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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/18373-8.txt b/18373-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4b38446 --- /dev/null +++ b/18373-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4999 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Argosy, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Argosy + Vol. 51, No. 3, March, 1891 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Charles W. Woods + +Release Date: May 11, 2006 [EBook #18373] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ARGOSY *** + + + + +Produced by Paul Murray, Taavi Kalju and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + _"Laden with Golden Grain"_ + + * * * * * + + THE + ARGOSY. + + + EDITED BY + CHARLES W. WOOD. + + * * * * * + + + VOLUME LI. + + _January to June, 1891._ + + * * * * * + + + RICHARD BENTLEY & SON, + 8, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, LONDON, W. + + Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty. + + _All rights reserved._ + + + LONDON: + PRINTED BY OGDEN, SMALE AND CO. LIMITED, + GREAT SAFFRON HILL, E.C. + + + + + +_CONTENTS._ + + +THE FATE OF THE HARA DIAMOND. Illustrated by M.L. GOW. + + Chap. I. My Arrival at Deepley Walls Jan + II. The Mistress of Deepley Walls Jan + III. A Voyage of Discovery Jan + IV. Scarsdale Weir Jan + V. At Rose Cottage Feb + VI. The Growth of a Mystery Feb + VII. Exit Janet Hope Feb + VIII. By the Scotch Express Feb + IX. At "The Golden Griffin" Mar + X. The Stolen Manuscript Mar + XI. Bon Repos Mar + XII. The Amsterdam Edition of 1698 Mar + XIII. M. Platzoff's Secret--Captain Ducie's Translation of + M. Paul Platzoff's MS Mar + XIV. Drashkil-Smoking Apr + XV. The Diamond Apr + XVI. Janet's Return Apr + XVII. Deepley Walls after Seven Years Apr + XVIII. Janet in a New Character May + XIX. The Dawn of Love May + XX. The Narrative of Sergeant Nicholas May + XXI. Counsel taken with Mr. Madgin May + XXII. Mr. Madgin at the Helm Jun + XXIII. Mr. Madgin's Secret Journey Jun + XXIV. Enter Madgin Junior Jun + XXV. Madgin Junior's First Report Jun + + * * * * * + +THE SILENT CHIMES. By JOHNNY LUDLOW (Mrs. HENRY WOOD). + + Putting Them Up Jan + Playing Again Feb + Ringing at Midday Mar + Not Heard Apr + Silent for Ever May + + * * * * * + +THE BRETONS AT HOME. By CHARLES W. WOOD, F.R.G.S. With + 35 Illustrations Jan, Feb, Mar, Apr, May, Jun + + * * * * * + +About the Weather Jun +Across the River. By HELEN M. BURNSIDE Apr +After Twenty Years. By ADA M. TROTTER Feb +A Memory. By GEORGE COTTERELL Feb +A Modern Witch Jan +An April Folly. By GILBERT H. PAGE Apr +A Philanthropist. By ANGUS GREY Jun +Aunt Phoebe's Heirlooms: An Experience in Hypnotism Feb +A Social Debut Mar +A Song. By G.B. STUART Jan +Enlightenment. By E. NESBIT Feb +In a Bernese Valley. By ALEXANDER LAMONT Feb +Legend of an Ancient Minster. By JOHN GRĆME Mar +Longevity. By W.F. AINSWORTH, F.S.A. Apr +Mademoiselle Elise. By EDWARD FRANCIS Jun +Mediums and Mysteries. By NARISSA ROSAVO Feb +Miss Kate Marsden Jan +My May Queen. By JOHN JERVIS BERESFORD, M.A. May +Old China Jun +On Letter-Writing. By A.H. JAPP, LL.D. May +Paul. By the Author of "Adonais, Q.C." May +"Proctorised" Apr +Rondeau. By E. NESBIT Mar +Saint or Satan? By A. BERESFORD Feb +Sappho. By MARY GREY Mar +Serenade. By E. NESBIT Jun +Sonnets. By JULIA KAVANAGH Jan, Feb, Apr, Jun +So Very Unattractive! Jun +Spes. By JOHN JERVIS BERESFORD, M.A. Apr +Sweet Nancy. By JEANIE GWYNNE BETTANY May +The Church Garden. By CHRISTIAN BURKE May +The Only Son of his Mother. By LETITIA MCCLINTOCK Mar +To my Soul. From the French of Victor Hugo Jun +Unexplained. By LETITIA MCCLINTOCK Apr +Who Was the Third Maid? Jan +Winter in Absence Feb + + * * * * * + +_POETRY._ + +Sonnets. By JULIA KAVANAGH Jan, Feb, Apr, Jun +A Song. By G.B. STUART Jan +Enlightenment. By E. NESBIT Feb +Winter in Absence Feb +A Memory. By GEORGE COTTERELL Feb +In a Bernese Valley. By ALEXANDER LAMONT Feb +Rondeau. By E. NESBIT Mar +Spes. By JOHN JERVIS BERESFORD, M.A. Apr +Across the River. By HELEN M. BURNSIDE Apr +My May Queen. By JOHN JERVIS BERESFORD, M.A. May +The Church Garden. By CHRISTIAN BURKE May +Serenade. By E. NESBIT Jun +To my Soul. From the French of Victor Hugo Jun +Old China Jun + + * * * * * + +_ILLUSTRATIONS._ + +By M.L. Gow. + + "I advanced slowly up the room, stopped, and curtsied." + + "I saw and recognised the mysterious midnight visitor." + + "He came back in a few minutes, but so transformed in outward + appearance that Ducie scarcely knew him." + + "Behold!" + + "Sister Agnes knelt for a few moments and bent her head in silent + prayer." + + "He put his hand to his side, and motioned Mirpah to open the letter." + + * * * * * + +Illustrations to "The Bretons at Home." + + + + +[Illustration: HE CAME BACK IN A FEW MINUTES, BUT SO TRANSFORMED IN +OUTWARD APPEARANCE THAT DUCIE SCARCELY KNEW HIM.] + + + + +THE ARGOSY. + +_MARCH, 1891._ + + + + +THE FATE OF THE HARA DIAMOND. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +AT "THE GOLDEN GRIFFIN." + + +Captain Edmund Ducie was one of the first to emerge from the wreck. He +crept out of the broken window of the crushed-up carriage, and shook +himself as a dog might have done. "Once more a narrow squeak for life," +he said, half aloud. "If I had been worth ten thousand a-year, I should +infallibly have been smashed. Not being worth ten brass farthings, here +I am. What has become of my little Russian, I wonder?" + +No groan or cry emanated from that portion of the broken carriage out of +which Captain Ducie had just crept. Could it be possible that Platzoff +was killed? + +With considerable difficulty Ducie managed to wrench open the smashed +door. Then he called the Russian by name; but there was no answer. He +could discern nothing inside save a confused heap of rugs and minor +articles of luggage. Under these, enough in themselves to smother him, +Platzoff must be lying. One by one these articles were fished out of the +carriage, and thrown aside by Ducie. Last of all he came to Platzoff, +lying in a heap, white and insensible, as one already dead. + +Putting forth all his great strength, Ducie lifted the senseless body +out of the carriage as carefully and tenderly as though it were that of +a new-born child. He then saw that the Russian was bleeding from an ugly +jagged wound at the back of his head. There was no trace of any other +outward hurt. A faint pulsation of the heart told that he was still +alive. + +On looking round, Ducie saw that there was a large country tavern only a +few hundred yards from the scene of the accident. Towards this house, +which announced itself to the world under the title of "The Golden +Griffin," he now hastened with long measured strides, carrying the still +insensible Russian in his arms. In all, some half-dozen carriages had +come over the embankment. The shrieks and cries of the wounded +passengers were something appalling. Already the passengers in the fore +part of the train, who had escaped unhurt, together with the officials +and a few villagers who happened to be on the spot, were doing their +best to rescue these unfortunates from the terrible wreckage in which +they were entangled. + +Captain Ducie was the first man from the accident to cross the threshold +of "The Golden Griffin." He demanded to be shown the best spare room in +the house. On the bed in this room he laid the body of the still +insensible Platzoff. His next act was to despatch a mounted messenger +for the nearest doctor. Then, having secured the services of a brisk, +steady-nerved chambermaid, he proceeded to dress the wound as well as +the means at his command would allow of--washing it, and cutting away +the hair, and, by means of some ice, which he was fortunate enough to +procure, succeeding in all but stopping the bleeding, which, to a man so +frail of body, so reduced in strength as Platzoff, would soon have been +fatal. A teaspoonful of brandy administered at brief intervals did its +part as a restorative, and some minutes before the doctor's arrival +Ducie had the satisfaction of seeing his patient's eyes open, and of +hearing him murmur faintly a few soft guttural words in some language +which the Captain judged to be his native Russ. + +Platzoff had quite recovered his senses by the time the doctor arrived, +but was still too feeble to do more than whisper a few unconnected +words. There were many claimants this forenoon on the doctor's +attention, and the services required by Platzoff at his hands had to be +performed as expeditiously as possible. + +"You must make up your mind to be a guest of 'The Golden Griffin' for at +least a week to come," he said, as he took up his hat preparatory to +going. "With quiet, and care, and a strict adherence to my instructions, +I daresay that by the end of that time you will be sufficiently +recovered to leave here for your own home. Humanly speaking, sir, you +owe your life to this gentleman," indicating Ducie. "But for his skill +and promptitude you would have been a dead man before I reached you." + +Platzoff's thin white hand was extended feebly. Ducie took it in his +sinewy palms and pressed it gently. "You have this day done for me what +I can never forget," whispered the Russian, brokenly. Then he closed his +eyes, and seemed to sink off into a sleep of exhaustion. + +Leaving strict injunctions with the chambermaid not to quit the room +till he should come back, Captain Ducie went downstairs with the +intention of revisiting the scene of the disaster. He called in at the +bar to obtain his favourite "thimbleful" of cognac, and there he found a +very agreeable landlady, with whom he got into conversation respecting +the accident. Some five minutes had passed thus when the chambermaid +came up to him. "If you please, sir, the foreign gentleman has woke up, +and is anxiously asking to see you." + +With a shrug of the shoulders and a slight lowering of his black +eyebrows, Captain Ducie went back upstairs. Platzoff's eager eyes fixed +him as he entered the room. Ducie sat down close by the bed and said in +a kindly tone: "What is it? What can I do for you? Command me in any +way." + +"My servant--where is he? And--and my despatch box. Valuable papers. Try +to find it." + +Ducie nodded and left the room. The inquiries he made soon elicited the +fact that Platzoff's servant had been even more severely injured than +his master, and was at that moment lying, more dead than alive, in a +little room upstairs. Slowly and musingly, with hands in pocket, Captain +Ducie then took his way towards the scene of the accident. "It may suit +my book very well to make friends with this Russian," he thought as he +went along. "He is no doubt very rich; and I am very poor. In us the two +extremes meet and form the perfect whole. He might serve my purposes in +more ways than one, and it is just as likely that his purposes might be +served by me: for a man like that must have purposes that want serving. +Nous verrons. Meanwhile, I am his obedient servant to command." + +Captain Ducie, hunting about among the débris of the train, was not long +in finding the fragments of M. Platzoff's despatch box. Its contents +were scattered about. Ducie spent ten minutes in gathering together the +various letters and documents which it had contained. Then, with the +broken box under his arm and the papers in his hands, he went back to +the Russian. + +He showed the papers one by one to Platzoff, who was strangely eager in +the matter. When Ducie held up the last of them, Platzoff groaned and +shut his eyes. "They are all there as far as I can judge," he murmured, +"except the most important one of all--a paper covered with figures, of +no use to anyone but myself. Oh, dear Captain Ducie! do please go once +more and try to find the one that is still missing. If I only knew that +it was burnt, or torn into fragments, I should not mind so much. But if +it were to fall into the hands of a scoundrel skilful enough to master +the secret which it contains, then I--" + +He stopped with a scared look on his face, as though he had unwittingly +said more than he had intended. + +"Pray don't trouble yourself with any explanations just now," said +Ducie. "You want the paper: that is enough. I will go and have a +thorough hunt for it." + +Back went Ducie to the broken carriages and began to search more +carefully than before. "What can be the nature of the great secret, I +wonder, that is hidden between the Sibylline leaves I am in search of? +If what Platzoff's words implied be true, he who learns it is master of +the situation. Would that it were known to me!" + +Slowly and carefully, inside and out of the carriage in which he and +Platzoff had travelled, Captain Ducie conducted his search. One by one +he again turned over the wraps and different articles of personal +luggage belonging to both of them, which had not yet been removed. The +first object that rewarded his search was a splendid diamond pin which +he remembered having seen in Platzoff's scarf. Ducie picked it up and +looked cautiously around. No one was regarding him. "Of the first water +and worth a hundred guineas at the very least," he muttered. Then he put +it in his waistcoat pocket and went on with his search. + +A minute or two later, hidden away under one of the cushions of the +carriage, he found what he was looking for: a folded sheet of thick blue +paper covered with a complicated array of figures--that and nothing +more. + +Captain Ducie regarded the recovered treasure with a strange mixture of +feelings. His hands trembled slightly; his heart was beating more +quickly than usual; his eyes seemed to see and yet not to see the paper +in his hands. As one mazed and in deep doubt he stood. + +His reverie was broken by the approach of some of the railway officials. +The cloud vanished from before his eyes, and he was his cool, +imperturbable self in a moment. Heading the long array of figures on the +parchment were a few lines of ordinary writing, written, however, not in +English, but Italian. These few lines Ducie now proceeded to read over +more attentively than he had done at the first glance. He was +sufficiently master of Italian to be able to translate them without much +difficulty. Translated they ran as under:-- + + "Bon Repos, + + "Windermere. + + "CARLO MIO,--In the Amsterdam edition of 1698 of _The Confessions + of Parthenio the Mystic_ occur the passages given below. To your + serious consideration, O friend of my heart, I recommend these + words. To read them much patience is required. But they are + freighted with wisdom, as you will discover long before you reach + the end of them, and have a deep significance for that great cause + to which the souls of both of us are knit by bonds which in this + life can never be severed. When you read these lines, the hand that + writes them will be cold in the grave. But Nature allows nothing to + be lost, and somewhere in the wide universe the better part of me + (the mystic EGO) will still exist; and if there be any truth in the + doctrine of the affinity of souls, then shall you and I meet again + elsewhere. Till that time shall come--Adieu! + + "Thine, + + "PAUL PLATZOFF." + +Having carefully read these lines twice over, Captain Ducie refolded the +paper, put it away in an inner pocket, and buttoned his coat over it. +Then he took his way, deep in thought, back to "The Golden Griffin." + +The Russian's eager eyes asked him: "What success?" before he could say +a word. + +"I am sorry to say that I have not been able to find the paper," said +Captain Ducie in slow, deliberate tones. "I have found something +else--your diamond pin, which you appear to have lost out of your +scarf." + +Platzoff gazed at him with a sort of blank despair on his saffron face, +but a low moan was his only reply. Then he turned his face to the wall +and shut his eyes. + +Captain Ducie was a patient man, and he waited without speaking for a +full hour. At the end of that time Platzoff turned, and held out a +feeble hand. + +"Forgive me, my friend--if you will allow me to call you so," he said. +"I must seem horribly ungrateful after all the trouble I have put you +to, but I do not feel so. The loss of my MS. affected me so deeply for a +little while that I could think of nothing else. I shall get over it by +degrees." + +"If I remember rightly," remarked Ducie, "you said that the lost MS. was +merely a complicated array of figures. Of what possible value can it be +to anyone who may chance to find it?" + +"Of no value whatever," answered Platzoff, "unless they who find it +should also be skilful enough to discover the key by which alone it can +be read; for, as I may now tell you, there is a hidden meaning in the +figures. The finders may or may not make that discovery, but how am I to +ascertain what is the fact either one way or the other? For want of such +knowledge my sense of security will be gone. I would almost prefer to +know for certain that the MS. had been read than be left in utter doubt +on the point. In the one case I should know what I had to contend +against, and could take proper precautionary measures; in the other, I +am left to do battle with a shadow that may or may not be able to work +me harm." + +"Would possession of the information that is contained in the MS. enable +anyone to work you harm?" + +"It would to this extent, that it would put them in possession of a +cherished secret, which--But why talk of these things? What is done +cannot be undone. I can only prepare myself for the worst." + +"One moment," said Ducie. "I think that after the thorough search made +by me the chances are twenty to one against the MS. ever being found. +But granting that it does turn up, the finder of it will probably be +some ignorant navvie or incurious official, without either inclination +or ability to master the secret of the cipher." + + * * * * * + +Ten days later M. Platzoff was sufficiently recovered to set out for Bon +Repos. At his earnest request Ducie had put off his own journey to stay +with him. At another time the ex-Captain might not have cared to spend +ten days at a forlorn country tavern, even with a rich Russian; but as +he often told himself he had "his book to make," and he probably looked +upon this as a necessary part of the process. Before they parted, it was +arranged that as soon as Ducie should return from Scotland he should go +and spend a month at Bon Repos. Then the two shook hands, and each went +his own way. As one day passed after another without bringing any +tidings of the lost MS., Platzoff's anxiety respecting it seemed to +lessen, and by the time he left "The Golden Griffin" he had apparently +ceased to trouble his mind any further in the matter. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE STOLEN MANUSCRIPT. + + +Captain Edmund Ducie came of a good family. His people were people of +mark among the landed gentry of their county, and were well-to-do even +for their position. Although only a fourth son, his allowance had been a +very handsome one, both while at Cambridge and afterwards during the +early years of his life in the army. When of age, he had come into the +very nice little fortune, for a fourth son, of nine thousand pounds; and +it was known that there would be "something handsome" for him at his +father's death. He had a more than ordinary share of good looks; his +mind was tolerably cultivated, and afterwards enlarged by travel and +service in various parts of the world; in manners and address he was a +finished gentleman of the modern school. Yet all these advantages of +nature and fortune were in a great measure nullified and rendered of no +avail by reason of one fatal defect, of one black speck at the core. In +a word, Captain Ducie was a born gambler. + +He had gambled when a child in the nursery, or had tried to gamble, for +cakes and toys. He had gambled when at school for coppers, +pocket-knives, and marbles. He had gambled when at the University, and +had felt the claws of the Children of Usury. He gambled away his nine +thousand pounds, or such remainder of it as had not been forestalled, +when he came of age. Later on, when in the army, and on home allowance +again, for his father would not let him starve, he had kept on gambling; +so that when, some five years later, his father died, and he dropped in +for the "something handsome," two-thirds of it had to be paid down on +the nail to make a free man of him again. On the remaining one-third he +contrived to keep afloat for a couple of years longer; then, after a +season of heavy losses, came the final crash, and Captain Ducie found +himself under the necessity of selling his commission, and of retiring +into private life. + +From this date Captain Ducie was compelled to live by "bleeding" his +friends and connections. He was a great favourite among them, and they +rallied gallantly to his rescue. But Ducie still gambled; and the best +of friends, and the most indulgent of relatives, grew tired after a +time of seeing their cherished gold pieces slip heedlessly through the +fingers of the man whom it was intended that they should substantially +help, and be lost in the foul atmosphere of a gaming-house. One by one, +friend and relative dropped away from the doomed man, till none were +left. Little by little the tide of fortune ebbed away from his feet, +leaving him stranded high and dry on the cruel shore of impecuniosity, +hemmed in by a thousand debts, with the gaunt wolf of beggary staring +him in the face. + +There was one point about Captain Ducie's gambling that redounded to his +credit. No one ever suspected him of cheating. His "run of luck" was so +uniformly bad, despite a brief fickle gleam of fortune now and again, +which seemed sent only to lure him on to deeper destruction; it was so +well known that he had spent two fortunes and alienated all his friends +through his passion for the green cloth, that it would have been the +height of absurdity to even suspect him of roguery. Indeed, "Ducie's +luck" was a proverbial phrase at the whist-tables of his club. He was +not a "turf" man, and had no knowledge of horses beyond that legitimate +knowledge which every soldier ought to have. His money had all been lost +either at cards or roulette. He was one of the most imperturbable of +gamblers. Whatever the varying chances of the game might be, no man ever +saw him either elated or depressed: he fought with his vizor down. + +No man could be more aware of his one besetting weakness, nor of his +inability to conquer it, than was Captain Ducie. When he could no longer +muster five pounds to gamble with, he would gamble with five shillings. +There was a public-house in Southwark to which, poorly dressed, he +sometimes went when his funds were low. Here, unknown to the police, a +little quiet gambling for small stakes went on from night to night. But +however small might be the amount involved, there was the passion, the +excitement, the gambling contagion, precisely as at Homburg or Baden; +and these it was that made the very salt of Captain Ducie's life. + +About six months before we made his acquaintance he had been compelled +to leave his pleasant suite of apartments in New Bond Street, and had, +since that time, been the tenant of a shabby bed-room in a shabby little +out-of-the-way street. When in town he took his meals at his club, and +to that address all letters and papers for him were sent. But of late +even the purlieus of his club had become dangerous ground. Round the +palatial portal duns seemed to hover and flit mysteriously, so that the +task of reaching the secure haven of the smoking-room was one of danger +and difficulty; while the return voyage to the shabby little bed-room in +the shabby little street could be accomplished in safety only by +frequent tacking and much skilful pilotage, to avoid running foul of +various rocks and quicksands by the way. + +But now, after a six weeks' absence in Scotland, Captain Ducie felt +that for a day or two at least he was tolerably safe. He felt like an +old fox venturing into the open after the noise of the hunt has died +away in the distance, who knows that for a little while he is safe from +molestation. How delightful town looked, he thought, after the dull life +he had been leading at Stapleton. He had managed to screw another fifty +pounds out of Barnstake, and this very evening, the first of his return, +he would go to Tom Dawson's rooms and there refresh himself with a +little quiet faro or chicken-hazard: very quiet it must of necessity be, +unless he saw that it was going to turn out one of his lucky evenings, +in which case he would try to "put up" the table and finish with a +fortunate coup. But there was one little task that he had set himself to +do before going out for the evening, and he proceeded to consider it +over while discussing his cup of strong green tea and his strip of dry +toast. + +To aid him in considering the matter he brought out of an inner pocket +the stolen manuscript of M. Platzoff. + +While in Scotland, when shut up in his own room of a night, he had often +exhumed the MS., and had set himself seriously to the task of +deciphering it, only to acknowledge at the end of a terrible half-hour +that he was ignominiously beaten. Whereupon he would console himself by +saying that such a task was "not in his line," that his brains were not +of that pettifogging order which would allow of his sitting down with +the patience requisite to master the secret of the figures. To-night, +for the twentieth time, he brought out the MS. He again read the +prefatory note carefully over, although he could almost have said it by +heart, and once more his puzzled eyes ran over the complicated array of +figures, till at last, with an impatient "Pish!" he flung the MS. to the +other side of the table, and poured out for himself another cup of tea. + +"I must send it to Bexell," he said to himself. "If anyone can make it +out, he can. And yet I don't like making another man as wise as myself +in such a matter. However, there is no help for it in the present case. +If I keep the MS. by me till doomsday I shall never succeed in making +out the meaning of those confounded figures." + +When he had finished his tea he took out his writing desk and wrote as +under: + + "MY DEAR BEXELL,--I have only just got back from Scotland after an + absence of six weeks. I have brought with me a severe catarrh, a + new plaid, a case of Mountain Dew, and a MS. written in cipher. The + first and second of these articles I retain for my own use. Of the + third I send you half-a-dozen bottles by way of sample: a judicious + imbibition of the contents will be found to be a sovereign remedy + for the Pip and other kindred disorders that owe their origin to a + melancholy frame of mind. The fourth article on my list I send you + bodily. It has been lent to me by a friend of mine who states that + he found it in his muniment chest among a lot of old title deeds, + leases, etc., the first time he waded through them after coming + into possession of his property. Neither he nor any friend to whom + he has shown it can make out its meaning, and I must confess to + being myself one of the puzzled. My friend is very anxious to have + it deciphered, as he thinks it may in some way relate to his + property, or to some secret bit of family history with which it + would be advisable that he should become acquainted. Anyhow, he + gave it to me to bring to town, with a request that I should seek + out someone clever in such things, and try to get it interpreted + for him. Now I know of no one except yourself who is at all expert + in such matters. You, I remember, used to take a delight that to me + was inexplicable in deciphering those strange advertisements which + now and again appear in the newspapers. Let me therefore ask of you + to bring your old skill to bear in the present case, and if you can + make me anything like a presentable translation to send back to my + friend the laird, you will greatly oblige + + "Your friend, + + "E. DUCIE." + +The MS. consisted of three or four sheets of deed-paper fastened +together at one corner with silk. The prefatory note was on the first +sheet. This first sheet Ducie cut away with his penknife and locked up +in his desk. The remaining sheets he sent to his friend Bexell, together +with the note which he had written. + +Three days later Mr. Bexell returned the sheets with his reply. In order +properly to understand this reply it will be necessary to offer to the +reader's notice a specimen of the MS. The conclusion arrived at by Mr. +Bexell, and the mode by which he reached them, will then be more clearly +comprehensible. + +The following is a counterpart of the first few lines of the MS.: + +253.12 59.25 14.5 96.14 158.49 1.29 465.1 28.53 + + 4 1 6 10 4 12 9 1 + ----------------------------------- + 16.36 151.18 58.7 14.29 368.1 209.18 43.11 1.31 1.1 + ----------------------------------- + 11 3 9 8 + 29.6 186.9 204.11 86.19 43.16 348.14 196.29 203.5 + + 4 5 10 6 1 5 6 2 +186.9 1.31 21.10 143.18 200.6 29.40 408.9 61.5 + + 5 9 4 8 3 12 11 4 +209.11 496.1 24.24 28.59 69.39 391.10 60.13 200.1 + 2 6 4 1 10 11 5 3 + +The following is Mr. Bexell's reply to his friend Captain Ducie: + + "MY DEAR DUCIE,--With this note you will receive back your + confounded MS., but without a translation. I have spent a good deal + of time and labour in trying to decipher it, and the conclusions at + which I have arrived may be briefly laid before you. + + 1. Each group of three sets of figures represents a word. + + 2. Each group of two sets of figures--those with a line above and a + line below--represents a letter only. + + 3. Those letters put together from the point where the double line + begins to the point where it ceases, make up a word. + + 4. In the composition of this cryptogram _a book_ has been used as + the basis on which to work. + + 5. In every group of three sets of figures the first set represents + the page of the book; the second, the number of the line on that + page, probably counting from the top; the third the position in + ordinary rotation of the word on that line. Thus you have the + number of the page, the number of the line, and the number of the + word. + + 6. In the case of the interlined groups of two sets of figures, the + first set represents the number of the page; the second set the + number of the line, probably counting from the top, of which line + the required letter will prove to be the initial one. + + 7. The words thus spelled out by the interlined groups of double + figures are, in all probability, proper names, or other uncommon + words not to be found in their entirety in the book on which the + cryptogram is based, and consequently requiring to be worked out + letter by letter. + + 8. The book in question is not a dictionary, nor any other work the + words of which come in alphabetical rotation. It is probably some + ordinary book, which the writer of the cryptogram and the person + for whom it is written have agreed upon beforehand to make use of + as a key. I have no means of judging whether the book in question + is an English or a foreign one, but by it alone, whatever it may + be, can the cryptogram be read. + + "Now, my dear Ducie, it would be wearisome for me to describe, and + equally wearisome for you to read, the processes of reasoning by + means of which the above deductions have been arrived at. But in + order to satisfy you that my assumptions are not entirely fanciful + or destitute of sober sense, I will describe to you, as briefly as + may be, the process by means of which I have come to the conclusion + that the book used as the basis of the cryptogram was not a + dictionary or other work in which the words come in alphabetical + rotation; and such a conclusion is very easy of proof. + + "In a document so lengthy as the MS. of your friend the Scotch + laird there must of necessity be many repetitions of what may be + called 'indispensable words'--words one or more of which are used + in the composition of almost every long sentence. I allude to such + words as _a_, _an_, _and_, _as_, _of_, _by_, _the_, _their_, + _them_, _these_, _they_, _you_, _I_, _it_, etc. The first thing to + do was to analyse the MS. and classify the different groups of + figures for the purpose of ascertaining the number of repetitions + of any one group. My analysis showed me that these repetitions were + surprisingly few. Forty groups were repeated twice, fifteen three + times, and nine groups four times. Now, according to my + calculation, the MS. contains one thousand two hundred and + eighty-three words. Out of those one thousand two hundred and + eighty-three words there must have been more than the number of + repetitions shown by my analysis, and not of one only, but of + several of what I have called 'indispensable words.' Had a + dictionary been made use of by the writer of the MS. all such + repetitions would have been referred to one particular page, and to + one particular line of that page: that is to say, in every case + where a word repeated itself in the MS. the same group of numbers + would in every case have been its _valeur_. As the repetitions were + so few I could only conclude that some book of an ordinary kind had + been made use of, and that the writer of the cryptogram had been + sufficiently ingenious not to repeat his numbers very frequently in + the case of 'indispensable words,' but had in the majority of cases + given a fresh group of numbers at each repetition of such a word. I + might, perhaps, go further and say that in the majority of cases + where a group of figures is repeated such group refers to some word + less frequently used than any of those specified above, and that + one group was obliged to do duty on two or more occasions, simply + because the writer was unable to find the word more than once in + the book on which his cryptogram was based. + + "Having once arrived at the conclusion that some book had been used + as the basis of the cryptogram, my next supposition that each group + of three sets of numbers showed the page of the book, the number of + the line from the top, and the position of the required word in + that line, seemed at once borne out by an analysis of the figures + themselves. Thus, taking the first set of figures in each group, I + found that in no case did they run to a higher number than 500, + which would seem to indicate that the basis-book was limited to + that number of pages. The second set of figures ran to no higher + number than 60, which would seem to limit the lines on each page to + that number. The third set of figures in no case yielded a higher + number than 12, which numerals, according to my theory, would + indicate the maximum number of words in each line. Thus you have at + once (if such information is of any use to you) a sort of a key to + the size of the required volume. + + "I think I have now written enough, my dear Ducie, to afford you + some idea of the method by means of which my conclusions have been + arrived at. If you wish for further details I will supply them--but + by word of mouth, an it be all the same to your honour; for this + child detests letter-writing, and has taken a vow that if he reach + the end of his present pen-and-ink venture in safety, he will never + in time to come devote more than two pages of cream note to even + the most exacting of friends: the sequitur of which is, that if you + want to know more than is here set down you must give the writer a + call, when you shall be talked to to your heart's content. + + "Your exhausted friend, + + "GEO. BEXELL." + +Captain Ducie had too great a respect for the knowledge of his friend +Bexell in matters like the one under review to dream for one moment of +testing the validity of any of his conclusions. He accepted the whole of +them as final. Having got the conclusions themselves, he cared nothing +as to the processes by which they had been deduced: the details +interested him not at all. Consequently he kept out of the way of his +friend, being in truth considerably disgusted to find that, so far as he +was himself concerned, the affair had ended in a fiasco. He could not +look upon it in any other light. It was utterly out of the range of +probability that he should ever succeed in ascertaining on what +particular book the cryptogram was based, and no other knowledge was now +of the slightest avail. He was half inclined to send back the MS. +anonymously to Platzoff, as being of no further use to himself; but he +was restrained by the thought that there was just a faint chance that +the much-desired volume might turn up during his forthcoming visit to +Bon Repos--that even at the eleventh hour the key might be found. + +He was terribly chagrined to think that the act of genteel petty +larceny, by which he had lowered himself more in his own eyes than he +would have cared to acknowledge, had been so absolutely barren of +results. That portion of his moral anatomy which he would have called +his conscience pricked him shrewdly now and again, but such pricks had +their origin in the fact of his knavery having been unsuccessful. Had +his wrong-doing won for him such a prize as he had fondly hoped to gain +by its means, Conscience would have let her rusted spear hang unheeded +on the wall, and beyond giving utterance now and then to a faint whisper +in the dead of night, would have troubled him not at all. + +It was some time in the middle of the night, about a week after Bexell +had sent him back the papers, that he awoke suddenly and completely, and +there before him, as clearly as though it had been written in letters of +fire on the black wall, he saw the title of the wished-for book. It was +the book mentioned by Platzoff in his prefatory note: _The Confessions +of Parthenio the Mystic_. The knowledge had come to him like a +revelation. How stupid he must have been never to have thought of it +before! That night he slept no more. + +Next morning he went to one of the most famous bookdealers in the +metropolis. The book inquired for by Ducie was not known to the man. But +that did not say that there was no such work in existence. Through his +agents at home and abroad inquiry should be made, and the result +communicated to Captain Ducie. Therewith the latter was obliged to +content himself. Three days later came a pressing note of invitation +from Platzoff. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +BON REPOS. + + +On a certain fine morning towards the end of May, Captain Ducie took +train at Euston Square, and late the same afternoon was set down at +Windermere. A fly conveyed himself and his portmanteau to the edge of +the lake. Singling out one from the tiny fleet of pleasure boats always +to be found at the Bowness landing-stage, Captain Ducie seated himself +in the stern and lighted his cigar. The boatman's sinewy arms soon +pulled him out into the middle of the lake, when the head of the little +craft was set for Bon Repos. + +The sun was dipping to the western hills. In his wake he had left a rack +of torn and fiery cloud, as though he had rent his garments in wrath and +cast them from him. Soft, grey mists and purple shadows were beginning +to strike upward from the vales, but on the great shoulders of +Fairfield, and on the scarred fronts of other giants further away, the +sunshine lingered lovingly. It was like the hand of Childhood caressing +the rugged brows of Age. + +With that glorious panorama which crowns the head of the lake before his +eyes, with the rhythmic beat of the oars and the soft pulsing of the +water in his ears, with the blue smoke-rings of his cigar rising like +visible aspirations through the evening air, an unwonted peace, a soft +brooding quietude, began to settle down upon the Captain's world-worn +spirit; and through the stillness came a faint whisper, like his +mother's voice speaking from the far-off years of childhood, recalling +to his memory things once known, but too long forgotten; lessons too +long despised, but with a vital truth underlying them which he seemed +never to have realised till now. Suddenly the boat's keel grazed the +shingly strand, and there before him, half shrouded in the shadows of +evening, was Bon Repos. + +A genuine north-country house, strong, rugged and homely-looking, +despite its Gallic cognomen. It was built of the rough grey stone of the +district, and roofed with large blue slates. It stood at the head of a +small lawn that sloped gently up from the lake. Immediately behind the +house a precipitous hill, covered with a thick growth of underwood and +young trees, swept upward to a considerable height. A narrow, winding +lane, the only carriage approach to the house, wound round the base of +this hill, and joined the high road a quarter of a mile away. The house +was only two stories high, but was large enough to have accommodated a +numerous and well-to-do family. The windows were all set in a framework +of plain stone, but on the lower floor some of them had been modernised, +the small, square, bluish panes having given place to polished plate +glass, of which two panes only were needed for each window. But this was +an innovation that had not spread far. The lawn was bordered with a +tasteful diversity of shrubs and flowers, while here and there the +tender fingers of some climbing plant seemed trying to smoothe away a +wrinkle in the rugged front of the old house. + +Captain Ducie walked up the gravelled pathway that led from the lake to +the house, the boatman with his portmanteau bringing up the rear. Before +he could touch either bell or knocker, the door was noiselessly opened, +and a coloured servant, in a suit of plain black, greeted him with a +respectful bow. + +"Captain Ducie, sir, if I am not misinformed?" + +"I am Captain Ducie." + +"Sir, you are expected. Your rooms are ready. Dinner will be served in +half-an-hour from now. My master will meet you when you come +downstairs." + +The portmanteau having been brought in, and the boatman paid and +dismissed, said the coloured servant: "I will show you to your rooms, if +you will allow me to do so. The man appointed to wait upon you will +follow with your luggage in a minute or two." + +He led the way, and Ducie followed in silence. + +The tired Captain gave a sigh of relief and gratitude, and flung himself +into an easy-chair as the door closed behind his conductor. His two +rooms were _en suite_, and while as replete with comfort as the most +thorough-going Englishman need desire, had yet about them a touch of +lightness and elegance that smacked of a taste that had been educated on +the Continent, and was unfettered by insular prejudices. + +"At Stapleton I had a loft that was hardly fit for a groom to sleep in; +here I have two rooms that a cardinal might feel proud to occupy. Vive +la Russie!" + +M. Platzoff was waiting at the foot of the staircase when Ducie went +down. A cordial greeting passed between the two, and the host at once +led the way to the dining-room. Platzoff in his suit of black and white +cravat, with his cadaverous face, blue-black hair and chin-tuft, and the +elaborate curl on the top of his forehead, looked, at the first glance, +more like a ghastly undertaker's man than the host of an English country +house. + +But a second glance would have shown you his embroidered linen and the +flashing gems on his fingers; and you could not be long with him without +being made aware that you were in the company of a thorough man of the +world--of one who had travelled much and observed much; of one whose +correspondents kept him au courant with all the chief topics of the day. +He knew, and could tell you, the secret history of the last new opera; +how much had been paid for it, what it had cost to produce, and all +about the great green-room cabal against the new prima donna. He knew +what amount of originality could be safely claimed for the last new +drama that was taking the town by storm, and how many times the same +story had been hashed up before. He had read the last French novel of +any note, and could favour you with a few personal reminiscences of its +author not generally known. As regarded political knowledge--if all his +statements were to be trusted--he was informed as to much that was going +on behind the great drop-scene. He knew how the wires were pulled that +moved the puppets who danced in public, especially those wires which +were pulled in Paris, Vienna and St. Petersburg. Before Ducie had been +six hours at Bon Repos he knew more about political intrigues at home +and abroad than he had ever dreamt of in the whole course of his +previous life. + +The dining-room at Bon Repos was a long low-ceilinged apartment, +panelled with black oak, and fitted up in a rich and sombre style that +was yet very different from the dull, heavy formality that obtains among +three-fourths of the dining-rooms in English country houses. Indeed, +throughout the appointments and fittings of Bon Repos there was a touch +of something Oriental grafted on to French taste, combined with a +thorough knowledge and appreciation of insular comfort. From the +dining-room windows a lovely stretch of the lake could be seen +glimmering in the starlight, and our two friends sat this evening over +their wine by the wide open sash, gazing out into the delicious night. +Behind them, in the room, two or three candles were burning in silver +sconces; but at the window they were sitting in that sort of half light +which seems exactly suited for confidential talk. Captain Ducie took +advantage of it after a time to ask his host a question which he would +perhaps have scarcely cared to put by broad daylight. + +"Have you heard any news of your lost manuscript?" + +"None whatever," answered Platzoff. "Neither do I expect, after this +lapse of time, to hear anything further concerning it. It has probably +never been found, or if found, has (as you suggested at 'The Golden +Griffin') fallen into the hands of someone too ignorant, or too +incurious, to master the secret of the cipher." + +"It has been much in my thoughts since I saw you last," said Ducie. "Was +the MS. in your own writing, may I ask?" + +"It was in my own writing," answered the Russian. "It was a confidential +communication intended for the eye of my dearest friend, and for his eye +only. It was unfinished when I lost it. I had been staying a few days at +one of your English spas when I joined you in the train on the day of +the accident. The MS., as far as it went, had all been written before I +left home; but I took it with me in my despatch-box, together with other +private papers, although I knew that I could not add a single line to it +while I should be from home. I have wished a thousand times since that I +had left it behind me." + +"I have heard of people to whom cryptography is a favourite study," said +the Captain; "people who pride themselves on their ability to master the +most difficult cipher ever invented. Let us hope that your MS. has not +fallen into the hands of one of these clever individuals." + +Platzoff shrugged his shoulders. "Let us hope so, indeed," he said. +"But I will not believe in any such untoward event. Too long a time has +elapsed since the loss for me not to have heard something respecting the +MS., had it been found by anyone who knew how to make use of it. +Besides, I would defy the most clever reader of cryptography to master +my MS. without--Ah, Bah! where's the use of talking about it? Should not +you like some tobacco? Daylight's last tint has vanished, and there is a +chill air sweeping down from the hills." + +As they left the window, Platzoff added: "One of the most annoying +features connected with my loss arises from the fact that all my labour +will have to be gone through again--and very tedious work it is. I am +now engaged on a second MS., which is, as nearly as I can make it, a +copy of the first one; and it is a task which must be done by myself +alone. To have even one confidant would be to stultify the whole affair. +Another glass of claret, and then I will introduce you to my sanctum." + +The coloured man who had opened the door for Captain Ducie had been in +and out of the dining-room several times. He was evidently a favourite +servant. Platzoff had addressed him as Cleon, and Ducie had now a +question or two to ask concerning him. + +Cleon was a mulatto, tall, agile and strong. Not bad-looking by any +means, but carrying with him unmistakable traces of the negro blood in +his veins. His hair was that of a genuine African--crisp and black, and +was one mass of short curls; but except for a certain fulness of the +lips his features were of the ordinary Caucasian type. He wore no beard, +but a thin, straight line of black moustache. His complexion was yellow, +but a different yellow from that of his master--dusky, passionate, +lava-like; suggestive of fiery depths below. His eyes, too, glowed with +a smothered fire that seemed as if it might blaze out at any moment, and +there was in them an expression of snake-like treachery that made +Captain Ducie shudder involuntarily, as though he had seen some +loathsome reptile, the first time he looked steadily into their +half-veiled depths. One look into each other's eyes was sufficient for +both these men. + +"Monsieur Cleon and I are born enemies, and he knows it as well as I +do," murmured Ducie to himself, after the first secret signal of +defiance had passed between the two. "Well, I never was afraid of any +man in my life, and I'm not going to begin by being afraid of a valet." +With that he shrugged his shoulders, and turned his back contemptuously +on the mulatto. + +Cleon, in his suit of black and white tie, with his quiet, stealthy +movements and unobtrusive attentions, would have been pronounced good +style as a gentleman's gentleman in the grandest of Belgravian mansions. +Had he suddenly come into a fortune, and gone into society where his +antecedents were unknown, five-sixths of his male associates would have +pronounced him "a deuced gentlemanly fellow." The remaining one-sixth +might have held a somewhat different opinion. + +"That coloured fellow seems to be a great favourite with you," remarked +Ducie, as Cleon left the room. + +"And well he may be," answered Platzoff. "On two separate occasions I +owed my life to him. Once in South America, when a couple of brigands +had me at their mercy and were about to try the temper of their knives +on my throat. He potted them both one after the other. On the second +occasion he rescued me from a tiger in the jungle, who was desirous of +dining _ŕ la Russe_. I have not made a favourite of Cleon without having +my reasons for so doing." + +"He seems to me a shrewd fellow, and one who understands his business." + +"Cleon is not destitute of ability. When I settled at Bon Repos I made +him major-domo of my small establishment, but he still retains his old +position as my body-servant. I offered long ago to release him; but he +will not allow any third person to come between himself and me, and I +should not feel comfortable under the attentions of anyone else." + +Platzoff opened the door as he ceased speaking and led the way to the +smoking room. + +As you lifted the curtain and went in, it was like passing at one step +from Europe to the East--from the banks of Windermere to the shores of +the Bosphorus. It was a circular apartment with a low cushioned divan +running completely round it, except where broken by the two doorways, +curtained with hangings of dark brown. The floor was an arabesque of +different-coloured tiles, covered here and there with a tiny square of +bright-hued Persian carpet. The walls were panelled with stamped leather +to the height of six feet from the ground; above the panelling they were +painted of a delicate cream colour with here and there a maxim or +apophthegm from the Koran, in the Arabic character, picked out in +different colours. From the ceiling a silver lamp swung on chains of +silver. In the centre of the room was a marble table on which were pipes +and hookahs, cigars and tobaccos of various kinds. Smaller tables were +placed here and there close to the divan for the convenience of smokers. + +Platzoff having asked Ducie to excuse him for five minutes, passed +through the second doorway, and left the Captain to an undisturbed +survey of the room. He came back in a few minutes, but so transformed in +outward appearance that Ducie scarcely knew him. He had left the room in +the full evening costume of an English gentleman: he came back in the +turban and flowing robes of a follower of the Prophet. But however +comfortable his Eastern habit might be, M. Platzoff lacked the quiet +dignity and grave repose of your genuine Turkish gentleman. + +"I am going to smoke one of these hookahs; let me recommend you to try +another," said Platzoff as he squatted himself cross-legged on the +divan. + +He touched a tiny gong, and Cleon entered. + +"Select a hookah for Monsieur Ducie, and prepare it." + +So Cleon, having chosen a pipe, tipped it with a new amber mouthpiece, +charged the bowl with fragrant Turkish tobacco, handed the stem to +Ducie, and then applied the light. The same service was next performed +for his master. Then he withdrew, but only to reappear a minute or two +later with coffee served up in the Oriental fashion--black and strong, +without sugar or cream. + +"This is one of my little smoke-nights," said Platzoff as soon as they +were alone. "Last night was one of my big smoke-nights." + +"You speak a language I do not understand." + +"I call those occasions on which I smoke opium my big smoke-nights." + +"Can it be true that you are an opium smoker?" said Ducie. + +"It can be and is quite true that I am addicted to that so-called +pernicious habit. To me it is one of the few good things this world has +to offer. Opium is the key that unlocks the golden gates of Dreamland. +To its disciples alone is revealed the true secret of subjective +happiness. But we will talk more of this at some future time." