they parted, and waited in anxiety for the +morrow, but now their anxiety was checkered with hope. + + * * * * * + +To-morrow bade fair to be a busy day. Colonel Clifford, little dreaming +the condition to which his son and his guest would be reduced, had +invited Jem Davies and the rescuing parties to feast in tents on his own +lawn and drink his home-brewed beer, and they were to bring with them +such of the rescued miners as might be in a condition to feast and drink +copiously. When he found that neither Hope nor his son could join these +festivities, he was very sorry he had named so early a day; but he was so +punctilious and precise that he could not make up his mind to change one +day for another. So a great confectioner at Derby who sent out feasts was +charged with the affair, and the Colonel's own kitchen was at his service +too. That was not all. Bartley was coming to do business. This had been +preceded by a letter which Colonel Clifford, it may be remembered, had +offered to show Grace Clifford. The letter was thus worded: + +"COLONEL CLIFFORD,--A penitent man begs humbly to approach you, and offer +what compensation is in his power. I desire to pay immediately to Walter +Clifford the sum of L20,000 I have so long robbed him of, with five per +cent, interest for the use of it. It has brought me far more than that in +money, but money I now find is not happiness. + +"The mine in which my friend has so nearly been destroyed--and his +daughter, who now, too late, I find is the only creature in the world I +love--that mine is now odious to me. I desire by deed to hand it over to +Hope and yourself, upon condition that you follow the seams wherever they +go, and that you give me such a share of the profits during my lifetime +as you think I deserve for my enterprise. This for my life only, since I +shall leave all I have in the world to that dear child, who will now be +your daughter, and perhaps never deign again to look upon the erring man +who writes these lines. + +"I should like, if you please, to retain the farm, or at all events a +hundred acres round about the house to turn into orchards and gardens, so +that I may have some employment, far from trade and its temptations, for +the remainder of my days." + + * * * * * + +In consequence of this letter a deed was drawn and engrossed, and Bartley +had written to say he would come to Clifford Hall and sign it, and have +it witnessed and delivered. + +About nine o'clock in the evening one of the detectives called on Colonel +Clifford to make a private communication; his mate had spotted a swell +mobsman, rather a famous character, with the usual number of aliases, but +known to the force as Mark Waddy; he was at the Dun Cow; and possessing +the gift of the gab in a superlative degree, had made himself extremely +popular. They had both watched him pretty closely, but he seemed not to +be there for a job, but only on the talking lay, probably soliciting +information for some gang of thieves or other. He had been seen to +exchange a hasty word with a clergyman; but as Mark Waddy's acquaintances +were not amongst the clergy, that would certainly be some pal that was in +something or other with him. + +"What a shrewd girl that must be!" said the Colonel. + +"I beg your pardon, Colonel," said the man, not seeing the relevancy of +this observation. + +"Oh, nothing," said the Colonel, "only _I_ expect a visit to-morrow at +twelve o'clock from a doubtful clergyman; just hang about the lawn on the +chance of my giving you a signal." + +Thus while Monckton was mounting his batteries, his victims were +preparing defenses in a sort of general way, though they did not see +their way so clear as the enemy did. + +Colonel Clifford's drawing-room was a magnificent room, fifty feet long +and thirty feet wide. A number of French windows opened on to a noble +balcony, with three short flights of stone steps leading down to the +lawn. The central steps were broad, the side steps narrow. There were +four entrances to it: two by double doors, and two by heavily curtained +apertures leading to little subsidiary rooms. + +At twelve o'clock next day, what with the burst of color from the +potted flowers on the balcony, the white tents, and the flags and +streamers, and a clear sunshiny day gilding it all, the room looked a +"palace of pleasure," and no stranger peeping in could have dreamed +that it was the abode of care, and about to be visited by gloomy +Penitence and incurable Fraud. + +The first to arrive was Bartley, with a witness. He was received kindly +by Colonel Clifford and ushered into a small room. + +He wanted another witness. So John Baker was sent for, and Bartley and he +were closeted together, reading the deed, etc., when a footman brought in +a card, "The Reverend Alleyn Meredith," and written underneath with a +pencil, in a female hand, "Mrs. Walter Clifford." + +"Admit them," said the Colonel, firmly. + +At this moment Grace, who had heard the carriage drive up to the door, +peeped in through one of the heavy curtains we have mentioned. + +"Has she actually come?" said she. + +"She has, indeed," said the Colonel, looking very grave. "Will you stay +and receive her?" + +"Oh no," said Grace, horrified; "but I'll take a good look at her through +this curtain. I have made a little hole on purpose." Then she slipped +into the little room and drew the curtain. + +The servant opened the door, and the false rector walked in, supporting +on his arm a dark woman, still very beautiful; very plainly dressed, but +well dressed, agitated, yet self-possessed. + +"Be seated, madam," said the Colonel. After a reasonable pause he began +to question her. + +"You were married on the eleventh day of June, 1868, to a gentleman of +the name