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE AMSTERDAM EDITION OF 1698. + + +Captain Ducie soon fell into the quiet routine of life at Bon Repos. It +was not distasteful to him. To a younger man it might have seemed to +lack variety, to have impinged too closely on the verge of dulness; but +Captain Ducie had reached that time of life when quiet pleasures please +the most, and when much can be forgiven the man who sets before you a +dinner worth eating. Not that Ducie had anything to forgive. Platzoff +had contracted a great liking for his guest, and his hospitality was of +that cordial quality which makes the object of it feel himself +thoroughly at home. Besides this, the Captain knew when he was well off, +and had no wish to exchange his present pleasant quarters, his rambles +across the hills, and his sailings on the lake, for his dingy bed-room +in town with the harassing, hunted down life of a man upon whom a dozen +writs are waiting to be served, and who can never feel certain that his +next day's dinner may not be eaten behind the locks and bars of a +prison. + +Sometimes on horseback, sometimes on foot, sometimes accompanied by his +host, sometimes alone, Ducie explored the lovely country round Bon Repos +to his heart's content. Another source of pleasure and healthful +exercise he found in long solitary pulls up and down the lake in a tiny +skiff which had been set apart for his service. In the evening came +dinner and conversation with his host, with perhaps a game or two of +billiards to finish up the day. + +Captain Ducie found no scope for the exercise of his gambling +proclivities at Bon Repos. Platzoff never touched card or dice. He +could handle a cue tolerably well, but beyond a half-crown game, Ducie +giving him ten points out of fifty, he could never be persuaded to +venture. If the Captain, when he went down to Bon Repos, had any +expectation of replenishing his pockets by means of faro and unlimited +loo, he was wretchedly mistaken. But whatever secret annoyance he might +feel, he was too much a man of the world to allow his host even to +suspect its existence. + +Of society in the ordinary meaning of that word there was absolutely +none at Bon Repos. None of the neighbouring families by any chance ever +called on Platzoff. By no chance did Platzoff ever call on any of the +neighbouring families. + +"They are too good for me, too orthodox, too strait-laced," exclaimed +the Russian one day in his quiet, jeering way. "Or it may be that I am +not good enough for them. Any way, we do not coalesce. Rather are we +like flint and steel, and eliminate a spark whenever we come in contact. +They look upon me as a pagan, and hold me in horror. I look upon +three-fourths of them as Pharisees, and hold them in contempt. Good +people there are among them no doubt; people whom it would be a pleasure +to know, but I have neither time, health, nor inclination for +conventional English visiting--for your ponderous style of hospitality. +I am quite sure that my ideas of men and manners would not coincide with +those of the quiet country ladies and gentlemen of these parts; while +theirs would seem to me terribly wearisome and jejune. Therefore, as I +take it, we are better apart." + +By and by Ducie discovered that his host was not so entirely isolated +from the world as at first sight he appeared to be. + +Occasional society there was of a certain kind, intermittent, coming and +going like birds of passage. One, or sometimes two visitors, of whose +arrival Ducie had heard no previous mention, would now and again put in +an appearance at the dinner-table, would pass one, or at the most two +nights at Bon Repos, and would then be seen no more, having gone as +mysteriously as they had come. + +These visitors were always foreigners, now of one nationality, now of +another: and were always closeted privately with Platzoff for several +hours. In appearance some of them were strangely shabby and unkempt, in +a wild, un-English sort of fashion, while others among them seemed like +men to whom the good things of this world were no strangers. But +whatever their appearance, they were all treated by Platzoff as honoured +guests for whom nothing at his command was too good. + +As a matter of course, they were all introduced to Captain Ducie, but +none of their names had been heard by him before--indeed, he had a dim +suspicion, gathered, he could not have told how, that the names by which +they were made known to him were in some cases fictitious ones, and +appropriated for that occasion only. But to the Captain that fact +mattered nothing. They were people whom he should never meet after +leaving Bon Repos, or if he did chance to meet them, whom he should +never recognise. + +One other noticeable feature there was about these birds of passage. +They were all men of considerable intelligence--men who could talk +tersely and well on almost any topic that might chance to come uppermost +at table, or during the after-dinner smoke. Literature, art, science, +travel--on any or all of these subjects they had opinions to offer; but +one subject there was that seemed tabooed among them as by common +consent: that subject was politics. Captain Ducie saw and recognised the +fact, but as he himself was a man who cared nothing for politics of any +kind, and would have voted them a bore in general conversation, he was +by no means disposed to resent their extrusion from the table talk at +Bon Repos. + +As to whom and what these strangers might be, no direct information was +vouchsafed by the Russian. Captain Ducie was left in a great measure to +draw his own conclusions. A certain conversation which he had one day +with his host seemed to throw some light on the matter. Ducie had been +asking Platzoff whether he did not sometimes regret having secluded +himself so entirely from the world; whether he did not long sometimes to +be in the great centres of humanity, in London or Paris, where alone +life's full flavour can be tasted. + +"Whenever Bon Repos becomes Mal Repos," answered Platzoff--"whenever a +longing such as you speak of comes over me--and it does come +sometimes--then I flee away for a few weeks, to London oftener than +anywhere else--certainly not to Paris: that to me is forbidden ground. +By-and-by I come back to my nest among the hills, vowing there is no +place like it in the world's wide round. But even when I am here, I am +not so shut out from the world and its great interests as you seem to +imagine. I see History enacting itself before my eyes, and I cannot sit +by with averted face. I hear the grand chant of Liberty as the beautiful +goddess comes nearer and nearer and smites down one Oppressor after +another with her red right hand; and I cannot shut my ears. I have been +an actor in the great drama of Revolution ever since a lad of twelve. I +saw my father borne off in chains to Siberia, and heard my mother with +her dying breath curse the tyrant who had sent him there. Since that day +Conspiracy has been the very salt of my life. For it I have fought and +bled; for it I have suffered hunger, thirst, imprisonment, and dangers +unnumbered. Paris, Vienna, St. Petersburg, are all places that I can +never hope to see again. For me to set foot in any one of the three +would be to run the risk of almost certain detection, and in my case +detection would mean hopeless incarceration for the poor remainder of my +days. To the world at large I may seem nothing but a simple country +gentleman, living a dull life in a spot remote from all stirring +interests. But I may tell you, sir (in strictest confidence, mind), that +although I stand a little aside from the noise and heat of the battle, +I work for it with heart and brain as busily, and to better purpose, let +us hope, than when I was a much younger man. I am still a conspirator, +and a conspirator I shall remain till Death taps me on the shoulder and +serves me with his last great writ of _habeas corpus_." + +These words recurred to Ducie's memory a day or two later when he found +at the dinner-table two foreigners whom he had never seen before. + +"Is it possible that these bearded gentlemen are also conspirators?" +asked the Captain of himself. "If so, their mode of life must be a very +uncomfortable one. It never seems to include the use of a razor, and +very sparingly that of comb and brush. I am glad that I have nothing to +do with what Platzoff calls _The Great Cause_." + +But Captain Ducie was not a man to trouble himself with the affairs of +other people unless his own interests were in some way affected thereby. +M. Paul Platzoff might have been mixed up with all the plots in Europe +for anything the Captain cared: it was a mere question of taste, and he +never interfered with another man's tastes when they did not clash with +his own. Besides, in the present case, his attention was claimed by what +to him was a matter of far more serious interest. From day to day he was +anxiously waiting for news from the London bookseller who was making +inquiries on his behalf as to the possibility of obtaining a copy of +_The Confessions of Parthenio the Mystic_. Day passed after day till a +fortnight had gone, and still there came no line from the bookseller. + +Ducie's impatience could no longer be restrained: he wrote, asking for +news. The third day brought a reply. The bookseller had at last heard of +a copy. It was in the library of a monastery in the Low Countries. The +coffers of the monastery needed replenishing; the abbot was willing to +part with the book, but the price of it would be a sum equivalent to +fifty guineas of English money. Such was the purport of the letter. + +To Captain Ducie, just then, fifty guineas were a matter of serious +moment. For a full hour he debated with himself whether or no he should +order the book to be bought. + +Supposing it duly purchased; supposing that it really proved to be the +key by which the secret of the Russian's MS. could be mastered; might +not the secret itself prove utterly worthless as far as he, Ducie, was +concerned? Might it not be merely a secret bearing on one of those +confounded political plots in which Platzoff was implicated--a matter of +moment no doubt to the writer, but of no earthly utility to anyone not +inoculated with such March-hare madness? + +These were the questions that it behoved him to consider. At the end of +an hour he decided that the game was worth the candle: he would risk his +fifty guineas. + +Taking one of Platzoff's horses, he rode without delay to the nearest +telegraph station. His message to the bookseller was as under: + +"Buy the book, and send it down to me here by confidential messenger." + +The next few day were days of suspense, of burning impatience. The +messenger arrived almost sooner than Ducie expected, bringing the book +with him. Ducie sighed as he signed the cheque for fifty guineas, with +ten pounds for expenses. That shabby calf-bound worm-eaten volume seemed +such a poor exchange for the precious slip of paper that had just left +his fingers. But what was done could not be undone, so he locked the +book away carefully in his desk and locked up his impatience with it +till nightfall. + +He could not get away from Platzoff till close upon midnight. When he +got to his own room he bolted the door, and drew the curtains across the +windows, although he knew that it was impossible for anyone to spy on +him from without. Then he opened his desk, spread out the MS. before +him, and took up the volume. A calf-bound volume, with red edges, and +numbering five hundred pages. It was in English, and the title-page +stated it to be "_The Confessions of Parthenio the Mystic: A Romance_. +Translated from the Latin. With Annotations, and a Key to Sundrie Dark +Meanings. Imprinted at Amsterdam in the Year of Grace 1698." It was in +excellent condition. + +Captain Ducie's eagerness to test his prize would not allow of more than +a very cursory inspection of the general contents of the volume. So far +as he could make out, it seemed to be a political satire veiled under +the transparent garb of an Eastern story. Parthenio was represented as a +holy man--a Spiritualist or Mystic--who had lived for many years in a +cave in one of the Arabian deserts. Commanded at length by what he calls +the "inner voice," he sets out on his travels to visit sundry courts and +kingdoms of the East. He returns after five years, and writes, for the +benefit of his disciples, an account of the chief things he has seen and +learned while on his travels. The courts of England, France and Spain, +under fictitious names, are the chief marks for his ponderous satire, +and some of the greatest men in the three kingdoms are lashed with his +most scurrilous abuse. Under any circumstances the book was not one that +Captain Ducie would have cared to wade through, and in the present case, +after dipping into a page here and there, and finding that it contained +nothing likely to interest him, he proceeded at once to the more serious +business of the evening. + +The clocks of Bon Repos were striking midnight as Captain Ducie +proceeded to test the value of the first group of figures on the MS., +according to the formula laid down for him by his friend Bexell. + +The first group of figures was 253.12/4. Turning to page two hundred and +fifty-three of the Confessions, and counting from the top of that page, +he found that the fourth word of the twelfth line gave him _you_. The +second clump of figures was 59.25/1. The first word of the twenty-fifth +line of page fifty-nine gave him _will_. The third clump of figures gave +him _have_, and the fourth _gathered_. These four words, ranged in +order, read: _You will have gathered_. Such a sequence of words could +not arise from mere accident. When he had got thus far Ducie knew that +Platzoff's secret would soon be a secret no longer, that in a very +little while the heart of the mystery would be laid bare. + +Encouraged by his success, Ducie went to work with renewed vigour, and +before the clock struck one he had completed the first sentence of the +MS., which ran as under:-- + + _You will have gathered from the foregoing note, my dear Carlo, + that I have something of importance to relate to you--something + that I am desirous of keeping a secret from everyone but yourself._ + +As his friend Bexell surmised, Ducie found that the groups of figures +distinguished from the rest by two horizontal lines, one above and one +below, as thus 58.7 14.29 368.1 209.18 43.11, were the _valeurs_ of some +proper name or other word for which there was no equivalent in the book. +Such words had to be spelt out letter by letter in the same way that +complete words were picked out in other cases. Thus the marked figures +as above, when taken letter by letter, made up the word _Carlo_--a name +to which there was nothing similar in the Confessions. + +It had been broad daylight for two hours before Captain Ducie grew tired +of his task and went to bed. He went on with it next night, and every +night till it was finished. It was a task that deepened in interest as +he proceeded with it. It grew upon him to such a degree that when near +the close he feigned illness, and kept his room for a whole day, so that +he might the sooner get it done. + +If Captain Ducie had ever amused himself with trying to imagine the +nature of the secret which he had now succeeded in unravelling, the +reality must have been very different from his expectations. One +gigantic thought, whose coming made him breathless for a moment, took +possession of him, as a demon might have done, almost before he had +finished his task, dwarfing all other thoughts by its magnitude. It was +a thought that found relief in six words only: + +"It must and shall be mine!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +M. PLATZOFF'S SECRET--CAPTAIN DUCIE'S TRANSLATION OF M. PAUL PLATZOFF'S +MS. + + +"You will have gathered from the foregoing note, my dear Carlo, that I +have something of importance to relate to you; something that I am +desirous of keeping a secret from everyone but yourself. From the same +source you will have learned where to find the key by which alone the +lock of my secret can be opened. + +"I was induced by two reasons to make use of _The Confessions of +Parthenio the Mystic_ as the basis of my cryptographic communication. In +the first place, each of us has in his possession a copy of the same +edition of that rare book, _viz._, the Amsterdam edition of 1698. In the +second place, there are not more than half-a-dozen copies of the same +work in England; so that if this document were by mischance to fall into +the hands of some person other than him for whom it is intended, such +person, even if sufficiently acute to guess at the means by which alone +the cryptogram can be read, would still find it a matter of some +difficulty to obtain possession of the requisite key. + +"I address these lines to you, my dear Lampini, not because you and I +have been friends from youth, not because we have shared many dangers +and hardship together, not because we have both kept the same great +object in view throughout life; in fine, I do not address them to you as +a private individual, but in your official capacity as Secretary of the +Secret Society of San Marco. + +"You know how deeply I have had the objects of the Society at heart ever +since, twenty-five years ago, I was deemed worthy of being made one of +the initiated. You know how earnestly I have striven to forward its +views both in England and abroad; that through my connection with it I +am _suspect_ at nearly every capital on the Continent--that I could not +enter some of them except at the risk of my life; that health, time, +money--all have been ungrudgingly given for the furtherance of the same +great end. + +"Heaven knows I am not penning these lines in any self-gratulatory frame +of mind--I who write from this happy haven among the hills. +Self-gratulation would ill-become such as me. Where I have given gold, +others have given their blood. Where I have given time and labour, +others have undergone long and cruel imprisonments, have been separated +from all they loved on earth, and have seen the best years of their life +fade hopelessly out between the four walls of a living tomb. What are my +petty sacrifices to such as these? + +"But not to everyone is granted the happiness of cementing a great cause +with his heart's blood. We must each work in the appointed way--some of +us in the full light of day; others in obscure corners, at work that can +never be seen, putting in the stones of the foundation painfully one by +one, but never destined to share in the glory of building the roof of +the edifice. + +"Sometimes, in your letters to me, especially when those letters +contained any disheartening news, I have detected a tone of despondency, +a latent doubt as to whether the cause to which both of us are so firmly +bound was really progressing; whether it was not fighting against hope +to continue the battle any longer; whether it would not be wiser to +retreat to the few caves and fastnesses that were left us, and leaving +Liberty still languishing in chains, and Tyranny still rampant in the +high places of the world, to wage no longer a useless war against the +irresistible Fates. Happily, with you such moods were of the rarest: you +would have been more than mortal had not your soul at times sat in +sackcloth and ashes. + +"Such seasons of doubt and gloom have come to me also; but I know that +in our secret hearts we both of us have felt that there was a +self-sustaining power, a latent vitality in our cause that nothing could +crush out utterly; that the more it was trampled on the more dangerous +it would become, and the faster it would spread. Certain great events +that have happened during the last twelve months have done more towards +the propagation of the ideas we have so much at heart than in our +wildest dreams we dare have hoped only three short years ago. Gravely +considering these things, it seems to me that the time cannot be far +distant when the contingent plan of operations as agreed upon by the +Central Committee two years ago, to which I gave in my adhesion on the +occasion of your last visit to Bon Repos, will have to replace the +scheme at present in operation, and will become the great lever in +carrying out the Society's policy in time to come. + +"When the time shall be ripe, but one difficulty will stand in the way +of carrying out the proposed contingent plan. That difficulty will arise +from the fact that the Society's present expenses will then be trebled +or quadrupled, and that a vast accession to the funds at command of the +Committee for the time being will thus be imperatively necessitated. As +a step, as a something towards obviating whatever difficulty may arise +from lack of funds, I have devised to you, as Secretary of the Society, +the whole of my personal estate, amounting in the aggregate to close +upon fifteen thousand pounds. This property will not accrue to you till +my decease; but that event will happen no very long time hence. My will, +duly signed and witnessed, will be found in the hands of my lawyer. + +"But it was not merely to advise you of this bequest that I have sought +such a roundabout mode of communication. I have a greater and a much +more important bequest to make to the Society, through you, its +accredited agent. I have in my possession a green DIAMOND, the estimated +value of which is a hundred and fifty thousand pounds. This precious gem +I shall leave to you, by you to be sold after my death, the proceeds of +the sale to be added to the other funded property of the Society of San +Marco. + +"The Diamond in question became mine during my travels in India many +years ago. I believe my estimate of its value to be a correct one. +Except my confidential servant, Cleon (whom you will remember), no one +is aware that I have in my possession a stone of such immense value. I +have never trusted it out of my own keeping, but have always retained +it by me, in a safe place, where I could lay my hands upon it at a +moment's notice. But not even to Cleon have I entrusted the secret of +the hiding-place, incorruptibly faithful as I believe him to be. It is a +secret locked in my own bosom alone. + +"You will now understand why I have resorted to cryptography in bringing +these facts under your notice. It is intended that these lines shall not +be read by you till after my decease. Had I adopted the ordinary mode of +communicating with you, it seemed to me not impossible that some other +eye than the one for which it was intended might peruse this statement +before it reached you, and that through some foul play or underhand deed +the Diamond might never come into your possession. + +"It only remains for me now to point out where and by what means the +Diamond may be found. It is hidden away in--" + + * * * * * + +Here the MS., never completed, ended abruptly. + +(_To be continued._) + + + + +RONDEAU. + + + In vain we call to youth, "Return!" + In vain to fires, "Waste not, yet burn!" + In vain to all life's happy things, + "Give the days song--give the hours wings! + Let us lose naught--yet always learn!" + + The tongue must lose youth, as it sings-- + New knowledge still new sorrow brings: + Oh, sweet lost youth, for which we yearn + In vain! + But even this hour from which ye turn-- + Impatient--o'er its funeral urn + Your soul with mad importunings + Will cry, "Come back, lost hour!" So rings + Ever the cry of those who yearn + In vain. + +E. NESBIT. + + + + +SAPPHO. + + +When the Akropolis at Athens bore its beautiful burden entire and +perfect, one miniature temple stood dedicated to wingless Victory, in +token that the city which had defied and driven back the barbarian +should never know defeat. + +But only a few decades had passed away when that temple stood as a mute +and piteous witness that Athens had been laid low in the dust, and that +Victory, though she could never weave a garland for Hellenes who had +conquered Hellenes, was no longer a living power upon her chosen +citadel. By the eighteenth century the shrine had altogether +disappeared: the site only could be traced, and four slabs from its +frieze were discovered close at hand, built into the walls of a Turkish +powder magazine; but not another fragment could be found. + +The descriptions of Pausanias and of one or two later travellers were +all that remained to tell us of the whole; of its details we might form +some faint conception from those frieze marbles, rescued by Lord Elgin +and now in the British museum. + +But we are not left to restore the temple of wingless Victory in our +imagination merely, aided by description and by fragment. It stands +to-day almost complete except for its shattered sculptures, placed upon +its original site, and looking, among the ruins of the grander buildings +around it, like a beautiful child who gazes for the first time on sorrow +which it feels but cannot share. The blocks of marble taken from its +walls and columns had been embedded in a mass of masonry, and when +Greece was once more free, and all traces of Turkish occupation were +being cleared from the Akropolis, these were carefully put together with +the result that we have described. + +Like this in part, but unhappily only in part, is the story of the poems +of Sappho. She wrote, as the architect planned, for all time. We have +one brief fragment, proud, but pathetic in its pride, that tells us she +knew she was meant not altogether to die: + + "I say that there will be remembrance of us hereafter," + +and again with lofty scorn she addresses some other woman: + + "But thou shalt lie dead, nor shall there ever be remembrance of + thee then or in the time to come, for thou hast no share in the + roses of Pieria; but thou shalt wander unseen even in the halls of + Hades, flitting forth amid the shades of the dead." + +The words sound in our ears with a melancholy close as we remember how +hopelessly lost is almost every one of those poems that all Hellas +loved and praised as long as the love and praise of Hellas was of any +worth. Remembrance among men was, to her, the Muses' crowning gift; that +which should distinguish her from ordinary mortals, even beyond the +grave, and grant her new life in death. But it was only for her songs' +sake that she cared to live; she looked for immortality only because she +felt that they were too fair to die. + +It was almost by accident that the name of Sappho was first associated +with the slanders that have ever since clung round it. + +By the close of the fourth century, B.C., Athenian comedy had +degenerated into brilliant and witty and scandalous farce, in many +essentials resembling the new Comedy of the Restoration in England. But +the vitiated Athenian palate required a seasoning which did not commend +itself to English taste; it was necessary that the shafts of the +writer's wit should strike some real and well-known personage. + +Politics, which had furnished so many subjects and so many characters to +Aristophanes, were now a barren field, and public life at Athens in +those days was nothing if not political. Hence arose the practice of +introducing great names of bygone days into these comedies, in all kinds +of ridiculous and disgraceful surroundings. + +There was a piquancy about these libels on the dead which we cannot +understand, but which we may contrast with the less dishonourable +process known to modern historians as "whitewashing." Just as Tiberius +and Henry VIII. have been rescued from the infamy of ages, and placed +among us upon pedestals of honour from which it will be difficult +hereafter wholly to dislodge them, many honoured names were taken by +these iconoclasts of the Middle Comedy and hurled down to such infamy as +they alone could bestow. + +Sappho stood out prominently as the one supreme poetess of Hellas, and +the poets, if so they must be called, of the decline of Greek dramatic +art were never weary of loading her name with every most disgraceful +reproach they could invent. It is hardly worth while to discuss a +subject so often discussed with so little profit, or it would be easy to +show that these gentlemen, Ameipsias, Antiphanes, Diphilus, and the +rest, were indebted solely to their imagination for their facts. + +It would be as fair to take the picture of Sokrates in the "Clouds" of +Aristophanes for a faithful representation of the philosopher as it +would be to take the Sappho of the comic stage for the true Sappho. +Indeed, it would be fairer; for the Sokrates of the "Clouds" is an +absurd caricature, but, like every good caricature, it bore some +resemblance to the original. + +Aristophanes and his audience were familiar with the figure of Sokrates +as he went in and out amongst them; they knew his character and his +manner of life; and, though the poet ventured to pervert the teaching +and to ridicule the habits of a well-known citizen, he would not venture +to put before the people a representation in which there was not a grain +of truth. + +But Sappho had been dead for two hundred years: the Athenian populace +knew little of her except that she had been great and that she had been +unhappy; and the descendants of the men who had thronged the theatre to +see the Oedipus of Sophokles, sickening with that strange disease which +makes the soul crave to batten on the fruits that are its poison, found +a rare feast furnished forth in the imaginary history of the one great +woman of their race. + +The centuries went on, and Sappho came before the tribunal of the early +Christian Church. + +The chief witnesses against her were these same comic poets, who were +themselves prisoners at the bar; and her judges, with the ruthless +impartiality of undiscriminating zeal, condemned the whole of her works, +as well as those of her accusers, to be destroyed in the flames. + +Thus her works have almost totally perished: the fragments that are +extant give us only the faintest hints of the grace and sweetness that +we have for ever lost. + +The mode of the preservation of these remains is half-pathetic, +half-grotesque. We have one complete poem and a considerable portion of +another; the rest are the merest fragments--now two or three lines, now +two or three words, often unintelligible without their context. We have +imitations and translations by Catullus and by Horace; but even Catullus +has conspicuously failed to reproduce her. As Mr. Swinburne has candidly +and very truly said: "No man can come close to her." + +No; all that we possess of Sappho is gleaned from the dictionary, the +geography, the grammar and the archćological treatise; from a host of +worthy authors who are valued now chiefly for these quotations which +they have enshrined. Here a painful scholar of Alexandria has preserved +the phrase-- + + "The golden sandalled dawn but now has (waked) me," + +to show how Sappho employed the adverb. Apollonius, to prove that the +Ćolic dialect had a particular form for the genitive case of the first +personal pronoun, has treasured up two sad and significant utterances, + + "But thou forgettest me!" + +and + + "Or else thou lovest another than me," + +The Ćolic genitive has saved for us another of these sorrow-laden +sentences which Mr. Swinburne has amplified in some beautiful but too +wordy lines. Sappho only says + + "I am full weary of Gorgo." + +--A few of these fragments tell us of the poet herself. + + "I have a daughter like golden flowers, Kleis my beloved, for whom + (I would take) not all Sydia...." + +and one beautiful line which we can recognise in the translation by +Catullus, + + "Like a child after its mother, I--" + +The touches by which she has painted nature are so fine and delicate +that the only poet of our time who has a right to attempt to translate +them has declared it to be "the one impossible task." Our English does, +indeed, sound harsh and unmusical as we try to represent her words; yet +what a picture is here-- + + "And round about the cold (stream) murmurs through the + apple-orchards, and slumber is shed down from trembling leaves." + +She makes us hear the wind upon the mountains falling on the oaks; she +makes us feel the sun's radiance and beauty, as it glows through her +verses; she makes us love with her the birds and the flowers that she +loved. She has a womanly pity not only for the dying doves when-- + + "Their hearts grew cold and they dropped their wings," + +but for the hyacinth which the shepherds trample under foot upon the +hillside. The golden pulse growing on the shore, the roses, the garlands +of dill, are yet fragrant for us; we can even now catch the sweet tones +of the "Spring's angel," as she calls it, the nightingale that sang in +Lesbos ages and ages ago. One beautiful fragment has been woven with +another into a few perfect lines by Dante Gabriel Rossetti; but it shall +be given here as it stands. It describes a young, unwedded maiden: + + "As the sweet apple blushes on the end of the bough, the very end + of the bough which the gatherers overlooked--nay, overlooked not, + but could not reach." + +The Ode to Aphrodite and the fragment to Anaktoria are too often found +in translations to be quoted here. Indeed, it is of but little use to +quote; for Sappho can be known only in her own language and by those who +will devote time to these inestimable fragments. Their beauty grows upon +us as we read; we catch in one the echo of a single tone, so sweet that +it needs no harmony; and again a few stray chords that haunt the ear and +fill us with an exquisite dissatisfaction; and yet again a grave and +stately measure such as her rebuke to Alkćus-- + + "Had thy desire been for what was good or noble and had not thy + tongue framed some evil speech, shame had not filled thine eyes--" + +MARY GREY. + + + + +THE SILENT CHIMES. + +RINGING AT MIDDAY. + + +It was an animated scene; and one you only find in England. The stubble +of the cornfields looked pale and bleak in the departing autumn, the +wind was shaking down the withered leaves from the trees, whose thinning +branches told unmistakably of the rapidly-advancing winter. But the day +was bright after the night's frost, and the sun shone on the glowing +scarlet coats of the hunting men, and the hounds barked in every variety +of note and leaped with delight in the morning air. It was the first run +of the season, and the sportsmen were fast gathering at the appointed +spot--a field flanked by a grove of trees called Poachers' Copse. + +Ten o'clock, the hour fixed for the throw-off, came and went, and still +Poachers' Copse was not relieved of its busy intruders. Many a gentleman +foxhunter glanced at his hunting-watch as the minutes passed, many a +burly farmer jerked his horse impatiently; while the grey-headed +huntsman cracked his long whip amongst his canine favourites and +promised them they should soon be on the scent. The delay was caused by +the non-arrival of the Master of the Hounds. + +But now all eyes were directed to a certain quarter, and by the +brightened looks and renewed stir, it might be thought that he was +appearing. A stranger, sitting his horse well and quietly at the edge of +Poachers' Copse, watched the newcomers as they came into view. Foremost +of them rode an elderly gentleman in scarlet, and by his side a young +lady who might be a few years past twenty. + +"Father and daughter, I'll vow," commented the stranger, noting that +both had the same well-carved features, the same defiant, haughty +expression, the same proud bearing. "What a grandly-handsome girl! And +he, I suppose, is the man we are waiting for. Is that the Master of the +Hounds?" he asked aloud of the horseman next him, who chanced to be +young Mr. Threpp. + +"No, sir, that is Captain Monk," was the answer. "They are saying yonder +that he has brought word the Master is taken ill and cannot hunt +to-day"--which proved to be correct. The Master had been taken with +giddiness when about to mount his horse. + +The stranger rode up to Captain Monk; judging him to be regarded--by the +way he was welcomed and the respect paid him--as the chief personage at +the meet, representing in a manner the Master. Lifting his hat, he +begged grace for having, being a stranger, come out, uninvited, to join +the field; adding that his name was Hamlyn and he was staying with Mr. +Peveril at Peacock's Range. + +Captain Monk wheeled round at the address; his head had been turned +away. He saw a tall, dark man of about five-and-thirty years, so dark +and sunburnt as to suggest ideas of his having recently come from a +warmer climate. His hair was black, his eyes were dark brown, his +features and manner prepossessing, and he spoke as a man accustomed to +good society. + +Captain Monk, lifting his hat in return, met him with cordiality. The +field was open to all, he said, but any friend of Peveril's would be +doubly welcome. Peveril himself was a muff, in so far as that he never +hunted. + +"Hearing there was to be a meet to-day, I could not resist the +temptation of joining it; it is many years since I had the opportunity," +remarked the stranger. + +There was not time for more, the hounds were throwing off. Away dashed +the Captain's steed, away dashed the stranger's, away dashed Miss +Monk's, the three keeping side by side. + +Presently came a fence. Captain Monk leaped it and galloped onwards +after the other red-coats. Miss Eliza Monk would have leaped it next, +but her horse refused it; yet he was an old hunter and she a fearless +rider. The stranger was waiting to follow her. A touch of the angry Monk +temper assailed her and she forced her horse to the leap. He had a +temper also; he did not clear it, and horse and rider came down +together. + +In a trice Mr. Hamlyn was off his own steed and raising her. She was not +hurt, she said, when she could speak; a little shaken, a little +giddy--and she leaned against the fence. The refractory horse, unnoticed +for the moment, got upon his legs, took the fence of his own accord and +tore away after the field. Young Mr. Threpp, who had been in some +difficulty with his own steed, rode up now. + +"Shall I ride back to the Hall and get the pony-carriage for you, Miss +Eliza?" asked the young man. + +"Oh, dear, no," she replied, "thank you all the same. I would prefer to +walk home." + +"Are you equal to the walk?" interposed the stranger. + +"Quite. The walk will do away with this faintness. It is not the first +fall I have had." + +The stranger whispered to young Mr. Threpp--who was as good-natured a +young fellow as ever lived. Would he consent to forego the sport that +day and lead his horse to Mr. Peveril's? If so, he would accompany the +young lady and give her the support of his arm. + +So William Threpp rode off, leading Mr. Hamlyn's horse, and Miss Monk +accepted the stranger's arm. He told her a little about himself as they +walked along. It might not have been an ominous commencement, but +intimacies have grown sometimes out of a slighter introduction. Their +nearest way led past the Vicarage. Mr. Grame saw them from its windows +and came running out. + +"Has any accident taken place?" he asked hurriedly. "I hope not." + +Eliza Monk's face flushed. He had been Lucy's husband several months +now, but she could not yet suddenly meet him without a thrill of +emotion. Lucy ran out next; the pretty young wife for whom she had been +despised. Eliza answered Mr. Grame curtly, nodded to Lucy, and passed +on. + +"And, as I was telling you," continued Mr. Hamlyn, "when this property +was left to me in England, I made it a plea for throwing up my post in +India, and came home. I landed about six weeks ago, and have been since +busy in London with lawyers. Peveril, whom I knew in the days gone by, +wrote to invite me to come to him here on a week's visit, before he and +his wife leave for the South of France." + +"They are going to winter there for Mrs. Peveril's health," observed +Eliza. "Peacock's Range, the place they live at, belongs to my cousin, +Harry Carradyne. Did I understand you to say that you were not an +Englishman?" + +"I was born in the West Indies. My family were English and had settled +there." + +"What a coincidence!" exclaimed Eliza Monk with a smile. "My mother was +a West Indian, and I was born there.--There's my home, Leet Hall!" + +"A fine old place," cried Mr. Hamlyn, regarding the mansion before him. + +"You may well say 'old,'" remarked the young lady. "It has been the +abode of the Monk family from generation to generation. For my part, I +sometimes half wish it would fall down that we might get away to a more +lively locality. Church Leet is a dead-alive place at best." + +"We always want what we have not," laughed Mr. Hamlyn. "I would give all +I am worth to possess an ancestral home, no matter if it were grim and +gloomy. We who can boast of only modern wealth look upon these family +castles with an envy you have little idea of." + +"If you possess modern wealth, you possess a very good and substantial +thing," she answered, echoing his laugh.--"Here comes my aunt, full of +wonder." + +Full of alarm also. Mrs. Carradyne stood on the terrace steps, asking if +there had been an accident. + +"Not much of one, Aunt Emma. Saladin refused the fence at Ring Gap, and +we both came down together. This gentleman was so obliging as to forego +his day's sport and escort me home. Mr.--Mr. Hamlyn, I believe?" she +added. "My aunt, Mrs. Carradyne." + +The stranger confirmed it. "Philip Hamlyn," he said to Mrs. Carradyne, +lifting his hat. + +Gaining the hall-door with slow and gentle steps came a young man, whose +beautiful features were wasting more perceptibly day by day, and their +hectic growing of a deeper crimson. "What is amiss, Eliza?" he cried. +"Have you come to grief? Where's Saladin?" + +"My brother," she said to Mr. Hamlyn. + +Yes, it was indeed Hubert Monk. For he did not die of that run to the +church the past New Year's Eve. The death-like faint proved to be a +faint, nothing more. Nothing more _then_. But something else was +advancing with gradual steps: steps that seemed to be growing almost +perceptible now. + +Now and again Hubert fainted in the same manner; his face taking a +death-like hue, the blue tinge surrounding his mouth. Captain Monk, +unable longer to shut his eyes to what might be impending, called in the +best medical advice that Worcestershire could afford; and the doctors +told him the truth--that Hubert's days were numbered. + +To say that Captain Monk began at once to "set his house in order" would +not be quite the right expression, since it was not he himself who was +going to die. But he set his affairs straight as to the future, and +appointed another heir in his son's place--his nephew, Harry Carradyne. + +Harry Carradyne, a brave young lieutenant, was then with his regiment in +some almost inaccessible fastness of the Indian Empire. Captain Monk +(not concealing his lamentation and the cruel grief it was to himself +personally) wrote word to him of the fiat concerning poor Hubert, +together with a peremptory order to sell out and return home as the +future heir. This was being accomplished, and Harry might now be +expected almost any day. + +But it may as well be mentioned that Captain Monk, never given to be +confidential about himself or his affairs, told no one what he had done, +with one exception. Even Mrs. Carradyne was ignorant of the change in +her son's prospects and of his expected return. The one exception was +Hubert. Soon to lose him, Captain Monk made more of his son than he had +ever done, and seemed to like to talk with him. + +"Harry will make a better master to succeed you than I should have made, +father," said Hubert, as they were slowly pacing home from the +parsonage, arm-in-arm, one dull November day, some little time after the +meet of the hounds, as recorded. It was surprising how often Captain +Monk would now encounter his son abroad, as if by accident, and give him +his arm home. + +"What d'ye mean?" wrathfully responded the Captain, who never liked to +hear his own children disparaged, by themselves or by anyone else. + +Hubert laughed a little. "Harry will look after things better than I +ever should. I was always given to laziness. Don't you remember, +father, when a little boy in the West Indies, you used to tell me I was +good for nothing but to bask in the heat?" + +"I remember one thing, Hubert; and, strange to say, have remembered it +only lately. Things lie dormant in the memory for years, and then crop +up again. Upon getting home from one of my long voyages, your mother +greeted me with the news that your heart was weak; the doctor had told +her so. I gave the fellow a trimming for putting so ridiculous a notion +into her head--and it passed clean out of mine. I suppose he was right, +though." + +"Little doubt of that, father. I wonder I have lived so long." + +"Nonsense!" exploded the Captain; "you may live on yet for years. I +don't know that I did not act foolishly in sending post-haste for Harry +Carradyne." + +Hubert smiled a sad smile. "You have done quite right, father; right in +all ways; be sure of that. Harry is one of the truest and best fellows +that ever lived: he will be a comfort to you when I am gone, and the +best of all successors later. Just--a--moment--father!" + +"Why, what's the matter?" cried Captain Monk--for his son had suddenly +halted and stood with a rapidly-paling face and shortened breath, +pressing his hands to his side. "Here, lean on me, lad; lean on me." + +It was a sudden faintness. Nothing very much, and it passed off in a +minute or two. Hubert made a brave attempt at smiling, and resumed his +way. But Captain Monk did not like it at all; he knew all these things +were but the beginning of the end. And that end, though not with actual +irreverence, he was resenting bitterly in his heart. + +"Who's that coming out?" he asked, crossly, alluding to some figure +descending the steps of his house--for his sight was not what it used to +be. + +"It is Mr. Hamlyn," said Hubert. + +"Oh--Hamlyn! He seems to be always coming in. I don't like that man +somehow, Hubert. Wonder what he's lagging in the neighbourhood for?" + +Hubert Monk had an idea that he could have told. But he did not want to +draw down an explosion on his own head. Mr. Hamlyn came to meet them +with friendly smiles and hand-shakes. Hubert liked him; liked him very +much. + +Not only had Mr. Hamlyn prolonged his stay beyond the "day or two" he +had originally come for, but he evinced no intention of leaving. When +Mr. Peveril and his wife departed for the south, he made a proposal to +remain at Peacock's Range for a time as their tenant. And when the +astonished couple asked his reasons, he answered that he should like to +get a few runs with the hounds. + + +II. + +The November days glided by. The end of the month was approaching, and +still Philip Hamlyn stayed on, and was a very frequent visitor at Leet +Hall. Little doubt that Miss Monk was his attraction, and the parish +began to say so without reticence. + +The parish was right. One fine, frosty morning Mr. Hamlyn sought an +interview with Captain Monk and laid before him his proposals for Eliza. + +One might have thought by the tempestuous words showered down upon him +in answer that he had proposed to smother her. Reproaches, hot and fast, +were poured forth upon the suitor's unlucky head. + +"Why, you are a stranger!" stormed the Captain; "you have not known her +a month! How dare you? It's not commonly decent." + +Mr. Hamlyn quietly answered that he had known her long enough to love +her, and went on to say that he came of a good family, had plenty of +money, and could make a liberal settlement upon her. + +"That you never will," said Captain Monk. "I should not like you for my +son-in-law," he continued candidly, calming down from his burst of +passion to the bounds of reason. "But there can be no question of it in +any way. Eliza is to become Lady Rivers." + +Mr. Hamlyn opened his eyes in astonishment. "Lady Rivers!" he echoed. +"Do you speak of Sir Thomas Rivers?--that old man!" + +"No, I do not, sir. Sir Thomas Rivers has one foot in the grave. I speak +of his eldest son. He wants her, and he shall have her." + +"Pardon me, Captain, I--I do not think Miss Monk can know anything of +this. I am sure she did not last night. I come to you with her full +consent and approbation." + +"I care nothing about that. My daughter is aware that any attempt to +oppose her will to mine would be utterly futile. Young Tom Rivers has +written to me to ask for her; I have accepted him, and I choose that she +shall accept him. She'll like it herself, too; it will be a good match." + +"Young Tom Rivers is next door to a simpleton: he is not half-baked," +retorted Mr. Hamlyn, his own temper getting up: "if I may judge by what +I've seen of him in the field." + +"Tom Rivers is a favourite everywhere, let me tell you, sir. Eliza would +not refuse him for you." + +"Perhaps, Captain Monk, you will converse with her upon this point?" + +"I intend to give her my orders--if that's what you mean," returned the +Captain. "And now, sir, I think our discussion may terminate." + +Mr. Hamlyn saw no use in prolonging it for the present. Captain Monk +bowed him out of the house and called his daughter into the room. + +"Eliza," he began, scorning to beat about the bush, "I have received an +offer of marriage for you." + +Miss Eliza blushed a little, not much: few things could make her do that +now. Once our blushes have been wasted, as hers were on Robert Grame, +their vivid freshness has faded for ever and aye. "The song has left the +bird." + +"And I have accepted it," continued Captain Monk. "He would like the +wedding to be early in the year, so you may get your rattletraps in +order for it. Tell your aunt I will give her a blank cheque for the +cost, and she may fill it in." + +"Thank you, papa." + +"There's the letter; you can read it"--pushing one across the table to +her. "It came by special messenger last night, and I have sent my answer +this morning." + +Eliza Monk glanced at the contents, which were written on rose-coloured +paper. For a moment she looked puzzled. + +"Why, papa, this is from Tom Rivers! You cannot suppose I would marry +_him_! A silly boy, younger than I am! Tom Rivers is the greatest goose +I know." + +"How dare you say so, Eliza?" + +"Well, he is. Look at his note! Pink paper and a fancy edge!" + +"Stuff! Rivers is young and inexperienced, but he'll grow older--he is a +very nice young fellow, and a capital fox-hunter. You'd be master and +mistress too--and that would suit your book, I take it. I want to have +you settled near me, see, Eliza--you are all I have left, or soon will +be." + +"But, papa--" + +Captain Monk raised his hand for silence. + +"You sent that man Hamlyn to me with a proposal for you. Eliza; you +_know_ that would not do. Hamlyn's property lies in the West Indies, his +home too, for all I know. He attempted to tell me that he would not take +you out there against my consent; but I know better, and what such +ante-nuptial promises are worth. It might end in your living there." + +"No, no." + +"What do you say 'no, no' for, like a parrot? Circumstances might compel +you. I do not like the man, besides." + +"But why, papa?" + +"I don't know; I have never liked him from the first. There! that's +enough. You must be my Lady Rivers. Poor old Tom is on his last legs." + +"Papa, I never will." + +"Listen, Eliza. I had one trouble with Katherine; I will not have +another with you. She defied me; she left my home rebelliously to enter +upon one of her own setting-up: what came of it? Did luck attend her? Do +you be more wise." + +"Father," she said, moving a step forward with head uplifted; and the +resolute, haughty look which rendered their faces so much alike was very +conspicuous on hers, "do not let us oppose each other. Perhaps we can +each give way a little? I have promised to be the wife of Philip Hamlyn, +and that promise I will fulfil. You wish me to live near you: well, he +can take a place in this neighbourhood and settle down in it; and on my +part, I will promise you not to leave this country. He may have to go +from time to time to the West Indies; I will remain at home." + +Captain Monk looked steadily at her before he answered. He marked the +stern, uncompromising expression, the strong will in the dark eyes and +in every feature, which no power, not even his, might unbend. He thought +of his elder daughter, now lying in her grave; he thought of his son, so +soon to be lying beside her; he did not care to be bereft of _all_ his +children, and for once in his hard life he attempted to conciliate. + +"Hark to me, Eliza. Give up Hamlyn--I have said I don't like the man; +give up Tom Rivers also, an' you will. Remain at home with me until a +better suitor shall present himself, and Leet Hall and its broad lands +shall be yours." + +She looked up in surprise. Leet Hall had always hitherto gone in the +male line; and, failing Hubert, it would be, or ought to be, Harry +Carradyne's. Though she knew not that any steps had already been taken +in that direction. + +"Leet Hall?" she exclaimed. + +"Leet Hall and its broad lands," repeated the Captain impatiently. "Give +up Mr. Hamlyn and it shall all be yours." + +She remained for some moments in deep thought, her head bent, revolving +the offer. She was fond of pomp and power, as her father had ever been, +and the temptation to rule as sole domineering mistress in her +girlhood's home was great. But at that very instant the tall fine form +of Philip Hamlyn passed across a pathway in the distance, and she turned +from the temptation for ever. What little capability of loving had been +left to her after the advent of Robert Grame was given to Mr. Hamlyn. + +"I cannot give him up," she said in low tones. + +"What moonshine, Eliza! You are not a love-sick girl now." + +The colour dyed her face painfully. Did her father suspect aught of the +past; of where her love _had_ been given--and rejected? The suspicion +only added fuel to the fire. + +"I cannot give up Mr. Hamlyn," she reiterated. + +"Then you will never inherit Leet Hall. No, nor aught else of mine." + +"As you please, sir, about that." + +"You set me at defiance, then!" + +"I don't wish to do so, father; but I shall marry Mr. Hamlyn." + +"At defiance," repeated the Captain, as she moved to escape from his +presence; "Katherine secretly, you openly. Better that I had never had +children. Look here, Eliza: let this matter remain in abeyance for six +or twelve months, things resting as they are. By that time you may have +come to your senses; or I (yes, I see you are ready to retort it) to +mine. If not--well, we shall only then be where we are." + +"And that we should be," returned Eliza, doggedly. "Time will never +change either of us." + +"But events may. Let it be so, child. Stay where you are for the +present, in your maiden home." + +She shook her head in denial; not a line of her proud face giving way, +nor a curve of her decisive lips: and Captain Monk knew that he had +pleaded in vain. She would neither give up her marriage nor prolong the +period of its celebration. + +What could be the secret of her obstinacy? Chiefly the impossibility of +tolerating opposition to her own indomitable will. It was her father's +will over again; his might be a very little softening with years and +trouble; not much. Had she been in desperate love with Hamlyn one could +have understood it, but she was not; at most it was but a passing fancy. +What says the poet? I daresay you all know the lines, and I know I have +quoted them times and again, they are so true: + + "Few hearts have never loved, but fewer still + Have felt a second passion. _None_ a third. + The first was living fire; the next a thrill; + The weary heart can never more be stirred: + Rely on it the song has left the bird." + +Very, very true. Her passion for Robert Grame had been as living fire in +its wild intensity; it was but the shadow of a thrill that warmed her +heart for Philip Hamlyn. Possibly she mistook it in a degree; thought +more of it than it was. The feeling of gratification which arises from +flattered vanity deceives a woman's heart sometimes: and Mr. Hamlyn did +not conceal his rapturous admiration of her. + +She held to her defiant course, and her father held to his. He did not +continue to say she should not marry; he had no power for that--and +perhaps he did not want her to make a moonlight escapade of it, as +Katherine had made. So the preparation for the wedding went on, Eliza +herself paying for the rattletraps, as they had been called; Captain +Monk avowed that he "washed his hands of it," and then held his peace. + +Whether Mr. Hamlyn and his intended bride considered it best to get the +wedding over and done with, lest adverse fate, set afoot by the Captain, +should, after all, circumvent them, it is impossible to say, but the day +fixed was a speedy one. And if Captain Monk had deemed it "not decent" +in Mr. Hamlyn to propose for a young lady after only a month's +knowledge, what did he think of this? They were to be married on the +last day of the year. + +Was it fixed upon in defiant mockery?--for, as the reader knows, it had +proved an ominous day more than once in the Monk family. But no, +defiance had no hand in that, simply adverse fate. The day originally +fixed by the happy couple was Christmas Eve: but Mr. Hamlyn, who had to +go to London about that time on business connected with his property, +found it impossible to get back for the day, or for some days after it. +He wrote to Eliza, asking that the day should be put off for a week, if +it made no essential difference, and fixed the last day in the year. +Eliza wrote word back that she would prefer that day; it gave more time +for preparation. + +They were to be married in her own church, and by its Vicar. Great +marvel existed at the Captain's permitting this, but he said nothing. +Having washed his hands of the affair, he washed them for good: had the +bride been one of the laundry-maids in his household he could not have +taken less notice. A Miss Wilson was coming from a little distance to be +bridesmaid; and the bride and bridegroom would go off from the church +door. The question of a breakfast was never mooted: Captain Monk's +equable indifference might not have stood that. + +"I shall wish them good-luck with all my heart--but I don't feel +altogether sure they'll have it!" bewailed poor Mrs. Carradyne in +private. "Eliza should have agreed to the delay proposed by her father." + + +III. + +Ring, ring, ring, broke forth the chimes on the frosty midday air. Not +midnight, you perceive, but midday, for the church clock had just given +forth its twelve strokes. Another round of the dial, and the old year +would have departed into the womb of the past. + +Bowling along the smooth turnpike road which skirted the churchyard on +one side came a gig containing a gentleman; a tall, slender, +frank-looking young man, with a fair face and the pleasantest blue eyes +ever seen. He wore a white top-coat, the fashion then, and was driving +rapidly in the direction of Leet Hall; but when the chimes burst forth +he pulled up abruptly. + +"Why, what in the world?--" he began--and then sat still listening to +the sweet strains of "The Bay of Biscay." The day, though in mid-winter, +was bright and beautiful, and the golden sunlight, shining from the +dark-blue sky, played on the young man's golden hair. + +"Have they mistaken midday for midnight?" he continued, as the chimes +played out their tune and died away on the air. "What's the meaning of +it?" + +He, Harry Carradyne, was not the only one to ask this. No human being in +and about Church Leet, save Captain Monk and they who executed his +orders, knew that he had decreed that the chimes should play that day +at midday. Why did he do it? What could his motive be? Surely not that +they should, by playing (according to Mrs. Carradyne's theory), +inaugurate ill-luck for Eliza! At the moment they began to play she was +coming out of church on Mr. Hamlyn's arm, having left her maiden name +behind her. + +A few paces more, for he was driving gently on now, and Harry pulled up +again, in surprise, as before, for the front of the church was now in +view. Lots of spectators, gentle and simple, stood about, and a handsome +chariot, with four post horses and a great coat-of-arms emblazoned on +its panels, waited at the church gate. + +"It must be a wedding!" decided Harry. + +The next moment the chariot was in motion; was soon about to pass him, +the bride and bridegroom inside it. A very dark but good-looking man, +with an air of command in his face, he, but a stranger to Harry; she, +Eliza. She wore a grey silk dress, a white bonnet, with orange blossoms +and a veil, which was quite the fashionable wedding attire of the day. +Her head was turned, nodding its farewells yet to the crowd, and she did +not see her cousin as the chariot swept by. + +"Dear me!" he exclaimed, mentally. "I wonder who she has married?" + +Staying quietly where he was until the spectators should have dispersed, +whose way led them mostly in opposite directions, Harry next saw the +clerk come out of the church by the small vestry door, lock it and cross +over to the stile; which brought him out close to the gig. + +"Why, my heart alive!" he exclaimed. "Is it Captain Carradyne?" + +"That's near enough," said Harry, who knew the title was accorded him by +the rustic natives of Church Leet, as he bent down with his sunny smile +to shake the old clerk's hand. "You are hearty as ever, I see, John. And +so you have had a wedding here?" + +"Ay, sir, there have been one in the church. I was not in my place, +though. The Captain, he ordered me to let the church go for once, and to +be ready up aloft in the belfry to set the chimes going at midday. As +chance had it, the party came out just at the same time; Miss Eliza was +a bit late in coming, ye see; so it may be said the chimes rang 'em out. +I guess the sound astonished the people above a bit, for nobody knew +they were going to play." + +"But how was it all, Cale? Why should the Captain order them to chime at +midday?" + +John Cale shook his head. "I can't tell ye that rightly, Mr. Harry; the +Captain, as ye know, sir, never says why he does this or why he does +t'other. Young William Threpp, who had to be up there with me, thought +he must have ordered 'em to play in mockery--for he hates the marriage +like poison." + +"Who is the bridegroom?" + +"It's a Mr. Hamlyn, sir. A gentleman who is pretty nigh as haughty as +the Captain himself; but a pleasant-spoken, kindly man, as far as I've +seen: and a rich one, too." + +"Why did Captain Monk object to him?" + +"It's thought 'twas because he was a stranger to the place and has lived +over in the Indies; and he wanted Miss Eliza, so it's said, to have +young Tom Rivers. That's about it, I b'lieve, Mr. Harry." + +Harry Carradyne drove away thoughtfully. At the foot of the slight +ascent leading to Leet Hall, one of the grooms happened to be standing. +Harry handed over to him the horse and gig, and went forward on foot. + +"Bertie!" he called out. For he had seen Hubert before him, walking at a +snail's pace: the very slightest hill tried him now. The only one left +of the wedding-party, for the bridesmaid drove off from the church door. +Hubert turned at the call. + +"Harry! Why, Harry!" + +Hand locked in hand, they sat down on a bench beside the path; face +gazing into face. There had always been a likeness between them: in the +bright-coloured, waving hair, the blue eyes and the well-favoured +features. But Harry's face was redolent of youth and health; in the +other's might be read approaching death. + +"You are very thin, Bertie; thinner even than I expected to see, you," +broke from the traveller involuntarily. + +"_You_ are looking well, at any rate," was Hubert's answer. "And I am so +glad you are come: I thought you might have been here a month ago." + +"The voyage was unreasonably long; we had contrary winds almost from +port to port. I got on to Worcester yesterday, slept there, and hired a +horse and gig to bring me over this morning. What about Eliza's wedding, +Hubert? I was just in time to see her drive away. Cale, with whom I had +a word down yonder, says the master does not like it." + +"He does not like it and would not countenance it: washed his hands of +it (as he told us) altogether." + +"Any good reason for that?" + +"Not particularly good, that I see. Somehow he disliked Hamlyn; and Tom +Rivers wanted Eliza, which would have pleased him greatly. But Eliza was +not without blame. My father gave way so far as to ask her to delay +things for a few months, not to marry in a hurry, and she would not. She +might have conceded as much as that." + +"Did you ever know Eliza concede anything, Bertie?" + +"Well, not often." + +"Who gave her away?" + +"I did: look at my gala toggery"--opening his overcoat. "He wanted to +forbid it. 'Don't hinder me, father,' I pleaded; 'it is the last +brotherly service I can ever render her.' And so," his tone changing to +lightness, "I have been and gone and done it." + +Harry Carradyne understood. "Not the last, Hubert; don't say that. I +hope you will live to render her many another yet." + +Hubert smiled faintly. "Look at me," he said in answer. + +"Yes, I know; I see how you look. But you may take a turn yet." + +"Ah, miracles are no longer wrought for us. Shall I surprise you very +much, cousin mine, if I say that were the offer made me of prolonged +life, I am not sure that I should accept it?" + +"Not unless health were renewed with it; I can understand that. You have +had to endure suffering, Bertie." + +"Ay. Pain, discomfort, fears, weariness. After working out their torment +upon me, they--why then they took a turn and opened out the vista of a +refuge." + +"A refuge?" + +"The one sure Refuge offered by God to the sick and sorrowful, the weary +and heavy-laden--Himself. I found it. I found _Him_, and all His +wonderful mercy. It will not be long now, Harry, before I see Him face +to face. And here comes His true minister but for whom I might have +missed the way." + +Harry turned his head, and saw, advancing up the drive, a good-looking +young clergyman. "Who is it?" he involuntarily cried. + +"Your brother-in-law, Robert Grame. Lucy's husband." + +It was not the fashion in those days for a bride's mother (or one acting +as her mother) to attend the bride to church; therefore Mrs. Carradyne, +following it, was spared risk of conflict with Captain Monk on that +score. She was in Eliza's room, assisting at the putting on of the +bridal robes (for we have to go back an hour or so) when a servant came +up to say that Mr. Hamlyn waited below. Rather wondering--for he was to +have driven straight to the church--Mrs. Carradyne went downstairs. + +"Pardon me, dear Mrs. Carradyne," he said, as he shook hands, and she +had never seen him look so handsome, "I could not pass the house without +making one more effort to disarm Captain Monk's prejudices, and asking +for his blessing on us. Do you think he will consent to see me?" + +Mrs. Carradyne felt sure he would not, and said so. But she sent Rimmer +to the library to ask the question. Mr. Hamlyn pencilled down a few +anxious words on paper, folded it, and put it into the man's hand. + +No; it proved useless. Captain Monk was harder than adamant; he sent +Rimmer back with a flea in his ear, and the petition torn in two. + +"I feared so," sighed Mrs. Carradyne. "He will not this morning see even +Eliza." + +Mr. Hamlyn did not sigh in return; he spoke a cross, impatient word: he +had never been able to see reason in the Captain's dislike to him, and, +with a brief good-morning, went out to his carriage. But, remembering +something when crossing the hall, he came back. + +"Forgive me, Mrs. Carradyne; I quite forgot that I have a note for you. +It is from Mrs. Peveril, I believe; it came to me this morning, enclosed +in a letter of her husband's." + +"You have heard at last, then!" + +"At last--as you observe. Though Peveril had nothing particular to write +about; I daresay he does not care for letter writing." + +Slipping the note into her pocket, to be opened at leisure, Mrs. +Carradyne returned to the adorning of Eliza. Somehow, it was rather a +prolonged business--which made it late when the bride with her +bridesmaid and Hubert drove from the door. + +Mrs. Carradyne remained in the room--to which Eliza was not to +return--putting this up, and that. The time slipped on, and it was close +upon twelve o'clock when she got back to the drawing-room. Captain Monk +was in it then, standing at the window; which he had thrown wide open. +To see more clearly the bridal party come out of the church, was the +thought that crossed Mrs. Carradyne's mind in her simplicity. + +"I very much feared they would be late," she observed, sitting down near +her brother: and at that moment the church clock began to strike twelve. + +"A good thing if they were _too_ late!" he answered. "Listen." + +She supposed he wanted to count the strokes--what else could he be +listening to? And now, by the stir at the distant gates, she saw that +the bridal party had come out. + +"Good heavens, what's that?" shrieked Mrs. Carradyne, starting from her +chair. + +"The chimes," stoically replied the Captain. And he proceeded to hum +through the tune of "The Bay of Biscay," and beat a noiseless +accompaniment with his foot. + +"_The Chimes_, Emma," he repeated, when the melody had finished itself +out. "I ordered them to be played. It's the last day of the old year, +you know." + +Laughing slightly at her consternation, Captain Monk closed the window +and quitted the room. As Mrs. Carradyne took her handkerchief from her +pocket to pass it over her face, grown white with startled terror, the +note she had put there came out also, and fell on the carpet. + +Picking it up, she stood at the window, gazing forth. Her sight was not +what it used to be; but she discerned the bride and bridegroom enter +their carriage and drive away; next she saw the bridesmaid get into the +carriage from the Hall, assisted by Hubert, and that drive off in its +turn. She saw the crowd disperse, this way and that; she even saw the +gig there, its occupant talking with John Cale. But she did not look at +him particularly; and she had not the slightest idea but that Harry was +in India. + +And all that time an undercurrent of depression was running riot in her +heart. None knew with what a strange terror she had grown to dread the +chimes. + +She sat down now and opened Mrs. Peveril's note. It treated chiefly of +the utterly astounding ways that untravelled old lady was meeting with +in foreign parts. "If you will believe me," wrote she, "the girl that +waits on us wears carpet slippers down at heel, and a short cotton +jacket for best, and she puts the tea-tray before me with the handle of +the teapot turned to me and the spout standing outwards, and she comes +right into the bed-room of a morning with Charles's shaving-water +without knocking." But the one sentence that arrested Mrs. Carradyne's +attention above any other was the following: "I reckon that by this time +you have grown well acquainted with our esteemed young friend. He is a +good, kindly gentleman, and I'm sure never could have done anything to +deserve his wife's treatment of him." + +"Can she mean Mr. Hamlyn?" debated Mrs. Carradyne, all sorts of ideas +leaping into her mind with a rush. "If not--what other 'esteemed friend' +can she allude to?--_she_, old herself, would call _him_ young. But Mr. +Hamlyn has not any wife. At least, had not until to-day." + +She read the note over again. She sat with it open, buried in a reverie, +thinking no end of things, good and bad: and the conclusion she at last +came to was, that, with the unwonted exercise of letter-writing, poor +old Mrs. Peveril's head had grown confused. + +"Well, Hubert, did it all go off well?" she questioned, as her nephew +entered the room, some sort of excitement on his wasted face. "I saw +them drive away." + +"Yes, it went off well; there was no hitch anywhere," replied Hubert. +"But, Aunt Emma, I have brought a friend home with me. Guess who it is." + +"Some lady or other who came to see the wedding," she returned. "I can't +guess." + +"You never would, though I were to give you ten guesses; no, though je +vous donne en mille, as the French have it. What should you say to a +young man come all the way over seas from India? There, that's as good +as telling you, Aunt Emma. Guess now." + +"Oh, Hubert!" clasping her trembling hands. "It cannot be Harry! What is +wrong?" + +Harry brought his bright face into the room and was clasped in his +mother's arms. She could not understand it one bit, and fears assailed +her. Come home in _this_ unexpected manner! Had he left the army? What +had he done? _What_ had he done? Hubert laughed and told her then. + +"He has done nothing wrong; everything that's good. He has sold out at +my father's request and left with honours--and is come home, the heir of +Leet Hall. I said all along it was a shame to keep you out of the plot, +Aunt Emma." + +Well, it was glorious news for her. But, as if to tarnish its delight, +like an envious sprite of evil, deep down in her mind lay that other +news, just read--the ambiguous remark of old Mrs. Peveril's. + + +IV. + +The walk on the old pier was pleasant enough in the morning sun. Though +yet but the first month in the year, the days were bright, the blue +skies without a cloud. Mr. and Mrs. Hamlyn had enjoyed the fine weather +at Cheltenham for a week or two; from that pretty place they had now +come to Brighton, reaching it the previous night. + +"Oh, it is delightful!" exclaimed Eliza, gazing at the waves. She had +not seen the sea since she crossed it, a little girl, from the West +Indies. Those were not yet the days when all people, gentle and simple, +told one another that an autumn tour was essential to existence. "Look +at the sunbeams sparkling on the ripples and on the white sails of the +little boats! Philip, I should like to spend a month here." + +"All right," replied Mr. Hamlyn. + +They were staying at the Old Ship, a fashionable hotel then for ladies +as well as gentlemen, and had come out after breakfast; and they had the +pier nearly to themselves at that early hour. A yellow, gouty gentleman, +who looked as if he had quarrelled with his liver in some clime all fire +and cayenne, stood at the end leaning on his stick, alternately looking +at the sea and listlessly watching any advancing stragglers. + +There came a sailor, swaying along, a rope in his hand; following him, +walked demurely three little girls in frocks and trousers, with their +French governess; then came two eye-glassed young men, dandyfied and +supercilious, who appeared to have more money than brains--and the +jaundiced man went into a gaping fit of lassitude. + +Anyone else coming? Yes; a lady and gentleman arm-in-arm: quiet, +well-dressed, good-looking. As the invalid watched their approach, a +puzzled look of doubt and surprise rose to his countenance. Moving +forward a step or two on his gouty legs, he spoke. + +"Can it be possible, Hamlyn, that we meet here?" + +Even through his dark skin a red flush coursed into Mr. Hamlyn's face. +He was evidently very much surprised in his turn, if not startled. + +"Captain Pratt!" he exclaimed. + +"Major Pratt now," was the answer, as they shook hands. "That wretched +climate played the deuce with me, and they graciously gave me a step and +allowed me to retire upon it. The very deuce, I assure you, Philip. Beg +pardon, ma'am," he added seeing the lady look at him. + +"My wife, Mrs. Hamlyn," spoke her husband. + +Major Pratt contrived to lift his hat, and bow: which feat, what with +his gouty hands and his helpless legs and his great invalid stick, was a +work of time. "I saw your marriage in _The Times_, Hamlyn, and wondered +whether it could be you, or not: I didn't know, you see, that you were +over here. Wish you luck; and you also, ma'am. Hope it will turn out +more fortunate for you, Philip, than--" + +"Where are you staying?" broke in Mr. Hamlyn, as if something were +frightening him. + +"At some lodgings over yonder, where they fleece me," replied the Major. +"You should see the bill they've brought me in for last week. They've +made me eat four pounds of butter and five joints of meat, besides +poultry and pickles and a fruit pie! Why, I live mostly upon dry toast; +hardly dare touch an ounce of meat in a day. When I had 'em up before +me, the harpies, they laid it upon my servant's appetite--old Saul, you +know. _He_ answered them." + +Mrs. Hamlyn laughed. "There are two articles that are very convenient, +as I have heard, to some of the lodging-house keepers: their lodgers' +servant, and their own cat." + +"By Jove, ma'am, yes!" said the Major. "But I've given warning to this +lot where I am." + +Saying au revoir to Major Pratt, Mr. Hamlyn walked down the pier again +with his wife. "Who is he, Philip?" she asked. "You seem to know him +well." + +"Very well. He is a sort of connection of mine, I believe," laughed Mr. +Hamlyn, "and I saw a good deal of him in India a few years back. He is +greatly changed. I hardly think I should have known him had he not +spoken. It's his liver, I suppose." + +Leaving his wife at the hotel, Mr. Hamlyn went back again to Major +Pratt, much to the lonely Major's satisfaction, who was still leaning on +his substantial stick as he gazed at the water. + +"The sight of you has brought back to my mind all that unhappy business, +Hamlyn," was his salutation. "I shall have a fit of the jaundice now, I +suppose! Here--let's sit down a bit." + +"And the sight of you has brought it to mine," said Mr. Hamlyn, as he +complied. "I have been striving to drive it out of my remembrance." + +"I know little about it," observed the Major. "She never wrote to me at +all afterwards, and you wrote me but two letters: the one announcing the +fact of her disgrace; the other, the calamity and the deaths." + +"That is quite enough to know; don't ask me to go over the details to +you personally," said Mr. Hamlyn in a tone of passionate discomfort. "So +utterly repugnant to me is the remembrance altogether, that I have +never spoken of it--even to my present wife." + +"Do you mean you've not told her you were once a married man?" cried +Major Pratt. + +"No, I have not." + +"Then you've shown a lack of judgment which I wouldn't have given you +credit for, my friend," declared the Major. "A man may whisper to his +girl any untoward news he pleases of his past life, and she'll forgive +and forget; aye, and worship him all the more for it, though it were the +having set fire to a church: but if he keeps it as a bonne bouchée to +drop out after marriage, when she has him fast and tight, she'll +curry-comb his hair for him in style. Believe that." + +Mr. Hamlyn laughed. + +"There never was a hidden skeleton between man and wife yet but it came +to light sooner or later," went on the Major. "If you are wise, you will +tell her at once, before somebody else does." + +"What 'somebody?' Who is there here that knows it?" + +"Why, as to 'here,' I know it, and nearly spoke of it before her, as you +must have heard; and my servant knows it. That's nothing, you'll say; we +can be quiet, now I have the cue: but you are always liable to meet with +people who knew you in those days, and who knew _her_. Take my advice, +Philip Hamlyn, and tell your wife. Go and do it now." + +"I daresay you are right," said the younger man, awaking out of a +reverie. "Of the two evils it may be the lesser." And with lagging +steps, and eyes that seemed to have weights to them, he set out to walk +back to the Old Ship Hotel. + +JOHNNY LUDLOW. + + + + +THE BRETONS AT HOME. + +BY CHARLES W. WOOD, F.R.G.S., AUTHOR OF "THROUGH HOLLAND," "LETTERS FROM +MAJORCA," ETC. ETC. + + +The English courage and constitution, for which Madame Hellard of the +Hôtel d'Europe professed so much admiration, carried us through the +ordeal of a sound drenching. Perhaps our escape was partly due to +firmness of will, which goes for much; perhaps in part to the dose of +strong waters added to the black coffee our loquacious but interesting +hostess at the little auberge by the river-side had brewed for us. + +[Illustration: ST. POL DE LÉON.] + +"Had we been to Roscoff?" she had asked us on that memorable afternoon, +when the clouds opened all their waterspouts and threatened the world +with a second deluge. And we had replied that we had not seen Roscoff, +but hoped to do so the following day, wind and weather permitting. Not +that we had to reach Roscoff by water; but the elements can make +themselves quite as disagreeable on land as at sea: and like the Marines +might take for their motto, PER MARE, PER TERRAM. + +The next day wind and weather were not permitting. Madame Hellard +clasped her hands with a favourite and pathetic gesture that would melt +the hardest heart and dispose it to grant the most outrageous request. +She bemoaned our fate and the uncertainty of the Breton climate. + +"Enfin!" she concluded, "the climate of la Petite Bretagne is very much +the same as that of la Grande Bretagne, from all I have heard. You must +be accustomed to these variations. When the Saxons came over and +settled here centuries and centuries ago, and peopled our little +country, they brought their weather with them. It has never changed. +Like the Breton temperament, it is founded upon a rock--though I often +wish it were a little more pliable and responsive. Changes are good +sometimes. I am not of those who think what is must always be best. If I +were in your Parliament--but you don't have ladies in your Parliament, +though they seem to have a footing everywhere else--I should be a +Liberal; without going too far, bien-intendu; I am all for progress, but +with moderation." + +To-day there seemed no prospect of even moderately fine weather, and we +could only improve our time by cultivating the beauties of Morlaix under +weeping skies. + +Its quaint old streets certainly have an unmistakable, an undying charm, +which seems to be in touch with all seasons. Blue skies will light them +up and cause them to stand out with almost a joyous air; the declining +sun will illumine their latticed panes with a fire and flame mysterious +with the weight of generations; strong lights and shadows will be thrown +by gables and deep recesses, and sculptured porches; by the "aprons" +that protect the carven beams, and the eaves that stand out so strongly +in outline against the background of the far-off sky. And if those skies +are sad and sorrowful, immediately the quaint houses put on all the +dignity of age: from every gable end, from every lattice, every niche +and grotesque, the rain trickles and falls, and they, too, you would +say, are weeping for their lost youth. + +But they are too old to do that. It is not the very aged who weep for +their early days; they have forgotten what is now too far off to be +realised. They weep who stand upon the boundary line separating youth +from age; who at once look behind and beyond: look back with longing +upon the glow and romance which have not yet died out of the heart, and +forward into the future where romance can have no place, and nothing is +visible excepting what has been called the calmness and repose of old +age. + + "There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away, + When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's dull decay; + 'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone which fades so fast, + But the bloom of early youth is gone ere youth itself be past." + +The reader will probably quote the remainder for himself; Byron never +wrote truer or sadder lines. And we all know of a great man in history +who, at eighty years old, turned to his friend and, pointing to a young +chimney-sweeper, exclaimed: "I would give my wealth, fame, coronet--all, +to be once more that boy's age, even if I must take his place!" One of +the saddest sentences, perhaps, that one of eighty could utter. + +To-day every house was weeping. Even the women who kept the stalls in +the covered market-place dispensed their butter and poultry, their +fruit and flowers, with a melancholy air, and looked as if they had not +the courage to keep up the prices. Ladies and housekeepers wandered from +stall to stall followed by their maids, a few of whom wore picturesque +caps, conspicuous in their rarity: for even Breton stubbornness has +yielded very much, where, for once, it should have been firm as a rock, +and it is only in the remoter districts that costume is still general. +We were invited to many purchases as we looked around, and had we +yielded to all might have stocked Madame Hellard's larder to +overflowing: a very unnecessary attention, for the table is kept on the +most liberal principles. + +It was really alarming to see the quantity that some of the Bretons +managed to appropriate in an incredibly short space of time at the table +d'hôte. H.C., who was accustomed to the ćsthetic table of his aunt, Lady +Maria, more than once had to retire to his room, and recover his +composure, and wonder whether his own appetite would ever return to him. +And once or twice when I unfeelingly drew attention to an opposite +neighbour and wondered what Lady Maria would say to it, he could only +reply by a dismal groan which caused the opposite neighbour for a moment +to arrest his mission of destruction and stare. + +On the second occasion that it happened he called up the head +waitress--they were all women who served in the room--and asked her if +the "Monsieur Anglais vis-ŕ-vis" was not ill. + +"He looks pale and thin," he added, feelingly, and might well think so, +placed in juxtaposition with himself, for he was large and round, with +cheeks, as Tony Lumpkin would have said, broad and red as a pulpit +cushion. It was simply cause and effect. + +In his case, too, the cause was not confined to eating. Two bottles of +the white wine, supplied gratis in unlimited quantities at the table +d'hôte disappeared during the repast; and we began to think of Mr. +Weller senior, the tea-party, and the effect of the unlimited cups upon +Mr. Stiggins. "I come from Quimper," we heard the Breton say on one +occasion to his next-door neighbour, "and I think it the best town in +France, not excepting Paris. Where do you come from?" + +"From Rouen," replied the neighbour, a far more refined specimen of +humanity, who spoke in quiet tones. "I am not a Breton." + +"So much the worse for you," returned our modern Daniel Lambert +unceremoniously. "The French would beat the world, and the Bretons would +beat the French. Then I suppose you don't deal in horses?" + +"No," with an amused smile. "I am only a humble architect." But we +discovered afterwards that he was celebrated all over France. +Travelling, no less than adversity, makes us acquainted with strange +bedfellows. + +The head waitress was a very interesting character, much older than the +other waitresses, whom she took under her wing with a species of +hen-like protection, keeping them well up to their duties, and rating +them soundly where they failed. She was a Bretonne, but of the better +type, with sharp, clearly-cut features, and eyes full of vivacity, that +seemed in all places at once. She wore list shoes, and would flit like a +phantom from one end of the room to the other, her cap-strings flying +behind her, directing, surveying all. Very independent, too, was she, +and evidently held certain of her guests in sovereign contempt. + +"This terrible fair!" she would say, "which lasts three days, and gives +us no rest and no peace; and one or two of those terrible dealers, who +have a greater appetite than their own cattle, and would eat from six +o'clock until midnight, if one only let them! Monsieur Hellard loses +pretty well by some of them; I am sure of it!" + +The lift which brought things up from the kitchen was at the end of the +room, and every now and then she would go to it, and in a shrill voice, +which seemed to penetrate to very far-off regions--Halls of Eblis or +caverns measureless to man--cry out "LÂ SUITE!" the _a_ very much +_circumflexed_ with true Breton pronunciation. + +It was amusing, occasionally, when a certain dish was sent up that in +some way or other did not please her, to hear it sent down again in the +return lift accompanied by a reprimand that was very much to the point, +and was audible to the assembled room. The whole table on those +occasions would break into laughter, for her reprimand was always spiced +with inimitable humour, which penetrated even the impervious Breton +intellect. + +Then she would fly down the room with the dish returned to her +satisfaction, a suppressed smile lurking about the corners of her mouth, +and, addressing the table at large with a freedom that only the French +can assume without familiarity, exclaim: "It is not because some of you +give the chef too much to do, with your enormous capacities, that I am +going to allow him to neglect his work." And the table would laugh again +and applaud Catherine, the head waitress. For she was very capable and +therefore very popular, as ministering well to their wants. And the +Breton temperament is seldom sensitive. + +She had her favourites, to whom she was devoted, making no secret of her +preference. We were amongst the fortunate, and soon fell into her good +graces. Woe betide anyone who attempted to appropriate our seats before +we entered; or a waitress who brought us the last remnants of a +dish--for nothing seemed to escape her observation. She was most +concerned about H.C.'s want of appetite and ethereal +appearance--certainly a startling contrast to some of her experiences. + +[Illustration: CREISKER, ST. POL DE LÉON.] + +"Monsieur hasn't the appetite of a lark," she complained to me one +morning. "Tell him that the Breton climate is as difficult to fight as +the Breton soldier; and if he does not eat, he will be washed away by +the rains. WHAT EYES!" she exclaimed; "quite the eyes of a poet. I am +sure monsieur is a poet. Have I not reason?" + +Thus proving herself even more that an excellent waitress--a woman of +penetration. + +We have said that the day after our aquatic adventure at the little inn +by the river-side, "Au retour de la Pęche," the rain came down with +vengeance. There was no doubt about its energy; and this, at least, was +consoling. Nothing is more annoying than your uncertain morning, when +you don't know whether to start or stay at home. On these occasions, +whichever you do turns out a mistake. + +But the following day our patience was rewarded by bright sunshine and +blue skies. "The very day for Roscoff," said Madame Hellard; "though I +cannot think why you are determined to pay it a visit. There is +absolutely nothing to see. It is a sad town, and its streets are given +over to melancholy. Of course, you will take St. Pol de Léon on your +way. It is equally quiet, and even less picturesque." + +This was not very encouraging, but we have learned to beware of other +people's opinions: they often praise what is worthless, and pass over +delights and treasures in absolute silence. + +So, remembering this, we entered the hotel omnibus with our sketching +materials and small cameras, and struggled up the hill to the railway +station and the level of the huge viaduct. + +On our way we passed the abode of our refined and interesting +antiquarian. He was standing at his door, the same patient look upon his +beautiful face, the same resigned attitude. He caught sight of us and +woke up out of a reverie. His spirit always seemed taking some far-off +flight. + +"Ces messieurs are not leaving?" he cried, for we passed slowly and +close to him. There was evidence of slight anxiety or disappointment in +his tone; the crucifix yet hung on his walls, and H.C.'s mind still +hovered in the balance. + +"No," we replied. "We are going to Roscoff, and shall be back to-night." + +"Roscoff? It is lovely," he said. "I know you will like it. But it is +very quiet, and only appeals to the artistic temperament. You will see +few shops there; no antiquarians; and the people are stupid. Still, the +place is remarkable." + +The omnibus passed on and we were soon steaming away from Morlaix. + +It was a desperately slow train. The surrounding country was not very +interesting, but the journey, fortunately, was short. As we passed the +celebrated St. Pol de Léon on the way, we decided to take it first. +Roscoff was the terminus, and appeared like the ends of the earth at the +very extreme point of land, jutting into the sea and looking out upon +the English Channel. If vision could have reached so far, we might have +seen the opposite English coast, and peered right into Plymouth Sound; +where, the last time that we climbed its heights straight from the +hospitality of a delightful cruise in a man-of-war, the band of the +Marine Artillery was ravishing all ears and discoursing sweet music in a +manner that few bands could rival. + +We approached St. Pol de Léon, which may be described as an +ecclesiastical, almost a dead city. But how glorious and interesting +some of these dead cities are, with their silent streets and their +remnants of the past! The shadow of death seems upon them, and they +impress you with a mute eloquence more thrilling and effective than the +greatest oration ever listened to. + +As we approached St. Pol, which lay half a mile or so from the railway, +its churches and towers were so disposed that the place looked like one +huge ecclesiastical building. These stood out with wonderful effect and +clearness against the background of the sky. + +We left the station, and thought we might as well use the omnibus in +waiting. It was small and held about four passengers. As soon as we had +taken our seats two fat priests came up and entered. We felt rather +crowded, and, like the moping owl, resented the intrusion; but when +three stout ladies immediately followed, and looked appealingly at the +state of affairs, it was too much. We gave up our seats and walked; and +presently the omnibus passed us, one of the ladies having wedged herself +in by a miracle between the priests. It would take a yet greater miracle +to unpack them again. The driver looked round with a smile--he had +admitted us into the omnibus and released us--and, pointing to the roof +with his whip, humorously exclaimed: "Complęt!" + +The towers and steeples of St. Pol de Léon raised themselves mightily in +front of us as we walked, beautiful and imposing. The town dates back to +the sixth century, and though once important, is now almost deserted. +Pol, or Paul, a monk, who, according to one tradition was Welsh, +according to another Cornish, went over to a neighbouring island about +the year 530 and there established a monastery. He became so famous for +his piety that a Breton king founded a bishopric at Léon, and presented +him with the mitre. The name of the town was then changed to St. Pol de +Léon. His successors were men distinguished for their goodness, and St. +Pol became one of the most famous ecclesiastical towns in Brittany. +Churches were built, monasteries and convents were founded. + +In course of time its reputation for wealth excited the envy of the +Counts of Léon, and in 875 the Normans came down upon it, pillaged the +town and devastated the cathedral. It was one of those Counts of Léon +who so vigorously claimed his rights "de bris et d'épaves"--the laws of +flotsam and jetsam--esteeming priceless as diamonds certain rocks upon +which vessels were frequently wrecked. This law, rigorously enforced +through long ages, has now almost died out. + +In the fourteenth century du Guesclin took possession of the town in +the name of Charles V., but the French garrison was put to the sword by +the barbarous Duke John IV. of Brittany in the year 1374. In 1590 the +inhabitants of the town joined a plot formed for their emancipation, and +the neighbouring villages rose up in insurrection against an army of +three hundred thousand men raised by the Convention. The rebels were +conquered after two disastrous battles--one within, the other without +the town--when an immense number of the peasants were slain. + +Seeing it to-day, no one would imagine that it had once passed such +stirring times: had once been a place of importance, wealth, and envy. +Its streets are deserted, its houses grey and sad-looking. The place +seems lifeless. The shadows cast by the sun fall athwart the silent, +grass-grown streets, and have it all their own way. During our short +visit I do not think we met six people. Yet the town has seven thousand +inhabitants. Some we saw within their houses; and here and there the +sound of the loom broke the deadly silence, and in small cottages +pale-faced men bent laboriously over their shuttles. The looms were +large and seemed to take up two-thirds of the room, which was evidently +the living-room also. Many were furnished with large open cabinets or +wardrobes carved in Breton work, rough but genuine. + +Passing up the long narrow street leading to the open and deserted +market-place, the Chapelle de Creisker rises before you with its +wonderful clock-tower that is still the pride of the town. The original +chapel, according to tradition, was founded by a young girl whom St. +Kirec, Archdeacon of Léon in the sixth century, had miraculously cured +of paralysis; but the greater part of the present chapel, including the +tower and spire, was built towards the end of the fourteenth century, by +John IV., Duke of Brittany. The porches are fifteenth century; the north +porch, in the Flamboyant style, being richly decorated with figures and +foliage deeply and elaborately carved. On the south side are six +magnificent windows, unfortunately not filled in with magnificent glass. +The interior possesses nothing remarkable, excepting its fine rose +window and the opposite east window, distinguished for their size and +tracery. + +The tower is its glory. It is richly ornamented, and surmounted by a +cornice so projecting that, until the eye becomes accustomed to it, the +slender tower beneath seems overweighted: an impression not quite lost +at a first visit. The light and graceful tower, two hundred and +sixty-three feet high, rises between the nave and the choir, upon four +arches sustained by four quadrangular pillars four yards wide, composed +of innumerable small columns almost resembling bundles of rods, in which +the arms of Jean Prégent, Chancellor of Brittany and Bishop of Léon in +1436, may be seen on the keystone of each arch. The upper tower, like +those of the cathedral, is pierced by narrow bays, supported on either +side by false bays. From the upper platform, with its four-leaved +balustrade, rises the beautiful open-work spire, somewhat resembling +that of St. Peter's at Caen, and flanked by four turrets. This tower is +said to have been built by an English architect, but there is no +authority for the tradition. + +Proceeding onwards to the market-place, there rises the cathedral, far +better placed than many of the cathedrals abroad. It is one of the +remarkable buildings of Brittany, possessing certain distinguishing +features peculiar to the Breton churches. + +The cathedral dates from three periods. A portion of the north transept +is Romanesque; the nave, west front, and towers date from the thirteenth +century and the commencement of the fourteenth; the interior, almost +entirely Gothic, and very striking, lost much of its beauty when +restored in 1866. It is two hundred and sixty feet long and fifty-two +feet high to the vaulting, the latter being attributed to William of +Rochefort, who was Bishop of Léon in 1349. The towers are very fine, +with central storeys pierced by lancet windows, like those of the +Creisker. The south transept has a fine circular window, with tracery +cut in granite. + +[Illustration: INTERIOR OF CATHEDRAL, ST. POL DE LÉON.] + +The stalls, the chief beauty of the choir, are magnificently carved, and +date from 1512. The choir, completely surrounded by a stone screen, is +larger and more ornamented than the nave, and is surrounded by double +aisles, ending in a Lady Chapel possessing some good carved woodwork of +the sixteenth century. + +The towers are almost equal in dimension but somewhat different in +design. One of them--the south tower--possesses a small lancet doorway +on the west side, called the Lepers' Doorway, where probably lepers +entered to attend mass in days gone by, remaining unseen and isolated +from the rest of the congregation. The south wall possesses a +magnificent rose window, above which is another window, called the +_Window of Excommunication_. The rose window is unfortunately filled +with modern glass, but one or two of the side windows are good. The +basin for holy-water, dating from the twelfth century, is said to have +been the tomb of Conan Mériadec, first of the Breton kings. + +A small bell, said to have belonged to St. Pol, is kept in the church, +and on the day of the _Pardon_ of Léon (the chief fęte of the year) is +carried up and down the nave and rung vigorously over the heads of the +faithful to preserve them from headache and ear-ache. + +The best view of the interior is obtained by standing in the choir, as +near as possible to the tomb of St. Pol--distinguished by a black marble +slab immediately in front of the altar--and looking westward. The +long-drawn aisle is very fine; the stalls and decoration of the choir +stand out well, whilst the Early-Pointed arches on either side are +marked by beauty and refinement. The west end of the nave seems quite +far off and becomes almost dream-like. + +Yet in some way the Cathedral of St. Pol de Léon left upon us a certain +feeling of disappointment. The interior did not seem equal to the +exterior; and as the church has been much praised at different times by +those capable of distinguishing the good in architecture, we attributed +this impression to the effect of its comparatively recent restoration. + +Behind the cathedral is an old prebendal house, belonging to the +sixteenth century and possessing many interesting details. Beyond it +again was the small chapel of St. Joseph, attached to the convent of the +Ursuline nuns, founded in 1630. For St. Pol de Léon is still essentially +a religious and ecclesiastical town, living on its past glory and +reputation. Once immensely rich, it now impresses one with a feeling of +sadness and poverty. + +One wonderful little glimpse we had of an earthly paradise. + +Not far from the cathedral we had strayed into a garden, for the great +gates were open and the vision dazzled us. We had rarely seen such a +wealth of flowers. Large rose-trees, covered with blooms, outvied each +other in scenting the air with delicious perfume. Some of these trees or +bushes were many yards round. Immense rhododendrons also flourished. +Exquisite and graceful trees rose above them; the laburnum, no longer in +bloom, acacias, and the lovely pepper tree. Standing out from a wealth +of blossom and verdure was an old well, surmounted by some ancient and +picturesque ironwork. Beyond it was a yet more ancient and picturesque +house of grey stone, an equally venerable flight of steps leading up to +the front entrance. The house was large, and whatever it might be now, +must once have fulfilled some ecclesiastical purpose. It occupied the +whole length of the large garden, the remainder being closed in by high +walls. Opposite, to the right, uprose the Bishop's palace, and beyond it +the lovely towers and spires of the cathedral. + +It was one of those rare scenes very seldom met with, which plunge one +at once out of the world into an Arcadia beautiful as dreamland. We +stood and gazed, silent with rapture and admiration; threw +conventionality to the winds, forgot that we had no right here, and +wandered about, inhaling the scent of the flowers, luxuriating in their +rich colours, feasting our eyes and senses on all the old-world beauty +of architecture by which we were surrounded; carrying our sight upwards +to the blue skies and wondering if we had not been transported to some +paradise beyond the veiling. It was a Garden of Eden. + +[Illustration: CHAPEL OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, ROSCOFF.] + +Then suddenly at the open doorway of the house appeared a lady with a +wealth of white hair and a countenance full of the beauty of sweetness +and age. She was dignified, as became the owner of this fair domain, and +her rich robe rustled as she quietly descended the steps. + +We now remembered ourselves and our intrusion, yet it was impossible to +retreat. We advanced bareheaded to make our humble apologies and sue for +grace. + +The owner of this earthly paradise made us an elaborate curtsey that +surely she had learned at the Tuileries or Versailles in the bygone days +of an illustrious monarchy. + +"Monsieur," she said, in a voice that was still full of melody, "do not +apologise; I see that you are strangers and foreigners, and you are +welcome. This garden might indeed entice anyone to enter. I have grown +old here, and my eyes are never tired of beholding the beauties of +Nature. In St. Pol we are favoured, you know, in possessing one of the +most fertile soils in France." + +And then she bade us enter, with a politeness that yet sounded like a +command; and we obeyed and passed up the ancient steps into a +richly-panelled hall. Over the doorways hung boars' heads, shot by her +sons, Countess C---- for she told us her name--informed us, in the +forests of Brittany. + +"They are great sportsmen," she added with a smile, "and you know we +Bretons do nothing by halves. Our sportsmen are fierce and strong in the +chase, and know nothing of the effeminate pastimes of those who live in +more southern latitudes." + +Then, to do us honour, and because she thought it would interest us, she +showed us through some of the reception rooms, magnificent with tapestry +and carved oak and dark panelling, and family portraits of bygone +generations, when people were taken as shepherds and shepherdesses, and +the world was a real Arcadia; and everywhere were trophies of the chase. +And, conducting us up an ancient oak staircase to a large recess looking +to the back, there our dazzled vision saw another garden stretched out +before us, longer, broader, than the paradise in front, full of roses +and lilies, and a countless number of fruit trees. + +"That is my orchard," she said; "but I must have flowers everywhere, and +so, all down the borders my lilies and roses scent the air; and there I +walk and try to make my old age beautiful and contented, as every old +age ought to be. My young days were passed at Court; my later years in +this quiet seclusion, out of the world. Alas! there is no more Court for +old or young." + +Then again we descended into a salon so polished that you could trace +your features on the parquet flooring; a room that would have dignified +a monarch; a room where everything was old-fashioned and beautiful, +subdued and refined; and our hostess, pointing to lovely old chairs +covered with tapestry that had been worked a century-and-a-half ago, +touched a bell and insisted upon our refreshing ourselves with some wine +of the country and a cake peculiar to St. Pol de Léon. It is probable +that H.C.'s poetical eyes and ethereal countenance, whilst captivating +her heart, had suggested a dangerous delicacy of constitution. These +countenances, however, are deceptive; it is often your robust and florid +people who fail to reach more than the stage of early manhood. + +In response to the bell there entered a Breton maid with cake and wine +on a silver tray. She was youthful and comely, and wore a picturesque +Breton cap with mysterious folds, the like of which we had seen neither +in Morlaix nor in St. Pol de Léon. As far as the latter town was +concerned it was not surprising, since we had met so few of the +inhabitants. + +[Illustration: HOUSE IN WHICH THE YOUNG PRETENDER TOOK REFUGE AFTER THE +BATTLE OF CULLODEN, ROSCOFF.] + +The maid curtsied on entering, placed the tray upon the table, curtsied +again to her mistress, and withdrew. All was done in absolute silence: +the silence of a well-bred domestic and a perfectly organised household. +She moved as if her feet had been encased in down. + +With her own fair and kindly hands, the Comtesse poured out the red and +sparkling liquid, and, breaking the cake, once more bade us welcome. + +We would rather have been excused; such hospitality to strangers was so +rare, excepting in remote places where the customs of the primitive ages +still existed. But hospitality so gracefully and graciously offered had +to be met with graciousness and gratitude in return. + +"The cake I offer you," she remarked, "is peculiar to St. Pol de Léon. +There is a tradition that it has come to us from the days of St. Pol +himself, and that the saintly monk-bishop made his daily meal of it. But +I feel very sure," she added with a smile, "that those early days of +fasting and penance never rejoiced in anything as refined and civilized +and as good as this." + +And then for a little while we talked of Brittany and the Bretons; and +if we could have stayed longer we should have heard many an anecdote and +many an experience. But time and a due regard to politeness forbade a +"longer lingering," charming as were the old lady's manners and +conversation, delightful the atmosphere in which she lived. With mingled +stateliness and grace she accompanied us to the wonderful garden and +bade us farewell. + +"This is your first visit to St. Pol," she said, as she gave us her hand +in the English fashion; "I hope it will not be your last. Remember that +if ever you come here again my doors will open to you, and a welcome +will await you. Only, let your next visit be a longer one. You see that +I speak with the freedom of age; and if you think me impulsive in thus +tendering hospitality to one hitherto unknown, I must answer that I have +lived in the world, and make no mistakes. I believe also in a certain +mental mesmerism, which rarely fails. When I saw you enter, something +told me that I might come to you. Fare you well!