of Walter Clifford?" + +"I was, sir." + +"May I ask how long you lived with him?" + +The lady buried her face in her hands. The question took her by surprise, +and this was a woman's artifice to gain time and answer cleverly. + +But the ingenious Monckton gave it a happy turn. "Poor thing! Poor +thing!" said he. + +"He left me the next day," said Lucy, "and I have never seen him since." + +Here Monckton interposed; he fancied he had seen the curtain move. +"Excuse me," said he, "I think there is somebody listening!" and he went +swiftly and put his head through the curtain. But the room was empty; for +meantime Grace was so surprised by the lady's arrival, by her beauty, +which might well have tempted any man, and by her air of respectability, +that she changed her tactics directly, and she was gone to her father for +advice and information in spite of her previous determination not to +worry him in his present condition. What he said to her can be briefly +told elsewhere; what he ordered her to do was to return and watch the +man and not the woman. + +During Lucy's hesitation, which was somewhat long, a clergyman came to +the window, looked in, and promptly retired, seeing the Colonel had +company. This, however, was only a modest curate, _alias_ a detective. He +saw in half a moment that this must be Mark Waddy's pal; but as the +police like to go their own way he would not watch the lawn himself, but +asked Jem Davies, with whom he had made acquaintance, to keep an eye upon +that with his fellows, for there was a jail-bird in the house; then he +went round to the front door, by which he felt sure his bird would make +his exit. He had no earthly right to capture this ecclesiastic, but he +was prepared if the Colonel, who was a magistrate, gave him the order, +and not without. + +But we are interrupting Colonel Clifford's interrogatories. + +"Madam, what makes you think this disloyal person was my son?" + +"Indeed, sir, I don't know," said the lady, and looking around the room +with some signs of distress. "I begin to hope it was not your son. He was +a tall young man, almost as tall as yourself. He was very handsome, with +brown hair and brown eyes, and seemed incapable of deceit." + +"Have you any letters of his?" asked the Colonel. + +"I had a great many, sir," said she, "but I have not kept them all." + +"Have you one?" said the Colonel, sternly. + +"Oh yes, sir," said Lucy, "I think I must have nearer twenty; but what +good will they be?" said she, affecting simplicity. + +"Why, my dear madam," said Monckton, "Colonel Clifford is quite right; +the handwriting may not tell _you_ anything, but surely his own father +knows it. I think he is offering you a very fair test. I must tell you +plainly that if you don't produce the letters you say you possess, I +shall regret having put myself forward in this matter at all." + +"Gently, sir," said the Colonel; "she has not refused to produce them." + +Lucy put her hand in her pocket and drew out a packet of letters, but she +hesitated, and looked timidly at Monckton, after his late severity. "Am I +bound to part with them?" + +"Certainly not," said Monckton, "but you can surely trust them for a +minute to such a man as Colonel Clifford. I am of opinion," said he, +"that since you can not be confronted with this gentleman's son (though +that is no fault of yours), these letters (by-the-bye, it would have been +as well to show to me,) ought now at once to be submitted to Colonel +Clifford, that he may examine both the contents and the handwriting; then +he will know whether it is his son or not; and probably as you are fair +with him he will be fair with you and tell you the truth." + +Colonel Clifford took the letters and ran his eye hastily over two or +three; they were filled with the ardent protestations of youth, and a +love that evidently looked toward matrimony, and they were written and +signed in a handwriting he knew as well as his own. + +He said, solemnly, "These letters are written and were sent to Miss Lucy +Muller by my son, Walter Clifford." Then, almost for the first time in +his life, he broke down, and said, "God forgive him; God help him and me. +The honor of the Cliffords is an empty sound." + +Lucy Monckton rose from her chair in genuine agitation. Her better angel +tugged at her heartstrings. + +"Forgive me, sir, oh, forgive me!" she cried, bursting into tears. Then +she caught a bitter, threatening glance of her bad angel fixed upon her, +and she said to Monckton, "I can say no more, I can do no more. It was +fourteen years ago--I can't break people's hearts. Hush it up amongst +you. I have made a hero weep; his tears burn me. I don't care for the +man; I'll go no further. You, sir, have taken a deal of trouble and +expense. I dare say Colonel Clifford will compensate you; I leave the +matter with you. No power shall make me act in it any more." + +Monckton wrote hastily on his card, and said, quite calmly, "Well, I +really think, madam, you are not fit to take part in such a conference as +this. Compose yourself and retire. I know your mind in the matter better +than you do yourself at this moment, and I will act accordingly." + +She retired, and drove away to the Dun Cow, which was the place Monckton +had appointed when he wrote upon the card. + +"Colonel Clifford," said Monckton, "all that is a woman's way. When she +is out of sight of you, and thinks over her desertion and her unfortunate +condition--neither maid, wife, nor widow--she will be angry with me if I +don't obtain her some compensation." + +"She deserves compensation," said the Colonel, gravely. + +"Especially if she holds her tongue," said Monckton. + +"Whether she holds her tongue or not," said the Colonel. "I don't see +how I can hold