--Sans adieu!" she added +as we expressed our gratitude and bent over her hand with an earnest "Au +revoir!" + +We went our way, both charmed into silence for a time. I felt that we +were thinking the same thoughts--rejoicing in our happy fortune in these +occasional meetings which flashed across the horizon of our lives and +disappeared, not without leaving behind them an abiding effect; an +earnest appreciation of human nature and the amount of leaven that must +exist in the world. We thought instinctively of Mdlle. Martin, the +little Receveuse des Postes de Retraite at Grâce: and of Mdlle. de +Pressensé at Villeneuve, who had welcomed us even as the Comtesse had +now done; and we felt that we were favoured. + +Time was up, and we decided to make this our last impression of St. Pol +de Léon. We passed down the quiet streets, under the shadow of the +Creisker, out into the open country and the railway station. We were +just in time for the train to Roscoff, and in a very few minutes had +reached that little terminus. + +Immediately we felt more out of the world than ever. There was something +so primitive about the station and its surroundings and the people who +hovered about, that this seemed a true _finis terre_. It was, however, +sufficiently civilized to boast of two omnibuses; curiously constructed +machines that, remembering our St. Pol experience, we did not enter. The +town was only a little way off, and its church steeple served us as +beacon. + +We passed a few modern houses near the station, which looked like a +settlement in the backwoods with the trees cut down, and then a short +open road led to the quiet streets. + +Quiet indeed they were, with a look about them yet more old-world, +deadly and deserted even than St. Pol de Léon. The houses are nearly all +built of that grey _Kersanton_ stone, which has a cold and cheerless +tone full of melancholy; like some of the far away Scotch or Welsh +villages, where nature seems to have died out, no verdure is to be seen, +and the very hedges, that in softer climes bud and blossom and put forth +the promise of spring to make glad the heart of man, are replaced by dry +walls that have no beauty in them. + +Yet at once we felt that there was a certain charm about Roscoff, and a +very marked individuality. Never yet, in Brittany, had we felt so out of +the world and removed from civilization. Its quaint houses are +substantial though small, and many of them still possess the old cellars +that open by large winged doors into the streets, where the poorer +people live an underground life resembling that of the moles. The +cellars go far back, and light never penetrates into their recesses. + +Again, some of the houses had courtyards of quaint and interesting +architecture. One of them especially is worth visiting. A long narrow +passage leads you to a quaint yard with seven arches supported by +columns, with an upper gallery supported by more columns. It might have +formed part of a miniature cloister in days gone by. + +On the way towards the church, we passed the chapel dedicated to St. +Ninian, of which nothing remains now but the bare enclosure and the +ancient and beautiful gateway. This, ruined as it is, is the most +interesting relic in Roscoff. It was here that Mary Queen of Scots +landed when only five years old, to be married to the Dauphin of France. +The form of her foot was cut out in the rock on which she first stepped, +but we failed to see it. Perhaps time and the effect of winds and waves +have worn it away. Footsteps disappear even on a stronger foundation +than the sands of time. The little chapel was built to commemorate her +landing, and its ruins are surrounded by a halo of sadness and romance. +Four days after her landing she was betrothed. But the happy careless +childhood was quickly to pass away; the "fevered life of a throne" was +most essentially to be hers; plot and counterplot were to embitter her +days; until at last, at the bidding of "great Elizabeth," those +wonderful eyes were to close for the last time upon the world, and that +lovely head was to be laid upon the block. + +The sad history overshadows the little chapel in Roscoff as a halo; for +us overshadowed the whole town. + +Adjoining the chapel still exists the house in which the child-queen +lodged on landing, also with a very interesting courtyard. + +Looking down towards the church from this point, the houses wore a grey, +sad and deserted aspect. The church tower rises above them, quaint and +curious, in the Renaissance style. The interior is only remarkable for +some curious alabaster bas-reliefs, representing the Passion and the +Resurrection; an old tomb serving as _bénitier_, some ancient fonts, and +the clever sculpturing of a boat representing the arms of the town; a +device also found on the left front of the tower. + +There is also a large ossuary in the corner of the small churchyard, now +disused. These ossuaries, or _reliquaires_, in the graveyards of +Brittany were built to carry out a curious and somewhat barbarous +custom. It was considered by "those of old time" to be paying deference +to the dead to dig up their coffins after a certain number of years, and +to place the skulls and bones in the ossuary, arranging them on shelves +and labelling them in a British Museum style so that all might gaze upon +them as they went by. This custom is still kept up in some places; for, +as we have said, the Bretons are a slow moving people in the way of +progress, and cling to their habits and customs as tenaciously as the +Medes and Persians did to their laws. They are not ambitious, and what +sufficed for the sires a generation or two ago suffices for the sons +to-day. + +But to us, the chief beauty of the town was its little port, with its +stone pier. The houses leading down to it are the quaintest in Roscoff, +of sixteenth century date, with many angles and gables. In one of them +lodged Charles Stuart, the Young Pretender, when he escaped after the +battle of Culloden, the quaintest and most interesting of all. + +Looking back from the end of the jetty, it lies prominently before you, +together with the whole town, forming a group full of wonderful tone and +picturesque beauty. In the foreground are the vessels in the harbour, +with masts rising like a small forest, and flags gaily flying. The water +which plashes against the stone pier is the greenest, purest, most +translucent ever seen. It dazzled by its brilliancy and appeared to +"hold the light." Before us stretched the great Atlantic, to-day calm +and sleeping and reflecting the sun travelling homewards; but often +lashed to furious moods, which break madly over the pier, and send their +spray far over the houses. Few scenes in Brittany are more +characteristic and impressive than this little unknown town. + +A narrow channel lies between Roscoff and L'Ile de Batz, which would +form a fine harbour of refuge if it were not for the strong currents for +ever running there. At high water the island is half submerged. It is +here that St. Pol first came from Cornwall, intending to live there the +remainder of his life; but, as we have seen, he was made Bishop of Léon, +and had to take up his abode in the larger town. + +No tree of any height is to be seen here, but the tamarisk grows in +great abundance. All the men are sailors and pass their lives upon the +water, coming home merely to rest. The women cultivate the ground. The +church possesses, and preserves as its greatest treasure, a stole worn +by St. Pol. Tradition has it that when St. Pol landed, the island was a +prey to a fierce and fiery dragon, whom the monk conquered by throwing +his stole round the neck of the monster and commanding it to cast itself +into the sea; a command it instantly and amiably obeyed by rushing to +the top of a high rock and plunging for ever beneath the waves. The rock +is still called in Breton language Toul ar Sarpent, signifying Serpent's +Hole. + +[Illustration: ROSCOFF.] + +Roscoff itself is extremely fertile; the deadly aspect of the little +town is not extended to the surrounding plains. The climate is much +influenced by the Gulf Stream, and the winters are temperate. Flowers +and vegetables grow here all the year round that in less favoured +districts are found only in summer. Like Provence in the far South, +Roscoff is famous for its primeurs, or early vegetables. If you go to +some of the great markets in Paris in the spring and notice certain +country people with large round hats, very primitive in appearance, +disposing of these vegetables, you may at once know them for Bretons +from Roscoff. You will not fall in love with them; they are plain, +honest, and stupid. We found the few people we spoke to in Roscoff quite +answering to this description, and could make nothing of them. + +On our way back to the station we visited the great natural curiosity of +the place: a fig tree whose branches cover an area of nearly two hundred +square yards, supported by blocks of wood or by solid masonry built up +for the purpose. It yields an immense quantity of fruit, and would +shield a small army beneath its foliage. Its immense trunk is knotted +and twisted about in all directions; but the tree is full of life and +vigour, and probably without parallel in the world. + +Soon after this, we were once more steaming towards Morlaix, our +head-quarters. As we passed St. Pol de Léon, its towers and steeples +stood out grandly in the gathering twilight. Before us there rose up the +vision of the aged Countess who had received and entertained us with so +much kindness and hospitality. It was not too much to say that we longed +to renew our experience, to pass not hours but days in that charmed and +charming abode, refined by everything that was old-world and artistic; +and to number our hostess amongst those friends whom time and chance, +silence and distance, riches or poverty, life or death, can never +change. + +We re-entered Morlaix with the shadows of night. Despising the omnibus, +we went down Jacob's Ladder, rejoicing and revelling in all the +old-world atmosphere about us, and on our way passed our Antiquarian. He +was still at his doorway, evidently watching for our arrival, and might +have been motionless as a wooden sentry ever since we had left him in +the morning. + +The workshop was lighted up, and the old cabinets and the modern +wood-carving looked picturesque and beautiful in the lights and shadows +thrown by the lamps. The son, handsome as an Adonis, was bending over +some delicate carving that he was chiseling, flushed with the success of +his work, yet outwardly strangely quiet and gentle. The cherub we had +seen a morning or two ago at the doorstep ought now to have been in bed +and asleep. Instead of that he was perched upon a table, and with large, +wide-opened blue eyes was gazing with all the innocence and inquiry of +infancy into his father's face, as if he would there read the mystery of +life and creation, which the wondering gaze of early childhood seems for +ever asking. + +It was a rare picture. The rift within the lute was out of sight +upstairs, and there was nothing to disturb the harmony of perfection. +The child saw us, and immediately held out his little arms with a +confiding gesture and a crow of delight that would have won over the +sternest misanthropist, as if he recognised us for old friends between +whom there existed a large amount of affection and an excellent +understanding. His father threw down his chisel, and catching him up in +his arms perched him upon his shoulder and ran him up and down the room, +while the little fellow shrieked with happiness. Then both disappeared +up the staircase, the child looking, in all his loveliness, as if he +would ask us to follow--a perfect representation of trust and +contentment, as he felt himself borne upwards, safe and secure from +danger, in the strong arms of his natural protector. + +The old man turned to us with a sigh. Was he thinking of his own past +youth, when he, too, was once the principal actor in a counterpart +scene? Or of a day, which could not be very far off, when such a scene +as this and all earthly scenes must for him for ever pass away? Or of +the little rift within the lute? Who could tell? + +"So, sirs, you are back once more," was all he remarked. "Have you seen +Roscoff? Was I not right in praising it?" + +"You were, indeed," we replied. "It is full of indescribable beauty and +interest. Why is it so little known?" + +"Because there are so few true artists in the world," he answered. "It +cannot appeal to any other temperament. Those who see things only with +the eyes and not with the soul, will never care for it. And so it has +made no noise in the world, and few visit it. Of those who do, probably +many think more of the wonderful fig tree than of the exquisite tone of +the houses, the charm of the little port, the matchless purity of the +water." + +We felt he was right. Then he pointed to the marvellous crucifix that +hung upon the wall, and seemed by its beauty and sacredness almost to +sanctify the room. + +"Is it not a wonderful piece of art?" he cried, with quiet enthusiasm. +"If Michel Angelo had ever carved in ivory, I should say it was his +work. But be that as it may, it is the production of a great master." + +We promised to return. There was something about the old man and his +surroundings which compelled one to do so. It was so rare to find three +generations of perfection, about whom there clung a charm indescribable +as the perfume that clings to the rose. We passed out into the night, +and our last look showed him standing in his quaint little territory, +thrown out in strong relief by the lamplight, gazing in rapt devotion +upon his treasures, all the religious fervour of the true Breton +temperament shining out of his spiritual face, thinking perhaps of the +"one far-off Divine event" that for him was growing so very near. + + + + +A SOCIAL DÉBUT. + + +It is hoped that the following anecdote of the ways and customs of that +rare animal, the modest, diffident youth (soon, naturalists assure us, +to become as extinct in these islands as the Dodo), may afford a +moment's amusement to the superior young people who rule journalism, +politics, and life for us to-day. + +Some ten years ago Mr. Edward Everett came up from the wilds of +Devonshire to study law with Braggart and Pushem, in Chancery Lane. He +was placed to board, by a prudent mother, with a quiet family in +Bayswater. + +That even quiet Bayswater families are not without their dangers +Everett's subsequent career may be taken as proof, but with this, at +present, I have nothing to do. I merely intend to give the history of +his début in society, although the title is one of which, after reading +the following pages, you may find reason to complain. + +Everett had not been many weeks in London when he received, quite +unexpectedly, his first invitation to an evening party. + +His mother's interest had procured it for him, and it came from Lady +Charlton, the wife of Sir Robert, the eminent Q.C. It was with no little +elation that he passed the card round the breakfast-table for the +benefit of Mrs. Browne and the girls. There stood Lady Charlton's name, +engraved in the centre, and his own, "Mr. Edward Everett," written up in +the left-hand corner; while the date, a Thursday in February, was as yet +too far ahead for him to have any inkling of the trepidation he was +presently to feel. + +Everett, although nineteen, had never been to a real party before; in +the wilds of Devonshire one does not even require dress clothes; +therefore, after sending an acceptation in his best handwriting, his +first step was to go and get himself measured for an evening suit. + +Now, Everett looked even younger than his age, and this is felt to be a +misfortune when one is still in one's teens. Later in life people appear +to bear it much better. He found himself feeling more than usually young +and insignificant on presenting himself to his tailor and stating his +requirements. Mr. Lucas condescended to him from the elevation of six +inches superior height and thirty years' seniority. He received +Everett's orders with toleration, and re-translated them with decision. +"Certainly, sir, I understand what you mean precisely. What you require +is this, that, or the other;" and the young gentleman found himself +meekly gathering views that never had emanated from his own bosom. +Nevertheless he took the most profound interest in the building up of +his suit, and constantly invented excuses to drop in upon Mr. Lucas and +see how the work was getting on. + +Meanwhile, at home he, with the Browne girls, especially with Lily, the +youngest, often discussed the coming "At Home." Lily wondered what Lady +Charlton was like, if she had any daughters, whether there would be +dancing. Everett had never seen his hostess; thought, however, he had +heard there were daughters, but sincerely hoped they wouldn't dance; +for, although the Browne girls had taught him to waltz, he was conscious +he did them small credit as pupil. + +"I'm sure it will be a splendid party!" cried Lily the enthusiastic. +"How I wish some good fairy would just transport me there in the middle +of the evening, so that I might have a peep at you in all your glory!" + +"I wish with all my heart you were going too, Lil," said Everett; "I +shan't know a soul, I'm sure." And though he spoke in an airy, +matter-of-fact tone, qualms were beginning to shake his bosom as he +pictured himself thus launched alone on the tide of London society. + +He began to count the days which yet remained to him of happy obscurity; +and as Time moves with inexorable footsteps, no matter how earnestly we +would hurry or delay him, so at length there remained but a week's +slender barrier between Everett and the fatal date. For while he would +not acknowledge it even yet to himself, all sense of pleasurable +anticipation had gradually given place to the most unmitigated condition +of fright. + +Thus when he awoke on the actual Monday morning preceding the party, he +could not at first imagine to what cause he owed the burden of +oppression which immediately descended on his breast; just so used he to +feel as a boy when awaking to the consciousness of an impending visit to +the dentist. Then all at once he remembered that in four days more +Thursday night would have come, and his fate would be sealed. + +He carried a sinking spirit to his legal studies all that day and the +next, and yet was somewhat cheered on returning home on the Tuesday +evening to find a parcel awaiting him from the tailor's. He experienced +real pleasure in putting on the new suit after dinner and going down to +exhibit himself to the girls in the drawing-room. It was delightful to +listen to their exclamations and their praise; to hear Lily declare, +"Oh, you do look nice, Ted! Splendacious! Doesn't it suit him well, +mammy?" + +In that intoxicating moment, Everett felt he could hold his own in any +drawing-room in the land; nor could he help inwardly agreeing on +catching sight of himself in the chimney-glass that he did look +remarkably well in spite of a hairless lip and smooth young cheeks. He +mentally decided to get his hair cut, buy lavender gloves and Parma +violets, and casually inquire of Leslie, their "swell" man down at old +Braggart's, whether coloured silk socks were still considered "good +form." + +But when he donned those dress clothes for the second time, on the +Thursday night itself, he didn't feel half so happy. He suffered from +"fright" pains in his inside, and his fingers shook so, he spoilt a +dozen cravats in the tying. He got Lily to fix him one at last, and it +was she who found him a neat little cardboard box for his flowers, that +his overcoat might not crush them. For, as the night was fine, and +shillings scarce with him in those days, he intended walking to his +destination. + +Of course he was ready much too soon, and spent a restless, not to say a +miserable hour in the Brownes' drawing-room, afraid of starting, yet +unable to settle down to anything. Then, when half-past nine struck, +seized with sudden terror lest he should be too late, he made most hasty +adieux and rushed from the house. Only to hear Lily's light foot-fall +immediately following him, and her little breathless cry of "Oh, Ted! +you've forgotten your latch-key." + +"I wish to Heaven I was going to pass the evening quietly with you, +Lil!" sighed the poor youth, all his heart in his boots; but she begged +him not to be a goose, told him he would meet much nicer girls, and made +him promise to notice how they were all dressed, so as to describe the +frocks to her next day. Then she tripped back into the house, gave him a +final smile, the door closed, and there was nothing for Everett to do +but set off. + +He has told me since what a dreadful walk that was. He can remember it +vividly across all the intervening years, and he declares that no +criminal on his way to the gallows could have suffered from more +agonising apprehensions. He pictured his reception in a thousand dismal +forms. He saw himself knocking at the door; the moment's suspense; the +servant facing him. What ought he to say? "Is Lady Charlton at home?" +But that was ridiculous, since he knew she was at home; should he then +walk straight in without a word? but what would the servant think? Or, +supposing--awful thought!--he had made a mistake in the date; supposing +this wasn't the night at all? He searched in his pockets for the card +with feverish eagerness, and remembered he had left it stuck in the +dining-room chimney glass. + +His forehead grew damp with sweat, his hands clammy. He slackened his +speed. Why was he walking so fast? He would get there too soon: how +embarrassing to be the first arrival! Then he saw by the next baker's +shop it was on the stroke of ten, and terror lent him wings. How much +more embarrassing to arrive the last! + +The Charltons lived in Harley Street, which he had no sooner reached +than he guessed that must be the house, mid-way down. For a stream of +light expanded wedge-wise from the door, which was flung open as a +carriage drew up to the kerbstone. Everett calculated he should arrive +precisely as the occupants were getting out. Better wait a couple of +minutes. + +Blessed respite! He crossed the road and loitered along in the shadow of +the opposite side. He examined the house from this point of vantage. It +was a blaze of light from top to bottom. The balcony on the drawing-room +floor had been roofed in with striped canvas. One of the red curtains +hanging from it was drawn aside; he caught glimpses of moving forms and +bright colours within. + +He heard the long-drawn notes of a violin. The ever-opening hall-door +exhibited a brilliant interior, with numberless men-servants conspicuous +upon a scarlet background. Ladies in light wraps had entered the house +from the carriage, and other carriages arriving in quick succession had +disgorged other lovely beings. If the door closed for one instant it +sprang open the next at the sound of wheels. + +"I'll walk to the top of the street," Everett determined, "cross over, +and then present myself." But as he again approached with courage +screwed to the sticking-place, a spruce hansom dashed up before him. Two +very "masher" young men sprang out. They stood for a moment laughing +together while one found the fare. The other glanced at Everett, and, as +it seemed to my too sensitive young friend, with a certain amusement. +"Is it possible that this little boy is coming to Lady Charlton's too?" +This at least is the meaning Everett read in an eye probably devoid of +any meaning at all. He felt he could not go in the company of these +gentlemen. He must wait now until they were admitted. So assuming as +unconscious an air as possible he stepped through the band of gaslight, +and was once more swallowed up in the friendly darkness beyond. + +"I'll just walk once to the corner and back," said he; but, fresh +obstacle! when he returned, a servant with powdered head swaggered on +the threshold exchanging witticisms with the commissionaire keeping +order outside; and the crimson carpet laid down across the pavement was +fringed with loiterers at either edge, some of whom, as he drew near, +turned to look at him with an expectant air. + +It was a moment of exquisite suffering. Should he go in? Should he pass +on? Only those, (and nowadays such are rare) who have themselves gone +through the agonies of shyness can appreciate the situation. As he +reached the full glare of the house-light, Everett's indecision was +visible in his face. + +"Lady Charlton's, sir?" queried Jeames. + +My poor Everett! His imbecility will scarcely be believed. + +"Thanks--no--ah--er!" he stammered feebly; "I am looking for Mr. +Browne's!" + +Which was the first name that occurred to him, and he heard the men +chuckling together as he fled. After this he walked up and down the +long, accursed length of Harley Street, on the dark side of the way, no +less than seven mortal times; until, twice passing the same policeman, +his sapience began to eye the wild-faced youth with disfavour. Then he +made a tour, east, south, west, north, round the block in which Lady +Charlton's house stands, and so came round to the door once more. + +Yet it was clearly impossible to present himself there now, after his +folly. It was also too late--or he thought it so. On the other hand, it +was too early to go home. Mrs. Browne had said she should not expect to +hear he was in before two or three. On this account he dared not return, +for never, never would he confess to her the depths of his cowardice! He +therefore continued street-walking with treadmill regularity, cold, +hungry, and deadly dull. + +But when twelve was gone on the church clocks, he could endure it no +longer. He turned and slunk home. Delicately did he insert the key in +the door; most mouse-like did he creep in; and yet someone heard him. +Lily, with flying locks, looked over the balusters, and then ran +noiselessly down to the hall. + +"Oh, Teddy, I couldn't go to bed for thinking of your party and how much +you must be enjoying yourself! But what is the matter? You look +so--funny!" + +Somehow Everett found himself telling her the whole story, and never +perhaps has humiliated mortal found a kinder little comforter. Far from +laughing at him, as he may have deserved, tears filled her pretty eyes +at the recital of his unfortunate evening, and no amount of petting was +deemed too much. She took him to the drawing-room, where she had +hitherto been sitting unplaiting her hair; stirred the fire into a +brighter blaze, wheeled him up the easiest couch, and, signal proof of +feminine heroism, braved the kitchen beetles to get him something to +eat. + +What a delightful impromptu picnic she spread out upon the sofa! How +capital was the cold beef and pickles, the gruyčre cheese, the bottled +beer! How they laughed and enjoyed themselves, always with due +consideration not to disturb the sleepers above. How Everett, with the +audacity born of the swing back of the pendulum, seized upon this +occasion to-- + +But no! I did not undertake to give further developments; these must +stand over to another time. + + + + +LEGEND OF AN ANCIENT MINSTER. + + +I. + +Fairchester Abbey is noted for the mixed character of its architecture. +Such a confused blending of styles is very rarely to be met with in any +of our English cathedrals. There is no such thing as uniformity and no +possibility of tracing out the original architect's plan; it has been so +altered by later builders. + +The Norman pillars of the nave still remain, but they are surmounted by +a vaulted Gothic roof. The side aisles of the choir are also Norman, but +this heavier work is most beautifully screened from view and completely +panelled over with the light tracery of the later Perpendicular. + +It is almost impossible to adequately describe the beauties of this +noble choir. The architect seems to have been inspired, in the face of +unusual difficulty, to preserve all that was beautiful in the work of +his predecessors, and to blend it in a marvellous manner with his more +perfect conceptions. There is nothing sombre or heavy about it. It is a +perfect network of tall, slender pillars and gauzy tracery, and at the +east end there is the finest window to be seen in this country, +harmonising in the colour of its glass with the rest of the building; +shedding, in the sun's rays, no gloomy, heavy colourings, but bright +golden, creamy white, and even pink tints, on the receptive freestone, +which, unlike marble, is not cold or forbidding, but naturally warm and +pleasing to the eye. + +To conclude this brief description, we can choose no better words than +these: "Gloria soli Deo." + +They occur on the roof of the choir at its junction with the nave, and +explain the unity and harmony which exists amidst all this diversity. +Each successive architect worked with this one object in view, the glory +of God alone, and so he did not ruthlessly destroy, but recognised the +same purpose in the work of his predecessors and endeavoured to blend +all into one harmonious whole, thus leaving for future ages a lesson +written in stone which churchmen of the present day would do well to +learn. + +Early in the year 188--, I was appointed Precentor of this cathedral, +and in the course of duty was brought much in contact with Dr. F., the +organist. + +It was my custom frequently, after service, to join him in the +organ-loft and to discuss various matters of interest connected with our +own church and the outside world. He was a most charming companion; a +first-rate organist and master of theory, and a man of large experience +and great general culture. + +One morning, soon after my appointment, I joined Dr. F. with a special +purpose in view. + +We had met to discuss the music for the approaching festival of Easter. +The Doctor was in his shirt-sleeves, standing in the interior of the +organ, covered with cobwebs and dirt, inspecting the woodwork, which was +getting into a very ruinous condition, and endeavouring to replace a +pipe which had fallen from its proper position so as to interfere with +many of its neighbours. + +"Here's a nice state of things," said he, ruefully regarding his +surroundings. "If we don't have something done soon the whole organ will +fall to pieces; and I am so afraid, lest in re-modelling it, the tone of +these matchless diapasons will be affected. There is nothing like them +anywhere in England. We must have it done soon, however; I only hope we +may gain more than we lose." + +It was indeed time something was done. The key-boards of the old organ +were yellow and uneven with age. They reminded one of steps hollowed by +the knees of pilgrims, they were so scooped out by the fingers of past +generations of organists. Its stops were of all shapes and sizes, and +their character was indicated by paper labels gummed underneath. It had +been built about the year 1670 by Renatus Harris and, although added to +on several occasions, the original work still remained. Being placed on +a screen between the nave and the choir, it occupied an unrivalled +position for sound. + +After awhile Dr. F. succeeded in putting matters a little to rights and, +seated at the key-boards, proceeded to play upon the diapasons, the tone +of which he had so extolled. It would really be impossible to exaggerate +the solemnity, the richness, and the indescribable sadness of the sounds +which proceeded from them; one never hears anything like it in modern +organs. These have their advantages and their peculiar effects, but they +lack that mellowed richness of tone which seems an art belonging to the +builders of the past. + +Presently the Doctor ceased, and producing a roll of music told me it +was a Service he was accustomed to have each Easter, and asked me to +listen and say what I thought of it. + +It would be impossible for me to express in words the admiration I felt +on hearing it. It was a most masterly composition, and was moreover +entirely original and unlike the writing of any known composer. It +possessed an individuality which distinguished it from every other work +of a like nature. All one could say with certainty about it was that it +was not modern music. There was a simplicity and a severity about it +which stamped it unmistakably as belonging to an age anterior even to +Bach or Handel: modern writers employ more ornamentation and are not so +restricted in their harmonies; modern art sanctions a greater liberty, a +less simplicity of method, and a less rigid conformity to rule. + +The movement which most impressed me was the Credo. + +There was a certainty of conviction in its opening phrases pointing to +a real earnestness of purpose. It was as if the composer's faith had +successfully withstood all the doubts, anxieties, and conflicts of life. +It was the song of the victorious Christian who saw before him the prize +for which he had long and steadfastly contended. _He believed_; he did +more than that; he actually _realised_. It was the joy, not of +anticipation, but of actual possession, the consciousness of the Divine +life dwelling in the heart, cramped and hindered by its surroundings, +but destined to develop in the light of clearer and fuller knowledge. + +As the story of the Incarnation and Passion was told, there crept over +the listener feelings of mingled sadness and thanksgiving: sadness at +the life of suffering and pain endured "For us men and for our +salvation," and thanksgiving for the Gift so freely bestowed. And then +Heaven and Earth combined to tell the story of the Resurrection morning, +and the strains of thankfulness and praise increased until it seemed as +if the writer had at length passed from Earth to Heaven, and was face to +face with the joys of the "Life Everlasting" which all the resources of +his art were powerless fully to express. + +The music ceased, and I awoke as from a dream. + +"You need not tell me your opinion," said the Doctor; "your face shows +it most unmistakably; you can form only a very faint idea of its +beauties without the voice parts. When you hear our choir sing it you +will say it is the most powerful sermon you have ever heard within these +walls." + +"Who is the composer?" I asked excitedly, my curiosity thoroughly +aroused. + +"My dear fellow," replied Dr. F., "before telling its history, you must +see the proofs I have in my possession, for I shall have to relate one +of the most remarkable stories you have ever heard. So strange indeed +are the circumstances connected with that old Service that I have kept +them to myself, lest people should think me an eccentric musician. Our +late Dean knew part of them and witnessed some of the things I shall +tell you. The story will take some little time, but if you will come +across to my house you shall hear it and also see the proofs I hold in +my possession." + + +II. + +We went direct from the cathedral into the library of Dr. F.'s house, +where, without wasting any time, he produced a roll of manuscript and +gave it me to read. + +It was tied up neatly with tape and enclosed in another sheet of paper, +which bore the date January, 1862, and a note in the Doctor's +handwriting stating that he had discovered it in an old chest in the +cathedral library. + +The document itself was yellow with age and was headed: + + "Certain remarkable passages relating to the death of the late + Ebenezer Jenkins, sometime organist of this cathedral, obiit April + 3, 1686; related by John Gibson, lay clerk." + +Enclosed within it was also a fragment of music. Unrolling the +parchment, I proceeded to decipher with difficulty this narrative. + + "On the Wednesday evening before Easter, A.D. 1686, I, John Gibson, + was called to the bedside of Master Jenkins. + + "He had manifested a wish to hold converse with me, and to see me + concerning some matters in which we had both been engaged. He had + suffered grievously for many days, and it was plain to all his + friends that he had not long to tarry with us. A right skilful + player upon the organ was Master Jenkins, and a man beloved of all. + He had written much music for the Glory of God and the edification + of his Church, wherein his life seemed mirrored, for his music + appealed to men's hearts and led them to serve God, as did also the + example of his blameless life and conversation among us. He had + been busied for some time in the writing of a Service for Easter + Day, in the which he designed to express the thoughts of his waning + years. I had been privileged to hear some of these sweet strains, + and do affirm that finer music hath never been written by any man + in this realm of England. The Italians do make much boast of their + skill in music, and doubtless in their use of counterpoints, + fugues, and divers other devices they have hitherto excelled our + nation; but I doubt if Palestrina himself could have written more + excellent music, or have devised more cunning harmonies than those + of Master Jenkins. + + "The work had of late been hindered by the pains of sickness, for + the master's eyes were dim with age, and his hands could scarce + hold pen; and so I, his most intimate friend, had on sundry + occasions transcribed his thoughts as he related them. + + "On receiving his message I forthwith hastened to the presence of + my friend, and was sore troubled to find him in so grievous a + plight. It was plain to all beholders that his course was well-nigh + run, for a great change had taken place even in the last few hours. + + "He revived somewhat on seeing me, and begged me at once to fetch + paper and ink. 'I am going,' said he, 'to keep Easter in my Lord's + Court; but ere I go, I fain would finish what hath been my life's + work. Then shall I rest in peace.' + + "There was but little time, and so I made haste to fetch pen and + paper, and waited for his words. + + "Never, I trow, hath music been written before at such a season as + this. We were finishing the last movement--the Creed, and those + words went direct to my heart as they had never done before. I + could scarce refrain from weeping, but joy was mingled even with + tears, for the light upon the master's face was not of earth, and + there was a sound of triumph in his voice which told of conflict + well-nigh ended and rest won. + + "We had come to the words 'I believe in the resurrection of the + dead, and the life of the world to come.' For the moment, strength + seemed to have returned and my pen could scarce keep pace with his + thoughts, so rapid and so earnest were they. But the end was closer + even than I had supposed, for just as we reached the word 'life,' + the light suddenly failed from his face and he fell back. He smiled + once, and whispered that word Life, and I saw that his soul had + departed. + + "In fulfilment of his last wishes I made diligent search for the + remaining portions of this his work, but failed to find them, and + can only suppose that they have been heedlessly destroyed. It would + scarce have seemed right to imprint so small a fragment, and so I + have deemed it wise to place it, with this narrative of its + history, in the cathedral library. + + "Ere I close this narrative I must record certain strange passages + which came under my notice and which are vouched for by Gregory + Jowett, who likewise beheld them. They happened in this wise. On + the year after Master Jenkins's death, on the same date and about + the same hour, we were passing through the cathedral, having come + from a practice of the singers, and Master Jowett remembered some + music he had left by the side of the organ. He went up the stair + leading to the claviers and I remained below. + + "Of a sudden he surprised me by rushing down, greatly affrighted, + and affirmed that he had seen Master Jenkins sitting at the organ; + whereupon I reassured him, and at length prevailed upon him to + return with me. Then, indeed, did we both actually behold Master + Jenkins, just as he had appeared in life, attired in somewhat + sad-coloured raiment, playing upon the keys from which no sound + proceeded. I was not one to be easily affrighted, and so advanced + as if to greet him, when of a sudden the figure vanished. + + "We do both of us affirm the truth of this marvellous relation, and + do here append our joint signatures, having made solemn affirmation + upon oath, in the presence of Master Simpson, attorney, of this + city: + + "(_Signed_) JOHN GIBSON. + + "GREGORY JOWETT. + + "Witnessed by me; Nicholas Simpson, Attorney-at-law, the 27th day + of April, 1687." + + +III. + +The Doctor smiled at the perplexity which showed itself most +unmistakably in my face as I laid down the manuscript. + +"Are you a believer in ghosts or apparitions?" said he. + +"Theoretically but not practically," I replied. "They resolve +themselves, more or less, into a question of evidence; I would never +believe one man's word on the subject without further proof, because it +is always a fair solution of the difficulty to suppose him the victim of +a delusion. There are so many cases of mysterious appearances, however, +vouched for upon overwhelming evidence, that I am compelled to admit +their truth, at the same time believing they would be scientifically +explainable if we understood all the laws governing this world and could +more clearly distinguish between the spiritual and the material. There +is one thing usually noticeable about these appearances which, to my +mind, is very significant: they never actually do anything, they only +appear to do it and vanish away, leaving behind them no sign of their +presence." + +"Are you prepared to accept that narrative as true?" said the Doctor. + +"The balance of evidence compels me to accept it," I replied. "There +appears to be no motive for fraud; one could, of course, invent theories +to account for the apparition, but I am forced to believe, nevertheless, +that two highly trustworthy men did actually imagine that they saw the +organist's ghost. Whether they actually did so or not is another +matter." + +"Very good," replied Dr. F. "Now will you believe me if I tell you still +more wonderful things which I myself have witnessed; and will you give +me credit for being a perfectly reliable witness? I only ask you to +believe; I, myself, cannot explain." + +"My dear Doctor," I replied, "I shall receive anything you tell me with +great respect, for you are a most unlikely subject to ever be the victim +of a delusion." + +At this the Doctor laughed and said: "Here goes, once and for ever, my +reputation for practical common-sense; henceforth, I suppose, you will +class me with musicians generally, who I know bear a character for +eccentricity. I will tell the tale, however, and you shall see I possess +proofs of its being no delusion, and can contradict your assertion that +ghosts never leave behind them traces of their presence. + +"I put the old manuscript aside, intending, at some future time, to have +the Credo sung as a fragment. It would have been presumption on my part +to have completed the Service, so I left it, and being much occupied, +forgot all about it. Just about this time we decided to do away with +manual labour in blowing the organ, and substituted a small hydraulic +engine. I mention this because it has a bearing on what follows. + +"To be as brief as possible. Just before Easter I was called away +suddenly on business for a day, and, on returning, was surprised at +receiving a visit from the Dean. He appeared annoyed, and complained +that his rest had been broken the previous night by someone playing the +organ quite into the small hours. He was surprised beyond measure on my +informing him of my absence from home. We tried to discover a solution +to the mystery, but failed. One day, however, I showed the Dean the old +manuscript in my possession, and was surprised to hear that he knew of a +tradition of the appearance, once a year, of the apparition. An old +verger, since dead, had declared several times that he had seen it; but, +being old and childish, no one took any notice of the story. + +"Strange to say, the date when the ghost appeared was always the +same--the Wednesday before Easter. That was also the date mentioned in +the manuscript, and also the date when the organ was heard by the Dean. +We considered these facts of sufficient importance to warrant our making +further investigation; and decided, when the time came round again, to +go ourselves into the cathedral; meanwhile we kept our own counsel. + +"The time soon passed on and the week before Easter again arrived, and +on the Wednesday evening, about 11.45, we entered the cathedral by the +transept door. The moon shone brightly and we easily found our way into +the nave; and sitting down, awaited the development of events. The +shadows cast by the moonlight were very weird and ghostly in their +effect; and had we been at all impressionable, we should doubtless have +wished ourselves back again. After remaining some time, however, we came +to the conclusion that we had come upon a foolish errand, and had just +risen to go, when an exquisite strain of very soft music came from the +organ. We listened spell-bound, rooted to the spot. The theme was +simple, almost Gregorian in its character, but handled in a most +masterly way. Such playing I had never before heard; it was the very +perfection of style. + +"We were listening evidently to what was an opening prelude, for several +different subjects were introduced and only partially worked out. + +"Several times I fancied a resemblance to the old Credo, and once +distinctly caught a well-known phrase; my doubts were soon solved, +however, for in a few moments we heard it in its entirety. + +"You know how difficult it is to put one's impressions of music into +words; language never fully expresses them. Music can be easily +described in dry technical language, the language which deals in +'discords and their resolutions,' but that does not express its +influence upon ourselves. No language can do that, for it is an attempt +to fathom the infinite. + +"As the varied harmonies echoed through the vaulted nave, flooding it +with a perfect sea of melody, it appeared as if we were listening to the +story of a man's life. + +"There were the uncertain strains of youth, the shadowing forth of vague +possibilities, the expression of hope undimmed by disappointment. A +nameless undefined longing for greater liberty. The desire to be free +from the restraints of home, and to mingle with the busy world in all +the pride of early manhood. Soon the voyager puts off from the shore, +and at first all seems smooth and alluring. He drifts along the ocean of +life, wafted by favourable winds, delighting in each new pleasure. But +storm soon succeeds calm, as night follows day, and the young man is +soon encompassed with the sorrows and temptations of this life, battling +against evil habits, struggling to keep himself unspotted from the +world. + + 'Bella premunt hostilia + Da robur, fer auxilium.' + +"Youth passes on to middle age, there is now an earnestness of purpose +which at first was lacking. Material pleasures are losing their hold, +there are traces of another holy influence: two lives are joined in +happy union, leading and encouraging each other to high and noble +thoughts and actions. A sound of thankfulness and praise is heard, to be +followed only too soon by the strain which tells of mourning and +heaviness: one was taken, the other left to toil on alone. But still +there was a purpose in life, a work to be done, something to live for. +And with lamentation is blended hope. + +"The years roll on and the spiritual more and more overshadows the +material. The little spark of the Divine life dwelling in the heart has +developed and permeated the whole being. The soul seems chained and +hampered by its surroundings. Like a bird it beats itself against its +prison walls, until at length it wings its way heavenward. + +"And then that ancient hymn, which before had wedded itself in my +imagination to the music, pealed forth in all its grandeur, and I seemed +to hear the songs of men united to the purer strains of angelic music: + + 'Uni trinoque Domino + Sit sempiterna gloria + Qui vitam sine termino + Nobis donet in patria.' + +"The music ceased and we awoke as from a dream, and, remembering why we +had come, rushed up to the organ loft, only to find it in perfect +darkness." + + +IV. + +In relating his experience in the cathedral, and in attempting to +describe the music he had heard, Dr. F. grew excited and even dramatic, +and his voice had quite a ring of triumph in it as he recited the "O +Salutaris"--to my mind, the grandest of all the old Latin hymns, lost +for many years to our Church, but at length restored in our native +tongue. + +He paused for a few moments to recover himself and then continued. + +"On the morrow I resolved, if possible, to write from memory the +complete Service as we had heard it. During the day, being much +occupied, I was only able to jot down phrases which recurred to my +memory. The principal themes were well impressed upon my mind, and, +although my treatment of them was sure to differ in many ways from the +original, I felt more justified than formerly in attempting what seemed +rather a piece of presumption. + +"After a fairly early dinner I settled down in my study about 6.30 p.m., +determined to work right on until my task was finished. + +"My success did not please me. Several times I rose and tried the score +over upon the piano. There was no doubt about it, the main ideas were +there, but still there was everything lacking. The whole affair was +weak, unworthy of my own reputation, and doubly unworthy of the great +writer who had written the Credo. Time after time I studied that +fragment, and strove to find out what it was that gave it such vigour +and force, but it was useless. That was undoubtedly the work of a great +genius, and everything I had written was nothing short of a libel upon +myself, strung together so as to be quite correct in harmony and +counterpoint, but full, nevertheless, of nothing but commonplaces. + +"In thorough disgust I gave it up altogether, when suddenly I remembered +there was no Kyrie in the Service we had heard. + +"A something prompted me to supply the want out of my own mind. All I +strove was to make the style blend with the Credo; in every other +respect it was perfectly original, and when finished gave me great cause +to be pleased with my own work. + +"Looking at my watch I discovered it was fast getting on to midnight, so +I drew an arm-chair up to the fire and lighted a cigar. It was only +natural that my mind should be full of the music heard the previous +evening. I was no believer in the supernatural, and had unsparingly +ridiculed all ghost stories heard at various times. Now there was no +doubt: I had listened to music played by no earthly fingers. What could +it all mean? Why did the old man's ghost return to haunt the scene of +his former labours? Was it because he had left a solemn injunction which +had never been complied with? Was it because his life's purpose had been +left unfulfilled, and his last cherished wish had died with him? + +"There was the solution, no doubt. And what a loss it was to the world; +only to think of so priceless a work being lost for ever! + +"At this stage I was conscious of nodding, and waking up with a start, +endeavoured to pursue my train of thought. The fire was comfortable, and +my cigar was still alight; only a few moments more, and then bed. The +resolution was scarcely formed before my head dropped again and I was +fast asleep. + +"How long I slept I know not; a sensation of coldness caused me to +awake, only to find the fire nearly out, my reading-lamp smouldering, +and the moon brightly shining into the room. Imagine, if you can, my +surprise, when, turning round, there, full in the light of the moon, was +a figure writing at my table. It was an old man dressed in old-fashioned +style, just like what was worn two hundred or more years ago. There was +the wig, the coat with square flaps, the shoes with silver +buckles--everything except the sword. The face could not be clearly +defined, but the figure was most distinct. + +"My first sensations were, to say the least, peculiar. I was for the +moment frightened, and it was several moments before common sense +asserted itself. A feeling of intense curiosity soon overpowered all +sense of fear. Sitting in my chair I could hear the scratching of his +pen upon the paper. He wrote at a very rapid pace and seemed too intent +upon his labours to notice my presence. I waited for some time in +absolute stillness, but then, becoming weary of the situation, +endeavoured to attract his attention with a cough. He took no notice, +and so I arose and walked towards him. + +"I am telling you the entire truth when I assure you I could find +nothing in that chair. I grasped nothing tangible, and the chair +appeared quite empty, while still the scratching of the pen continued; +and as I walked away from the window the apparition appeared as plain as +ever. Every line of the figure was clear as if in life. At last while I +watched, the sound of writing ceased, and the figure vanished from my +view, leaving the roll of manuscript just as it had been before I fell +asleep. + +"Rushing up to the mantelpiece I seized a box of matches, hurriedly +lighted a candle, and approached the desk, and there found the Service +written out in full in a strange handwriting. My own work was +obliterated, the pen drawn through it all with the exception of the +Kyrie, which was as I left it, save that the word Kyrie was written over +it in the strange handwriting. At the conclusion of the Service were +written these words: 'E.I. hoc fecit. R.I.P.'" + +As the Doctor uttered these words, he went to the bookshelf and drew +down a book bound carefully in calf, which he opened and passed to me. +It was the original copy as he had found it, his own work crossed out +just as he had said, and the Service written in an altogether strange +hand. + +"I took those letters, R.I.P., to impose a solemn obligation upon me," +continued the Doctor. "The Service was at length restored, and I felt +sure that if it were used his soul would rest in peace. That is why we +have it here every Easter Sunday. It has become, in fact, quite a +tradition of the cathedral, which I hope no future organist will ever +depart from. The apparition has never since appeared, so I take it that +was evidently the wish expressed, and the reason why the old man's ghost +for so many years haunted the scene of his former labours." + + * * * * * + +This story is finished. I leave it just as the Doctor related it. Do I +believe it? Undoubtedly I do, but all explanation I leave as impossible. +Perhaps some day we shall know better the relation existing between the +material world and the unknown. At present the subject is best left +alone. Facts we must accept, our imperfect knowledge prevents their +explanation. + +JOHN GRĆME. + + + + +THE ONLY SON OF HIS MOTHER. + +BY LETITIA MCCLINTOCK. + + +"Dear Mrs. Archer, be consoled; I promise to stand by Henry as if he +were my brother. Indeed, I look upon him quite as my brother, having no +near ties of my own." + +"God bless you for the promise," said Mrs. Archer. "You are better to +Henry than any brother could be. Thy love is wonderful, passing the love +of woman." + +Mrs. Archer, the widowed mother of an only child, was deeply imbued with +sacred lore. No great reader of general literature, she knew her Bible +from cover to cover, and was much in the habit of expressing herself in +Scriptural language. Her husband had been the Rector of a lonely parish +in Donegal, where for twenty-five years he had taught an unsophisticated +people, "letting his light shine," as his wife expressed it. + +One recreation he had: the writing of a Commentary on the Epistle to the +Romans. While he was shut up in his study, little Henry, a mischievous, +wild urchin, had to be kept quiet. Here was field for the full exercise +of Mrs. Archer's ingenuity. As the boy's life went on, she gained an +able assistant in this loving labour, namely Malcolm McGregor, Henry's +school-friend. Malcolm and Henry were sent to Foyle College at the same +time. Mrs. Archer could hardly read for joy the day she expected her +darling home for his first vacation, accompanied by "the jolliest chap +in the school," whom he had begged leave to bring with him. + +From the Rectory door the parents could watch the outside car coming +down the steep hill; King William, the Rector's old horse, slipping a +little, and two shabby, hair-covered trunks falling on his back, to be +recovered by Jack Dunn, the man-of-all-work, who could drive on +occasion. + +Which of the little black figures running on in front of the car was the +mother's treasure? Henry was up to as many pranks as ever, but now he +had a quiet friend to restrain him, and his mother and the parish were +very glad of it. + +"Dear mistress, thon's a settled wee fellow, thon McGregor: he's the +quare wise guide for we'er ain wichel." Thus spoke Jack Dunn when the +holidays drew near an end. "Fleech him to come back." + +"There is no need to urge him, Jack," replied his mistress, smiling; "he +is very anxious to visit us again." + +"Weel-a-weel, ma'am, I never tould you how Master Henry blew up the +sexton wi' his crackers, twa nights afore he went to school--" + +"Never, Jack!" + +"Na, na! Jack wadna be for vexin' you an' his reverence. Master Henry +an' Mat, the herd, let off fireworks outside the sexton's door, an' him +an' the wife, an' the sisters an' the grannie jumpin' out o' their beds, +an' runnin' about the house, thinkin' the Judgment Day was come, an' +maybe that the Old Enemy was come for them--" + +"Oh, Jack, hush; how terrible! Think what you are saying." + +"Nae word o' lie, mistress. The sexton was in a quare rage, an' the +grannie lay for three weeks wi' the scare. It was hushed up becase there +isna a soul in the parish wad like to annoy his reverence. But +whist--not a word out o' your mouth! Our wean has got thon ither wee +comrade to steady him _now_." + +McGregor did steady Henry. They fished Gartan Lough; they boated, they +shot over the mountains, they skated on the same lovely expanse of lake, +and they heard, in the marshes each Easter the whirring bleat of the +snipe. This was the history of school and college vacations for many +years. Then first love came--society was sought for; the neighbouring +clergy and their families came to Gartan Rectory; young couples wandered +blissfully in the fairest scenes in all the world. The friends loved the +same sweet maiden, and she deceived them both, and married a ponderous +rector, possessed of six hundred per annum, the very year they left old +Trinity! They were firmer friends than ever, yet that sweet false one +was never mentioned between them. In a reverently-veiled corner in each +heart, however, still dwelt a dear ideal which the false beloved had not +been able to destroy. + +Then events crowded upon Mrs. Archer. The Rector died, and she left her +old home; and her son and his friend went into the army, Henry as sub., +Malcolm as surgeon. + +At the commencement of the story, Malcolm was assuring the mother that +he would stand by Henry in all dangers--under all circumstances +whatever. + +"You will hear of the 5th Fusiliers favourably, I am sure," said he +lightly, trying to calm her agitation. + +"Henry is so rash and ardent," she returned. + +"And I am a cool, quiet fellow, ma'am. Oh, you may trust me--I'll have +an eye to him." + +"Will there be wars, Doctor dear, where you ones is goin'?" asked old +Jack Dunn, wistfully, as he polished the young gentlemen's boots for the +last time before their departure. The friends were smoking a last pipe +by the kitchen fire of the cottage where Mrs. Archer lived in her +husband's old parish, among the people who had loved him. Jack was +polishing the boots close to them, pausing every now and then to +exchange a word with his "wichel," whom he had nursed as an infant, +petted and scolded as a schoolboy, and shielded from punishment on +innumerable occasions. His "wichel" was now a huge young man, taller +than Dr. McGregor by four inches. + +"Wha'll black them boots now?" said Jack in a sentimental tone. "Wha'll +put the richt polish on them? Some scatter-brained youngster, I'm +thinkin', that shouldna be trusted to handle boots like these anes." +Thus he spoke, making the hissing, purring noise with which he +accompanied his rubbing down of King William. + +The friends smiled at each other. "That's hard work, Jack," remarked +Henry. + +"But are ye goin' to the wars, my wean? Doctor dear, tell me, will he be +fightin' them savage Indians?" + +"We believe so, Jack. We are to join the 5th Fusiliers, and they are to +fight the warlike Hill Tribes, fine soldiers--tall, fine men they are, +we are told." + +"Alase-a-nie! You'll nae be fightin' yoursel, Doctor?" + +"No," smiled McGregor, "my duty will be to cure, not to kill." + +"Then, man alive, ye'll hae an eye to Henry." + +So the young men tore themselves away from the sobbing mother, and, +through her blinding tears, she watched them mount the steep road +leading to Letterkenny first and then to the outside world, where danger +must be faced and glory won. Her husband's loving people collected that +evening in her cottage garden to condole with her and offer their +roughly-expressed but heartfelt sympathy. + +"Dinna be cryin' that way, mistress dear," said old Jack. "Sure thon's a +quare steady fellow, thon Doctor, an' he will hae an eye to Henry." + + * * * * * + +It was November, 1888, when our troops were obliged to retreat from the +Black Mountain, and Mrs. Archer's son and his friend were among them. +Need it be recorded here how bravely Englishmen had fought, how +unmurmuringly they had endured the extremity of cold and fatigue? Their +Gourka allies had stood by them well; but the wild Hill Tribes, the +"fine soldiers" of whom McGregor had told Jack Dunn, were getting the +best of it, and we were forced to retreat. Many months had passed since +the two friends first saw the Black Mountain, compared with which the +mightiest highland in wild Donegal, land of mountains, was an anthill. +Dear Gartan Lough was as a drop of water in their eyes, their +snipe-haunted marshes as a potato garden, when they saw the gigantic +scale of Indian scenery. Henry had fought well in many a skirmish and +had escaped without a wound. Malcolm had used his surgical skill pretty +often, generally with good effect. He was beloved by officers and men +for his kindness of heart. Was there a letter to be written for any poor +fellow--a last message to be sent home, words of Christian hope to be +spoken, Dr. McGregor was called upon. + +On the 4th of November, the first column began the retreat, the enemy +"sniping," as usual, and a party had to be sent out to clear the flank, +before the troops left camp. The retiring column then got carefully +along the Chaila Ridge as far as the Ghoraphir Point, where some of the +5th Fusiliers were placed with a battery of guns, and ordered to remain +until all were passed. The enemy, in force, followed the last regiment +and were steadily shelled from the battery. The guns were then sent down +and the men, firing volleys, followed the guns, only two companies being +left. Of these, Lieutenant Archer and ten men were told to stay as the +last band to cover the retreat, and the enemy made a determined attempt +to annihilate them. McGregor was with Henry and his ten. All the pluck +that ever animated hero inspired those twelve men. Each felt the honour +of being chosen for such a post. No time for words; no time for more +thoughts than one, namely, "England expects every man to do his duty." + +But of course Malcolm McGregor had a thought underlying the thought of +duty to Queen and country; he remembered his promise to the widowed +mother: he must "have an eye to Henry!" + +The path that led down the hill was a most difficult one, being winding +and very rocky. Above the soldiers rose a precipice, manned by parties +of the enemy, who harassed them incessantly by throwing fragments of +rock down upon their heads. These immense stones were hurled from a +height of fifty yards; but the companies wound round the mountain in +good order. + +Last of all came Henry Archer and his ten men, attended by the Doctor. +Theirs was the chief post of honour and of peril. Henry's foot slipped; +he tried to recover himself, but in vain. Down he rolled with the loose +stones that had been hurled from above. McGregor stopped, and two of the +men with him; the other eight men pushed forward. Henry's leg was +broken; he could not move. Here was, indeed, an anxious dilemma. + +"We must carry him, of course," said the surgeon. "You are the best man +of us three, Henderson; we'll hoist him on your back." + +To stagger along such a path, bearing a heavy burden, was well-nigh +impossible, even for the stalwart soldier. Dark faces might have been +seen looking over the ridge, had they glanced upwards. They knew of the +presence of these foes by the falling of the rocks about their ears. The +peril of the situation demoralised the second soldier; he picked up his +rifle, which he had laid on the ground while he helped the surgeon to +lift Henry upon Henderson's back, and ran. + +"Oh, Doctor dear, he's too weighty for me," groaned Henderson. "I canna +carry him anither foot o' the way; sure, sure he's the biggest man in +the regiment." + +"Lay me down, Henderson, and save yourself; why should I sacrifice +_you_?" groaned the wounded man. + +"I'll take him from you, man; quick, quick, help me to get him on my +back." + +"Why, Doctor, he's a bigger man nor you," said Henderson in his Ulster +dialect. + +"No matter. I'll carry him or die! He has fainted. He is a dead weight +now--but we leave this road together, or we stay here together." +Muttering the last words, Malcolm set out, and he carried him safely +over very rough ground, under a heavy shower of bullets and rockets, for +one hundred and fifty yards to where the nine men awaited them. + +Malcolm's strength was now gone; but Henderson had recovered his powers +a little, and joining hands with him, they managed to carry Henry on to +the spot where the last company of the Fusiliers and a company of +Gourkas were forming, a sharp fire being kept up all the time on both +sides. + +Neither of them expected to reach the company, as they told one another +in after days. Their sole expectation was to drop with their burden on +the stony path of Ghoraphir, and leave their bones among the wild hill +tribes. + +"McGregor, you have carried Archer all the way?--Incredible!" cried his +brother officers. + +"Not I alone--Henderson helped. Let us improvise some kind of stretcher, +and get him on with us, men, for Heaven's sake." + +A stretcher was obtained, and he was carried on, while the retreat +continued, the two companies alternately firing to keep back the enemy, +who pursued for three miles. + + * * * * * + +Henry lay helpless in a bare room in the fort--a blessed haven of refuge +for the sick and wounded. Dr. McGregor had invalids in every room; his +whole time was occupied, and his ingenuity was taxed to make the poor +fellows somewhat comfortable. + +"Another death, Doctor," said the officer in command one morning. + +"Indeed, yes; it is that brave chap, Henderson, who helped me to bring +Archer in. Bronchitis has carried him off; a man of fine physique; a +fine young fellow, and a countryman of my own. The cold of this mountain +district is fearful. I can't keep my patients warm enough, all I can +do." + +"How is Archer? Will he pull through?" + +"He is low to-day; but the limb is doing all right. There is more fever +than I like to see," and the surgeon, looking very grave, hurried away. + +Not to neglect any duty, and yet to nurse his comrade as he ought to be +nursed was the problem our Jonathan had to solve. + +Henry's fever ran high for several days, leaving him utterly weak. It +was midnight. The patient and his surgeon were alone; the latter +beginning to cherish a feeble hope, the former believing that he had +done with earthly things. + +"You carried me on your back down Ghoraphir, old fellow," he said +faintly, stretching out a hand and arm that were dried up to skin and +bone. + +"What of that, Henry? Keep quiet, I'd advise you." + +"You took off your tunic and laid it over me on the stretcher. Henderson +told me that; and you might have caught your death of cold--" + +"Hush, my good man; you are talking too much." + +"You doctors are all tyrants. I _will_ speak, for I may not be able +again. Reach me that writing-case. Yes. Open it and take out the things. +The Bible--her own Bible--is for the mater, with my love. My meerschaum +is for Jack Dunn; and please tell them both that you looked after +me--you 'had an eye to Henry.'" + +This with a smile. Then, as Malcolm took a photograph out of the +case--"Ah, you did not know I had it? Emmie gave it me that time when +she--well, well, they put a pressure upon her, and I had nothing to +marry on--a pauper, eh?" + +"She liked you the best of us two, Henry." + +"Ay, but she did not like me well enough. I dreamt of her yesterday, and +I quite forgive her. If you care to keep that photo., you can, and the +case, and gold pen and studs." + +"Now, my chap, you just drink this, and hold your tongue. Please God, +you and I will _both_ see Gartan parish again; and you may tell mother +and Jack that I stood by you and looked after you, if you please. You're +mad angry with me this minute; but I'm shutting you up for your good." + + * * * * * + +A time came, through the mercy of God, when the widow received her son +back again, with the friend who was now almost as dear to her, and when +tar barrels blazed on every hill around Gartan Lough. + +Jack polished the boots that had travelled so far, the while tales of +adventure delighted his ear. + +Henry talked the most, his quiet friend hearing him with pleasure. +Surgeon McGregor never realised that he was a hero; yet his deeds were +bruited abroad and became the talk of all that countryside. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Argosy, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ARGOSY *** + +***** This file should be named 18373-8.txt or 18373-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/3/7/18373/ + +Produced by Paul Murray, Taavi Kalju and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +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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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Argosy + Vol. 51, No. 3, March, 1891 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Charles W. Woods + +Release Date: May 11, 2006 [EBook #18373] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ARGOSY *** + + + + +Produced by Paul Murray, Taavi Kalju and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h3><i>"Laden with Golden Grain"</i></h3> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<h3>THE</h3> +<h1>ARGOSY.</h1> + +<p> </p> + +<h4>EDITED BY</h4> +<h2>CHARLES W. WOOD.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<h3>VOLUME LI.</h3> + +<h2><i>January to June, 1891.</i></h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + + +<h4>RICHARD BENTLEY & SON,</h4> +<h4>8, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, LONDON, W.</h4> + +<p class="center">Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty.</p> + +<h5><i>All rights reserved.</i></h5> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p class="center"> +LONDON:<br /> +PRINTED BY OGDEN, SMALE AND CO. LIMITED,<br /> +GREAT SAFFRON HILL, E.C.<br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><i>CONTENTS.</i></h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='right'>PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'><b><span class="smcap">The Fate of the Hara Diamond</span>. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">M.L. Gow</span>.</b></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>Chap. I. </td> + <td align='left'>My Arrival at Deepley Walls</td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>II. </td> + <td align='left'>The Mistress of Deepley Walls</td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>III. </td> + <td align='left'>A Voyage of Discovery</td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>IV. </td> + <td align='left'>Scarsdale Weir</td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>V. </td> + <td align='left'>At Rose Cottage</td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>VI. </td> + <td align='left'>The Growth of a Mystery</td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>VII. </td> + <td align='left'>Exit Janet Hope</td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>VIII. </td> + <td align='left'>By the Scotch Express</td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>IX. </td> + <td align='left'>At "The Golden Griffin"</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>X. </td> + <td align='left'>The Stolen Manuscript</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XI. </td> + <td align='left'>Bon Repos</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_189">189</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XII. </td> + <td align='left'>The Amsterdam Edition of 1698</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_194">194</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XIII. </td> + <td align='left'>M. Platzoff's Secret—Captain Ducie's Translation of M. Paul Platzoff's MS</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XIV. </td> + <td align='left'>Drashkil-Smoking</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XV. </td> + <td align='left'>The Diamond</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XVI. </td> + <td align='left'>Janet's Return</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XVII. </td> + <td align='left'>Deepley Walls after Seven Years</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XVIII. </td> + <td align='left'>Janet in a New Character</td> + <td align='right'>May</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XIX. </td> + <td align='left'>The Dawn of Love</td> + <td align='right'>May</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XX. </td> + <td align='left'>The Narrative of Sergeant Nicholas</td> + <td align='right'>May</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XXI. </td> + <td align='left'>Counsel taken with Mr. Madgin</td> + <td align='right'>May</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XXII. </td> + <td align='left'>Mr. Madgin at the Helm</td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XXIII. </td> + <td align='left'>Mr. Madgin's Secret Journey</td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XXIV. </td> + <td align='left'>Enter Madgin Junior</td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XXV. </td> + <td align='left'>Madgin Junior's First Report</td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'>* * * * *</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'><b><span class="smcap">The Silent Chimes</span>. By <span class="smcap">Johnny Ludlow</span> (Mrs. <span class="smcap">Henry Wood</span>).</b></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Putting Them Up</td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Playing Again</td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Ringing at Midday</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Not Heard</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Silent for Ever</td> + <td align='right'>May</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'>* * * * *</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'><b><span class="smcap">The Bretons at Home</span>. By <span class="smcap">Charles W. Wood</span>, F.R.G.S. With 35 Illustrations</b></td> + <td align='right'>Jan, Feb, <a href="#Page_225">225</a>, Apr, May, Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'>* * * * *</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>About the Weather</td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Across the River. By <span class="smcap">Helen M. Burnside</span></td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>After Twenty Years. By <span class="smcap">Ada M. Trotter</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>A Memory. By <span class="smcap">George Cotterell</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>A Modern Witch</td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>An April Folly. By <span class="smcap">Gilbert H. Page</span></td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>A Philanthropist. By <span class="smcap">Angus Grey</span></td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Aunt Phœbe's Heirlooms: An Experience in Hypnotism</td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>A Social Debut</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_244">244</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>A Song. By <span class="smcap">G.B. Stuart</span></td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Enlightenment. By <span class="smcap">E. Nesbit</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>In a Bernese Valley. By <span class="smcap">Alexander Lamont</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Legend of an Ancient Minster. By <span class="smcap">John Græme</span></td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_258">258</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Longevity. By <span class="smcap">W.F. Ainsworth</span>, F.S.A.</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Mademoiselle Elise. By <span class="smcap">Edward Francis</span></td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Mediums and Mysteries. By <span class="smcap">Narissa Rosavo</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Miss Kate Marsden</td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>My May Queen. By <span class="smcap">John Jervis Beresford</span>, M.A.</td> + <td align='right'>May</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Old China</td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>On Letter-Writing. By <span class="smcap">A.H. Japp</span>, LL.D.</td> + <td align='right'>May</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Paul. By the Author of "Adonais, Q.C."</td> + <td align='right'>May</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>"Proctorised"</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Rondeau. By <span class="smcap">E. Nesbit</span></td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_202">202</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Saint or Satan? By <span class="smcap">A. Beresford</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Sappho. By <span class="smcap">Mary Grey</span></td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Serenade. By <span class="smcap">E. Nesbit</span></td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Sonnets. By <span class="smcap">Julia Kavanagh</span></td> + <td align='right'>Jan, Feb, Apr, Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>So Very Unattractive!</td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Spes. By <span class="smcap">John Jervis Beresford</span>, M.A.</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Sweet Nancy. By <span class="smcap">Jeanie Gwynne Bettany</span></td> + <td align='right'>May</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>The Church Garden. By <span class="smcap">Christian Burke</span></td> + <td align='right'>May</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>The Only Son of his Mother. By <span class="smcap">Letitia McClintock</span></td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_259">259</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>To my Soul. From the French of Victor Hugo</td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Unexplained. By <span class="smcap">Letitia McClintock</span></td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Who Was the Third Maid?</td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Winter in Absence</td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'>* * * * *</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'><b><i>POETRY.</i></b></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Sonnets. By <span class="smcap">Julia Kavanagh</span></td> + <td align='right'>Jan, Feb, Apr, Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>A Song. By <span class="smcap">G.B. Stuart</span></td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Enlightenment. By <span class="smcap">E. Nesbit</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Winter in Absence</td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>A Memory. By <span class="smcap">George Cotterell</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>In a Bernese Valley. By <span class="smcap">Alexander Lamont</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Rondeau. By <span class="smcap">E. Nesbit</span></td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_202">202</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Spes. By <span class="smcap">John Jervis Beresford</span>, M.A.</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Across the River. By <span class="smcap">Helen M. Burnside</span></td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>My May Queen. By <span class="smcap">John Jervis Beresford</span>, M.A.</td> + <td align='right'>May</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>The Church Garden. By <span class="smcap">Christian Burke</span></td> + <td align='right'>May</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Serenade. By <span class="smcap">E. Nesbit</span></td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>To my Soul. From the French of Victor Hugo</td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Old China</td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'>* * * * *</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'><b><i>ILLUSTRATIONS.</i></b></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'><b>By M.L. Gow.</b></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>"I advanced slowly up the room, stopped, and curtsied."</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>"I saw and recognised the mysterious midnight visitor."</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>"He came back in a few minutes, but so transformed in outward appearance that Ducie scarcely knew him."</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>"Behold!"</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>"Sister Agnes knelt for a few moments and bent her head in silent prayer."</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>"He put his hand to his side, and motioned Mirpah to open the letter."</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'>* * * * *</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Illustrations to "The Bretons at Home."</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a href="images/01large.jpg"> + <img src="images/01.jpg" + alt="He came back in a few minutes, but so transformed in outward appearance that Ducie scarcely knew him." + title="He came back in a few minutes, but so transformed in outward appearance that Ducie scarcely knew him." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">He came back in a few minutes, but so transformed in outward appearance that Ducie scarcely knew him.</span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE ARGOSY.</h2> + +<h3><i>MARCH, 1891.</i></h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE FATE OF THE HARA DIAMOND.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>AT "THE GOLDEN GRIFFIN."</h3> + + +<p>Captain Edmund Ducie was one of the first to emerge from the wreck. He +crept out of the broken window of the crushed-up carriage, and shook +himself as a dog might have done. "Once more a narrow squeak for life," +he said, half aloud. "If I had been worth ten thousand a-year, I should +infallibly have been smashed. Not being worth ten brass farthings, here +I am. What has become of my little Russian, I wonder?"</p> + +<p>No groan or cry emanated from that portion of the broken carriage out of +which Captain Ducie had just crept. Could it be possible that Platzoff +was killed?</p> + +<p>With considerable difficulty Ducie managed to wrench open the smashed +door. Then he called the Russian by name; but there was no answer. He +could discern nothing inside save a confused heap of rugs and minor +articles of luggage. Under these, enough in themselves to smother him, +Platzoff must be lying. One by one these articles were fished out of the +carriage, and thrown aside by Ducie. Last of all he came to Platzoff, +lying in a heap, white and insensible, as one already dead.</p> + +<p>Putting forth all his great strength, Ducie lifted the senseless body +out of the carriage as carefully and tenderly as though it were that of +a new-born child. He then saw that the Russian was bleeding from an ugly +jagged wound at the back of his head. There was no trace of any other +outward hurt. A faint pulsation of the heart told that he was still +alive.</p> + +<p>On looking round, Ducie saw that there was a large country tavern only a +few hundred yards from the scene of the accident. Towards this house, +which announced itself to the world under the title of "The Golden +Griffin," he now hastened with long measured strides, carrying the still +insensible Russian in his arms. In all, some half<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>-dozen carriages had +come over the embankment. The shrieks and cries of the wounded +passengers were something appalling. Already the passengers in the fore +part of the train, who had escaped unhurt, together with the officials +and a few villagers who happened to be on the spot, were doing their +best to rescue these unfortunates from the terrible wreckage in which +they were entangled.</p> + +<p>Captain Ducie was the first man from the accident to cross the threshold +of "The Golden Griffin." He demanded to be shown the best spare room in +the house. On the bed in this room he laid the body of the still +insensible Platzoff. His next act was to despatch a mounted messenger +for the nearest doctor. Then, having secured the services of a brisk, +steady-nerved chambermaid, he proceeded to dress the wound as well as +the means at his command would allow of—washing it, and cutting away +the hair, and, by means of some ice, which he was fortunate enough to +procure, succeeding in all but stopping the bleeding, which, to a man so +frail of body, so reduced in strength as Platzoff, would soon have been +fatal. A teaspoonful of brandy administered at brief intervals did its +part as a restorative, and some minutes before the doctor's arrival +Ducie had the satisfaction of seeing his patient's eyes open, and of +hearing him murmur faintly a few soft guttural words in some language +which the Captain judged to be his native Russ.</p> + +<p>Platzoff had quite recovered his senses by the time the doctor arrived, +but was still too feeble to do more than whisper a few unconnected +words. There were many claimants this forenoon on the doctor's +attention, and the services required by Platzoff at his hands had to be +performed as expeditiously as possible.</p> + +<p>"You must make up your mind to be a guest of 'The Golden Griffin' for at +least a week to come," he said, as he took up his hat preparatory to +going. "With quiet, and care, and a strict adherence to my instructions, +I daresay that by the end of that time you will be sufficiently +recovered to leave here for your own home. Humanly speaking, sir, you +owe your life to this gentleman," indicating Ducie. "But for his skill +and promptitude you would have been a dead man before I reached you."</p> + +<p>Platzoff's thin white hand was extended feebly. Ducie took it in his +sinewy palms and pressed it gently. "You have this day done for me what +I can never forget," whispered the Russian, brokenly. Then he closed his +eyes, and seemed to sink off into a sleep of exhaustion.</p> + +<p>Leaving strict injunctions with the chambermaid not to quit the room +till he should come back, Captain Ducie went downstairs with the +intention of revisiting the scene of the disaster. He called in at the +bar to obtain his favourite "thimbleful" of cognac, and there he found a +very agreeable landlady, with whom he got into conversation respecting +the accident. Some five minutes had passed thus when the chambermaid +came up to him. "If you please, sir, the foreign gentleman has woke up, +and is anxiously asking to see you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> + +<p>With a shrug of the shoulders and a slight lowering of his black +eyebrows, Captain Ducie went back upstairs. Platzoff's eager eyes fixed +him as he entered the room. Ducie sat down close by the bed and said in +a kindly tone: "What is it? What can I do for you? Command me in any +way."</p> + +<p>"My servant—where is he? And—and my despatch box. Valuable papers. Try +to find it."</p> + +<p>Ducie nodded and left the room. The inquiries he made soon elicited the +fact that Platzoff's servant had been even more severely injured than +his master, and was at that moment lying, more dead than alive, in a +little room upstairs. Slowly and musingly, with hands in pocket, Captain +Ducie then took his way towards the scene of the accident. "It may suit +my book very well to make friends with this Russian," he thought as he +went along. "He is no doubt very rich; and I am very poor. In us the two +extremes meet and form the perfect whole. He might serve my purposes in +more ways than one, and it is just as likely that his purposes might be +served by me: for a man like that must have purposes that want serving. +Nous verrons. Meanwhile, I am his obedient servant to command."</p> + +<p>Captain Ducie, hunting about among the débris of the train, was not long +in finding the fragments of M. Platzoff's despatch box. Its contents +were scattered about. Ducie spent ten minutes in gathering together the +various letters and documents which it had contained. Then, with the +broken box under his arm and the papers in his hands, he went back to +the Russian.</p> + +<p>He showed the papers one by one to Platzoff, who was strangely eager in +the matter. When Ducie held up the last of them, Platzoff groaned and +shut his eyes. "They are all there as far as I can judge," he murmured, +"except the most important one of all—a paper covered with figures, of +no use to anyone but myself. Oh, dear Captain Ducie! do please go once +more and try to find the one that is still missing. If I only knew that +it was burnt, or torn into fragments, I should not mind so much. But if +it were to fall into the hands of a scoundrel skilful enough to master +the secret which it contains, then I—"</p> + +<p>He stopped with a scared look on his face, as though he had unwittingly +said more than he had intended.</p> + +<p>"Pray don't trouble yourself with any explanations just now," said +Ducie. "You want the paper: that is enough. I will go and have a +thorough hunt for it."</p> + +<p>Back went Ducie to the broken carriages and began to search more +carefully than before. "What can be the nature of the great secret, I +wonder, that is hidden between the Sibylline leaves I am in search of? +If what Platzoff's words implied be true, he who learns it is master of +the situation. Would that it were known to me!"</p> + +<p>Slowly and carefully, inside and out of the carriage in which he and +Platzoff had travelled, Captain Ducie conducted his search. One<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> by one +he again turned over the wraps and different articles of personal +luggage belonging to both of them, which had not yet been removed. The +first object that rewarded his search was a splendid diamond pin which +he remembered having seen in Platzoff's scarf. Ducie picked it up and +looked cautiously around. No one was regarding him. "Of the first water +and worth a hundred guineas at the very least," he muttered. Then he put +it in his waistcoat pocket and went on with his search.</p> + +<p>A minute or two later, hidden away under one of the cushions of the +carriage, he found what he was looking for: a folded sheet of thick blue +paper covered with a complicated array of figures—that and nothing +more.</p> + +<p>Captain Ducie regarded the recovered treasure with a strange mixture of +feelings. His hands trembled slightly; his heart was beating more +quickly than usual; his eyes seemed to see and yet not to see the paper +in his hands. As one mazed and in deep doubt he stood.</p> + +<p>His reverie was broken by the approach of some of the railway officials. +The cloud vanished from before his eyes, and he was his cool, +imperturbable self in a moment. Heading the long array of figures on the +parchment were a few lines of ordinary writing, written, however, not in +English, but Italian. These few lines Ducie now proceeded to read over +more attentively than he had done at the first glance. He was +sufficiently master of Italian to be able to translate them without much +difficulty. Translated they ran as under:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p class="right"><span style="margin-right: 2em;">"Bon Repos,</span></p> + +<p class="right">"Windermere.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Carlo mio</span>,—In the Amsterdam edition of 1698 of <i>The Confessions +of Parthenio the Mystic</i> occur the passages given below. To your +serious consideration, O friend of my heart, I recommend these +words. To read them much patience is required. But they are +freighted with wisdom, as you will discover long before you reach +the end of them, and have a deep significance for that great cause +to which the souls of both of us are knit by bonds which in this +life can never be severed. When you read these lines, the hand that +writes them will be cold in the grave. But Nature allows nothing to +be lost, and somewhere in the wide universe the better part of me +(the mystic <span class="smcap">Ego</span>) will still exist; and if there be any truth in the +doctrine of the affinity of souls, then shall you and I meet again +elsewhere. Till that time shall come—Adieu!</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 4em;">"Thine,</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 6em;">"<span class="smcap">Paul Platzoff</span>."</span></p></div> + +<p>Having carefully read these lines twice over, Captain Ducie refolded the +paper, put it away in an inner pocket, and buttoned his coat over it. +Then he took his way, deep in thought, back to "The Golden Griffin."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Russian's eager eyes asked him: "What success?" before he could say +a word.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to say that I have not been able to find the paper," said +Captain Ducie in slow, deliberate tones. "I have found something +else—your diamond pin, which you appear to have lost out of your +scarf."</p> + +<p>Platzoff gazed at him with a sort of blank despair on his saffron face, +but a low moan was his only reply. Then he turned his face to the wall +and shut his eyes.</p> + +<p>Captain Ducie was a patient man, and he waited without speaking for a +full hour. At the end of that time Platzoff turned, and held out a +feeble hand.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, my friend—if you will allow me to call you so," he said. +"I must seem horribly ungrateful after all the trouble I have put you +to, but I do not feel so. The loss of my MS. affected me so deeply for a +little while that I could think of nothing else. I shall get over it by +degrees."</p> + +<p>"If I remember rightly," remarked Ducie, "you said that the lost MS. was +merely a complicated array of figures. Of what possible value can it be +to anyone who may chance to find it?"</p> + +<p>"Of no value whatever," answered Platzoff, "unless they who find it +should also be skilful enough to discover the key by which alone it can +be read; for, as I may now tell you, there is a hidden meaning in the +figures. The finders may or may not make that discovery, but how am I to +ascertain what is the fact either one way or the other? For want of such +knowledge my sense of security will be gone. I would almost prefer to +know for certain that the MS. had been read than be left in utter doubt +on the point. In the one case I should know what I had to contend +against, and could take proper precautionary measures; in the other, I +am left to do battle with a shadow that may or may not be able to work +me harm."</p> + +<p>"Would possession of the information that is contained in the MS. enable +anyone to work you harm?"</p> + +<p>"It would to this extent, that it would put them in possession of a +cherished secret, which—But why talk of these things? What is done +cannot be undone. I can only prepare myself for the worst."</p> + +<p>"One moment," said Ducie. "I think that after the thorough search made +by me the chances are twenty to one against the MS. ever being found. +But granting that it does turn up, the finder of it will probably be +some ignorant navvie or incurious official, without either inclination +or ability to master the secret of the cipher."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Ten days later M. Platzoff was sufficiently recovered to set out for Bon +Repos. At his earnest request Ducie had put off his own journey to stay +with him. At another time the ex-Captain might not have cared to spend +ten days at a forlorn country tavern, even with a rich Russian; but as +he often told himself he had "his book to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> make," and he probably looked +upon this as a necessary part of the process. Before they parted, it was +arranged that as soon as Ducie should return from Scotland he should go +and spend a month at Bon Repos. Then the two shook hands, and each went +his own way. As one day passed after another without bringing any +tidings of the lost MS., Platzoff's anxiety respecting it seemed to +lessen, and by the time he left "The Golden Griffin" he had apparently +ceased to trouble his mind any further in the matter.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>THE STOLEN MANUSCRIPT.</h3> + + +<p>Captain Edmund Ducie came of a good family. His people were people of +mark among the landed gentry of their county, and were well-to-do even +for their position. Although only a fourth son, his allowance had been a +very handsome one, both while at Cambridge and afterwards during the +early years of his life in the army. When of age, he had come into the +very nice little fortune, for a fourth son, of nine thousand pounds; and +it was known that there would be "something handsome" for him at his +father's death. He had a more than ordinary share of good looks; his +mind was tolerably cultivated, and afterwards enlarged by travel and +service in various parts of the world; in manners and address he was a +finished gentleman of the modern school. Yet all these advantages of +nature and fortune were in a great measure nullified and rendered of no +avail by reason of one fatal defect, of one black speck at the core. In +a word, Captain Ducie was a born gambler.</p> + +<p>He had gambled when a child in the nursery, or had tried to gamble, for +cakes and toys. He had gambled when at school for coppers, +pocket-knives, and marbles. He had gambled when at the University, and +had felt the claws of the Children of Usury. He gambled away his nine +thousand pounds, or such remainder of it as had not been forestalled, +when he came of age. Later on, when in the army, and on home allowance +again, for his father would not let him starve, he had kept on gambling; +so that when, some five years later, his father died, and he dropped in +for the "something handsome," two-thirds of it had to be paid down on +the nail to make a free man of him again. On the remaining one-third he +contrived to keep afloat for a couple of years longer; then, after a +season of heavy losses, came the final crash, and Captain Ducie found +himself under the necessity of selling his commission, and of retiring +into private life.</p> + +<p>From this date Captain Ducie was compelled to live by "bleeding" his +friends and connections. He was a great favourite among them, and they +rallied gallantly to his rescue. But Ducie still gambled; and the best +of friends, and the most indulgent of relatives, grew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> tired after a +time of seeing their cherished gold pieces slip heedlessly through the +fingers of the man whom it was intended that they should substantially +help, and be lost in the foul atmosphere of a gaming-house. One by one, +friend and relative dropped away from the doomed man, till none were +left. Little by little the tide of fortune ebbed away from his feet, +leaving him stranded high and dry on the cruel shore of impecuniosity, +hemmed in by a thousand debts, with the gaunt wolf of beggary staring +him in the face.</p> + +<p>There was one point about Captain Ducie's gambling that redounded to his +credit. No one ever suspected him of cheating. His "run of luck" was so +uniformly bad, despite a brief fickle gleam of fortune now and again, +which seemed sent only to lure him on to deeper destruction; it was so +well known that he had spent two fortunes and alienated all his friends +through his passion for the green cloth, that it would have been the +height of absurdity to even suspect him of roguery. Indeed, "Ducie's +luck" was a proverbial phrase at the whist-tables of his club. He was +not a "turf" man, and had no knowledge of horses beyond that legitimate +knowledge which every soldier ought to have. His money had all been lost +either at cards or roulette. He was one of the most imperturbable of +gamblers. Whatever the varying chances of the game might be, no man ever +saw him either elated or depressed: he fought with his vizor down.</p> + +<p>No man could be more aware of his one besetting weakness, nor of his +inability to conquer it, than was Captain Ducie. When he could no longer +muster five pounds to gamble with, he would gamble with five shillings. +There was a public-house in Southwark to which, poorly dressed, he +sometimes went when his funds were low. Here, unknown to the police, a +little quiet gambling for small stakes went on from night to night. But +however small might be the amount involved, there was the passion, the +excitement, the gambling contagion, precisely as at Homburg or Baden; +and these it was that made the very salt of Captain Ducie's life.</p> + +<p>About six months before we made his acquaintance he had been compelled +to leave his pleasant suite of apartments in New Bond Street, and had, +since that time, been the tenant of a shabby bed-room in a shabby little +out-of-the-way street. When in town he took his meals at his club, and +to that address all letters and papers for him were sent. But of late +even the purlieus of his club had become dangerous ground. Round the +palatial portal duns seemed to hover and flit mysteriously, so that the +task of reaching the secure haven of the smoking-room was one of danger +and difficulty; while the return voyage to the shabby little bed-room in +the shabby little street could be accomplished in safety only by +frequent tacking and much skilful pilotage, to avoid running foul of +various rocks and quicksands by the way.</p> + +<p>But now, after a six weeks' absence in Scotland, Captain Ducie<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> felt +that for a day or two at least he was tolerably safe. He felt like an +old fox venturing into the open after the noise of the hunt has died +away in the distance, who knows that for a little while he is safe from +molestation. How delightful town looked, he thought, after the dull life +he had been leading at Stapleton. He had managed to screw another fifty +pounds out of Barnstake, and this very evening, the first of his return, +he would go to Tom Dawson's rooms and there refresh himself with a +little quiet faro or chicken-hazard: very quiet it must of necessity be, +unless he saw that it was going to turn out one of his lucky evenings, +in which case he would try to "put up" the table and finish with a +fortunate coup. But there was one little task that he had set himself to +do before going out for the evening, and he proceeded to consider it +over while discussing his cup of strong green tea and his strip of dry +toast.</p> + +<p>To aid him in considering the matter he brought out of an inner pocket +the stolen manuscript of M. Platzoff.</p> + +<p>While in Scotland, when shut up in his own room of a night, he had often +exhumed the MS., and had set himself seriously to the task of +deciphering it, only to acknowledge at the end of a terrible half-hour +that he was ignominiously beaten. Whereupon he would console himself by +saying that such a task was "not in his line," that his brains were not +of that pettifogging order which would allow of his sitting down with +the patience requisite to master the secret of the figures. To-night, +for the twentieth time, he brought out the MS. He again read the +prefatory note carefully over, although he could almost have said it by +heart, and once more his puzzled eyes ran over the complicated array of +figures, till at last, with an impatient "Pish!" he flung the MS. to the +other side of the table, and poured out for himself another cup of tea.</p> + +<p>"I must send it to Bexell," he said to himself. "If anyone can make it +out, he can. And yet I don't like making another man as wise as myself +in such a matter. However, there is no help for it in the present case. +If I keep the MS. by me till doomsday I shall never succeed in making +out the meaning of those confounded figures."</p> + +<p>When he had finished his tea he took out his writing desk and wrote as +under:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Bexell</span>,—I have only just got back from Scotland after an +absence of six weeks. I have brought with me a severe catarrh, a +new plaid, a case of Mountain Dew, and a MS. written in cipher. The +first and second of these articles I retain for my own use. Of the +third I send you half-a-dozen bottles by way of sample: a judicious +imbibition of the contents will be found to be a sovereign remedy +for the Pip and other kindred disorders that owe their origin to a +melancholy frame of mind. The fourth article on my list I send you +bodily. It has been lent to me by a friend of mine who states that +he found it in his muniment chest among a lot of old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> title deeds, +leases, etc., the first time he waded through them after coming +into possession of his property. Neither he nor any friend to whom +he has shown it can make out its meaning, and I must confess to +being myself one of the puzzled. My friend is very anxious to have +it deciphered, as he thinks it may in some way relate to his +property, or to some secret bit of family history with which it +would be advisable that he should become acquainted. Anyhow, he +gave it to me to bring to town, with a request that I should seek +out someone clever in such things, and try to get it interpreted +for him. Now I know of no one except yourself who is at all expert +in such matters. You, I remember, used to take a delight that to me +was inexplicable in deciphering those strange advertisements which +now and again appear in the newspapers. Let me therefore ask of you +to bring your old skill to bear in the present case, and if you can +make me anything like a presentable translation to send back to my +friend the laird, you will greatly oblige</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 4em;">"Your friend,</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 6em;">"<span class="smcap">E. Ducie</span>."</span></p></div> + +<p>The MS. consisted of three or four sheets of deed-paper fastened +together at one corner with silk. The prefatory note was on the first +sheet. This first sheet Ducie cut away with his penknife and locked up +in his desk. The remaining sheets he sent to his friend Bexell, together +with the note which he had written.</p> + +<p>Three days later Mr. Bexell returned the sheets with his reply. In order +properly to understand this reply it will be necessary to offer to the +reader's notice a specimen of the MS. The conclusion arrived at by Mr. +Bexell, and the mode by which he reached them, will then be more clearly +comprehensible.</p> + +<p>The following is a counterpart of the first few lines of the MS.:</p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr> + <td align='center'>253.12</td> + <td align='center'>59.25</td> + <td align='center'>14.5</td> + <td align='center'>96.14</td> + <td align='center'>158.49</td> + <td align='center'>1.29</td> + <td align='center'></td> + <td align='center'>465.1</td> + <td align='center'>28.53</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='center'>4</td> + <td align='center'>1</td> + <td align='center'>6</td> + <td align='center'>10</td> + <td align='center'>4</td> + <td align='center'>12</td> + <td align='center'></td> + <td align='center'>9</td> + <td align='center'>1</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='center'>16.36</td> + <td align='center'>151.18</td> + <td align='center' class="bt">58.7</td> + <td align='center' class="bt">14.29</td> + <td align='center' class="bt">368.1</td> + <td align='center' class="bt">209.18</td> + <td align='center' class="bt">43.11</td> + <td align='center'>1.31</td> + <td align='center'>1.1</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='center'>11</td> + <td align='center'>3</td> + <td align='center' class="bt"> </td> + <td align='center' class="bt"> </td> + <td align='center' class="bt"> </td> + <td align='center' class="bt"> </td> + <td align='center' class="bt"> </td> + <td align='center'>9</td> + <td align='center'>8</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='center'>29.6</td> + <td align='center'>186.9</td> + <td align='center'>204.11</td> + <td align='center'>86.19</td> + <td align='center'>43.16</td> + <td align='center'>348.14</td> + <td align='center'></td> + <td align='center'>196.29</td> + <td align='center'>203.5</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='center'>4</td> + <td align='center'>5</td> + <td align='center'>10</td> + <td align='center'>6</td> + <td align='center'>1</td> + <td align='center'>5</td> + <td align='center'></td> + <td align='center'>6</td> + <td align='center'>2</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='center'>186.9</td> + <td align='center'>1.31</td> + <td align='center'>21.10</td> + <td align='center'>143.18</td> + <td align='center'>200.6</td> + <td align='center'>29.40</td> + <td align='center'></td> + <td align='center'>408.9</td> + <td align='center'>61.5</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='center'>5</td> + <td align='center'>9</td> + <td align='center'>4</td> + <td align='center'>8</td> + <td align='center'>3</td> + <td align='center'>12</td> + <td align='center'></td> + <td align='center'>11</td> + <td align='center'>4</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='center'>209.11</td> + <td align='center'>496.1</td> + <td align='center'>24.24</td> + <td align='center'>28.59</td> + <td align='center'>69.39</td> + <td align='center'>391.10</td> + <td align='center'></td> + <td align='center'>60.13</td> + <td align='center'>200.1</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='center'>2</td> + <td align='center'>6</td> + <td align='center'>4</td> + <td align='center'>1</td> + <td align='center'>10</td> + <td align='center'>11</td> + <td align='center'></td> + <td align='center'>5</td> + <td align='center'>3</td> +</tr> +</table></div> + +<p>The following is Mr. Bexell's reply to his friend Captain Ducie:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Ducie</span>,—With this note you will receive back your +confounded MS., but without a translation. I have spent a good deal +of time and labour in trying to decipher it, and the conclusions at +which I have arrived may be briefly laid before you.</p> + +<p>1. Each group of three sets of figures represents a word.</p> + +<p>2. Each group of two sets of figures—those with a line above and a +line below—represents a letter only.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + +<p>3. Those letters put together from the point where the double line +begins to the point where it ceases, make up a word.</p> + +<p>4. In the composition of this cryptogram <i>a book</i> has been used as +the basis on which to work.</p> + +<p>5. In every group of three sets of figures the first set represents +the page of the book; the second, the number of the line on that +page, probably counting from the top; the third the position in +ordinary rotation of the word on that line. Thus you have the +number of the page, the number of the line, and the number of the +word.</p> + +<p>6. In the case of the interlined groups of two sets of figures, the +first set represents the number of the page; the second set the +number of the line, probably counting from the top, of which line +the required letter will prove to be the initial one.</p> + +<p>7. The words thus spelled out by the interlined groups of double +figures are, in all probability, proper names, or other uncommon +words not to be found in their entirety in the book on which the +cryptogram is based, and consequently requiring to be worked out +letter by letter.</p> + +<p>8. The book in question is not a dictionary, nor any other work the +words of which come in alphabetical rotation. It is probably some +ordinary book, which the writer of the cryptogram and the person +for whom it is written have agreed upon beforehand to make use of +as a key. I have no means of judging whether the book in question +is an English or a foreign one, but by it alone, whatever it may +be, can the cryptogram be read.</p> + +<p>"Now, my dear Ducie, it would be wearisome for me to describe, and +equally wearisome for you to read, the processes of reasoning by +means of which the above deductions have been arrived at. But in +order to satisfy you that my assumptions are not entirely fanciful +or destitute of sober sense, I will describe to you, as briefly as +may be, the process by means of which I have come to the conclusion +that the book used as the basis of the cryptogram was not a +dictionary or other work in which the words come in alphabetical +rotation; and such a conclusion is very easy of proof.</p> + +<p>"In a document so lengthy as the MS. of your friend the Scotch +laird there must of necessity be many repetitions of what may be +called 'indispensable words'—words one or more of which are used +in the composition of almost every long sentence. I allude to such +words as <i>a</i>, <i>an</i>, <i>and</i>, <i>as</i>, <i>of</i>, <i>by</i>, <i>the</i>, <i>their</i>, +<i>them</i>, <i>these</i>, <i>they</i>, <i>you</i>, <i>I</i>, <i>it</i>, etc. The first thing to +do was to analyse the MS. and classify the different groups of +figures for the purpose of ascertaining the number of repetitions +of any one group. My analysis showed me that these repetitions were +surprisingly few. Forty groups were repeated twice, fifteen three +times, and nine groups four times. Now, according to my +calculation, the MS. contains one thousand two hundred and +eighty-three words. Out of those one thousand two hundred and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +eighty-three words there must have been more than the number of +repetitions shown by my analysis, and not of one only, but of +several of what I have called 'indispensable words.' Had a +dictionary been made use of by the writer of the MS. all such +repetitions would have been referred to one particular page, and to +one particular line of that page: that is to say, in every case +where a word repeated itself in the MS. the same group of numbers +would in every case have been its <i>valeur</i>. As the repetitions were +so few I could only conclude that some book of an ordinary kind had +been made use of, and that the writer of the cryptogram had been +sufficiently ingenious not to repeat his numbers very frequently in +the case of 'indispensable words,' but had in the majority of cases +given a fresh group of numbers at each repetition of such a word. I +might, perhaps, go further and say that in the majority of cases +where a group of figures is repeated such group refers to some word +less frequently used than any of those specified above, and that +one group was obliged to do duty on two or more occasions, simply +because the writer was unable to find the word more than once in +the book on which his cryptogram was based.</p> + +<p>"Having once arrived at the conclusion that some book had been used +as the basis of the cryptogram, my next supposition that each group +of three sets of numbers showed the page of the book, the number of +the line from the top, and the position of the required word in +that line, seemed at once borne out by an analysis of the figures +themselves. Thus, taking the first set of figures in each group, I +found that in no case did they run to a higher number than 500, +which would seem to indicate that the basis-book was limited to +that number of pages. The second set of figures ran to no higher +number than 60, which would seem to limit the lines on each page to +that number. The third set of figures in no case yielded a higher +number than 12, which numerals, according to my theory, would +indicate the maximum number of words in each line. Thus you have at +once (if such information is of any use to you) a sort of a key to +the size of the required volume.</p> + +<p>"I think I have now written enough, my dear Ducie, to afford you +some idea of the method by means of which my conclusions have been +arrived at. If you wish for further details I will supply them—but +by word of mouth, an it be all the same to your honour; for this +child detests letter-writing, and has taken a vow that if he reach +the end of his present pen-and-ink venture in safety, he will never +in time to come devote more than two pages of cream note to even +the most exacting of friends: the sequitur of which is, that if you +want to know more than is here set down you must give the writer a +call, when you shall be talked to to your heart's content.</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 4em;">"Your exhausted friend,</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 6em;">"<span class="smcap">Geo. Bexell</span>."</span></p></div> + +<p>Captain Ducie had too great a respect for the knowledge of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> friend +Bexell in matters like the one under review to dream for one moment of +testing the validity of any of his conclusions. He accepted the whole of +them as final. Having got the conclusions themselves, he cared nothing +as to the processes by which they had been deduced: the details +interested him not at all. Consequently he kept out of the way of his +friend, being in truth considerably disgusted to find that, so far as he +was himself concerned, the affair had ended in a fiasco. He could not +look upon it in any other light. It was utterly out of the range of +probability that he should ever succeed in ascertaining on what +particular book the cryptogram was based, and no other knowledge was now +of the slightest avail. He was half inclined to send back the MS. +anonymously to Platzoff, as being of no further use to himself; but he +was restrained by the thought that there was just a faint chance that +the much-desired volume might turn up during his forthcoming visit to +Bon Repos—that even at the eleventh hour the key might be found.</p> + +<p>He was terribly chagrined to think that the act of genteel petty +larceny, by which he had lowered himself more in his own eyes than he +would have cared to acknowledge, had been so absolutely barren of +results. That portion of his moral anatomy which he would have called +his conscience pricked him shrewdly now and again, but such pricks had +their origin in the fact of his knavery having been unsuccessful. Had +his wrong-doing won for him such a prize as he had fondly hoped to gain +by its means, Conscience would have let her rusted spear hang unheeded +on the wall, and beyond giving utterance now and then to a faint whisper +in the dead of night, would have troubled him not at all.</p> + +<p>It was some time in the middle of the night, about a week after Bexell +had sent him back the papers, that he awoke suddenly and completely, and +there before him, as clearly as though it had been written in letters of +fire on the black wall, he saw the title of the wished-for book. It was +the book mentioned by Platzoff in his prefatory note: <i>The Confessions +of Parthenio the Mystic</i>. The knowledge had come to him like a +revelation. How stupid he must have been never to have thought of it +before! That night he slept no more.</p> + +<p>Next morning he went to one of the most famous bookdealers in the +metropolis. The book inquired for by Ducie was not known to the man. But +that did not say that there was no such work in existence. Through his +agents at home and abroad inquiry should be made, and the result +communicated to Captain Ducie. Therewith the latter was obliged to +content himself. Three days later came a pressing note of invitation +from Platzoff.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>BON REPOS.</h3> + + +<p>On a certain fine morning towards the end of May, Captain Ducie took +train at Euston Square, and late the same afternoon was set down at +Windermere. A fly conveyed himself and his portmanteau to the edge of +the lake. Singling out one from the tiny fleet of pleasure boats always +to be found at the Bowness landing-stage, Captain Ducie seated himself +in the stern and lighted his cigar. The boatman's sinewy arms soon +pulled him out into the middle of the lake, when the head of the little +craft was set for Bon Repos.