mine, and you have already told my daughter-in-law. A +separation between her and my son is inevitable. The compensation +must be offered, and God help me, I'm a magistrate, if only to +compound the felony." + +"Surely," said Monckton, "it can be put upon a wider footing than that; +let me think," and he turned away to the open window; but when he got +there he saw a lot of miners clustering about. Now he had no fear of +their recognizing him, since he had not left a vestige of the printed +description. But the very sight of them, and the memory of what they had +done to his dead accomplice, made him shudder at them. Henceforth he +kept away from the window, and turned his back to it. + +"I think with you, sir," said he, mellifluously, "that she ought to have +a few thousands by way of compensation. You know she could claim alimony, +and be a very blister to you and yours. But on the other hand I do think, +as an impartial person, that she ought to keep this sad secret most +faithfully, and even take her maiden name again." + +Whilst Monckton was making this impartial proposal Bartley opened the +door, and was coming forward with his deed, when he heard a voice he +recognized; and partly by that, partly by the fellow's thin lips, he +recognized him, and said, "Monckton! That villain here!" + +"Monckton," said Colonel Clifford, "that is not his name. It is Meredith. +He is a clergyman." Bartley examined him very suspiciously, and Monckton, +during this examination, looked perfectly calm and innocent. Meantime a +note was brought to Colonel Clifford from Grace: "Papa was the witness. +He is quite sure the bridegroom was not our Walter. He thinks it must +have been the other clerk, Leonard Monckton, who robbed Mr. Bartley, and +put some of the money into dear Walter's pockets to ruin him, but papa +saved him. Don't let him escape." + +Colonel Clifford's eye flashed with triumph, but he controlled himself. + +"Say I will give it due attention," said he; "I'm busy now." + +And the servant retired. + +"Now, sir," said he, "is this a case of mistaken identity, or is your +name Leonard Monckton?" + +"Colonel Clifford," said the hypocrite, sadly, "I little thought that I +should be made to suffer for the past, since I came here only on an +errand of mercy. Yes, sir, in my unregenerate days I was Leonard +Monckton. I disgraced the name. But I repented, and when I adopted the +sacred calling of a clergyman I parted with the past, name and all. I +was that man's clerk; and so," said he, spitefully, and forgetting his +sing-song, "was your son Walter Clifford. Was that not so, Mr. Bartley?" + +"Don't speak to me, sir," said Bartley. "I shall say nothing to gratify +you nor to affront Colonel Clifford." + +"Speak the truth, sir," said Colonel Clifford; "never mind the +consequences." + +"Well, then," said Bartley, very unwillingly, "they _were_ clerks in my +office, and this one robbed me." + +"One thing at a time," said Monckton. "Did I rob you of twenty thousand +pounds, as you robbed Mr. Walter Clifford?" + +His voice became still more incisive, and the curtain of the little room +opened a little and two eyes of fire looked in. + +"Do you remember one fine day your clerk, Walter Clifford, asking you for +leave of absence--to be married?" + +Bartley turned his back on him contemptuously. + +But Colonel Clifford insisted on his replying. + +"Yes, he did," said Bartley, sullenly. + +"But," said the Colonel, quietly, "he thought better of it, and so--you +married her yourself." + +This bayonet thrust was so keen and sudden that the villain's +self-possession left him for once. His mouth opened in dismay, and his +eyes, roving to and fro, seemed to seek a door to escape. + +But there was worse in store for him. The curtains were drawn right and +left with power, and there stood Grace Clifford, beautiful, but pale and +terrible. She marched toward him with eyes that rooted him to the spot, +and then she stopped. + +"Now hear _me_; for he has tortured me, and tried to kill me. Look at his +white face turning ghastly beneath his paint at the sight of me; look at +his thin lips, and his devilish eyebrows, and his restless eyes. THIS IS +THE MAN THAT BRIBED THAT WRETCH TO FIRE THE MINE!" + +These last words, ringing from her lips like the trumpet of doom, were +answered, as swiftly as gunpowder explodes at a lighted torch, by a +furious yell, and in a moment the room seemed a forest of wild beasts. A +score of raging miners came upon him from every side, dragging, tearing, +beating, kicking, cursing, yelling. He was down in a moment, then soon up +again, then dragged out of the room, nails, fists, and heavy boots all +going, stripped to the shirt, screaming like a woman. A dozen assailants +rolled down the steps, with him in the midst of them. He got clear for a +moment, but twenty more rushed at him, and again he was torn and battered +and kicked. "Police! police!" he cried; and at last the detectives who +came to seize him rushed in, and Colonel Clifford, too, with the voice of +a stentor, cried, "The law! Respect the law, or you are ruined men." + +And so at last the law he had so dreaded raised what seemed a bag of +bones: nothing left on him but one boot and fragments of a shirt, +ghastly, bleeding, covered with bruises, insensible, and to all +appearance dead. + +After a short consultation, they carried him, by Colonel Clifford's +order, to the Dun Cow, where Lucy, it may be remembered, was awaiting his +triumphant return. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +STRANGE TURNS. + + +And yet this catastrophe rose out of a mistake. When the detective asked +Jem Davies to watch the lawn, he never suspected that the clergyman was +the villain who had been concerned in that explosion. But Davies, a man +of few ideas and full of his own wrong, took for granted, as such minds +will, that the policeman would not have spoken to him if this had not +been _his_ affair; so he and his fellows gathered about the steps and +watched the drawing-room. They caught a glimpse of Monckton, but that +only puzzled them. His appearance was inconsistent with the only +description they had got--in fact opposed to it. It was Grace Clifford's +denunciation, trumpet-tongued, that let loose savage justice on the +villain. Never was a woman's voice so fatal, or so swift to slay. She +would have undone her work. She screamed, she implored; but it was all in +vain. The fury she had launched she could not recall. As for Bartley, +words can hardly describe his abject terror. He crouched, he shivered, he +moaned, he almost swooned; and long after it was all over he was found +crouched in a corner of the little room, and his very reason appeared to +be shaken. Judge Lynch had passed him, but too near. The freezing shadow +of Retribution chilled him. + +Colonel Clifford looked at him with contemptuous pity, and sent him home +with John Baker in a close carriage. + + * * * * * + +Lucy Monckton was in the parlor of the Dun Cow waiting for her master. +The detectives and some outdoor servants of Clifford Hall brought a short +ladder and paillasses, and something covered with blankets, to the door. +Lucy saw, but did not suspect the truth. + +They had a murmured consultation with the landlady. During this Mark +Waddy came down, and there was some more whispering, and soon the +battered body was taken up to Mark Waddy's room and deposited on his +bed. The detectives retired to consult, and Waddy had to break the +calamity to Mrs. Monckton. He did this as well as he could; but it +little matters how such blows are struck. Her agony was great, and +greater when she saw him, for she resisted entirely all attempts to keep +her from him. She installed herself at once as his nurse, and Mark +Waddy retired to a garret. + +A surgeon came by Colonel Clifford's order and examined Monckton's +bruised body, and shook his head. He reported that there were no bones +broken, but there were probably grave internal injuries. These, however, +he could not specify at present, since there was no sensibility in the +body; so pressure on the injured parts elicited no groans. He prescribed +egg and brandy in small quantities, and showed Mrs. Monckton how to +administer it to a patient in that desperate condition. + +His last word was in private to Waddy. "If he ever speaks again, or even +groans aloud, send for me. Otherwise--" and he shrugged his shoulders. + +Some hours afterward Colonel Clifford called as a magistrate to see +if the sufferer had any deposition to make. But he was mute, and his +eyes fixed. + +As Colonel Clifford returned, one of the detectives accosted him and +asked him for a warrant to arrest him. + +"Not in his present condition," said Colonel Clifford, rather +superciliously. "And pray, sir, why did not you interfere sooner and +prevent this lawless act?" + +"Well, sir, unfortunately we were on the other side of the house." + +"Exactly; you had orders to be in one place, so you must be in another. +See the consequence. The honest men have put themselves in the wrong, and +this fellow in the right. He will die a sort of victim, with his guilt +suspected only, not proved." + +Having thus snubbed the Force, the old soldier turned his back on them +and went home, where Grace met him, all anxiety, and received his report. +She implored him not to proceed any further against the man, and declared +she should fly the country rather than go into a court of law as witness +against him. + +"Humph!" said the Colonel; "but you are the only witness." + +"All the better for him," said she; "then he will die in peace. My tongue +has killed the man once; it shall never kill him again." + +About six next morning Monckton beckoned Lucy. She came eagerly to him; +he whispered to her, "Can you keep a secret?" + +"You know I can," said she. + +"Then never let any one know I have spoken." + +"No, dear, never. Why?" + +"I dread the law more than death;" and he shuddered all over. "Save me +from the law." + +"Leonard, I will," said she. "Leave that to me." + +She wired for Mr. Middleton as soon as possible. + +The next day there was no change in the patient. He never spoke to +anybody, except a word or two to Lucy, in a whisper, when they were +quite alone. + +In the afternoon down came Lawyer Middleton. Lucy told him what he knew, +but Monckton would not speak, even to him. He had to get hold of Waddy +before he understood the whole case. + +Waddy was in Monckton's secret, and, indeed, in everybody's. He knew it +was folly to deceive your lawyer, so he was frank. Mr. Middleton learned +his client's guilt and danger, but also that his enemies had flaws in +their armor. + +The first shot he fired was to get warrants out against a dozen miners, +Jem Davies included, for a murderous assault; but he made no arrests, he +only summoned. So one or two took fright and fled. Middleton had counted +on that, and it made the case worse for those that remained. Then, by +means of friends in Derby, he worked the Press. + +An article appeared headed, "Our Savages." It related with righteous +indignation how Mr. Bartley's miners had burned the dead body of a miner +suspected of having fired the mine, and put his own life in jeopardy as +well as those of others; and then, not content with that monstrous act, +had fallen upon and beaten to death a gentleman in whom they thought they +detected a resemblance to some person who had been, or was suspected of +being that miner's accomplice; "but so far from that," said the writer, +"we