</p> + +<p>The sun was dipping to the western hills. In his wake he had left a rack +of torn and fiery cloud, as though he had rent his garments in wrath and +cast them from him. Soft, grey mists and purple shadows were beginning +to strike upward from the vales, but on the great shoulders of +Fairfield, and on the scarred fronts of other giants further away, the +sunshine lingered lovingly. It was like the hand of Childhood caressing +the rugged brows of Age.</p> + +<p>With that glorious panorama which crowns the head of the lake before his +eyes, with the rhythmic beat of the oars and the soft pulsing of the +water in his ears, with the blue smoke-rings of his cigar rising like +visible aspirations through the evening air, an unwonted peace, a soft +brooding quietude, began to settle down upon the Captain's world-worn +spirit; and through the stillness came a faint whisper, like his +mother's voice speaking from the far-off years of childhood, recalling +to his memory things once known, but too long forgotten; lessons too +long despised, but with a vital truth underlying them which he seemed +never to have realised till now. Suddenly the boat's keel grazed the +shingly strand, and there before him, half shrouded in the shadows of +evening, was Bon Repos.</p> + +<p>A genuine north-country house, strong, rugged and homely-looking, +despite its Gallic cognomen. It was built of the rough grey stone of the +district, and roofed with large blue slates. It stood at the head of a +small lawn that sloped gently up from the lake. Immediately behind the +house a precipitous hill, covered with a thick growth of underwood and +young trees, swept upward to a considerable height. A narrow, winding +lane, the only carriage approach to the house, wound round the base of +this hill, and joined the high road a quarter of a mile away. The house +was only two stories high, but was large enough to have accommodated a +numerous and well-to-do family. The windows were all set in a framework +of plain stone, but on the lower floor some of them had been modernised, +the small, square, bluish panes having given place to polished plate +glass, of which two panes only were needed for each window. But this was +an innovation that had not spread far. The lawn was bordered with a +tasteful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> diversity of shrubs and flowers, while here and there the +tender fingers of some climbing plant seemed trying to smoothe away a +wrinkle in the rugged front of the old house.</p> + +<p>Captain Ducie walked up the gravelled pathway that led from the lake to +the house, the boatman with his portmanteau bringing up the rear. Before +he could touch either bell or knocker, the door was noiselessly opened, +and a coloured servant, in a suit of plain black, greeted him with a +respectful bow.</p> + +<p>"Captain Ducie, sir, if I am not misinformed?"</p> + +<p>"I am Captain Ducie."</p> + +<p>"Sir, you are expected. Your rooms are ready. Dinner will be served in +half-an-hour from now. My master will meet you when you come +downstairs."</p> + +<p>The portmanteau having been brought in, and the boatman paid and +dismissed, said the coloured servant: "I will show you to your rooms, if +you will allow me to do so. The man appointed to wait upon you will +follow with your luggage in a minute or two."</p> + +<p>He led the way, and Ducie followed in silence.</p> + +<p>The tired Captain gave a sigh of relief and gratitude, and flung himself +into an easy-chair as the door closed behind his conductor. His two +rooms were <i>en suite</i>, and while as replete with comfort as the most +thorough-going Englishman need desire, had yet about them a touch of +lightness and elegance that smacked of a taste that had been educated on +the Continent, and was unfettered by insular prejudices.</p> + +<p>"At Stapleton I had a loft that was hardly fit for a groom to sleep in; +here I have two rooms that a cardinal might feel proud to occupy. Vive +la Russie!"</p> + +<p>M. Platzoff was waiting at the foot of the staircase when Ducie went +down. A cordial greeting passed between the two, and the host at once +led the way to the dining-room. Platzoff in his suit of black and white +cravat, with his cadaverous face, blue-black hair and chin-tuft, and the +elaborate curl on the top of his forehead, looked, at the first glance, +more like a ghastly undertaker's man than the host of an English country +house.</p> + +<p>But a second glance would have shown you his embroidered linen and the +flashing gems on his fingers; and you could not be long with him without +being made aware that you were in the company of a thorough man of the +world—of one who had travelled much and observed much; of one whose +correspondents kept him au courant with all the chief topics of the day. +He knew, and could tell you, the secret history of the last new opera; +how much had been paid for it, what it had cost to produce, and all +about the great green-room cabal against the new prima donna. He knew +what amount of originality could be safely claimed for the last new +drama that was taking the town by storm, and how many times the same +story had been hashed up before. He had read the last French novel of +any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> note, and could favour you with a few personal reminiscences of its +author not generally known. As regarded political knowledge—if all his +statements were to be trusted—he was informed as to much that was going +on behind the great drop-scene. He knew how the wires were pulled that +moved the puppets who danced in public, especially those wires which +were pulled in Paris, Vienna and St. Petersburg. Before Ducie had been +six hours at Bon Repos he knew more about political intrigues at home +and abroad than he had ever dreamt of in the whole course of his +previous life.</p> + +<p>The dining-room at Bon Repos was a long low-ceilinged apartment, +panelled with black oak, and fitted up in a rich and sombre style that +was yet very different from the dull, heavy formality that obtains among +three-fourths of the dining-rooms in English country houses. Indeed, +throughout the appointments and fittings of Bon Repos there was a touch +of something Oriental grafted on to French taste, combined with a +thorough knowledge and appreciation of insular comfort. From the +dining-room windows a lovely stretch of the lake could be seen +glimmering in the starlight, and our two friends sat this evening over +their wine by the wide open sash, gazing out into the delicious night. +Behind them, in the room, two or three candles were burning in silver +sconces; but at the window they were sitting in that sort of half light +which seems exactly suited for confidential talk. Captain Ducie took +advantage of it after a time to ask his host a question which he would +perhaps have scarcely cared to put by broad daylight.</p> + +<p>"Have you heard any news of your lost manuscript?"</p> + +<p>"None whatever," answered Platzoff. "Neither do I expect, after this +lapse of time, to hear anything further concerning it. It has probably +never been found, or if found, has (as you suggested at 'The Golden +Griffin') fallen into the hands of someone too ignorant, or too +incurious, to master the secret of the cipher."</p> + +<p>"It has been much in my thoughts since I saw you last," said Ducie. "Was +the MS. in your own writing, may I ask?"</p> + +<p>"It was in my own writing," answered the Russian. "It was a confidential +communication intended for the eye of my dearest friend, and for his eye +only. It was unfinished when I lost it. I had been staying a few days at +one of your English spas when I joined you in the train on the day of +the accident. The MS., as far as it went, had all been written before I +left home; but I took it with me in my despatch-box, together with other +private papers, although I knew that I could not add a single line to it +while I should be from home. I have wished a thousand times since that I +had left it behind me."</p> + +<p>"I have heard of people to whom cryptography is a favourite study," said +the Captain; "people who pride themselves on their ability to master the +most difficult cipher ever invented. Let us hope that your MS. has not +fallen into the hands of one of these clever individuals."</p> + +<p>Platzoff shrugged his shoulders. "Let us hope so, indeed," he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> said. +"But I will not believe in any such untoward event. Too long a time has +elapsed since the loss for me not to have heard something respecting the +MS., had it been found by anyone who knew how to make use of it. +Besides, I would defy the most clever reader of cryptography to master +my MS. without—Ah, Bah! where's the use of talking about it? Should not +you like some tobacco? Daylight's last tint has vanished, and there is a +chill air sweeping down from the hills."</p> + +<p>As they left the window, Platzoff added: "One of the most annoying +features connected with my loss arises from the fact that all my labour +will have to be gone through again—and very tedious work it is. I am +now engaged on a second MS., which is, as nearly as I can make it, a +copy of the first one; and it is a task which must be done by myself +alone. To have even one confidant would be to stultify the whole affair. +Another glass of claret, and then I will introduce you to my sanctum."</p> + +<p>The coloured man who had opened the door for Captain Ducie had been in +and out of the dining-room several times. He was evidently a favourite +servant. Platzoff had addressed him as Cleon, and Ducie had now a +question or two to ask concerning him.</p> + +<p>Cleon was a mulatto, tall, agile and strong. Not bad-looking by any +means, but carrying with him unmistakable traces of the negro blood in +his veins. His hair was that of a genuine African—crisp and black, and +was one mass of short curls; but except for a certain fulness of the +lips his features were of the ordinary Caucasian type. He wore no beard, +but a thin, straight line of black moustache. His complexion was yellow, +but a different yellow from that of his master—dusky, passionate, +lava-like; suggestive of fiery depths below. His eyes, too, glowed with +a smothered fire that seemed as if it might blaze out at any moment, and +there was in them an expression of snake-like treachery that made +Captain Ducie shudder involuntarily, as though he had seen some +loathsome reptile, the first time he looked steadily into their +half-veiled depths. One look into each other's eyes was sufficient for +both these men.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Cleon and I are born enemies, and he knows it as well as I +do," murmured Ducie to himself, after the first secret signal of +defiance had passed between the two. "Well, I never was afraid of any +man in my life, and I'm not going to begin by being afraid of a valet." +With that he shrugged his shoulders, and turned his back contemptuously +on the mulatto.</p> + +<p>Cleon, in his suit of black and white tie, with his quiet, stealthy +movements and unobtrusive attentions, would have been pronounced good +style as a gentleman's gentleman in the grandest of Belgravian mansions. +Had he suddenly come into a fortune, and gone into society where his +antecedents were unknown, five-sixths of his male associates would have +pronounced him "a deuced gentlemanly fellow." The remaining one-sixth +might have held a somewhat different opinion.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That coloured fellow seems to be a great favourite with you," remarked +Ducie, as Cleon left the room.</p> + +<p>"And well he may be," answered Platzoff. "On two separate occasions I +owed my life to him. Once in South America, when a couple of brigands +had me at their mercy and were about to try the temper of their knives +on my throat. He potted them both one after the other. On the second +occasion he rescued me from a tiger in the jungle, who was desirous of +dining <i>à la Russe</i>. I have not made a favourite of Cleon without having +my reasons for so doing."</p> + +<p>"He seems to me a shrewd fellow, and one who understands his business."</p> + +<p>"Cleon is not destitute of ability. When I settled at Bon Repos I made +him major-domo of my small establishment, but he still retains his old +position as my body-servant. I offered long ago to release him; but he +will not allow any third person to come between himself and me, and I +should not feel comfortable under the attentions of anyone else."</p> + +<p>Platzoff opened the door as he ceased speaking and led the way to the +smoking room.</p> + +<p>As you lifted the curtain and went in, it was like passing at one step +from Europe to the East—from the banks of Windermere to the shores of +the Bosphorus. It was a circular apartment with a low cushioned divan +running completely round it, except where broken by the two doorways, +curtained with hangings of dark brown. The floor was an arabesque of +different-coloured tiles, covered here and there with a tiny square of +bright-hued Persian carpet. The walls were panelled with stamped leather +to the height of six feet from the ground; above the panelling they were +painted of a delicate cream colour with here and there a maxim or +apophthegm from the Koran, in the Arabic character, picked out in +different colours. From the ceiling a silver lamp swung on chains of +silver. In the centre of the room was a marble table on which were pipes +and hookahs, cigars and tobaccos of various kinds. Smaller tables were +placed here and there close to the divan for the convenience of smokers.</p> + +<p>Platzoff having asked Ducie to excuse him for five minutes, passed +through the second doorway, and left the Captain to an undisturbed +survey of the room. He came back in a few minutes, but so transformed in +outward appearance that Ducie scarcely knew him. He had left the room in +the full evening costume of an English gentleman: he came back in the +turban and flowing robes of a follower of the Prophet. But however +comfortable his Eastern habit might be, M. Platzoff lacked the quiet +dignity and grave repose of your genuine Turkish gentleman.</p> + +<p>"I am going to smoke one of these hookahs; let me recommend you to try +another," said Platzoff as he squatted himself cross-legged on the +divan.</p> + +<p>He touched a tiny gong, and Cleon entered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Select a hookah for Monsieur Ducie, and prepare it."</p> + +<p>So Cleon, having chosen a pipe, tipped it with a new amber mouthpiece, +charged the bowl with fragrant Turkish tobacco, handed the stem to +Ducie, and then applied the light. The same service was next performed +for his master. Then he withdrew, but only to reappear a minute or two +later with coffee served up in the Oriental fashion—black and strong, +without sugar or cream.</p> + +<p>"This is one of my little smoke-nights," said Platzoff as soon as they +were alone. "Last night was one of my big smoke-nights."</p> + +<p>"You speak a language I do not understand."</p> + +<p>"I call those occasions on which I smoke opium my big smoke-nights."</p> + +<p>"Can it be true that you are an opium smoker?" said Ducie.</p> + +<p>"It can be and is quite true that I am addicted to that so-called +pernicious habit. To me it is one of the few good things this world has +to offer. Opium is the key that unlocks the golden gates of Dreamland. +To its disciples alone is revealed the true secret of subjective +happiness. But we will talk more of this at some future time."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>THE AMSTERDAM EDITION OF 1698.</h3> + + +<p>Captain Ducie soon fell into the quiet routine of life at Bon Repos. It +was not distasteful to him. To a younger man it might have seemed to +lack variety, to have impinged too closely on the verge of dulness; but +Captain Ducie had reached that time of life when quiet pleasures please +the most, and when much can be forgiven the man who sets before you a +dinner worth eating. Not that Ducie had anything to forgive. Platzoff +had contracted a great liking for his guest, and his hospitality was of +that cordial quality which makes the object of it feel himself +thoroughly at home. Besides this, the Captain knew when he was well off, +and had no wish to exchange his present pleasant quarters, his rambles +across the hills, and his sailings on the lake, for his dingy bed-room +in town with the harassing, hunted down life of a man upon whom a dozen +writs are waiting to be served, and who can never feel certain that his +next day's dinner may not be eaten behind the locks and bars of a +prison.</p> + +<p>Sometimes on horseback, sometimes on foot, sometimes accompanied by his +host, sometimes alone, Ducie explored the lovely country round Bon Repos +to his heart's content. Another source of pleasure and healthful +exercise he found in long solitary pulls up and down the lake in a tiny +skiff which had been set apart for his service. In the evening came +dinner and conversation with his host, with perhaps a game or two of +billiards to finish up the day.</p> + +<p>Captain Ducie found no scope for the exercise of his gambling +proclivities at Bon Repos. Platzoff never touched card or dice. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> +could handle a cue tolerably well, but beyond a half-crown game, Ducie +giving him ten points out of fifty, he could never be persuaded to +venture. If the Captain, when he went down to Bon Repos, had any +expectation of replenishing his pockets by means of faro and unlimited +loo, he was wretchedly mistaken. But whatever secret annoyance he might +feel, he was too much a man of the world to allow his host even to +suspect its existence.</p> + +<p>Of society in the ordinary meaning of that word there was absolutely +none at Bon Repos. None of the neighbouring families by any chance ever +called on Platzoff. By no chance did Platzoff ever call on any of the +neighbouring families.</p> + +<p>"They are too good for me, too orthodox, too strait-laced," exclaimed +the Russian one day in his quiet, jeering way. "Or it may be that I am +not good enough for them. Any way, we do not coalesce. Rather are we +like flint and steel, and eliminate a spark whenever we come in contact. +They look upon me as a pagan, and hold me in horror. I look upon +three-fourths of them as Pharisees, and hold them in contempt. Good +people there are among them no doubt; people whom it would be a pleasure +to know, but I have neither time, health, nor inclination for +conventional English visiting—for your ponderous style of hospitality. +I am quite sure that my ideas of men and manners would not coincide with +those of the quiet country ladies and gentlemen of these parts; while +theirs would seem to me terribly wearisome and jejune. Therefore, as I +take it, we are better apart."</p> + +<p>By and by Ducie discovered that his host was not so entirely isolated +from the world as at first sight he appeared to be.</p> + +<p>Occasional society there was of a certain kind, intermittent, coming and +going like birds of passage. One, or sometimes two visitors, of whose +arrival Ducie had heard no previous mention, would now and again put in +an appearance at the dinner-table, would pass one, or at the most two +nights at Bon Repos, and would then be seen no more, having gone as +mysteriously as they had come.</p> + +<p>These visitors were always foreigners, now of one nationality, now of +another: and were always closeted privately with Platzoff for several +hours. In appearance some of them were strangely shabby and unkempt, in +a wild, un-English sort of fashion, while others among them seemed like +men to whom the good things of this world were no strangers. But +whatever their appearance, they were all treated by Platzoff as honoured +guests for whom nothing at his command was too good.</p> + +<p>As a matter of course, they were all introduced to Captain Ducie, but +none of their names had been heard by him before—indeed, he had a dim +suspicion, gathered, he could not have told how, that the names by which +they were made known to him were in some cases fictitious ones, and +appropriated for that occasion only. But to the Captain that fact +mattered nothing. They were people whom he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> should never meet after +leaving Bon Repos, or if he did chance to meet them, whom he should +never recognise.</p> + +<p>One other noticeable feature there was about these birds of passage. +They were all men of considerable intelligence—men who could talk +tersely and well on almost any topic that might chance to come uppermost +at table, or during the after-dinner smoke. Literature, art, science, +travel—on any or all of these subjects they had opinions to offer; but +one subject there was that seemed tabooed among them as by common +consent: that subject was politics. Captain Ducie saw and recognised the +fact, but as he himself was a man who cared nothing for politics of any +kind, and would have voted them a bore in general conversation, he was +by no means disposed to resent their extrusion from the table talk at +Bon Repos.</p> + +<p>As to whom and what these strangers might be, no direct information was +vouchsafed by the Russian. Captain Ducie was left in a great measure to +draw his own conclusions. A certain conversation which he had one day +with his host seemed to throw some light on the matter. Ducie had been +asking Platzoff whether he did not sometimes regret having secluded +himself so entirely from the world; whether he did not long sometimes to +be in the great centres of humanity, in London or Paris, where alone +life's full flavour can be tasted.</p> + +<p>"Whenever Bon Repos becomes Mal Repos," answered Platzoff—"whenever a +longing such as you speak of comes over me—and it does come +sometimes—then I flee away for a few weeks, to London oftener than +anywhere else—certainly not to Paris: that to me is forbidden ground. +By-and-by I come back to my nest among the hills, vowing there is no +place like it in the world's wide round. But even when I am here, I am +not so shut out from the world and its great interests as you seem to +imagine. I see History enacting itself before my eyes, and I cannot sit +by with averted face. I hear the grand chant of Liberty as the beautiful +goddess comes nearer and nearer and smites down one Oppressor after +another with her red right hand; and I cannot shut my ears. I have been +an actor in the great drama of Revolution ever since a lad of twelve. I +saw my father borne off in chains to Siberia, and heard my mother with +her dying breath curse the tyrant who had sent him there. Since that day +Conspiracy has been the very salt of my life. For it I have fought and +bled; for it I have suffered hunger, thirst, imprisonment, and dangers +unnumbered. Paris, Vienna, St. Petersburg, are all places that I can +never hope to see again. For me to set foot in any one of the three +would be to run the risk of almost certain detection, and in my case +detection would mean hopeless incarceration for the poor remainder of my +days. To the world at large I may seem nothing but a simple country +gentleman, living a dull life in a spot remote from all stirring +interests. But I may tell you, sir (in strictest confidence, mind), that +although I stand a little aside from the noise<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> and heat of the battle, +I work for it with heart and brain as busily, and to better purpose, let +us hope, than when I was a much younger man. I am still a conspirator, +and a conspirator I shall remain till Death taps me on the shoulder and +serves me with his last great writ of <i>habeas corpus</i>."</p> + +<p>These words recurred to Ducie's memory a day or two later when he found +at the dinner-table two foreigners whom he had never seen before.</p> + +<p>"Is it possible that these bearded gentlemen are also conspirators?" +asked the Captain of himself. "If so, their mode of life must be a very +uncomfortable one. It never seems to include the use of a razor, and +very sparingly that of comb and brush. I am glad that I have nothing to +do with what Platzoff calls <i>The Great Cause</i>."</p> + +<p>But Captain Ducie was not a man to trouble himself with the affairs of +other people unless his own interests were in some way affected thereby. +M. Paul Platzoff might have been mixed up with all the plots in Europe +for anything the Captain cared: it was a mere question of taste, and he +never interfered with another man's tastes when they did not clash with +his own. Besides, in the present case, his attention was claimed by what +to him was a matter of far more serious interest. From day to day he was +anxiously waiting for news from the London bookseller who was making +inquiries on his behalf as to the possibility of obtaining a copy of +<i>The Confessions of Parthenio the Mystic</i>. Day passed after day till a +fortnight had gone, and still there came no line from the bookseller.</p> + +<p>Ducie's impatience could no longer be restrained: he wrote, asking for +news. The third day brought a reply. The bookseller had at last heard of +a copy. It was in the library of a monastery in the Low Countries. The +coffers of the monastery needed replenishing; the abbot was willing to +part with the book, but the price of it would be a sum equivalent to +fifty guineas of English money. Such was the purport of the letter.</p> + +<p>To Captain Ducie, just then, fifty guineas were a matter of serious +moment. For a full hour he debated with himself whether or no he should +order the book to be bought.</p> + +<p>Supposing it duly purchased; supposing that it really proved to be the +key by which the secret of the Russian's MS. could be mastered; might +not the secret itself prove utterly worthless as far as he, Ducie, was +concerned? Might it not be merely a secret bearing on one of those +confounded political plots in which Platzoff was implicated—a matter of +moment no doubt to the writer, but of no earthly utility to anyone not +inoculated with such March-hare madness?</p> + +<p>These were the questions that it behoved him to consider. At the end of +an hour he decided that the game was worth the candle: he would risk his +fifty guineas.</p> + +<p>Taking one of Platzoff's horses, he rode without delay to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> nearest +telegraph station. His message to the bookseller was as under:</p> + +<p>"Buy the book, and send it down to me here by confidential messenger."</p> + +<p>The next few day were days of suspense, of burning impatience. The +messenger arrived almost sooner than Ducie expected, bringing the book +with him. Ducie sighed as he signed the cheque for fifty guineas, with +ten pounds for expenses. That shabby calf-bound worm-eaten volume seemed +such a poor exchange for the precious slip of paper that had just left +his fingers. But what was done could not be undone, so he locked the +book away carefully in his desk and locked up his impatience with it +till nightfall.</p> + +<p>He could not get away from Platzoff till close upon midnight. When he +got to his own room he bolted the door, and drew the curtains across the +windows, although he knew that it was impossible for anyone to spy on +him from without. Then he opened his desk, spread out the MS. before +him, and took up the volume. A calf-bound volume, with red edges, and +numbering five hundred pages. It was in English, and the title-page +stated it to be "<i>The Confessions of Parthenio the Mystic: A Romance</i>. +Translated from the Latin. With Annotations, and a Key to Sundrie Dark +Meanings. Imprinted at Amsterdam in the Year of Grace 1698." It was in +excellent condition.</p> + +<p>Captain Ducie's eagerness to test his prize would not allow of more than +a very cursory inspection of the general contents of the volume. So far +as he could make out, it seemed to be a political satire veiled under +the transparent garb of an Eastern story. Parthenio was represented as a +holy man—a Spiritualist or Mystic—who had lived for many years in a +cave in one of the Arabian deserts. Commanded at length by what he calls +the "inner voice," he sets out on his travels to visit sundry courts and +kingdoms of the East. He returns after five years, and writes, for the +benefit of his disciples, an account of the chief things he has seen and +learned while on his travels. The courts of England, France and Spain, +under fictitious names, are the chief marks for his ponderous satire, +and some of the greatest men in the three kingdoms are lashed with his +most scurrilous abuse. Under any circumstances the book was not one that +Captain Ducie would have cared to wade through, and in the present case, +after dipping into a page here and there, and finding that it contained +nothing likely to interest him, he proceeded at once to the more serious +business of the evening.</p> + +<p>The clocks of Bon Repos were striking midnight as Captain Ducie +proceeded to test the value of the first group of figures on the MS., +according to the formula laid down for him by his friend Bexell.</p> + +<p>The first group of figures was 253.12/4. Turning to page two hundred and +fifty-three of the Confessions, and counting from the top of that page, +he found that the fourth word of the twelfth line gave him <i>you</i>.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> The +second clump of figures was 59.25/1. The first word of the twenty-fifth +line of page fifty-nine gave him <i>will</i>. The third clump of figures gave +him <i>have</i>, and the fourth <i>gathered</i>. These four words, ranged in +order, read: <i>You will have gathered</i>. Such a sequence of words could +not arise from mere accident. When he had got thus far Ducie knew that +Platzoff's secret would soon be a secret no longer, that in a very +little while the heart of the mystery would be laid bare.</p> + +<p>Encouraged by his success, Ducie went to work with renewed vigour, and +before the clock struck one he had completed the first sentence of the +MS., which ran as under:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>You will have gathered from the foregoing note, my dear Carlo, +that I have something of importance to relate to you—something +that I am desirous of keeping a secret from everyone but yourself.</i></p></div> + +<p>As his friend Bexell surmised, Ducie found that the groups of figures +distinguished from the rest by two horizontal lines, one above and one +below, as thus <span class="bbt">58.7 14.29 368.1 209.18 43.11</span>, were the <i>valeurs</i> of some +proper name or other word for which there was no equivalent in the book. +Such words had to be spelt out letter by letter in the same way that +complete words were picked out in other cases. Thus the marked figures +as above, when taken letter by letter, made up the word <i>Carlo</i>—a name +to which there was nothing similar in the Confessions.</p> + +<p>It had been broad daylight for two hours before Captain Ducie grew tired +of his task and went to bed. He went on with it next night, and every +night till it was finished. It was a task that deepened in interest as +he proceeded with it. It grew upon him to such a degree that when near +the close he feigned illness, and kept his room for a whole day, so that +he might the sooner get it done.</p> + +<p>If Captain Ducie had ever amused himself with trying to imagine the +nature of the secret which he had now succeeded in unravelling, the +reality must have been very different from his expectations. One +gigantic thought, whose coming made him breathless for a moment, took +possession of him, as a demon might have done, almost before he had +finished his task, dwarfing all other thoughts by its magnitude. It was +a thought that found relief in six words only:</p> + +<p>"It must and shall be mine!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>M. PLATZOFF'S SECRET—CAPTAIN DUCIE'S TRANSLATION OF M. PAUL PLATZOFF'S +MS.</h3> + + +<p>"You will have gathered from the foregoing note, my dear Carlo, that I +have something of importance to relate to you; something<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> that I am +desirous of keeping a secret from everyone but yourself. From the same +source you will have learned where to find the key by which alone the +lock of my secret can be opened.</p> + +<p>"I was induced by two reasons to make use of <i>The Confessions of +Parthenio the Mystic</i> as the basis of my cryptographic communication. In +the first place, each of us has in his possession a copy of the same +edition of that rare book, <i>viz.</i>, the Amsterdam edition of 1698. In the +second place, there are not more than half-a-dozen copies of the same +work in England; so that if this document were by mischance to fall into +the hands of some person other than him for whom it is intended, such +person, even if sufficiently acute to guess at the means by which alone +the cryptogram can be read, would still find it a matter of some +difficulty to obtain possession of the requisite key.</p> + +<p>"I address these lines to you, my dear Lampini, not because you and I +have been friends from youth, not because we have shared many dangers +and hardship together, not because we have both kept the same great +object in view throughout life; in fine, I do not address them to you as +a private individual, but in your official capacity as Secretary of the +Secret Society of San Marco.</p> + +<p>"You know how deeply I have had the objects of the Society at heart ever +since, twenty-five years ago, I was deemed worthy of being made one of +the initiated. You know how earnestly I have striven to forward its +views both in England and abroad; that through my connection with it I +am <i>suspect</i> at nearly every capital on the Continent—that I could not +enter some of them except at the risk of my life; that health, time, +money—all have been ungrudgingly given for the furtherance of the same +great end.</p> + +<p>"Heaven knows I am not penning these lines in any self-gratulatory frame +of mind—I who write from this happy haven among the hills. +Self-gratulation would ill-become such as me. Where I have given gold, +others have given their blood. Where I have given time and labour, +others have undergone long and cruel imprisonments, have been separated +from all they loved on earth, and have seen the best years of their life +fade hopelessly out between the four walls of a living tomb. What are my +petty sacrifices to such as these?</p> + +<p>"But not to everyone is granted the happiness of cementing a great cause +with his heart's blood. We must each work in the appointed way—some of +us in the full light of day; others in obscure corners, at work that can +never be seen, putting in the stones of the foundation painfully one by +one, but never destined to share in the glory of building the roof of +the edifice.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes, in your letters to me, especially when those letters +contained any disheartening news, I have detected a tone of despondency, +a latent doubt as to whether the cause to which both of us are so firmly +bound was really progressing; whether it was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> not fighting against hope +to continue the battle any longer; whether it would not be wiser to +retreat to the few caves and fastnesses that were left us, and leaving +Liberty still languishing in chains, and Tyranny still rampant in the +high places of the world, to wage no longer a useless war against the +irresistible Fates. Happily, with you such moods were of the rarest: you +would have been more than mortal had not your soul at times sat in +sackcloth and ashes.</p> + +<p>"Such seasons of doubt and gloom have come to me also; but I know that +in our secret hearts we both of us have felt that there was a +self-sustaining power, a latent vitality in our cause that nothing could +crush out utterly; that the more it was trampled on the more dangerous +it would become, and the faster it would spread. Certain great events +that have happened during the last twelve months have done more towards +the propagation of the ideas we have so much at heart than in our +wildest dreams we dare have hoped only three short years ago. Gravely +considering these things, it seems to me that the time cannot be far +distant when the contingent plan of operations as agreed upon by the +Central Committee two years ago, to which I gave in my adhesion on the +occasion of your last visit to Bon Repos, will have to replace the +scheme at present in operation, and will become the great lever in +carrying out the Society's policy in time to come.</p> + +<p>"When the time shall be ripe, but one difficulty will stand in the way +of carrying out the proposed contingent plan. That difficulty will arise +from the fact that the Society's present expenses will then be trebled +or quadrupled, and that a vast accession to the funds at command of the +Committee for the time being will thus be imperatively necessitated. As +a step, as a something towards obviating whatever difficulty may arise +from lack of funds, I have devised to you, as Secretary of the Society, +the whole of my personal estate, amounting in the aggregate to close +upon fifteen thousand pounds. This property will not accrue to you till +my decease; but that event will happen no very long time hence. My will, +duly signed and witnessed, will be found in the hands of my lawyer.</p> + +<p>"But it was not merely to advise you of this bequest that I have sought +such a roundabout mode of communication. I have a greater and a much +more important bequest to make to the Society, through you, its +accredited agent. I have in my possession a green <span class="smcap">Diamond</span>, the estimated +value of which is a hundred and fifty thousand pounds. This precious gem +I shall leave to you, by you to be sold after my death, the proceeds of +the sale to be added to the other funded property of the Society of San +Marco.</p> + +<p>"The Diamond in question became mine during my travels in India many +years ago. I believe my estimate of its value to be a correct one. +Except my confidential servant, Cleon (whom you will remember), no one +is aware that I have in my possession a stone of such immense value. I +have never trusted it out of my own keep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>ing, but have always retained +it by me, in a safe place, where I could lay my hands upon it at a +moment's notice. But not even to Cleon have I entrusted the secret of +the hiding-place, incorruptibly faithful as I believe him to be. It is a +secret locked in my own bosom alone.</p> + +<p>"You will now understand why I have resorted to cryptography in bringing +these facts under your notice. It is intended that these lines shall not +be read by you till after my decease. Had I adopted the ordinary mode of +communicating with you, it seemed to me not impossible that some other +eye than the one for which it was intended might peruse this statement +before it reached you, and that through some foul play or underhand deed +the Diamond might never come into your possession.</p> + +<p>"It only remains for me now to point out where and by what means the +Diamond may be found. It is hidden away in—"</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Here the MS., never completed, ended abruptly.</p> + +<p>(<i>To be continued.</i>)</p> + + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/01de.jpg" + alt="Decorative" + title="Decorative" /> +</div> + + +<h2>RONDEAU.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In vain we call to youth, "Return!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In vain to fires, "Waste not, yet burn!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In vain to all life's happy things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Give the days song—give the hours wings!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let us lose naught—yet always learn!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The tongue must lose youth, as it sings—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">New knowledge still new sorrow brings:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, sweet lost youth, for which we yearn<br /></span> +<span class="i10">In vain!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But even this hour from which ye turn—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Impatient—o'er its funeral urn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your soul with mad importunings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will cry, "Come back, lost hour!" So rings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ever the cry of those who yearn<br /></span> +<span class="i8">In vain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="name"><span class="smcap">E. Nesbit</span>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> +<h2>SAPPHO.</h2> + + +<p>When the Akropolis at Athens bore its beautiful burden entire and +perfect, one miniature temple stood dedicated to wingless Victory, in +token that the city which had defied and driven back the barbarian +should never know defeat.</p> + +<p>But only a few decades had passed away when that temple stood as a mute +and piteous witness that Athens had been laid low in the dust, and that +Victory, though she could never weave a garland for Hellenes who had +conquered Hellenes, was no longer a living power upon her chosen +citadel. By the eighteenth century the shrine had altogether +disappeared: the site only could be traced, and four slabs from its +frieze were discovered close at hand, built into the walls of a Turkish +powder magazine; but not another fragment could be found.</p> + +<p>The descriptions of Pausanias and of one or two later travellers were +all that remained to tell us of the whole; of its details we might form +some faint conception from those frieze marbles, rescued by Lord Elgin +and now in the British museum.</p> + +<p>But we are not left to restore the temple of wingless Victory in our +imagination merely, aided by description and by fragment. It stands +to-day almost complete except for its shattered sculptures, placed upon +its original site, and looking, among the ruins of the grander buildings +around it, like a beautiful child who gazes for the first time on sorrow +which it feels but cannot share. The blocks of marble taken from its +walls and columns had been embedded in a mass of masonry, and when +Greece was once more free, and all traces of Turkish occupation were +being cleared from the Akropolis, these were carefully put together with +the result that we have described.</p> + +<p>Like this in part, but unhappily only in part, is the story of the poems +of Sappho. She wrote, as the architect planned, for all time. We have +one brief fragment, proud, but pathetic in its pride, that tells us she +knew she was meant not altogether to die:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"I say that there will be remembrance of us hereafter,"</p></div> + +<p>and again with lofty scorn she addresses some other woman:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"But thou shalt lie dead, nor shall there ever be remembrance of +thee then or in the time to come, for thou hast no share in the +roses of Pieria; but thou shalt wander unseen even in the halls of +Hades, flitting forth amid the shades of the dead."</p></div> + +<p>The words sound in our ears with a melancholy close as we remember how +hopelessly lost is almost every one of those poems<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> that all Hellas +loved and praised as long as the love and praise of Hellas was of any +worth. Remembrance among men was, to her, the Muses' crowning gift; that +which should distinguish her from ordinary mortals, even beyond the +grave, and grant her new life in death. But it was only for her songs' +sake that she cared to live; she looked for immortality only because she +felt that they were too fair to die.</p> + +<p>It was almost by accident that the name of Sappho was first associated +with the slanders that have ever since clung round it.</p> + +<p>By the close of the fourth century, <span class="smcap">B.C.</span>, Athenian comedy had +degenerated into brilliant and witty and scandalous farce, in many +essentials resembling the new Comedy of the Restoration in England. But +the vitiated Athenian palate required a seasoning which did not commend +itself to English taste; it was necessary that the shafts of the +writer's wit should strike some real and well-known personage.</p> + +<p>Politics, which had furnished so many subjects and so many characters to +Aristophanes, were now a barren field, and public life at Athens in +those days was nothing if not political. Hence arose the practice of +introducing great names of bygone days into these comedies, in all kinds +of ridiculous and disgraceful surroundings.</p> + +<p>There was a piquancy about these libels on the dead which we cannot +understand, but which we may contrast with the less dishonourable +process known to modern historians as "whitewashing." Just as Tiberius +and Henry VIII. have been rescued from the infamy of ages, and placed +among us upon pedestals of honour from which it will be difficult +hereafter wholly to dislodge them, many honoured names were taken by +these iconoclasts of the Middle Comedy and hurled down to such infamy as +they alone could bestow.</p> + +<p>Sappho stood out prominently as the one supreme poetess of Hellas, and +the poets, if so they must be called, of the decline of Greek dramatic +art were never weary of loading her name with every most disgraceful +reproach they could invent. It is hardly worth while to discuss a +subject so often discussed with so little profit, or it would be easy to +show that these gentlemen, Ameipsias, Antiphanes, Diphilus, and the +rest, were indebted solely to their imagination for their facts.</p> + +<p>It would be as fair to take the picture of Sokrates in the "Clouds" of +Aristophanes for a faithful representation of the philosopher as it +would be to take the Sappho of the comic stage for the true Sappho. +Indeed, it would be fairer; for the Sokrates of the "Clouds" is an +absurd caricature, but, like every good caricature, it bore some +resemblance to the original.</p> + +<p>Aristophanes and his audience were familiar with the figure of Sokrates +as he went in and out amongst them; they knew his character and his +manner of life; and, though the poet ventured to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> pervert the teaching +and to ridicule the habits of a well-known citizen, he would not venture +to put before the people a representation in which there was not a grain +of truth.</p> + +<p>But Sappho had been dead for two hundred years: the Athenian populace +knew little of her except that she had been great and that she had been +unhappy; and the descendants of the men who had thronged the theatre to +see the Œdipus of Sophokles, sickening with that strange disease +which makes the soul crave to batten on the fruits that are its poison, +found a rare feast furnished forth in the imaginary history of the one +great woman of their race.</p> + +<p>The centuries went on, and Sappho came before the tribunal of the early +Christian Church.</p> + +<p>The chief witnesses against her were these same comic poets, who were +themselves prisoners at the bar; and her judges, with the ruthless +impartiality of undiscriminating zeal, condemned the whole of her works, +as well as those of her accusers, to be destroyed in the flames.</p> + +<p>Thus her works have almost totally perished: the fragments that are +extant give us only the faintest hints of the grace and sweetness that +we have for ever lost.</p> + +<p>The mode of the preservation of these remains is half-pathetic, +half-grotesque. We have one complete poem and a considerable portion of +another; the rest are the merest fragments—now two or three lines, now +two or three words, often unintelligible without their context. We have +imitations and translations by Catullus and by Horace; but even Catullus +has conspicuously failed to reproduce her. As Mr. Swinburne has candidly +and very truly said: "No man can come close to her."</p> + +<p>No; all that we possess of Sappho is gleaned from the dictionary, the +geography, the grammar and the archæological treatise; from a host of +worthy authors who are valued now chiefly for these quotations which +they have enshrined. Here a painful scholar of Alexandria has preserved +the phrase—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The golden sandalled dawn but now has (waked) me,"</p></div> + +<p>to show how Sappho employed the adverb. Apollonius, to prove that the +Æolic dialect had a particular form for the genitive case of the first +personal pronoun, has treasured up two sad and significant utterances,</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"But thou forgettest me!"</p></div> + +<p>and</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Or else thou lovest another than me,"</p></div> + +<p>The Æolic genitive has saved for us another of these sorrow-laden +sentences which Mr. Swinburne has amplified in some beautiful but too +wordy lines. Sappho only says</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"I am full weary of Gorgo."</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> + +<p>—A few of these fragments tell us of the poet herself.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"I have a daughter like golden flowers, Kleis my beloved, for whom +(I would take) not all Sydia...."</p></div> + +<p>and one beautiful line which we can recognise in the translation by +Catullus,</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Like a child after its mother, I—"</p></div> + +<p>The touches by which she has painted nature are so fine and delicate +that the only poet of our time who has a right to attempt to translate +them has declared it to be "the one impossible task." Our English does, +indeed, sound harsh and unmusical as we try to represent her words; yet +what a picture is here—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"And round about the cold (stream) murmurs through the +apple-orchards, and slumber is shed down from trembling leaves."</p></div> + +<p>She makes us hear the wind upon the mountains falling on the oaks; she +makes us feel the sun's radiance and beauty, as it glows through her +verses; she makes us love with her the birds and the flowers that she +loved. She has a womanly pity not only for the dying doves when—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Their hearts grew cold and they dropped their wings,"</p></div> + +<p>but for the hyacinth which the shepherds trample under foot upon the +hillside. The golden pulse growing on the shore, the roses, the garlands +of dill, are yet fragrant for us; we can even now catch the sweet tones +of the "Spring's angel," as she calls it, the nightingale that sang in +Lesbos ages and ages ago. One beautiful fragment has been woven with +another into a few perfect lines by Dante Gabriel Rossetti; but it shall +be given here as it stands. It describes a young, unwedded maiden:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"As the sweet apple blushes on the end of the bough, the very end +of the bough which the gatherers overlooked—nay, overlooked not, +but could not reach."</p></div> + +<p>The Ode to Aphrodite and the fragment to Anaktoria are too often found +in translations to be quoted here. Indeed, it is of but little use to +quote; for Sappho can be known only in her own language and by those who +will devote time to these inestimable fragments. Their beauty grows upon +us as we read; we catch in one the echo of a single tone, so sweet that +it needs no harmony; and again a few stray chords that haunt the ear and +fill us with an exquisite dissatisfaction; and yet again a grave and +stately measure such as her rebuke to Alkæus—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Had thy desire been for what was good or noble and had not thy +tongue framed some evil speech, shame had not filled thine eyes—"</p></div> + +<p class="name"><span class="smcap">Mary Grey</span>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE SILENT CHIMES.</h2> + +<h3>RINGING AT MIDDAY.</h3> + + +<p>It was an animated scene; and one you only find in England. The stubble +of the cornfields looked pale and bleak in the departing autumn, the +wind was shaking down the withered leaves from the trees, whose thinning +branches told unmistakably of the rapidly-advancing winter. But the day +was bright after the night's frost, and the sun shone on the glowing +scarlet coats of the hunting men, and the hounds barked in every variety +of note and leaped with delight in the morning air. It was the first run +of the season, and the sportsmen were fast gathering at the appointed +spot—a field flanked by a grove of trees called Poachers' Copse.</p> + +<p>Ten o'clock, the hour fixed for the throw-off, came and went, and still +Poachers' Copse was not relieved of its busy intruders. Many a gentleman +foxhunter glanced at his hunting-watch as the minutes passed, many a +burly farmer jerked his horse impatiently; while the grey-headed +huntsman cracked his long whip amongst his canine favourites and +promised them they should soon be on the scent. The delay was caused by +the non-arrival of the Master of the Hounds.</p> + +<p>But now all eyes were directed to a certain quarter, and by the +brightened looks and renewed stir, it might be thought that he was +appearing. A stranger, sitting his horse well and quietly at the edge of +Poachers' Copse, watched the newcomers as they came into view. Foremost +of them rode an elderly gentleman in scarlet, and by his side a young +lady who might be a few years past twenty.</p> + +<p>"Father and daughter, I'll vow," commented the stranger, noting that +both had the same well-carved features, the same defiant, haughty +expression, the same proud bearing. "What a grandly-handsome girl! And +he, I suppose, is the man we are waiting for. Is that the Master of the +Hounds?" he asked aloud of the horseman next him, who chanced to be +young Mr. Threpp.</p> + +<p>"No, sir, that is Captain Monk," was the answer. "They are saying yonder +that he has brought word the Master is taken ill and cannot hunt +to-day"—which proved to be correct. The Master had been taken with +giddiness when about to mount his horse.</p> + +<p>The stranger rode up to Captain Monk; judging him to be regarded—by the +way he was welcomed and the respect paid him—as the chief personage at +the meet, representing in a manner the Master. Lifting his hat, he +begged grace for having, being a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> stranger, come out, uninvited, to join +the field; adding that his name was Hamlyn and he was staying with Mr. +Peveril at Peacock's Range.</p> + +<p>Captain Monk wheeled round at the address; his head had been turned +away. He saw a tall, dark man of about five-and-thirty years, so dark +and sunburnt as to suggest ideas of his having recently come from a +warmer climate. His hair was black, his eyes were dark brown, his +features and manner prepossessing, and he spoke as a man accustomed to +good society.</p> + +<p>Captain Monk, lifting his hat in return, met him with cordiality. The +field was open to all, he said, but any friend of Peveril's would be +doubly welcome. Peveril himself was a muff, in so far as that he never +hunted.</p> + +<p>"Hearing there was to be a meet to-day, I could not resist the +temptation of joining it; it is many years since I had the opportunity," +remarked the stranger.</p> + +<p>There was not time for more, the hounds were throwing off. Away dashed +the Captain's steed, away dashed the stranger's, away dashed Miss +Monk's, the three keeping side by side.</p> + +<p>Presently came a fence. Captain Monk leaped it and galloped onwards +after the other red-coats. Miss Eliza Monk would have leaped it next, +but her horse refused it; yet he was an old hunter and she a fearless +rider. The stranger was waiting to follow her. A touch of the angry Monk +temper assailed her and she forced her horse to the leap. He had a +temper also; he did not clear it, and horse and rider came down +together.</p> + +<p>In a trice Mr. Hamlyn was off his own steed and raising her. She was not +hurt, she said, when she could speak; a little shaken, a little +giddy—and she leaned against the fence. The refractory horse, unnoticed +for the moment, got upon his legs, took the fence of his own accord and +tore away after the field. Young Mr. Threpp, who had been in some +difficulty with his own steed, rode up now.</p> + +<p>"Shall I ride back to the Hall and get the pony-carriage for you, Miss +Eliza?" asked the young man.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, no," she replied, "thank you all the same. I would prefer to +walk home."</p> + +<p>"Are you equal to the walk?" interposed the stranger.</p> + +<p>"Quite. The walk will do away with this faintness. It is not the first +fall I have had."</p> + +<p>The stranger whispered to young Mr. Threpp—who was as good-natured a +young fellow as ever lived. Would he consent to forego the sport that +day and lead his horse to Mr. Peveril's? If so, he would accompany the +young lady and give her the support of his arm.</p> + +<p>So William Threpp rode off, leading Mr. Hamlyn's horse, and Miss Monk +accepted the stranger's arm. He told her a little about himself as they +walked along. It might not have been an ominous commencement, but +intimacies have grown sometimes out of a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> slighter introduction. Their +nearest way led past the Vicarage. Mr. Grame saw them from its windows +and came running out.</p> + +<p>"Has any accident taken place?" he asked hurriedly. "I hope not."</p> + +<p>Eliza Monk's face flushed. He had been Lucy's husband several months +now, but she could not yet suddenly meet him without a thrill of +emotion. Lucy ran out next; the pretty young wife for whom she had been +despised. Eliza answered Mr. Grame curtly, nodded to Lucy, and passed +on.</p> + +<p>"And, as I was telling you," continued Mr. Hamlyn, "when this property +was left to me in England, I made it a plea for throwing up my post in +India, and came home. I landed about six weeks ago, and have been since +busy in London with lawyers. Peveril, whom I knew in the days gone by, +wrote to invite me to come to him here on a week's visit, before he and +his wife leave for the South of France."</p> + +<p>"They are going to winter there for Mrs. Peveril's health," observed +Eliza. "Peacock's Range, the place they live at, belongs to my cousin, +Harry Carradyne. Did I understand you to say that you were not an +Englishman?"</p> + +<p>"I was born in the West Indies. My family were English and had settled +there."</p> + +<p>"What a coincidence!" exclaimed Eliza Monk with a smile. "My mother was +a West Indian, and I was born there.—There's my home, Leet Hall!"</p> + +<p>"A fine old place," cried Mr. Hamlyn, regarding the mansion before him.</p> + +<p>"You may well say 'old,'" remarked the young lady. "It has been the +abode of the Monk family from generation to generation. For my part, I +sometimes half wish it would fall down that we might get away to a more +lively locality. Church Leet is a dead-alive place at best."</p> + +<p>"We always want what we have not," laughed Mr. Hamlyn. "I would give all +I am worth to possess an ancestral home, no matter if it were grim and +gloomy. We who can boast of only modern wealth look upon these family +castles with an envy you have little idea of."</p> + +<p>"If you possess modern wealth, you possess a very good and substantial +thing," she answered, echoing his laugh.—"Here comes my aunt, full of +wonder."</p> + +<p>Full of alarm also. Mrs. Carradyne stood on the terrace steps, asking if +there had been an accident.</p> + +<p>"Not much of one, Aunt Emma. Saladin refused the fence at Ring Gap, and +we both came down together. This gentleman was so obliging as to forego +his day's sport and escort me home. Mr.—Mr. Hamlyn, I believe?" she +added. "My aunt, Mrs. Carradyne."</p> + +<p>The stranger confirmed it. "Philip Hamlyn," he said to Mrs. Carradyne, +lifting his hat.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p> + +<p>Gaining the hall-door with slow and gentle steps came a young man, whose +beautiful features were wasting more perceptibly day by day, and their +hectic growing of a deeper crimson. "What is amiss, Eliza?" he cried. +"Have you come to grief? Where's Saladin?"</p> + +<p>"My brother," she said to Mr. Hamlyn.</p> + +<p>Yes, it was indeed Hubert Monk. For he did not die of that run to the +church the past New Year's Eve. The death-like faint proved to be a +faint, nothing more. Nothing more <i>then</i>. But something else was +advancing with gradual steps: steps that seemed to be growing almost +perceptible now.</p> + +<p>Now and again Hubert fainted in the same manner; his face taking a +death-like hue, the blue tinge surrounding his mouth. Captain Monk, +unable longer to shut his eyes to what might be impending, called in the +best medical advice that Worcestershire could afford; and the doctors +told him the truth—that Hubert's days were numbered.</p> + +<p>To say that Captain Monk began at once to "set his house in order" would +not be quite the right expression, since it was not he himself who was +going to die. But he set his affairs straight as to the future, and +appointed another heir in his son's place—his nephew, Harry Carradyne.</p> + +<p>Harry Carradyne, a brave young lieutenant, was then with his regiment in +some almost inaccessible fastness of the Indian Empire. Captain Monk +(not concealing his lamentation and the cruel grief it was to himself +personally) wrote word to him of the fiat concerning poor Hubert, +together with a peremptory order to sell out and return home as the +future heir. This was being accomplished, and Harry might now be +expected almost any day.</p> + +<p>But it may as well be mentioned that Captain Monk, never given to be +confidential about himself or his affairs, told no one what he had done, +with one exception. Even Mrs. Carradyne was ignorant of the change in +her son's prospects and of his expected return. The one exception was +Hubert. Soon to lose him, Captain Monk made more of his son than he had +ever done, and seemed to like to talk with him.</p> + +<p>"Harry will make a better master to succeed you than I should have made, +father," said Hubert, as they were slowly pacing home from the +parsonage, arm-in-arm, one dull November day, some little time after the +meet of the hounds, as recorded. It was surprising how often Captain +Monk would now encounter his son abroad, as if by accident, and give him +his arm home.</p> + +<p>"What d'ye mean?" wrathfully responded the Captain, who never liked to +hear his own children disparaged, by themselves or by anyone else.</p> + +<p>Hubert laughed a little. "Harry will look after things better than I +ever should. I was always given to laziness. Don't you remember,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +father, when a little boy in the West Indies, you used to tell me I was +good for nothing but to bask in the heat?"</p> + +<p>"I remember one thing, Hubert; and, strange to say, have remembered it +only lately. Things lie dormant in the memory for years, and then crop +up again. Upon getting home from one of my long voyages, your mother +greeted me with the news that your heart was weak; the doctor had told +her so. I gave the fellow a trimming for putting so ridiculous a notion +into her head—and it passed clean out of mine. I suppose he was right, +though."</p> + +<p>"Little doubt of that, father. I wonder I have lived so long."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" exploded the Captain; "you may live on yet for years. I +don't know that I did not act foolishly in sending post-haste for Harry +Carradyne."</p> + +<p>Hubert smiled a sad smile. "You have done quite right, father; right in +all ways; be sure of that. Harry is one of the truest and best fellows +that ever lived: he will be a comfort to you when I am gone, and the +best of all successors later. Just—a—moment—father!"</p> + +<p>"Why, what's the matter?" cried Captain Monk—for his son had suddenly +halted and stood with a rapidly-paling face and shortened breath, +pressing his hands to his side. "Here, lean on me, lad; lean on me."</p> + +<p>It was a sudden faintness. Nothing very much, and it passed off in a +minute or two. Hubert made a brave attempt at smiling, and resumed his +way. But Captain Monk did not like it at all; he knew all these things +were but the beginning of the end. And that end, though not with actual +irreverence, he was resenting bitterly in his heart.</p> + +<p>"Who's that coming out?" he asked, crossly, alluding to some figure +descending the steps of his house—for his sight was not what it used to +be.</p> + +<p>"It is Mr. Hamlyn," said Hubert.</p> + +<p>"Oh—Hamlyn! He seems to be always coming in. I don't like that man +somehow, Hubert. Wonder what he's lagging in the neighbourhood for?"</p> + +<p>Hubert Monk had an idea that he could have told. But he did not want to +draw down an explosion on his own head. Mr. Hamlyn came to meet them +with friendly smiles and hand-shakes. Hubert liked him; liked him very +much.</p> + +<p>Not only had Mr. Hamlyn prolonged his stay beyond the "day or two" he +had originally come for, but he evinced no intention of leaving. When +Mr. Peveril and his wife departed for the south, he made a proposal to +remain at Peacock's Range for a time as their tenant. And when the +astonished couple asked his reasons, he answered that he should like to +get a few runs with the hounds.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<p>The November days glided by. The end of the month was approaching, and +still Philip Hamlyn stayed on, and was a very frequent visitor at Leet +Hall. Little doubt that Miss Monk was his attraction, and the parish +began to say so without reticence.</p> + +<p>The parish was right. One fine, frosty morning Mr. Hamlyn sought an +interview with Captain Monk and laid before him his proposals for Eliza.</p> + +<p>One might have thought by the tempestuous words showered down upon him +in answer that he had proposed to smother her. Reproaches, hot and fast, +were poured forth upon the suitor's unlucky head.</p> + +<p>"Why, you are a stranger!" stormed the Captain; "you have not known her +a month! How dare you? It's not commonly decent."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hamlyn quietly answered that he had known her long enough to love +her, and went on to say that he came of a good family, had plenty of +money, and could make a liberal settlement upon her.</p> + +<p>"That you never will," said Captain Monk. "I should not like you for my +son-in-law," he continued candidly, calming down from his burst of +passion to the bounds of reason. "But there can be no question of it in +any way. Eliza is to become Lady Rivers."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hamlyn opened his eyes in astonishment. "Lady Rivers!" he echoed. +"Do you speak of Sir Thomas Rivers?—that old man!"</p> + +<p>"No, I do not, sir. Sir Thomas Rivers has one foot in the grave. I speak +of his eldest son. He wants her, and he shall have her."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, Captain, I—I do not think Miss Monk can know anything of +this. I am sure she did not last night. I come to you with her full +consent and approbation."</p> + +<p>"I care nothing about that. My daughter is aware that any attempt to +oppose her will to mine would be utterly futile. Young Tom Rivers has +written to me to ask for her; I have accepted him, and I choose that she +shall accept him. She'll like it herself, too; it will be a good match."</p> + +<p>"Young Tom Rivers is next door to a simpleton: he is not half-baked," +retorted Mr. Hamlyn, his own temper getting up: "if I may judge by what +I've seen of him in the field."</p> + +<p>"Tom Rivers is a favourite everywhere, let me tell you, sir. Eliza would +not refuse him for you."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, Captain Monk, you will converse with her upon this point?"</p> + +<p>"I intend to give her my orders—if that's what you mean," returned the +Captain. "And now, sir, I think our discussion may terminate."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hamlyn saw no use in prolonging it for the present. Captain Monk +bowed him out of the house and called his daughter into the room.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Eliza," he began, scorning to beat about the bush, "I have received an +offer of marriage for you."</p> + +<p>Miss Eliza blushed a little, not much: few things could make her do that +now. Once our blushes have been wasted, as hers were on Robert Grame, +their vivid freshness has faded for ever and aye. "The song has left the +bird."</p> + +<p>"And I have accepted it," continued Captain Monk. "He would like the +wedding to be early in the year, so you may get your rattletraps in +order for it. Tell your aunt I will give her a blank cheque for the +cost, and she may fill it in."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, papa."</p> + +<p>"There's the letter; you can read it"—pushing one across the table to +her. "It came by special messenger last night, and I have sent my answer +this morning."</p> + +<p>Eliza Monk glanced at the contents, which were written on rose-coloured +paper. For a moment she looked puzzled.</p> + +<p>"Why, papa, this is from Tom Rivers! You cannot suppose I would marry +<i>him</i>! A silly boy, younger than I am! Tom Rivers is the greatest goose +I know."</p> + +<p>"How dare you say so, Eliza?"</p> + +<p>"Well, he is. Look at his note! Pink paper and a fancy edge!"</p> + +<p>"Stuff! Rivers is young and inexperienced, but he'll grow older—he is a +very nice young fellow, and a capital fox-hunter. You'd be master and +mistress too—and that would suit your book, I take it. I want to have +you settled near me, see, Eliza—you are all I have left, or soon will +be."</p> + +<p>"But, papa—"</p> + +<p>Captain Monk raised his hand for silence.</p> + +<p>"You sent that man Hamlyn to me with a proposal for you. Eliza; you +<i>know</i> that would not do. Hamlyn's property lies in the West Indies, his +home too, for all I know. He attempted to tell me that he would not take +you out there against my consent; but I know better, and what such +ante-nuptial promises are worth. It might end in your living there."</p> + +<p>"No, no."</p> + +<p>"What do you say 'no, no' for, like a parrot? Circumstances might compel +you. I do not like the man, besides."</p> + +<p>"But why, papa?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; I have never liked him from the first. There! that's +enough. You must be my Lady Rivers. Poor old Tom is on his last legs."</p> + +<p>"Papa, I never will."</p> + +<p>"Listen, Eliza. I had one trouble with Katherine; I will not have +another with you. She defied me; she left my home rebelliously to enter +upon one of her own setting-up: what came of it? Did luck attend her? Do +you be more wise."</p> + +<p>"Father," she said, moving a step forward with head uplifted; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> the +resolute, haughty look which rendered their faces so much alike was very +conspicuous on hers, "do not let us oppose each other. Perhaps we can +each give way a little? I have promised to be the wife of Philip Hamlyn, +and that promise I will fulfil. You wish me to live near you: well, he +can take a place in this neighbourhood and settle down in it; and on my +part, I will promise you not to leave this country. He may have to go +from time to time to the West Indies; I will remain at home."</p> + +<p>Captain Monk looked steadily at her before he answered. He marked the +stern, uncompromising expression, the strong will in the dark eyes and +in every feature, which no power, not even his, might unbend. He thought +of his elder daughter, now lying in her grave; he thought of his son, so +soon to be lying beside her; he did not care to be bereft of <i>all</i> his +children, and for once in his hard life he attempted to conciliate.</p> + +<p>"Hark to me, Eliza. Give up Hamlyn—I have said I don't like the man; +give up Tom Rivers also, an' you will. Remain at home with me until a +better suitor shall present himself, and Leet Hall and its broad lands +shall be yours."</p> + +<p>She looked up in surprise. Leet Hall had always hitherto gone in the +male line; and, failing Hubert, it would be, or ought to be, Harry +Carradyne's. Though she knew not that any steps had already been taken +in that direction.</p> + +<p>"Leet Hall?" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Leet Hall and its broad lands," repeated the Captain impatiently. "Give +up Mr. Hamlyn and it shall all be yours."</p> + +<p>She remained for some moments in deep thought, her head bent, revolving +the offer. She was fond of pomp and power, as her father had ever been, +and the temptation to rule as sole domineering mistress in her +girlhood's home was great. But at that very instant the tall fine form +of Philip Hamlyn passed across a pathway in the distance, and she turned +from the temptation for ever. What little capability of loving had been +left to her after the advent of Robert Grame was given to Mr. Hamlyn.</p> + +<p>"I cannot give him up," she said in low tones.</p> + +<p>"What moonshine, Eliza! You are not a love-sick girl now."</p> + +<p>The colour dyed her face painfully. Did her father suspect aught of the +past; of where her love <i>had</i> been given—and rejected? The suspicion +only added fuel to the fire.</p> + +<p>"I cannot give up Mr. Hamlyn," she reiterated.</p> + +<p>"Then you will never inherit Leet Hall. No, nor aught else of mine."</p> + +<p>"As you please, sir, about that."</p> + +<p>"You set me at defiance, then!"</p> + +<p>"I don't wish to do so, father; but I shall marry Mr. Hamlyn."</p> + +<p>"At defiance," repeated the Captain, as she moved to escape from his +presence; "Katherine secretly, you openly. Better that I had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> never had +children. Look here, Eliza: let this matter remain in abeyance for six +or twelve months, things resting as they are. By that time you may have +come to your senses; or I (yes, I see you are ready to retort it) to +mine. If not—well, we shall only then be where we are."</p> + +<p>"And that we should be," returned Eliza, doggedly. "Time will never +change either of us."</p> + +<p>"But events may. Let it be so, child. Stay where you are for the +present, in your maiden home."</p> + +<p>She shook her head in denial; not a line of her proud face giving way, +nor a curve of her decisive lips: and Captain Monk knew that he had +pleaded in vain. She would neither give up her marriage nor prolong the +period of its celebration.</p> + +<p>What could be the secret of her obstinacy? Chiefly the impossibility of +tolerating opposition to her own indomitable will. It was her father's +will over again; his might be a very little softening with years and +trouble; not much. Had she been in desperate love with Hamlyn one could +have understood it, but she was not; at most it was but a passing fancy. +What says the poet? I daresay you all know the lines, and I know I have +quoted them times and again, they are so true:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Few hearts have never loved, but fewer still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have felt a second passion. <i>None</i> a third.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The first was living fire; the next a thrill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The weary heart can never more be stirred:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rely on it the song has left the bird."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Very, very true. Her passion for Robert Grame had been as living fire in +its wild intensity; it was but the shadow of a thrill that warmed her +heart for Philip Hamlyn. Possibly she mistook it in a degree; thought +more of it than it was. The feeling of gratification which arises from +flattered vanity deceives a woman's heart sometimes: and Mr. Hamlyn did +not conceal his rapturous admiration of her.</p> + +<p>She held to her defiant course, and her father held to his. He did not +continue to say she should not marry; he had no power for that—and +perhaps he did not want her to make a moonlight escapade of it, as +Katherine had made. So the preparation for the wedding went on, Eliza +herself paying for the rattletraps, as they had been called; Captain +Monk avowed that he "washed his hands of it," and then held his peace.</p> + +<p>Whether Mr. Hamlyn and his intended bride considered it best to get the +wedding over and done with, lest adverse fate, set afoot by the Captain, +should, after all, circumvent them, it is impossible to say, but the day +fixed was a speedy one. And if Captain Monk had deemed it "not decent" +in Mr. Hamlyn to propose for a young lady after only a month's +knowledge, what did he think of this? They were to be married on the +last day of the year.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> + +<p>Was it fixed upon in defiant mockery?—for, as the reader knows, it had +proved an ominous day more than once in the Monk family. But no, +defiance had no hand in that, simply adverse fate. The day originally +fixed by the happy couple was Christmas Eve: but Mr. Hamlyn, who had to +go to London about that time on business connected with his property, +found it impossible to get back for the day, or for some days after it. +He wrote to Eliza, asking that the day should be put off for a week, if +it made no essential difference, and fixed the last day in the year. +Eliza wrote word back that she would prefer that day; it gave more time +for preparation.</p> + +<p>They were to be married in her own church, and by its Vicar. Great +marvel existed at the Captain's permitting this, but he said nothing. +Having washed his hands of the affair, he washed them for good: had the +bride been one of the laundry-maids in his household he could not have +taken less notice. A Miss Wilson was coming from a little distance to be +bridesmaid; and the bride and bridegroom would go off from the church +door. The question of a breakfast was never mooted: Captain Monk's +equable indifference might not have stood that.</p> + +<p>"I shall wish them good-luck with all my heart—but I don't feel +altogether sure they'll have it!" bewailed poor Mrs. Carradyne in +private. "Eliza should have agreed to the delay proposed by her father."</p> + + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<p>Ring, ring, ring, broke forth the chimes on the frosty midday air. Not +midnight, you perceive, but midday, for the church clock had just given +forth its twelve strokes. Another round of the dial, and the old year +would have departed into the womb of the past.</p> + +<p>Bowling along the smooth turnpike road which skirted the churchyard on +one side came a gig containing a gentleman; a tall, slender, +frank-looking young man, with a fair face and the pleasantest blue eyes +ever seen. He wore a white top-coat, the fashion then, and was driving +rapidly in the direction of Leet Hall; but when the chimes burst forth +he pulled up abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Why, what in the world?—" he began—and then sat still listening to +the sweet strains of "The Bay of Biscay." The day, though in mid-winter, +was bright and beautiful, and the golden sunlight, shining from the +dark-blue sky, played on the young man's golden hair.</p> + +<p>"Have they mistaken midday for midnight?" he continued, as the chimes +played out their tune and died away on the air. "What's the meaning of +it?"</p> + +<p>He, Harry Carradyne, was not the only one to ask this. No human being in +and about Church Leet, save Captain Monk and they who executed his +orders, knew that he had decreed that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> chimes should play that day +at midday. Why did he do it? What could his motive be? Surely not that +they should, by playing (according to Mrs. Carradyne's theory), +inaugurate ill-luck for Eliza! At the moment they began to play she was +coming out of church on Mr. Hamlyn's arm, having left her maiden name +behind her.</p> + +<p>A few paces more, for he was driving gently on now, and Harry pulled up +again, in surprise, as before, for the front of the church was now in +view. Lots of spectators, gentle and simple, stood about, and a handsome +chariot, with four post horses and a great coat-of-arms emblazoned on +its panels, waited at the church gate.</p> + +<p>"It must be a wedding!" decided Harry.</p> + +<p>The next moment the chariot was in motion; was soon about to pass him, +the bride and bridegroom inside it. A very dark but good-looking man, +with an air of command in his face, he, but a stranger to Harry; she, +Eliza. She wore a grey silk dress, a white bonnet, with orange blossoms +and a veil, which was quite the fashionable wedding attire of the day. +Her head was turned, nodding its farewells yet to the crowd, and she did +not see her cousin as the chariot swept by.</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" he exclaimed, mentally. "I wonder who she has married?"</p> + +<p>Staying quietly where he was until the spectators should have dispersed, +whose way led them mostly in opposite directions, Harry next saw the +clerk come out of the church by the small vestry door, lock it and cross +over to the stile; which brought him out close to the gig.</p> + +<p>"Why, my heart alive!" he exclaimed. "Is it Captain Carradyne?"</p> + +<p>"That's near enough," said Harry, who knew the title was accorded him by +the rustic natives of Church Leet, as he bent down with his sunny smile +to shake the old clerk's hand. "You are hearty as ever, I see, John. And +so you have had a wedding here?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, sir, there have been one in the church. I was not in my place, +though. The Captain, he ordered me to let the church go for once, and to +be ready up aloft in the belfry to set the chimes going at midday. As +chance had it, the party came out just at the same time; Miss Eliza was +a bit late in coming, ye see; so it may be said the chimes rang 'em out. +I guess the sound astonished the people above a bit, for nobody knew +they were going to play."</p> + +<p>"But how was it all, Cale? Why should the Captain order them to chime at +midday?"</p> + +<p>John Cale shook his head. "I can't tell ye that rightly, Mr. Harry; the +Captain, as ye know, sir, never says why he does this or why he does +t'other. Young William Threpp, who had to be up there with me, thought +he must have ordered 'em to play in mockery—for he hates the marriage +like poison."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Who is the bridegroom?"</p> + +<p>"It's a Mr. Hamlyn, sir. A gentleman who is pretty nigh as haughty as +the Captain himself; but a pleasant-spoken, kindly man, as far as I've +seen: and a rich one, too."</p> + +<p>"Why did Captain Monk object to him?"</p> + +<p>"It's thought 'twas because he was a stranger to the place and has lived +over in the Indies; and he wanted Miss Eliza, so it's said, to have +young Tom Rivers. That's about it, I b'lieve, Mr. Harry."</p> + +<p>Harry Carradyne drove away thoughtfully. At the foot of the slight +ascent leading to Leet Hall, one of the grooms happened to be standing. +Harry handed over to him the horse and gig, and went forward on foot.</p> + +<p>"Bertie!" he called out. For he had seen Hubert before him, walking at a +snail's pace: the very slightest hill tried him now. The only one left +of the wedding-party, for the bridesmaid drove off from the church door. +Hubert turned at the call.</p> + +<p>"Harry! Why, Harry!"</p> + +<p>Hand locked in hand, they sat down on a bench beside the path; face +gazing into face. There had always been a likeness between them: in the +bright-coloured, waving hair, the blue eyes and the well-favoured +features. But Harry's face was redolent of youth and health; in the +other's might be read approaching death.</p> + +<p>"You are very thin, Bertie; thinner even than I expected to see, you," +broke from the traveller involuntarily.</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> are looking well, at any rate," was Hubert's answer. "And I am so +glad you are come: I thought you might have been here a month ago."</p> + +<p>"The voyage was unreasonably long; we had contrary winds almost from +port to port. I got on to Worcester yesterday, slept there, and hired a +horse and gig to bring me over this morning. What about Eliza's wedding, +Hubert? I was just in time to see her drive away. Cale, with whom I had +a word down yonder, says the master does not like it."</p> + +<p>"He does not like it and would not countenance it: washed his hands of +it (as he told us) altogether."</p> + +<p>"Any good reason for that?"</p> + +<p>"Not particularly good, that I see. Somehow he disliked Hamlyn; and Tom +Rivers wanted Eliza, which would have pleased him greatly. But Eliza was +not without blame. My father gave way so far as to ask her to delay +things for a few months, not to marry in a hurry, and she would not. She +might have conceded as much as that."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever know Eliza concede anything, Bertie?"</p> + +<p>"Well, not often."</p> + +<p>"Who gave her away?"</p> + +<p>"I did: look at my gala toggery"—opening his overcoat. "He wanted to +forbid it. 'Don't hinder me, father,' I pleaded; 'it is the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> last +brotherly service I can ever render her.' And so," his tone changing to +lightness, "I have been and gone and done it."</p> + +<p>Harry Carradyne understood. "Not the last, Hubert; don't say that. I +hope you will live to render her many another yet."</p> + +<p>Hubert smiled faintly. "Look at me," he said in answer.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know; I see how you look. But you may take a turn yet."</p> + +<p>"Ah, miracles are no longer wrought for us. Shall I surprise you very +much, cousin mine, if I say that were the offer made me of prolonged +life, I am not sure that I should accept it?"</p> + +<p>"Not unless health were renewed with it; I can understand that. You have +had to endure suffering, Bertie."</p> + +<p>"Ay. Pain, discomfort, fears, weariness. After working out their torment +upon me, they—why then they took a turn and opened out the vista of a +refuge."</p> + +<p>"A refuge?"</p> + +<p>"The one sure Refuge offered by God to the sick and sorrowful, the weary +and heavy-laden—Himself. I found it. I found <i>Him</i>, and all His +wonderful mercy. It will not be long now, Harry, before I see Him face +to face. And here comes His true minister but for whom I might have +missed the way."</p> + +<p>Harry turned his head, and saw, advancing up the drive, a good-looking +young clergyman. "Who is it?" he involuntarily cried.</p> + +<p>"Your brother-in-law, Robert Grame. Lucy's husband."</p> + +<p>It was not the fashion in those days for a bride's mother (or one acting +as her mother) to attend the bride to church; therefore Mrs. Carradyne, +following it, was spared risk of conflict with Captain Monk on that +score. She was in Eliza's room, assisting at the putting on of the +bridal robes (for we have to go back an hour or so) when a servant came +up to say that Mr. Hamlyn waited below. Rather wondering—for he was to +have driven straight to the church—Mrs. Carradyne went downstairs.</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, dear Mrs. Carradyne," he said, as he shook hands, and she +had never seen him look so handsome, "I could not pass the house without +making one more effort to disarm Captain Monk's prejudices, and asking +for his blessing on us. Do you think he will consent to see me?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Carradyne felt sure he would not, and said so. But she sent Rimmer +to the library to ask the question. Mr. Hamlyn pencilled down a few +anxious words on paper, folded it, and put it into the man's hand.</p> + +<p>No; it proved useless. Captain Monk was harder than adamant; he sent +Rimmer back with a flea in his ear, and the petition torn in two.</p> + +<p>"I feared so," sighed Mrs. Carradyne. "He will not this morning see even +Eliza."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Hamlyn did not sigh in return; he spoke a cross, impatient word: he +had never been able to see reason in the Captain's dislike to him, and, +with a brief good-morning, went out to his carriage. But, remembering +something when crossing the hall, he came back.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, Mrs. Carradyne; I quite forgot that I have a note for you. +It is from Mrs. Peveril, I believe; it came to me this morning, enclosed +in a letter of her husband's."</p> + +<p>"You have heard at last, then!"</p> + +<p>"At last—as you observe. Though Peveril had nothing particular to write +about; I daresay he does not care for letter writing."</p> + +<p>Slipping the note into her pocket, to be opened at leisure, Mrs. +Carradyne returned to the adorning of Eliza. Somehow, it was rather a +prolonged business—which made it late when the bride with her +bridesmaid and Hubert drove from the door.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Carradyne remained in the room—to which Eliza was not to +return—putting this up, and that. The time slipped on, and it was close +upon twelve o'clock when she got back to the drawing-room. Captain Monk +was in it then, standing at the window; which he had thrown wide open. +To see more clearly the bridal party come out of the church, was the +thought that crossed Mrs. Carradyne's mind in her simplicity.</p> + +<p>"I very much feared they would be late," she observed, sitting down near +her brother: and at that moment the church clock began to strike twelve.</p> + +<p>"A good thing if they were <i>too</i> late!" he answered. "Listen."</p> + +<p>She supposed he wanted to count the strokes—what else could he be +listening to? And now, by the stir at the distant gates, she saw that +the bridal party had come out.</p> + +<p>"Good heavens, what's that?" shrieked Mrs. Carradyne, starting from her +chair.</p> + +<p>"The chimes," stoically replied the Captain. And he proceeded to hum +through the tune of "The Bay of Biscay," and beat a noiseless +accompaniment with his foot.</p> + +<p>"<i>The Chimes</i>, Emma," he repeated, when the melody had finished itself +out. "I ordered them to be played. It's the last day of the old year, +you know."</p> + +<p>Laughing slightly at her consternation, Captain Monk closed the window +and quitted the room. As Mrs. Carradyne took her handkerchief from her +pocket to pass it over her face, grown white with startled terror, the +note she had put there came out also, and fell on the carpet.</p> + +<p>Picking it up, she stood at the window, gazing forth. Her sight was not +what it used to be; but she discerned the bride and bridegroom enter +their carriage and drive away; next she saw the bridesmaid get into the +carriage from the Hall, assisted by Hubert, and that drive off in its +turn. She saw the crowd disperse, this way and that; she even saw the +gig there, its occupant talking with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> John Cale. But she did not look at +him particularly; and she had not the slightest idea but that Harry was +in India.</p> + +<p>And all that time an undercurrent of depression was running riot in her +heart. None knew with what a strange terror she had grown to dread the +chimes.</p> + +<p>She sat down now and opened Mrs. Peveril's note. It treated chiefly of +the utterly astounding ways that untravelled old lady was meeting with +in foreign parts. "If you will believe me," wrote she, "the girl that +waits on us wears carpet slippers down at heel, and a short cotton +jacket for best, and she puts the tea-tray before me with the handle of +the teapot turned to me and the spout standing outwards, and she comes +right into the bed-room of a morning with Charles's shaving-water +without knocking." But the one sentence that arrested Mrs. Carradyne's +attention above any other was the following: "I reckon that by this time +you have grown well acquainted with our esteemed young friend. He is a +good, kindly gentleman, and I'm sure never could have done anything to +deserve his wife's treatment of him."</p> + +<p>"Can she mean Mr. Hamlyn?" debated Mrs. Carradyne, all sorts of ideas +leaping into her mind with a rush. "If not—what other 'esteemed friend' +can she allude to?—<i>she</i>, old herself, would call <i>him</i> young. But Mr. +Hamlyn has not any wife. At least, had not until to-day."</p> + +<p>She read the note over again. She sat with it open, buried in a reverie, +thinking no end of things, good and bad: and the conclusion she at last +came to was, that, with the unwonted exercise of letter-writing, poor +old Mrs. Peveril's head had grown confused.</p> + +<p>"Well, Hubert, did it all go off well?" she questioned, as her nephew +entered the room, some sort of excitement on his wasted face. "I saw +them drive away."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it went off well; there was no hitch anywhere," replied Hubert. +"But, Aunt Emma, I have brought a friend home with me. Guess who it is."</p> + +<p>"Some lady or other who came to see the wedding," she returned. "I can't +guess."</p> + +<p>"You never would, though I were to give you ten guesses; no, though je +vous donne en mille, as the French have it. What should you say to a +young man come all the way over seas from India? There, that's as good +as telling you, Aunt Emma. Guess now."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Hubert!" clasping her trembling hands. "It cannot be Harry! What is +wrong?"</p> + +<p>Harry brought his bright face into the room and was clasped in his +mother's arms. She could not understand it one bit, and fears assailed +her. Come home in <i>this</i> unexpected manner! Had he left the army? What +had he done? <i>What</i> had he done? Hubert laughed and told her then.</p> + +<p>"He has done nothing wrong; everything that's good. He has<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> sold out at +my father's request and left with honours—and is come home, the heir of +Leet Hall. I said all along it was a shame to keep you out of the plot, +Aunt Emma."</p> + +<p>Well, it was glorious news for her. But, as if to tarnish its delight, +like an envious sprite of evil, deep down in her mind lay that other +news, just read—the ambiguous remark of old Mrs. Peveril's.</p> + + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<p>The walk on the old pier was pleasant enough in the morning sun. Though +yet but the first month in the year, the days were bright, the blue +skies without a cloud. Mr. and Mrs. Hamlyn had enjoyed the fine weather +at Cheltenham for a week or two; from that pretty place they had now +come to Brighton, reaching it the previous night.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is delightful!" exclaimed Eliza, gazing at the waves. She had +not seen the sea since she crossed it, a little girl, from the West +Indies. Those were not yet the days when all people, gentle and simple, +told one another that an autumn tour was essential to existence. "Look +at the sunbeams sparkling on the ripples and on the white sails of the +little boats! Philip, I should like to spend a month here."</p> + +<p>"All right," replied Mr. Hamlyn.</p> + +<p>They were staying at the Old Ship, a fashionable hotel then for ladies +as well as gentlemen, and had come out after breakfast; and they had the +pier nearly to themselves at that early hour. A yellow, gouty gentleman, +who looked as if he had quarrelled with his liver in some clime all fire +and cayenne, stood at the end leaning on his stick, alternately looking +at the sea and listlessly watching any advancing stragglers.</p> + +<p>There came a sailor, swaying along, a rope in his hand; following him, +walked demurely three little girls in frocks and trousers, with their +French governess; then came two eye-glassed young men, dandyfied and +supercilious, who appeared to have more money than brains—and the +jaundiced man went into a gaping fit of lassitude.</p> + +<p>Anyone else coming? Yes; a lady and gentleman arm-in-arm: quiet, +well-dressed, good-looking. As the invalid watched their approach, a +puzzled look of doubt and surprise rose to his countenance. Moving +forward a step or two on his gouty legs, he spoke.</p> + +<p>"Can it be possible, Hamlyn, that we meet here?"</p> + +<p>Even through his dark skin a red flush coursed into Mr. Hamlyn's face. +He was evidently very much surprised in his turn, if not startled.</p> + +<p>"Captain Pratt!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Major Pratt now," was the answer, as they shook hands. "That wretched +climate played the deuce with me, and they graciously gave me a step and +allowed me to retire upon it. The very deuce, I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> assure you, Philip. Beg +pardon, ma'am," he added seeing the lady look at him.</p> + +<p>"My wife, Mrs. Hamlyn," spoke her husband.</p> + +<p>Major Pratt contrived to lift his hat, and bow: which feat, what with +his gouty hands and his helpless legs and his great invalid stick, was a +work of time. "I saw your marriage in <i>The Times</i>, Hamlyn, and wondered +whether it could be you, or not: I didn't know, you see, that you were +over here. Wish you luck; and you also, ma'am. Hope it will turn out +more fortunate for you, Philip, than—"</p> + +<p>"Where are you staying?" broke in Mr. Hamlyn, as if something were +frightening him.</p> + +<p>"At some lodgings over yonder, where they fleece me," replied the Major. +"You should see the bill they've brought me in for last week. They've +made me eat four pounds of butter and five joints of meat, besides +poultry and pickles and a fruit pie! Why, I live mostly upon dry toast; +hardly dare touch an ounce of meat in a day. When I had 'em up before +me, the harpies, they laid it upon my servant's appetite—old Saul, you +know. <i>He</i> answered them."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hamlyn laughed. "There are two articles that are very convenient, +as I have heard, to some of the lodging-house keepers: their lodgers' +servant, and their own cat."</p> + +<p>"By Jove, ma'am, yes!" said the Major. "But I've given warning to this +lot where I am."</p> + +<p>Saying au revoir to Major Pratt, Mr. Hamlyn walked down the pier again +with his wife. "Who is he, Philip?" she asked. "You seem to know him +well."</p> + +<p>"Very well. He is a sort of connection of mine, I believe," laughed Mr. +Hamlyn, "and I saw a good deal of him in India a few years back. He is +greatly changed. I hardly think I should have known him had he not +spoken. It's his liver, I suppose."</p> + +<p>Leaving his wife at the hotel, Mr. Hamlyn went back again to Major +Pratt, much to the lonely Major's satisfaction, who was still leaning on +his substantial stick as he gazed at the water.</p> + +<p>"The sight of you has brought back to my mind all that unhappy business, +Hamlyn," was his salutation. "I shall have a fit of the jaundice now, I +suppose! Here—let's sit down a bit."</p> + +<p>"And the sight of you has brought it to mine," said Mr. Hamlyn, as he +complied. "I have been striving to drive it out of my remembrance."</p> + +<p>"I know little about it," observed the Major. "She never wrote to me at +all afterwards, and you wrote me but two letters: the one announcing the +fact of her disgrace; the other, the calamity and the deaths."</p> + +<p>"That is quite enough to know; don't ask me to go over the details to +you personally," said Mr. Hamlyn in a tone of passionate discomfort. "So +utterly repugnant to me is the remembrance<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> altogether, that I have +never spoken of it—even to my present wife."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean you've not told her you were once a married man?" cried +Major Pratt.</p> + +<p>"No, I have not."</p> + +<p>"Then you've shown a lack of judgment which I wouldn't have given you +credit for, my friend," declared the Major. "A man may whisper to his +girl any untoward news he pleases of his past life, and she'll forgive +and forget; aye, and worship him all the more for it, though it were the +having set fire to a church: but if he keeps it as a bonne bouchée to +drop out after marriage, when she has him fast and tight, she'll +curry-comb his hair for him in style. Believe that."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hamlyn laughed.</p> + +<p>"There never was a hidden skeleton between man and wife yet but it came +to light sooner or later," went on the Major. "If you are wise, you will +tell her at once, before somebody else does."</p> + +<p>"What 'somebody?' Who is there here that knows it?"</p> + +<p>"Why, as to 'here,' I know it, and nearly spoke of it before her, as you +must have heard; and my servant knows it. That's nothing, you'll say; we +can be quiet, now I have the cue: but you are always liable to meet with +people who knew you in those days, and who knew <i>her</i>. Take my advice, +Philip Hamlyn, and tell your wife. Go and do it now."</p> + +<p>"I daresay you are right," said the younger man, awaking out of a +reverie. "Of the two evils it may be the lesser." And with lagging +steps, and eyes that seemed to have weights to them, he set out to walk +back to the Old Ship Hotel.</p> + +<p class="name"><span class="smcap">Johnny Ludlow</span>.</p> + + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/02de.jpg" + alt="Decorative" + title="Decorative" /> +</div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE BRETONS AT HOME.</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">By Charles W. Wood, F.R.G.S., Author of "Through Holland," "Letters from +Majorca," etc. etc</span>.</h3> + + +<div class="figleft"> + <img src="images/02.jpg" + alt="St. Pol de Leon." + title="St. Pol de Leon." /><br /> + <span class="caption">St. Pol de Léon.</span> +</div> + +<p>The English courage and constitution, for which Madame Hellard of the +Hôtel d'Europe professed so much admiration, carried us through the +ordeal of a sound drenching. Perhaps our escape was partly due to +firmness of will, which goes for much; perhaps in part to the dose of +strong waters added to the black coffee our loquacious but interesting +hostess at the little auberge by the river-side had brewed for us.</p> + +<p>"Had we been to Roscoff?" she had asked us on that memorable afternoon, +when the clouds opened all their waterspouts and threatened the world +with a second deluge. And we had replied that we had not seen Roscoff, +but hoped to do so the following day, wind and weather permitting. Not +that we had to reach Roscoff by water; but the elements can make +themselves quite as disagreeable on land as at sea: and like the Marines +might take for their motto, <span class="smcap">Per Mare, Per Terram</span>.</p> + +<p>The next day wind and weather were not permitting. Madame Hellard +clasped her hands with a favourite and pathetic gesture that would melt +the hardest heart and dispose it to grant the most outrageous request. +She bemoaned our fate and the uncertainty of the Breton climate.</p> + +<p>"Enfin!" she concluded, "the climate of la Petite Bretagne is very much +the same as that of la Grande Bretagne, from all I have heard. You must +be accustomed to these variations. When the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> Saxons came over and +settled here centuries and centuries ago, and peopled our little +country, they brought their weather with them. It has never changed. +Like the Breton temperament, it is founded upon a rock—though I often +wish it were a little more pliable and responsive. Changes are good +sometimes. I am not of those who think what is must always be best. If I +were in your Parliament—but you don't have ladies in your Parliament, +though they seem to have a footing everywhere else—I should be a +Liberal; without going too far, bien-intendu; I am all for progress, but +with moderation."</p> + +<p>To-day there seemed no prospect of even moderately fine weather, and we +could only improve our time by cultivating the beauties of Morlaix under +weeping skies.</p> + +<p>Its quaint old streets certainly have an unmistakable, an undying charm, +which seems to be in touch with all seasons. Blue skies will light them +up and cause them to stand out with almost a joyous air; the declining +sun will illumine their latticed panes with a fire and flame mysterious +with the weight of generations; strong lights and shadows will be thrown +by gables and deep recesses, and sculptured porches; by the "aprons" +that protect the carven beams, and the eaves that stand out so strongly +in outline against the background of the far-off sky. And if those skies +are sad and sorrowful, immediately the quaint houses put on all the +dignity of age: from every gable end, from every lattice, every niche +and grotesque, the rain trickles and falls, and they, too, you would +say, are weeping for their lost youth.</p> + +<p>But they are too old to do that. It is not the very aged who weep for +their early days; they have forgotten what is now too far off to be +realised. They weep who stand upon the boundary line separating youth +from age; who at once look behind and beyond: look back with longing +upon the glow and romance which have not yet died out of the heart, and +forward into the future where romance can have no place, and nothing is +visible excepting what has been called the calmness and repose of old +age.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's dull decay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone which fades so fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But the bloom of early youth is gone ere youth itself be past."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The reader will probably quote the remainder for himself; Byron never +wrote truer or sadder lines. And we all know of a great man in history +who, at eighty years old, turned to his friend and, pointing to a young +chimney-sweeper, exclaimed: "I would give my wealth, fame, coronet—all, +to be once more that boy's age, even if I must take his place!" One of +the saddest sentences, perhaps, that one of eighty could utter.</p> + +<p>To-day every house was weeping. Even the women who kept the stalls in +the covered market-place dispensed their butter and poultry,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> their +fruit and flowers, with a melancholy air, and looked as if they had not +the courage to keep up the prices. Ladies and housekeepers wandered from +stall to stall followed by their maids, a few of whom wore picturesque +caps, conspicuous in their rarity: for even Breton stubbornness has +yielded very much, where, for once, it should have been firm as a rock, +and it is only in the remoter districts that costume is still general. +We were invited to many purchases as we looked around, and had we +yielded to all might have stocked Madame Hellard's larder to +overflowing: a very unnecessary attention, for the table is kept on the +most liberal principles.</p> + +<p>It was really alarming to see the quantity that some of the Bretons +managed to appropriate in an incredibly short space of time at the table +d'hôte. H.C., who was accustomed to the æsthetic table of his aunt, Lady +Maria, more than once had to retire to his room, and recover his +composure, and wonder whether his own appetite would ever return to him. +And once or twice when I unfeelingly drew attention to an opposite +neighbour and wondered what Lady Maria would say to it, he could only +reply by a dismal groan which caused the opposite neighbour for a moment +to arrest his mission of destruction and stare.</p> + +<p>On the second occasion that it happened he called up the head +waitress—they were all women who served in the room—and asked her if +the "Monsieur Anglais vis-à-vis" was not ill.</p> + +<p>"He looks pale and thin," he added, feelingly, and might well think so, +placed in juxtaposition with himself, for he was large and round, with +cheeks, as Tony Lumpkin would have said, broad and red as a pulpit +cushion. It was simply cause and effect.</p> + +<p>In his case, too, the cause was not confined to eating. Two bottles of +the white wine, supplied gratis in unlimited quantities at the table +d'hôte disappeared during the repast; and we began to think of Mr. +Weller senior, the tea-party, and the effect of the unlimited cups upon +Mr. Stiggins. "I come from Quimper," we heard the Breton say on one +occasion to his next-door neighbour, "and I think it the best town in +France, not excepting Paris. Where do you come from?"</p> + +<p>"From Rouen," replied the neighbour, a far more refined specimen of +humanity, who spoke in quiet tones. "I am not a Breton."</p> + +<p>"So much the worse for you," returned our modern Daniel Lambert +unceremoniously. "The French would beat the world, and the Bretons would +beat the French. Then I suppose you don't deal in horses?"</p> + +<p>"No," with an amused smile. "I am only a humble architect." But we +discovered afterwards that he was celebrated all over France. +Travelling, no less than adversity, makes us acquainted with strange +bedfellows.</p> + +<p>The head waitress was a very interesting character, much older than the +other waitresses, whom she took under her wing with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> species of +hen-like protection, keeping them well up to their duties, and rating +them soundly where they failed. She was a Bretonne, but of the better +type, with sharp, clearly-cut features, and eyes full of vivacity, that +seemed in all places at once. She wore list shoes, and would flit like a +phantom from one end of the room to the other, her cap-strings flying +behind her, directing, surveying all. Very independent, too, was she, +and evidently held certain of her guests in sovereign contempt.</p> + +<p>"This terrible fair!" she would say, "which lasts three days, and gives +us no rest and no peace; and one or two of those terrible dealers, who +have a greater appetite than their own cattle, and would eat from six +o'clock until midnight, if one only let them! Monsieur Hellard loses +pretty well by some of them; I am sure of it!"</p> + +<p>The lift which brought things up from the kitchen was at the end of the +room, and every now and then she would go to it, and in a shrill voice, +which seemed to penetrate to very far-off regions—Halls of Eblis or +caverns measureless to man—cry out "<span class="smcap">Lâ Suite!</span>" the <i>a</i> very much +<i>circumflexed</i> with true Breton pronunciation.</p> + +<p>It was amusing, occasionally, when a certain dish was sent up that in +some way or other did not please her, to hear it sent down again in the +return lift accompanied by a reprimand that was very much to the point, +and was audible to the assembled room. The whole table on those +occasions would break into laughter, for her reprimand was always spiced +with inimitable humour, which penetrated even the impervious Breton +intellect.</p> + +<p>Then she would fly down the room with the dish returned to her +satisfaction, a suppressed smile lurking about the corners of her mouth, +and, addressing the table at large with a freedom that only the French +can assume without familiarity, exclaim: "It is not because some of you +give the chef too much to do, with your enormous capacities, that I am +going to allow him to neglect his work." And the table would laugh again +and applaud Catherine, the head waitress. For she was very capable and +therefore very popular, as ministering well to their wants. And the +Breton temperament is seldom sensitive.</p> + +<p>She had her favourites, to whom she was devoted, making no secret of her +preference. We were amongst the fortunate, and soon fell into her good +graces. Woe betide anyone who attempted to appropriate our seats before +we entered; or a waitress who brought us the last remnants of a +dish—for nothing seemed to escape her observation. She was most +concerned about H.C.'s want of appetite and ethereal +appearance—certainly a startling contrast to some of her experiences.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a href="images/03large.jpg"> + <img src="images/03.jpg" + alt="Creisker, St. Pol de Leon." + title="Creisker, St. Pol de Leon." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">Creisker, St. Pol de Léon.</span> +</div> + +<p>"Monsieur hasn't the appetite of a lark," she complained to me one +morning. "Tell him that the Breton climate is as difficult to fight as +the Breton soldier; and if he does not eat, he will be washed away<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> by +the rains. <span class="smcap">What Eyes!</span>" she exclaimed; "quite the eyes of a poet. I am +sure monsieur is a poet. Have I not reason?"</p> + +<p>Thus proving herself even more that an excellent waitress—a woman of +penetration.</p> + +<p>We have said that the day after our aquatic adventure at the little inn +by the river-side, "Au retour de la Pêche," the rain came down with +vengeance. There was no doubt about its energy; and this, at least, was +consoling. Nothing is more annoying than your uncertain morning, when +you don't know whether to start or stay at home. On these occasions, +whichever you do turns out a mistake.</p> + +<p>But the following day our patience was rewarded by bright sunshine and +blue skies. "The very day for Roscoff," said Madame Hellard; "though I +cannot think why you are determined to pay it a visit. There is +absolutely nothing to see. It is a sad town, and its streets are given +over to melancholy. Of course, you will take St. Pol de Léon on your +way. It is equally quiet, and even less picturesque."</p> + +<p>This was not very encouraging, but we have learned to beware of other +people's opinions: they often praise what is worthless, and pass over +delights and treasures in absolute silence.</p> + +<p>So, remembering this, we entered the hotel omnibus with our sketching +materials and small cameras, and struggled up the hill to the railway +station and the level of the huge viaduct.