are now informed, on sure authority, that the gentleman in question +is a large and wealthy landed proprietor, quite beyond any temptation to +crime or dishonesty, and had actually visited this part of the world only +in the character of a peace-maker, and to discharge a very delicate +commission, which it would not be our business to publish even if the +details had been confided to us." + +The article concluded with a hope that these monsters "would be taught +that even if they were below the standard of humanity they were not +above the law." + +Middleton attended the summonses, gave his name and address, and informed +the magistrate that his client was a large landed proprietor, and it +looked like a case of mistaken identity. His client was actually dying of +his injuries, but his wife hoped for justice. + +But the detectives had taken care to be present, and so they put in their +word. They said that they were prepared to prove, at a proper time, that +the wounded man was really the person who had been heard by Mrs. Walter +Clifford to bribe Ben Burnley to fire the mine. + +"We have nothing to do with that now," said the magistrate. "One thing at +a time, please. I can not let these people murder a convicted felon, far +less a suspected criminal that has not been tried. The wounded man +proceeds, according to law, through a respectable attorney. These men, +whom you are virtually defending, have taken the law into their own +hands. Are your witnesses here, Mr. Middleton?" + +"Not at present, sir; and when I was interrupted, I was about to ask +your worship to grant me an adjournment for that purpose. It will not be +a great hardship to the accused, since we proceed by summons. I fear I +have been too lenient, for two or three of them have absconded since the +summons was served." + +"I am not surprised at that," said the magistrate; "however, you know +your own business." + +Then the police applied for a warrant of arrest against Monckton. + +"Oh!" cried Middleton, with the air of a man thoroughly shocked and +scandalized. + +"Certainly not," said the magistrate; "I shall not disturb the course of +justice; there is not even an _exparte_ case against this gentleman at +present. Such an application must be supported by a witness, and a +disinterested one." So all the parties retired crest-fallen except Mr. +Middleton; as for him, he was imitating a small but ingenious specimen of +nature--the cuttle-fish. This little creature, when pursued by its +enemies, discharges an inky fluid which obscures the water all around, +and then it starts off and escapes. + +One dark night, at two o'clock in the morning, there came to the door of +the Dun Cow an invalid carriage, or rather omnibus, with a spring-bed and +every convenience. The wheels were covered thick with India-rubber; +relays had been provided, and Monckton and his party rolled along day and +night to Liverpool. The detectives followed, six hours later, and traced +them to Liverpool very cleverly, and, with the assistance of the police, +raked the town for them, and got all the great steamers watched, +especially those that were bound westward, ho! But their bird was at sea, +in a Liverpool merchant's own steamboat, hired for a two months' trip. +The pursuers found this out too, but a fortnight too late. + +"It's no go, Bill," said one to the other. "There's a lawyer and a pot +of money against us. Let it sleep awhile." + +The steamboat coasted England in beautiful weather; the sick man began to +revive, and to eat a little, and to talk a little, and to suffer a good +deal at times. Before they had been long at sea Mr. Middleton had a +confidential conversation with Mrs. Monckton. He told her he had been +very secret with her for her good. "I saw," said he, "this Monckton had +no deep regard for you, and was capable of turning you adrift in +prosperity; and I knew that if I told you everything you would let it out +to him, and tempt him to play the villain. But the time is come that I +must speak, in justice to you both. That estate he left your son half in +joke is virtually his. Fourteen years ago, when he last looked into the +matter, there _were_ eleven lives between it and him; but, strange to +say, whilst he was at Portland the young lives went one after the other, +and there were really only five left when he made that will. Now comes +the extraordinary part: a fortnight ago three of those lives perished in +a single steamboat accident on the Clyde; that left a woman of eighty-two +and a man of ninety between your husband and the estate. The lady was +related to the persons who were drowned, and she has since died; she had +been long ailing, and it is believed that the shock was too much for her. +The survivor is the actual proprietor, Old Carruthers; but I am the +London agent to his solicitor, and he was reported to me to be _in +extremis_ the very day before I left London to join you. We shall run +into a port near the place, and you will not land; but I shall, and +obtain precise information. In the meantime, mind, your husband's name is +Carruthers. Any communication from me will be to Mrs. Carruthers, and you +will tell that man as much, or as little, as you think proper; if you +make any disclosure, give yourself all the credit you can; say you shall +take him to his own house under a new name, and shield him against all +pursuers. As for me, I tell you plainly, my great hope is that he will +not live long enough to turn you adrift and disinherit your boy." + +To cut short for the present this extraordinary part of our story, Lewis +Carruthers, _alias_ Leonard Monckton, entered a fine house and took +possession of eleven thousand acres of hilly pasture, and the undivided +moiety of a lake brimful of fish. He accounted for his change of name by +the favors Carruthers, deceased, had shown him. Therein he did his best +to lie, but his present vein of luck turned it into the truth. Old +Carruthers had become so peevish that all his relations disliked him, and +he disliked them. So he left his personal estate to his heir-at-law +simply because he had never seen him. The personality was very large. The +house was full of pictures, and China, and cabinets, etc. There was a +large balance at the banker's, a heavy fall of timber not paid for, rents +due, and as many as two thousand four hundred sheep upon that hill, which +the old fellow had kept in his own hands. So, when the new proprietor +took possession as Carruthers, nobody was surprised, though many were +furious. Lucy installed him in a grand suite of apartments as an invalid, +and let nobody come near him. Waddy was dismissed with a munificent +present, and could be trusted to hold his tongue. By the advice of +Middleton, not a single servant was dismissed, and so no enemies were +made. The family lawyer and steward were also retained, and, in short, +all conversation was avoided. In a month or two the new proprietor began +to improve in health, and drive about his own grounds, or be rowed on his +lake, lying on soft beds. + +But in the fifth month of his residence local pains seized him, and he +began to waste. For some time the precise nature of the disorder was +obscure; but at last a rising surgeon declared it to be an abscess in the +intestines (caused, no doubt, by external violence). + +By degrees the patient became unable to take solid food, and the drain +upon his system was too great for a mere mucilaginous diet to sustain +him. Wasted to the bone, and yellow as a guinea, he presented a pitiable +spectacle, and would gladly have exchanged his fine house and pictures, +his heathery hills dotted with sheep, and his glassy lake full of spotted +trout, for a ragged Irishman's bowl of potatoes and his mug of +buttermilk--and his stomach. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +CURTAIN. + + +Striking incidents will draw the writer; but we know that our readers +would rather hear about the characters they can respect. It seems, +however, to be a rule in life, and in fiction, that interest flags when +trouble ceases. Now the troubles of our good people were pretty well +over, and we will put it to the reader whether they had not enough. + +Grace Clifford made an earnest request to Colonel Clifford and her father +never to tell Walter he had been suspected of bigamy. "Let others say +that circumstances are always to be believed and character not to be +trusted; but I, at least, had no right to believe certificates and things +against my Walter's honor and his love. Hide my fault from him, not for +my sake but for his; perhaps when we are both old people I may tell him." + +This was Grace Clifford's petition, and need we say she prevailed? + +Walter Clifford recovered under his wife's care, and the house was so +large that Colonel Clifford easily persuaded his son and daughter-in-law +to make it their home. Hope had also two rooms in it, and came there when +he chose; he was always welcome; but he was alone again, so to speak, +and not quite forty years of age, and he was ambitious. He began to rise +in the world, whilst our younger characters, contented with their +happiness and position, remained stationary. Master of a great mine, able +now to carry out his invention, member of several scientific +associations, a writer for the scientific press, etc., he soon became a +public and eminent man; he was consulted on great public works, and if he +lives will be one of the great lights of science in this island. He is +great on electricity, especially on the application of natural forces to +the lighting of towns. He denounces all the cities that allow powerful +streams to run past them and not work a single electric light. But he +goes further than that. He ridicules the idea that it is beyond the +resources of science to utilize thousands of millions of tons of water +that are raised twenty-one feet twice in every twenty-four hours by the +tides. It is the skill to apply the force that is needed; not the force +itself, which exceeds that of all the steam-engines in the nation. And he +says that the great scientific foible of the day is the neglect of +natural forces, which are cheap and inexhaustible, and the mania for +steam-engines and gas, which are expensive, and for coal, which is not to +last forever. He implores capital and science to work in this question. +His various schemes for using the tides in the creation of motive power +will doubtless come before the world in a more appropriate channel than a +work of fiction. If he succeeds it will be a glorious, as it must be a +difficult, achievement. + +His society is valued on social grounds; his well-stored mind, his powers +of conversation, and his fine appearance, make him extremely welcome at +all the tables in the county; he also accompanies his daughter with the +violin, and, as they play beauties together, not difficulties, they +ravish the soul and interrupt the torture, whose instrument the +piano-forte generally is. + +Bartley is a man with beautiful silvery hair and beard; he cultivates, +nurses, and tends fruit-trees and flowers with a love little short of +paternal. This sentiment, and the contemplation of nature, have changed +the whole expression of his face; it is wonderfully benevolent and sweet, +but with a touch of weakness about the lips. Some of the rough fellows +about the place call him a "softy," but that is much too strong a word; +no doubt he is confused in his ideas, but he reads all the great American +publications about fruit and flowers, and executes their instructions +with tact and skill. Where he breaks down--and who would believe +this?--is in the trade department. Let him succeed in growing apple-trees +and pear-trees weighed down to the ground with choice fruit; let him +produce enormous cherries by grafting, and gigantic nectarines upon his +sunny wall, and acres of strawberries too large for the mouth. After that +they may all rot where they grow; he troubles his head no more. This is +more than his old friend Hope can stand; he interferes, and sends the +fruit to market, and fills great casks with superlative cider and perry, +and keeps the account square, with a little help from Mrs. Easton, who +has returned to her old master, and is a firm but kind mother to him. + +Grace Clifford for some time could not be got to visit him. Perhaps she +is one of those ladies who can not get over personal violence; he had +handled her roughly, to keep her from going to her father's help. After +all, there may have been other reasons; it is not so easy to penetrate +all the recesses of the female heart. One thing is certain: she would +not go near him for months; but when she did go with her father--and he +had to use all his influence to take her there--the rapture and the +tears of joy with which the poor old fellow received her disarmed her +in a moment. + +She let him take her through hot-houses and show her his children--"the +only children I have now," said he--and after that she never refused to +visit this erring man. His roof had sheltered her many years, and he had +found out too late that he loved her, so far as his nature could love at +that time. + + * * * * * + +Percy Fitzroy had an elder sister. He appealed to her against Julia +Clifford. She cross-questioned him, and told him he was very foolish to +despair. She would hardly have slapped him if she was quite resolved to +part forever. + +"Let me have a hand in reconciling you," said she. + +"You shall have b-b-both hands in it, if you like," said he; "for I am at +my w-w-wit's end." + +So these two conspired. Miss Fitzroy was invited to Percy's house, and +played the mistress. She asked other young ladies, especially that fair +girl with auburn hair, whom Julia called a "fat thing." That meant, under +the circumstances, a plump and rounded model, with small hands and feet; +a perfect figure in a riding habit, and at night a satin bust and +sculptured arms. + +The very first ride Walter took with Grace and Julia they met the bright +cavalcade of Percy and his sister, and this red-haired Venus. + +Percy took off his hat with profound respect to Julia and Grace, but did +not presume to speak. + +"What a lovely girl!" said Grace. + +"Do you think so?" said Julia. + +"Yes, dear; and so do you." + +"What makes you fancy that?" + +"Because you looked daggers at her." + +"Because she is setting her cap at that little fool." + +"She will not have him without your consent, dear." + +And this set Julia thinking. + +The next day Walter called on Percy, and played the traitor. + +"Give a ball," said he. + +Miss Fitzroy and her brother gave a ball. Percy, duly instructed by his +sister, wrote to Julia as meek as Moses, and said he was in a great +difficulty. If he invited her, it would, of course, seem presumptuous, +considering the poor opinion she had of him; if he passed her over, and +invited Walter Clifford and Mrs. Clifford, he should be unjust to his own +feelings, and seem disrespectful. + +Julia's reply: + +"DEAR MR. FITZROY,--I am not at all fond of jealousy, but I am very fond +of dancing. I shall come. + +"Yours sincerely, + +"JULIA CLIFFORD." + +And she did come with a vengeance. She showed them what a dark beauty can +do in a blaze of light with a red rose, and a few thousand pounds' worth +of diamonds artfully placed. + +She danced with several partners, and took Percy in his turn. She was +gracious to him, but nothing more. + +Percy asked leave to call next day. + +She assented, rather coldly. + +His sister prepared Percy for the call. The first thing he did was to +stammer intolerably. + +"Oh," said Julia, "if you have nothing more to say than that, I +have--Where is my bracelet?" + +"It's here," said Percy, producing it eagerly. Julia smiled. + +"My necklace?" + +"Here!" + +"My charms?" + +"Here!" + +"My specimens of your spelling? Love spells, eh?" + +"Here--all here." + +"No, they are not," said Julia, snatching them, "they are here." And she +stuffed both her pockets with them. + +"And the engaged ring," said Percy, radiant now, and producing it, +"d-d-don't forget that." + +Julia began to hesitate. "If I put that on, it will be for life." + +"Yes, it will," said Percy. + +"Then give me a moment to think." + +After due consideration she said what she had made up her mind to say +long before. + +"Percy, you're a man of honor. I'll be yours upon one solemn +condition--that from this hour till death parts us, you promise to give +your faith where you give your love." + +"I'll give my faith where I give my love," said Percy, solemnly. + +Next month they were married, and he gave his confidence where he gave +his love, and he never had reason to regret it. + + * * * * * + +"John Baker." + +"Sir." + +"You had better mind what you are about, or you'll get fonder of her than +of Walter himself." + +"Never, Colonel, never! And so will you." + +Then, after a moment's reflection, John Baker inquired how they were to +help it. "Look here, Colonel," said he, "a man's a man, but a woman's a +woman. It isn't likely as Master Walter will always be putting his hand +round your neck and kissing of you when you're good, and pick a white +hair off your coat if he do but see one when you're going out, and shine +upon you in-doors more than the sun does on you out-of-doors; and 'taint +to be supposed as Mr. Walter will never meet me on the stairs without +breaking out into a smile to cheer an old fellow's heart, and showing +L2000 worth of ivory all at one time; and if I've a cold or a bit of a +headache he won't send his lady's maid to see after me and tell me what I +am to do, and threaten to come and nurse me himself if I don't mend." + +"Well," said the Colonel, "there's something in all this." + +"For all that," said John Baker, candidly, "I shall make you my +confession, sir. I said to Mr. Walter myself, said I, 'Here's a pretty +business,' said I; 'I've known and loved you from a child, and Mrs. +Walter has only been here six months, and now I'm afraid she'll make me +love her more than I do you.'" + +"Why, of course she will," said Mr. Walter. "Why, _I_ love her +better than I do myself, and you've got to follow suit, or else I'll +murder you." + +So that question was settled. + + * * * * * + +The five hundred guineas reward rankled in the minds of those detectives, +and, after a few months, with the assistance of the ordinary police in +all the northern towns, they got upon a cold scent, and then upon a warm +scent, and at last they suspected their bird, under the _alias_ of +Carruthers. So they came to the house to get sight of him, and make sure +before applying for a warrant. They got there just in time for his +funeral. Middleton was there and saw them, and asked them to attend it, +and to speak to him after the reading of the will. + +"Proceedings are stayed," said he; "but, perhaps, having acted +against me, you might like to see whether it would not pay better to +act with me." + +"And no mistake," said one of them; so they were feasted with the rest, +for it was a magnificent funeral, and after that Middleton squared them +with L50 apiece to hold their tongues--and more, to divert all suspicion +from the house and the beautiful woman who now held it as only trustee +for her son. + +Remembering that he had left the estate to another man's child, Monckton, +one fine day, bequeathed his personal estate on half a sheet of +note-paper to Lucy. This and the large allowance Middleton obtained from +the Court for her, as trustee and guardian to the heir, made her a rich +woman. She was a German, sober, notable, and provident; she kept her +sheep, and became a sort of squire. She wrote to her husband in the +States, and, by the advice of Middleton, told him the exact truth instead +of a pack of fibs, which she certainly would have done had she been left +to herself. Poverty had pinched Jonathan Braham by this time; and as he +saw by the tone of her letter she did not care one straw whether he +accepted the situation or not, he accepted it eagerly, and had to court +her as a stranger, and to marry her, and wear the crown matrimonial; for +Middleton drew the settlements, and neither Braham nor his creditors +could touch a half-penny. And then came out the better part of this +indifferent woman. Braham had been a good friend to her in time of need, +and she was a good and faithful friend to him now. She was generally +admired and respected; kind to the poor; bountiful, but not lavish; an +excellent manager, but not stingy. + +In vain shall we endeavor, with our small insight into the bosoms of men +and women, to divide them into the good and the bad. There are mediocre +intellects; there are mediocre morals. This woman was always more +inclined to good than evil, yet at times temptation conquered. She was +virtuous till she succumbed to a seducer whom she loved. Under his +control she deceived Walter Clifford, and attempted an act of downright +villainy; that control removed, she returned to virtuous and industrious +habits. After many years, solitude, weariness, and a gloomy future +unhinged her conscience again: comfort and affection offered themselves, +and she committed bigamy. Deserted by Braham, and once more fascinated by +the only man she had ever greatly loved, she joined him in an abominable +fraud, broke down in the middle of it by a sudden impulse of conscience, +and soon after settled down into a faithful nurse. She is now a faithful +wife, a tender mother, a kind mistress, and nearly everything that is +good in a medium way; and so, in all human probability, will pass the +remainder of her days, which, as she is healthy, and sober in eating and +drinking, will perhaps be the longer period of her little life. + +Well may we all pray against great temptations; only choice spirits +resist them, except when they are great temptations to somebody else, and +somehow not to the person tempted. + +It has lately been objected to the writers of fiction--especially to +those few who are dramatists as well as novelists--that they neglect +what Shakespeare calls "the middle of humanity," and deal in eccentric +characters above or below the people one really meets. Let those who +are serious in this objection enjoy moral mediocrity in the person of +Lucy Monckton. + +For our part we will never place Fiction, which was the parent of +History, below its child. Our hearts are with those superior men and +women who, whether in History or Fiction, make life beautiful, and +raise the standard of Humanity. Such characters exist even in this +plain tale, and it is these alone, and our kindly readers, we take +leave of with regret. + + +THE END. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Perilous Secret, by Charles Reade + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PERILOUS SECRET *** + +***** This file should be named 12470.txt or 12470.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/4/7/12470/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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