</p> + +<p>On our way we passed the abode of our refined and interesting +antiquarian. He was standing at his door, the same patient look upon his +beautiful face, the same resigned attitude. He caught sight of us and +woke up out of a reverie. His spirit always seemed taking some far-off +flight.</p> + +<p>"Ces messieurs are not leaving?" he cried, for we passed slowly and +close to him. There was evidence of slight anxiety or disappointment in +his tone; the crucifix yet hung on his walls, and H.C.'s mind still +hovered in the balance.</p> + +<p>"No," we replied. "We are going to Roscoff, and shall be back to-night."</p> + +<p>"Roscoff? It is lovely," he said. "I know you will like it. But it is +very quiet, and only appeals to the artistic temperament. You will see +few shops there; no antiquarians; and the people are stupid. Still, the +place is remarkable."</p> + +<p>The omnibus passed on and we were soon steaming away from Morlaix.</p> + +<p>It was a desperately slow train. The surrounding country was not very +interesting, but the journey, fortunately, was short. As we passed the +celebrated St. Pol de Léon on the way, we decided to take it first. +Roscoff was the terminus, and appeared like the ends of the earth at the +very extreme point of land, jutting into the sea and looking out upon +the English Channel. If vision could have reached so far, we might have +seen the opposite English coast, and peered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> right into Plymouth Sound; +where, the last time that we climbed its heights straight from the +hospitality of a delightful cruise in a man-of-war, the band of the +Marine Artillery was ravishing all ears and discoursing sweet music in a +manner that few bands could rival.</p> + +<p>We approached St. Pol de Léon, which may be described as an +ecclesiastical, almost a dead city. But how glorious and interesting +some of these dead cities are, with their silent streets and their +remnants of the past! The shadow of death seems upon them, and they +impress you with a mute eloquence more thrilling and effective than the +greatest oration ever listened to.</p> + +<p>As we approached St. Pol, which lay half a mile or so from the railway, +its churches and towers were so disposed that the place looked like one +huge ecclesiastical building. These stood out with wonderful effect and +clearness against the background of the sky.</p> + +<p>We left the station, and thought we might as well use the omnibus in +waiting. It was small and held about four passengers. As soon as we had +taken our seats two fat priests came up and entered. We felt rather +crowded, and, like the moping owl, resented the intrusion; but when +three stout ladies immediately followed, and looked appealingly at the +state of affairs, it was too much. We gave up our seats and walked; and +presently the omnibus passed us, one of the ladies having wedged herself +in by a miracle between the priests. It would take a yet greater miracle +to unpack them again. The driver looked round with a smile—he had +admitted us into the omnibus and released us—and, pointing to the roof +with his whip, humorously exclaimed: "Complêt!"</p> + +<p>The towers and steeples of St. Pol de Léon raised themselves mightily in +front of us as we walked, beautiful and imposing. The town dates back to +the sixth century, and though once important, is now almost deserted. +Pol, or Paul, a monk, who, according to one tradition was Welsh, +according to another Cornish, went over to a neighbouring island about +the year 530 and there established a monastery. He became so famous for +his piety that a Breton king founded a bishopric at Léon, and presented +him with the mitre. The name of the town was then changed to St. Pol de +Léon. His successors were men distinguished for their goodness, and St. +Pol became one of the most famous ecclesiastical towns in Brittany. +Churches were built, monasteries and convents were founded.</p> + +<p>In course of time its reputation for wealth excited the envy of the +Counts of Léon, and in 875 the Normans came down upon it, pillaged the +town and devastated the cathedral. It was one of those Counts of Léon +who so vigorously claimed his rights "de bris et d'épaves"—the laws of +flotsam and jetsam—esteeming priceless as diamonds certain rocks upon +which vessels were frequently wrecked. This law, rigorously enforced +through long ages, has now almost died out.</p> + +<p>In the fourteenth century du Guesclin took possession of the town<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> in +the name of Charles V., but the French garrison was put to the sword by +the barbarous Duke John IV. of Brittany in the year 1374. In 1590 the +inhabitants of the town joined a plot formed for their emancipation, and +the neighbouring villages rose up in insurrection against an army of +three hundred thousand men raised by the Convention. The rebels were +conquered after two disastrous battles—one within, the other without +the town—when an immense number of the peasants were slain.</p> + +<p>Seeing it to-day, no one would imagine that it had once passed such +stirring times: had once been a place of importance, wealth, and envy. +Its streets are deserted, its houses grey and sad-looking. The place +seems lifeless. The shadows cast by the sun fall athwart the silent, +grass-grown streets, and have it all their own way. During our short +visit I do not think we met six people. Yet the town has seven thousand +inhabitants. Some we saw within their houses; and here and there the +sound of the loom broke the deadly silence, and in small cottages +pale-faced men bent laboriously over their shuttles. The looms were +large and seemed to take up two-thirds of the room, which was evidently +the living-room also. Many were furnished with large open cabinets or +wardrobes carved in Breton work, rough but genuine.</p> + +<p>Passing up the long narrow street leading to the open and deserted +market-place, the Chapelle de Creisker rises before you with its +wonderful clock-tower that is still the pride of the town. The original +chapel, according to tradition, was founded by a young girl whom St. +Kirec, Archdeacon of Léon in the sixth century, had miraculously cured +of paralysis; but the greater part of the present chapel, including the +tower and spire, was built towards the end of the fourteenth century, by +John IV., Duke of Brittany. The porches are fifteenth century; the north +porch, in the Flamboyant style, being richly decorated with figures and +foliage deeply and elaborately carved. On the south side are six +magnificent windows, unfortunately not filled in with magnificent glass. +The interior possesses nothing remarkable, excepting its fine rose +window and the opposite east window, distinguished for their size and +tracery.</p> + +<p>The tower is its glory. It is richly ornamented, and surmounted by a +cornice so projecting that, until the eye becomes accustomed to it, the +slender tower beneath seems overweighted: an impression not quite lost +at a first visit. The light and graceful tower, two hundred and +sixty-three feet high, rises between the nave and the choir, upon four +arches sustained by four quadrangular pillars four yards wide, composed +of innumerable small columns almost resembling bundles of rods, in which +the arms of Jean Prégent, Chancellor of Brittany and Bishop of Léon in +1436, may be seen on the keystone of each arch. The upper tower, like +those of the cathedral, is pierced by narrow bays, supported on either +side by false bays. From the upper platform, with its four-leaved +balustrade, rises the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> beautiful open-work spire, somewhat resembling +that of St. Peter's at Caen, and flanked by four turrets. This tower is +said to have been built by an English architect, but there is no +authority for the tradition.</p> + +<p>Proceeding onwards to the market-place, there rises the cathedral, far +better placed than many of the cathedrals abroad. It is one of the +remarkable buildings of Brittany, possessing certain distinguishing +features peculiar to the Breton churches.</p> + +<p>The cathedral dates from three periods. A portion of the north transept +is Romanesque; the nave, west front, and towers date from the thirteenth +century and the commencement of the fourteenth; the interior, almost +entirely Gothic, and very striking, lost much of its beauty when +restored in 1866. It is two hundred and sixty feet long and fifty-two +feet high to the vaulting, the latter being attributed to William of +Rochefort, who was Bishop of Léon in 1349. The towers are very fine, +with central storeys pierced by lancet windows, like those of the +Creisker. The south transept has a fine circular window, with tracery +cut in granite.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/04.jpg" + alt="Interior of Cathedral, St. Pol de Leon." + title="Interior of Cathedral, St. Pol de Leon." /><br /> + <span class="caption">Interior of Cathedral, St. Pol de Léon.</span> +</div> + +<p>The stalls, the chief beauty of the choir, are magnificently carved, and +date from 1512. The choir, completely surrounded by a stone screen, is +larger and more ornamented than the nave, and is surrounded by double +aisles, ending in a Lady Chapel possessing some good carved woodwork of +the sixteenth century.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> + +<p>The towers are almost equal in dimension but somewhat different in +design. One of them—the south tower—possesses a small lancet doorway +on the west side, called the Lepers' Doorway, where probably lepers +entered to attend mass in days gone by, remaining unseen and isolated +from the rest of the congregation. The south wall possesses a +magnificent rose window, above which is another window, called the +<i>Window of Excommunication</i>. The rose window is unfortunately filled +with modern glass, but one or two of the side windows are good. The +basin for holy-water, dating from the twelfth century, is said to have +been the tomb of Conan Mériadec, first of the Breton kings.</p> + +<p>A small bell, said to have belonged to St. Pol, is kept in the church, +and on the day of the <i>Pardon</i> of Léon (the chief fête of the year) is +carried up and down the nave and rung vigorously over the heads of the +faithful to preserve them from headache and ear-ache.</p> + +<p>The best view of the interior is obtained by standing in the choir, as +near as possible to the tomb of St. Pol—distinguished by a black marble +slab immediately in front of the altar—and looking westward. The +long-drawn aisle is very fine; the stalls and decoration of the choir +stand out well, whilst the Early-Pointed arches on either side are +marked by beauty and refinement. The west end of the nave seems quite +far off and becomes almost dream-like.</p> + +<p>Yet in some way the Cathedral of St. Pol de Léon left upon us a certain +feeling of disappointment. The interior did not seem equal to the +exterior; and as the church has been much praised at different times by +those capable of distinguishing the good in architecture, we attributed +this impression to the effect of its comparatively recent restoration.</p> + +<p>Behind the cathedral is an old prebendal house, belonging to the +sixteenth century and possessing many interesting details. Beyond it +again was the small chapel of St. Joseph, attached to the convent of the +Ursuline nuns, founded in 1630. For St. Pol de Léon is still essentially +a religious and ecclesiastical town, living on its past glory and +reputation. Once immensely rich, it now impresses one with a feeling of +sadness and poverty.</p> + +<p>One wonderful little glimpse we had of an earthly paradise.</p> + +<p>Not far from the cathedral we had strayed into a garden, for the great +gates were open and the vision dazzled us. We had rarely seen such a +wealth of flowers. Large rose-trees, covered with blooms, outvied each +other in scenting the air with delicious perfume. Some of these trees or +bushes were many yards round. Immense rhododendrons also flourished. +Exquisite and graceful trees rose above them; the laburnum, no longer in +bloom, acacias, and the lovely pepper tree. Standing out from a wealth +of blossom and verdure was an old well, surmounted by some ancient and +picturesque ironwork. Beyond it was a yet more ancient and picturesque +house of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> grey stone, an equally venerable flight of steps leading up to +the front entrance. The house was large, and whatever it might be now, +must once have fulfilled some ecclesiastical purpose. It occupied the +whole length of the large garden, the remainder being closed in by high +walls. Opposite, to the right, uprose the Bishop's palace, and beyond it +the lovely towers and spires of the cathedral.</p> + +<p>It was one of those rare scenes very seldom met with, which plunge one +at once out of the world into an Arcadia beautiful as dreamland. We +stood and gazed, silent with rapture and admiration; threw +conventionality to the winds, forgot that we had no right here, and +wandered about, inhaling the scent of the flowers, luxuriating in their +rich colours, feasting our eyes and senses on all the old-world beauty +of architecture by which we were surrounded; carrying our sight upwards +to the blue skies and wondering if we had not been transported to some +paradise beyond the veiling. It was a Garden of Eden.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/05.jpg" + alt="Chapel of Mary Queen of Scots, Roscoff." + title="Chapel of Mary Queen of Scots, Roscoff." /><br /> + <span class="caption">Chapel of Mary Queen of Scots, Roscoff.</span> +</div> + +<p>Then suddenly at the open doorway of the house appeared a lady with a +wealth of white hair and a countenance full of the beauty of sweetness +and age. She was dignified, as became the owner of this fair domain, and +her rich robe rustled as she quietly descended the steps.</p> + +<p>We now remembered ourselves and our intrusion, yet it was impossible to +retreat. We advanced bareheaded to make our humble apologies and sue for +grace.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> + +<p>The owner of this earthly paradise made us an elaborate curtsey that +surely she had learned at the Tuileries or Versailles in the bygone days +of an illustrious monarchy.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur," she said, in a voice that was still full of melody, "do not +apologise; I see that you are strangers and foreigners, and you are +welcome. This garden might indeed entice anyone to enter. I have grown +old here, and my eyes are never tired of beholding the beauties of +Nature. In St. Pol we are favoured, you know, in possessing one of the +most fertile soils in France."</p> + +<p>And then she bade us enter, with a politeness that yet sounded like a +command; and we obeyed and passed up the ancient steps into a +richly-panelled hall. Over the doorways hung boars' heads, shot by her +sons, Countess C—— for she told us her name—informed us, in the +forests of Brittany.</p> + +<p>"They are great sportsmen," she added with a smile, "and you know we +Bretons do nothing by halves. Our sportsmen are fierce and strong in the +chase, and know nothing of the effeminate pastimes of those who live in +more southern latitudes."</p> + +<p>Then, to do us honour, and because she thought it would interest us, she +showed us through some of the reception rooms, magnificent with tapestry +and carved oak and dark panelling, and family portraits of bygone +generations, when people were taken as shepherds and shepherdesses, and +the world was a real Arcadia; and everywhere were trophies of the chase. +And, conducting us up an ancient oak staircase to a large recess looking +to the back, there our dazzled vision saw another garden stretched out +before us, longer, broader, than the paradise in front, full of roses +and lilies, and a countless number of fruit trees.</p> + +<p>"That is my orchard," she said; "but I must have flowers everywhere, and +so, all down the borders my lilies and roses scent the air; and there I +walk and try to make my old age beautiful and contented, as every old +age ought to be. My young days were passed at Court; my later years in +this quiet seclusion, out of the world. Alas! there is no more Court for +old or young."</p> + +<p>Then again we descended into a salon so polished that you could trace +your features on the parquet flooring; a room that would have dignified +a monarch; a room where everything was old-fashioned and beautiful, +subdued and refined; and our hostess, pointing to lovely old chairs +covered with tapestry that had been worked a century-and-a-half ago, +touched a bell and insisted upon our refreshing ourselves with some wine +of the country and a cake peculiar to St. Pol de Léon. It is probable +that H.C.'s poetical eyes and ethereal countenance, whilst captivating +her heart, had suggested a dangerous delicacy of constitution. These +countenances, however, are deceptive; it is often your robust and florid +people who fail to reach more than the stage of early manhood.</p> + +<p>In response to the bell there entered a Breton maid with cake and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> wine +on a silver tray. She was youthful and comely, and wore a picturesque +Breton cap with mysterious folds, the like of which we had seen neither +in Morlaix nor in St. Pol de Léon. As far as the latter town was +concerned it was not surprising, since we had met so few of the +inhabitants.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a href="images/06large.jpg"> + <img src="images/06.jpg" + alt="House in which the Young Pretender took Refuge after the Battle of Culloden, Roscoff." + title="House in which the Young Pretender took Refuge after the Battle of Culloden, Roscoff." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">House in which the Young Pretender took Refuge after the Battle of Culloden, Roscoff.</span> +</div> + +<p>The maid curtsied on entering, placed the tray upon the table, curtsied +again to her mistress, and withdrew. All was done in absolute silence: +the silence of a well-bred domestic and a perfectly organised household. +She moved as if her feet had been encased in down.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p> + +<p>With her own fair and kindly hands, the Comtesse poured out the red and +sparkling liquid, and, breaking the cake, once more bade us welcome.</p> + +<p>We would rather have been excused; such hospitality to strangers was so +rare, excepting in remote places where the customs of the primitive ages +still existed. But hospitality so gracefully and graciously offered had +to be met with graciousness and gratitude in return.</p> + +<p>"The cake I offer you," she remarked, "is peculiar to St. Pol de Léon. +There is a tradition that it has come to us from the days of St. Pol +himself, and that the saintly monk-bishop made his daily meal of it. But +I feel very sure," she added with a smile, "that those early days of +fasting and penance never rejoiced in anything as refined and civilized +and as good as this."</p> + +<p>And then for a little while we talked of Brittany and the Bretons; and +if we could have stayed longer we should have heard many an anecdote and +many an experience. But time and a due regard to politeness forbade a +"longer lingering," charming as were the old lady's manners and +conversation, delightful the atmosphere in which she lived. With mingled +stateliness and grace she accompanied us to the wonderful garden and +bade us farewell.</p> + +<p>"This is your first visit to St. Pol," she said, as she gave us her hand +in the English fashion; "I hope it will not be your last. Remember that +if ever you come here again my doors will open to you, and a welcome +will await you. Only, let your next visit be a longer one. You see that +I speak with the freedom of age; and if you think me impulsive in thus +tendering hospitality to one hitherto unknown, I must answer that I have +lived in the world, and make no mistakes. I believe also in a certain +mental mesmerism, which rarely fails. When I saw you enter, something +told me that I might come to you. Fare you well!—Sans adieu!" she added +as we expressed our gratitude and bent over her hand with an earnest "Au +revoir!"</p> + +<p>We went our way, both charmed into silence for a time. I felt that we +were thinking the same thoughts—rejoicing in our happy fortune in these +occasional meetings which flashed across the horizon of our lives and +disappeared, not without leaving behind them an abiding effect; an +earnest appreciation of human nature and the amount of leaven that must +exist in the world. We thought instinctively of Mdlle. Martin, the +little Receveuse des Postes de Retraite at Grâce: and of Mdlle. de +Pressensé at Villeneuve, who had welcomed us even as the Comtesse had +now done; and we felt that we were favoured.</p> + +<p>Time was up, and we decided to make this our last impression of St. Pol +de Léon. We passed down the quiet streets, under the shadow of the +Creisker, out into the open country and the railway station. We were +just in time for the train to Roscoff, and in a very few minutes had +reached that little terminus.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p> + +<p>Immediately we felt more out of the world than ever. There was something +so primitive about the station and its surroundings and the people who +hovered about, that this seemed a true <i>finis terre</i>. It was, however, +sufficiently civilized to boast of two omnibuses; curiously constructed +machines that, remembering our St. Pol experience, we did not enter. The +town was only a little way off, and its church steeple served us as +beacon.</p> + +<p>We passed a few modern houses near the station, which looked like a +settlement in the backwoods with the trees cut down, and then a short +open road led to the quiet streets.</p> + +<p>Quiet indeed they were, with a look about them yet more old-world, +deadly and deserted even than St. Pol de Léon. The houses are nearly all +built of that grey <i>Kersanton</i> stone, which has a cold and cheerless +tone full of melancholy; like some of the far away Scotch or Welsh +villages, where nature seems to have died out, no verdure is to be seen, +and the very hedges, that in softer climes bud and blossom and put forth +the promise of spring to make glad the heart of man, are replaced by dry +walls that have no beauty in them.</p> + +<p>Yet at once we felt that there was a certain charm about Roscoff, and a +very marked individuality. Never yet, in Brittany, had we felt so out of +the world and removed from civilization. Its quaint houses are +substantial though small, and many of them still possess the old cellars +that open by large winged doors into the streets, where the poorer +people live an underground life resembling that of the moles. The +cellars go far back, and light never penetrates into their recesses.</p> + +<p>Again, some of the houses had courtyards of quaint and interesting +architecture. One of them especially is worth visiting. A long narrow +passage leads you to a quaint yard with seven arches supported by +columns, with an upper gallery supported by more columns. It might have +formed part of a miniature cloister in days gone by.</p> + +<p>On the way towards the church, we passed the chapel dedicated to St. +Ninian, of which nothing remains now but the bare enclosure and the +ancient and beautiful gateway. This, ruined as it is, is the most +interesting relic in Roscoff. It was here that Mary Queen of Scots +landed when only five years old, to be married to the Dauphin of France. +The form of her foot was cut out in the rock on which she first stepped, +but we failed to see it. Perhaps time and the effect of winds and waves +have worn it away. Footsteps disappear even on a stronger foundation +than the sands of time. The little chapel was built to commemorate her +landing, and its ruins are surrounded by a halo of sadness and romance. +Four days after her landing she was betrothed. But the happy careless +childhood was quickly to pass away; the "fevered life of a throne" was +most essentially to be hers; plot and counterplot were to embitter her +days; until at last, at the bidding of "great Elizabeth," those +wonderful eyes were to close for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> the last time upon the world, and that +lovely head was to be laid upon the block.</p> + +<p>The sad history overshadows the little chapel in Roscoff as a halo; for +us overshadowed the whole town.</p> + +<p>Adjoining the chapel still exists the house in which the child-queen +lodged on landing, also with a very interesting courtyard.</p> + +<p>Looking down towards the church from this point, the houses wore a grey, +sad and deserted aspect. The church tower rises above them, quaint and +curious, in the Renaissance style. The interior is only remarkable for +some curious alabaster bas-reliefs, representing the Passion and the +Resurrection; an old tomb serving as <i>bénitier</i>, some ancient fonts, and +the clever sculpturing of a boat representing the arms of the town; a +device also found on the left front of the tower.</p> + +<p>There is also a large ossuary in the corner of the small churchyard, now +disused. These ossuaries, or <i>reliquaires</i>, in the graveyards of +Brittany were built to carry out a curious and somewhat barbarous +custom. It was considered by "those of old time" to be paying deference +to the dead to dig up their coffins after a certain number of years, and +to place the skulls and bones in the ossuary, arranging them on shelves +and labelling them in a British Museum style so that all might gaze upon +them as they went by. This custom is still kept up in some places; for, +as we have said, the Bretons are a slow moving people in the way of +progress, and cling to their habits and customs as tenaciously as the +Medes and Persians did to their laws. They are not ambitious, and what +sufficed for the sires a generation or two ago suffices for the sons +to-day.</p> + +<p>But to us, the chief beauty of the town was its little port, with its +stone pier. The houses leading down to it are the quaintest in Roscoff, +of sixteenth century date, with many angles and gables. In one of them +lodged Charles Stuart, the Young Pretender, when he escaped after the +battle of Culloden, the quaintest and most interesting of all.</p> + +<p>Looking back from the end of the jetty, it lies prominently before you, +together with the whole town, forming a group full of wonderful tone and +picturesque beauty. In the foreground are the vessels in the harbour, +with masts rising like a small forest, and flags gaily flying. The water +which plashes against the stone pier is the greenest, purest, most +translucent ever seen. It dazzled by its brilliancy and appeared to +"hold the light." Before us stretched the great Atlantic, to-day calm +and sleeping and reflecting the sun travelling homewards; but often +lashed to furious moods, which break madly over the pier, and send their +spray far over the houses. Few scenes in Brittany are more +characteristic and impressive than this little unknown town.</p> + +<p>A narrow channel lies between Roscoff and L'Ile de Batz, which would +form a fine harbour of refuge if it were not for the strong currents for +ever running there. At high water the island is half<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> submerged. It is +here that St. Pol first came from Cornwall, intending to live there the +remainder of his life; but, as we have seen, he was made Bishop of Léon, +and had to take up his abode in the larger town.</p> + +<p>No tree of any height is to be seen here, but the tamarisk grows in +great abundance. All the men are sailors and pass their lives upon the +water, coming home merely to rest. The women cultivate the ground. The +church possesses, and preserves as its greatest treasure, a stole worn +by St. Pol. Tradition has it that when St. Pol landed, the island was a +prey to a fierce and fiery dragon, whom the monk conquered by throwing +his stole round the neck of the monster and commanding it to cast itself +into the sea; a command it instantly and amiably obeyed by rushing to +the top of a high rock and plunging for ever beneath the waves. The rock +is still called in Breton language Toul ar Sarpent, signifying Serpent's +Hole.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a href="images/07large.jpg"> + <img src="images/07.jpg" + alt="Roscoff." + title="Roscoff." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">Roscoff.</span> +</div> + +<p>Roscoff itself is extremely fertile; the deadly aspect of the little +town is not extended to the surrounding plains. The climate is much +influenced by the Gulf Stream, and the winters are temperate. Flowers +and vegetables grow here all the year round that in less favoured +districts are found only in summer. Like Provence in the far South, +Roscoff is famous for its primeurs, or early vegetables. If<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> you go to +some of the great markets in Paris in the spring and notice certain +country people with large round hats, very primitive in appearance, +disposing of these vegetables, you may at once know them for Bretons +from Roscoff. You will not fall in love with them; they are plain, +honest, and stupid. We found the few people we spoke to in Roscoff quite +answering to this description, and could make nothing of them.</p> + +<p>On our way back to the station we visited the great natural curiosity of +the place: a fig tree whose branches cover an area of nearly two hundred +square yards, supported by blocks of wood or by solid masonry built up +for the purpose. It yields an immense quantity of fruit, and would +shield a small army beneath its foliage. Its immense trunk is knotted +and twisted about in all directions; but the tree is full of life and +vigour, and probably without parallel in the world.</p> + +<p>Soon after this, we were once more steaming towards Morlaix, our +head-quarters. As we passed St. Pol de Léon, its towers and steeples +stood out grandly in the gathering twilight. Before us there rose up the +vision of the aged Countess who had received and entertained us with so +much kindness and hospitality. It was not too much to say that we longed +to renew our experience, to pass not hours but days in that charmed and +charming abode, refined by everything that was old-world and artistic; +and to number our hostess amongst those friends whom time and chance, +silence and distance, riches or poverty, life or death, can never +change.</p> + +<p>We re-entered Morlaix with the shadows of night. Despising the omnibus, +we went down Jacob's Ladder, rejoicing and revelling in all the +old-world atmosphere about us, and on our way passed our Antiquarian. He +was still at his doorway, evidently watching for our arrival, and might +have been motionless as a wooden sentry ever since we had left him in +the morning.</p> + +<p>The workshop was lighted up, and the old cabinets and the modern +wood-carving looked picturesque and beautiful in the lights and shadows +thrown by the lamps. The son, handsome as an Adonis, was bending over +some delicate carving that he was chiseling, flushed with the success of +his work, yet outwardly strangely quiet and gentle. The cherub we had +seen a morning or two ago at the doorstep ought now to have been in bed +and asleep. Instead of that he was perched upon a table, and with large, +wide-opened blue eyes was gazing with all the innocence and inquiry of +infancy into his father's face, as if he would there read the mystery of +life and creation, which the wondering gaze of early childhood seems for +ever asking.</p> + +<p>It was a rare picture. The rift within the lute was out of sight +upstairs, and there was nothing to disturb the harmony of perfection. +The child saw us, and immediately held out his little arms with a +confiding gesture and a crow of delight that would have won over the +sternest misanthropist, as if he recognised us for old friends be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>tween +whom there existed a large amount of affection and an excellent +understanding. His father threw down his chisel, and catching him up in +his arms perched him upon his shoulder and ran him up and down the room, +while the little fellow shrieked with happiness. Then both disappeared +up the staircase, the child looking, in all his loveliness, as if he +would ask us to follow—a perfect representation of trust and +contentment, as he felt himself borne upwards, safe and secure from +danger, in the strong arms of his natural protector.</p> + +<p>The old man turned to us with a sigh. Was he thinking of his own past +youth, when he, too, was once the principal actor in a counterpart +scene? Or of a day, which could not be very far off, when such a scene +as this and all earthly scenes must for him for ever pass away? Or of +the little rift within the lute? Who could tell?</p> + +<p>"So, sirs, you are back once more," was all he remarked. "Have you seen +Roscoff? Was I not right in praising it?"</p> + +<p>"You were, indeed," we replied. "It is full of indescribable beauty and +interest. Why is it so little known?"</p> + +<p>"Because there are so few true artists in the world," he answered. "It +cannot appeal to any other temperament. Those who see things only with +the eyes and not with the soul, will never care for it. And so it has +made no noise in the world, and few visit it. Of those who do, probably +many think more of the wonderful fig tree than of the exquisite tone of +the houses, the charm of the little port, the matchless purity of the +water."</p> + +<p>We felt he was right. Then he pointed to the marvellous crucifix that +hung upon the wall, and seemed by its beauty and sacredness almost to +sanctify the room.</p> + +<p>"Is it not a wonderful piece of art?" he cried, with quiet enthusiasm. +"If Michel Angelo had ever carved in ivory, I should say it was his +work. But be that as it may, it is the production of a great master."</p> + +<p>We promised to return. There was something about the old man and his +surroundings which compelled one to do so. It was so rare to find three +generations of perfection, about whom there clung a charm indescribable +as the perfume that clings to the rose. We passed out into the night, +and our last look showed him standing in his quaint little territory, +thrown out in strong relief by the lamplight, gazing in rapt devotion +upon his treasures, all the religious fervour of the true Breton +temperament shining out of his spiritual face, thinking perhaps of the +"one far-off Divine event" that for him was growing so very near.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p> +<h2>A SOCIAL DÉBUT.</h2> + + +<p>It is hoped that the following anecdote of the ways and customs of that +rare animal, the modest, diffident youth (soon, naturalists assure us, +to become as extinct in these islands as the Dodo), may afford a +moment's amusement to the superior young people who rule journalism, +politics, and life for us to-day.</p> + +<p>Some ten years ago Mr. Edward Everett came up from the wilds of +Devonshire to study law with Braggart and Pushem, in Chancery Lane. He +was placed to board, by a prudent mother, with a quiet family in +Bayswater.</p> + +<p>That even quiet Bayswater families are not without their dangers +Everett's subsequent career may be taken as proof, but with this, at +present, I have nothing to do. I merely intend to give the history of +his début in society, although the title is one of which, after reading +the following pages, you may find reason to complain.</p> + +<p>Everett had not been many weeks in London when he received, quite +unexpectedly, his first invitation to an evening party.</p> + +<p>His mother's interest had procured it for him, and it came from Lady +Charlton, the wife of Sir Robert, the eminent Q.C. It was with no little +elation that he passed the card round the breakfast-table for the +benefit of Mrs. Browne and the girls. There stood Lady Charlton's name, +engraved in the centre, and his own, "Mr. Edward Everett," written up in +the left-hand corner; while the date, a Thursday in February, was as yet +too far ahead for him to have any inkling of the trepidation he was +presently to feel.</p> + +<p>Everett, although nineteen, had never been to a real party before; in +the wilds of Devonshire one does not even require dress clothes; +therefore, after sending an acceptation in his best handwriting, his +first step was to go and get himself measured for an evening suit.</p> + +<p>Now, Everett looked even younger than his age, and this is felt to be a +misfortune when one is still in one's teens. Later in life people appear +to bear it much better. He found himself feeling more than usually young +and insignificant on presenting himself to his tailor and stating his +requirements. Mr. Lucas condescended to him from the elevation of six +inches superior height and thirty years' seniority. He received +Everett's orders with toleration, and re-translated them with decision. +"Certainly, sir, I understand what you mean precisely. What you require +is this, that, or the other;" and the young gentleman found himself +meekly gathering views that never had emanated from his own bosom. +Nevertheless he took the most profound interest in the building up of +his suit, and constantly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> invented excuses to drop in upon Mr. Lucas and +see how the work was getting on.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, at home he, with the Browne girls, especially with Lily, the +youngest, often discussed the coming "At Home." Lily wondered what Lady +Charlton was like, if she had any daughters, whether there would be +dancing. Everett had never seen his hostess; thought, however, he had +heard there were daughters, but sincerely hoped they wouldn't dance; +for, although the Browne girls had taught him to waltz, he was conscious +he did them small credit as pupil.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure it will be a splendid party!" cried Lily the enthusiastic. +"How I wish some good fairy would just transport me there in the middle +of the evening, so that I might have a peep at you in all your glory!"</p> + +<p>"I wish with all my heart you were going too, Lil," said Everett; "I +shan't know a soul, I'm sure." And though he spoke in an airy, +matter-of-fact tone, qualms were beginning to shake his bosom as he +pictured himself thus launched alone on the tide of London society.</p> + +<p>He began to count the days which yet remained to him of happy obscurity; +and as Time moves with inexorable footsteps, no matter how earnestly we +would hurry or delay him, so at length there remained but a week's +slender barrier between Everett and the fatal date. For while he would +not acknowledge it even yet to himself, all sense of pleasurable +anticipation had gradually given place to the most unmitigated condition +of fright.</p> + +<p>Thus when he awoke on the actual Monday morning preceding the party, he +could not at first imagine to what cause he owed the burden of +oppression which immediately descended on his breast; just so used he to +feel as a boy when awaking to the consciousness of an impending visit to +the dentist. Then all at once he remembered that in four days more +Thursday night would have come, and his fate would be sealed.</p> + +<p>He carried a sinking spirit to his legal studies all that day and the +next, and yet was somewhat cheered on returning home on the Tuesday +evening to find a parcel awaiting him from the tailor's. He experienced +real pleasure in putting on the new suit after dinner and going down to +exhibit himself to the girls in the drawing-room. It was delightful to +listen to their exclamations and their praise; to hear Lily declare, +"Oh, you do look nice, Ted! Splendacious! Doesn't it suit him well, +mammy?"</p> + +<p>In that intoxicating moment, Everett felt he could hold his own in any +drawing-room in the land; nor could he help inwardly agreeing on +catching sight of himself in the chimney-glass that he did look +remarkably well in spite of a hairless lip and smooth young cheeks. He +mentally decided to get his hair cut, buy lavender gloves and Parma +violets, and casually inquire of Leslie, their "swell" man down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> at old +Braggart's, whether coloured silk socks were still considered "good +form."</p> + +<p>But when he donned those dress clothes for the second time, on the +Thursday night itself, he didn't feel half so happy. He suffered from +"fright" pains in his inside, and his fingers shook so, he spoilt a +dozen cravats in the tying. He got Lily to fix him one at last, and it +was she who found him a neat little cardboard box for his flowers, that +his overcoat might not crush them. For, as the night was fine, and +shillings scarce with him in those days, he intended walking to his +destination.</p> + +<p>Of course he was ready much too soon, and spent a restless, not to say a +miserable hour in the Brownes' drawing-room, afraid of starting, yet +unable to settle down to anything. Then, when half-past nine struck, +seized with sudden terror lest he should be too late, he made most hasty +adieux and rushed from the house. Only to hear Lily's light foot-fall +immediately following him, and her little breathless cry of "Oh, Ted! +you've forgotten your latch-key."</p> + +<p>"I wish to Heaven I was going to pass the evening quietly with you, +Lil!" sighed the poor youth, all his heart in his boots; but she begged +him not to be a goose, told him he would meet much nicer girls, and made +him promise to notice how they were all dressed, so as to describe the +frocks to her next day. Then she tripped back into the house, gave him a +final smile, the door closed, and there was nothing for Everett to do +but set off.</p> + +<p>He has told me since what a dreadful walk that was. He can remember it +vividly across all the intervening years, and he declares that no +criminal on his way to the gallows could have suffered from more +agonising apprehensions. He pictured his reception in a thousand dismal +forms. He saw himself knocking at the door; the moment's suspense; the +servant facing him. What ought he to say? "Is Lady Charlton at home?" +But that was ridiculous, since he knew she was at home; should he then +walk straight in without a word? but what would the servant think? Or, +supposing—awful thought!—he had made a mistake in the date; supposing +this wasn't the night at all? He searched in his pockets for the card +with feverish eagerness, and remembered he had left it stuck in the +dining-room chimney glass.</p> + +<p>His forehead grew damp with sweat, his hands clammy. He slackened his +speed. Why was he walking so fast? He would get there too soon: how +embarrassing to be the first arrival! Then he saw by the next baker's +shop it was on the stroke of ten, and terror lent him wings. How much +more embarrassing to arrive the last!</p> + +<p>The Charltons lived in Harley Street, which he had no sooner reached +than he guessed that must be the house, mid-way down. For a stream of +light expanded wedge-wise from the door, which was flung open as a +carriage drew up to the kerbstone. Everett<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> calculated he should arrive +precisely as the occupants were getting out. Better wait a couple of +minutes.</p> + +<p>Blessed respite! He crossed the road and loitered along in the shadow of +the opposite side. He examined the house from this point of vantage. It +was a blaze of light from top to bottom. The balcony on the drawing-room +floor had been roofed in with striped canvas. One of the red curtains +hanging from it was drawn aside; he caught glimpses of moving forms and +bright colours within.</p> + +<p>He heard the long-drawn notes of a violin. The ever-opening hall-door +exhibited a brilliant interior, with numberless men-servants conspicuous +upon a scarlet background. Ladies in light wraps had entered the house +from the carriage, and other carriages arriving in quick succession had +disgorged other lovely beings. If the door closed for one instant it +sprang open the next at the sound of wheels.</p> + +<p>"I'll walk to the top of the street," Everett determined, "cross over, +and then present myself." But as he again approached with courage +screwed to the sticking-place, a spruce hansom dashed up before him. Two +very "masher" young men sprang out. They stood for a moment laughing +together while one found the fare. The other glanced at Everett, and, as +it seemed to my too sensitive young friend, with a certain amusement. +"Is it possible that this little boy is coming to Lady Charlton's too?" +This at least is the meaning Everett read in an eye probably devoid of +any meaning at all. He felt he could not go in the company of these +gentlemen. He must wait now until they were admitted. So assuming as +unconscious an air as possible he stepped through the band of gaslight, +and was once more swallowed up in the friendly darkness beyond.</p> + +<p>"I'll just walk once to the corner and back," said he; but, fresh +obstacle! when he returned, a servant with powdered head swaggered on +the threshold exchanging witticisms with the commissionaire keeping +order outside; and the crimson carpet laid down across the pavement was +fringed with loiterers at either edge, some of whom, as he drew near, +turned to look at him with an expectant air.</p> + +<p>It was a moment of exquisite suffering. Should he go in? Should he pass +on? Only those, (and nowadays such are rare) who have themselves gone +through the agonies of shyness can appreciate the situation. As he +reached the full glare of the house-light, Everett's indecision was +visible in his face.</p> + +<p>"Lady Charlton's, sir?" queried Jeames.</p> + +<p>My poor Everett! His imbecility will scarcely be believed.</p> + +<p>"Thanks—no—ah—er!" he stammered feebly; "I am looking for Mr. +Browne's!"</p> + +<p>Which was the first name that occurred to him, and he heard the men +chuckling together as he fled. After this he walked up and down the +long, accursed length of Harley Street, on the dark side of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> the way, no +less than seven mortal times; until, twice passing the same policeman, +his sapience began to eye the wild-faced youth with disfavour. Then he +made a tour, east, south, west, north, round the block in which Lady +Charlton's house stands, and so came round to the door once more.</p> + +<p>Yet it was clearly impossible to present himself there now, after his +folly. It was also too late—or he thought it so. On the other hand, it +was too early to go home. Mrs. Browne had said she should not expect to +hear he was in before two or three. On this account he dared not return, +for never, never would he confess to her the depths of his cowardice! He +therefore continued street-walking with treadmill regularity, cold, +hungry, and deadly dull.</p> + +<p>But when twelve was gone on the church clocks, he could endure it no +longer. He turned and slunk home. Delicately did he insert the key in +the door; most mouse-like did he creep in; and yet someone heard him. +Lily, with flying locks, looked over the balusters, and then ran +noiselessly down to the hall.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Teddy, I couldn't go to bed for thinking of your party and how much +you must be enjoying yourself! But what is the matter? You look +so—funny!"</p> + +<p>Somehow Everett found himself telling her the whole story, and never +perhaps has humiliated mortal found a kinder little comforter. Far from +laughing at him, as he may have deserved, tears filled her pretty eyes +at the recital of his unfortunate evening, and no amount of petting was +deemed too much. She took him to the drawing-room, where she had +hitherto been sitting unplaiting her hair; stirred the fire into a +brighter blaze, wheeled him up the easiest couch, and, signal proof of +feminine heroism, braved the kitchen beetles to get him something to +eat.</p> + +<p>What a delightful impromptu picnic she spread out upon the sofa! How +capital was the cold beef and pickles, the gruyère cheese, the bottled +beer! How they laughed and enjoyed themselves, always with due +consideration not to disturb the sleepers above. How Everett, with the +audacity born of the swing back of the pendulum, seized upon this +occasion to—</p> + +<p>But no! I did not undertake to give further developments; these must +stand over to another time.</p> + + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/03de.jpg" + alt="Decorative" + title="Decorative" /> +</div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> +<h2>LEGEND OF AN ANCIENT MINSTER.</h2> + + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<p>Fairchester Abbey is noted for the mixed character of its architecture. +Such a confused blending of styles is very rarely to be met with in any +of our English cathedrals. There is no such thing as uniformity and no +possibility of tracing out the original architect's plan; it has been so +altered by later builders.</p> + +<p>The Norman pillars of the nave still remain, but they are surmounted by +a vaulted Gothic roof. The side aisles of the choir are also Norman, but +this heavier work is most beautifully screened from view and completely +panelled over with the light tracery of the later Perpendicular.</p> + +<p>It is almost impossible to adequately describe the beauties of this +noble choir. The architect seems to have been inspired, in the face of +unusual difficulty, to preserve all that was beautiful in the work of +his predecessors, and to blend it in a marvellous manner with his more +perfect conceptions. There is nothing sombre or heavy about it. It is a +perfect network of tall, slender pillars and gauzy tracery, and at the +east end there is the finest window to be seen in this country, +harmonising in the colour of its glass with the rest of the building; +shedding, in the sun's rays, no gloomy, heavy colourings, but bright +golden, creamy white, and even pink tints, on the receptive freestone, +which, unlike marble, is not cold or forbidding, but naturally warm and +pleasing to the eye.</p> + +<p>To conclude this brief description, we can choose no better words than +these: "Gloria soli Deo."</p> + +<p>They occur on the roof of the choir at its junction with the nave, and +explain the unity and harmony which exists amidst all this diversity. +Each successive architect worked with this one object in view, the glory +of God alone, and so he did not ruthlessly destroy, but recognised the +same purpose in the work of his predecessors and endeavoured to blend +all into one harmonious whole, thus leaving for future ages a lesson +written in stone which churchmen of the present day would do well to +learn.</p> + +<p>Early in the year 188—, I was appointed Precentor of this cathedral, +and in the course of duty was brought much in contact with Dr. F., the +organist.</p> + +<p>It was my custom frequently, after service, to join him in the +organ-loft and to discuss various matters of interest connected with our +own church and the outside world. He was a most charming companion; a +first-rate organist and master of theory, and a man of large experience +and great general culture.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p> + +<p>One morning, soon after my appointment, I joined Dr. F. with a special +purpose in view.</p> + +<p>We had met to discuss the music for the approaching festival of Easter. +The Doctor was in his shirt-sleeves, standing in the interior of the +organ, covered with cobwebs and dirt, inspecting the woodwork, which was +getting into a very ruinous condition, and endeavouring to replace a +pipe which had fallen from its proper position so as to interfere with +many of its neighbours.</p> + +<p>"Here's a nice state of things," said he, ruefully regarding his +surroundings. "If we don't have something done soon the whole organ will +fall to pieces; and I am so afraid, lest in re-modelling it, the tone of +these matchless diapasons will be affected. There is nothing like them +anywhere in England. We must have it done soon, however; I only hope we +may gain more than we lose."</p> + +<p>It was indeed time something was done. The key-boards of the old organ +were yellow and uneven with age. They reminded one of steps hollowed by +the knees of pilgrims, they were so scooped out by the fingers of past +generations of organists. Its stops were of all shapes and sizes, and +their character was indicated by paper labels gummed underneath. It had +been built about the year 1670 by Renatus Harris and, although added to +on several occasions, the original work still remained. Being placed on +a screen between the nave and the choir, it occupied an unrivalled +position for sound.</p> + +<p>After awhile Dr. F. succeeded in putting matters a little to rights and, +seated at the key-boards, proceeded to play upon the diapasons, the tone +of which he had so extolled. It would really be impossible to exaggerate +the solemnity, the richness, and the indescribable sadness of the sounds +which proceeded from them; one never hears anything like it in modern +organs. These have their advantages and their peculiar effects, but they +lack that mellowed richness of tone which seems an art belonging to the +builders of the past.</p> + +<p>Presently the Doctor ceased, and producing a roll of music told me it +was a Service he was accustomed to have each Easter, and asked me to +listen and say what I thought of it.</p> + +<p>It would be impossible for me to express in words the admiration I felt +on hearing it. It was a most masterly composition, and was moreover +entirely original and unlike the writing of any known composer. It +possessed an individuality which distinguished it from every other work +of a like nature. All one could say with certainty about it was that it +was not modern music. There was a simplicity and a severity about it +which stamped it unmistakably as belonging to an age anterior even to +Bach or Handel: modern writers employ more ornamentation and are not so +restricted in their harmonies; modern art sanctions a greater liberty, a +less simplicity of method, and a less rigid conformity to rule.</p> + +<p>The movement which most impressed me was the Credo.</p> + +<p>There was a certainty of conviction in its opening phrases pointing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> to +a real earnestness of purpose. It was as if the composer's faith had +successfully withstood all the doubts, anxieties, and conflicts of life. +It was the song of the victorious Christian who saw before him the prize +for which he had long and steadfastly contended. <i>He believed</i>; he did +more than that; he actually <i>realised</i>. It was the joy, not of +anticipation, but of actual possession, the consciousness of the Divine +life dwelling in the heart, cramped and hindered by its surroundings, +but destined to develop in the light of clearer and fuller knowledge.</p> + +<p>As the story of the Incarnation and Passion was told, there crept over +the listener feelings of mingled sadness and thanksgiving: sadness at +the life of suffering and pain endured "For us men and for our +salvation," and thanksgiving for the Gift so freely bestowed. And then +Heaven and Earth combined to tell the story of the Resurrection morning, +and the strains of thankfulness and praise increased until it seemed as +if the writer had at length passed from Earth to Heaven, and was face to +face with the joys of the "Life Everlasting" which all the resources of +his art were powerless fully to express.</p> + +<p>The music ceased, and I awoke as from a dream.</p> + +<p>"You need not tell me your opinion," said the Doctor; "your face shows +it most unmistakably; you can form only a very faint idea of its +beauties without the voice parts. When you hear our choir sing it you +will say it is the most powerful sermon you have ever heard within these +walls."</p> + +<p>"Who is the composer?" I asked excitedly, my curiosity thoroughly +aroused.</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow," replied Dr. F., "before telling its history, you must +see the proofs I have in my possession, for I shall have to relate one +of the most remarkable stories you have ever heard. So strange indeed +are the circumstances connected with that old Service that I have kept +them to myself, lest people should think me an eccentric musician. Our +late Dean knew part of them and witnessed some of the things I shall +tell you. The story will take some little time, but if you will come +across to my house you shall hear it and also see the proofs I hold in +my possession."</p> + + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<p>We went direct from the cathedral into the library of Dr. F.'s house, +where, without wasting any time, he produced a roll of manuscript and +gave it me to read.</p> + +<p>It was tied up neatly with tape and enclosed in another sheet of paper, +which bore the date January, 1862, and a note in the Doctor's +handwriting stating that he had discovered it in an old chest in the +cathedral library.</p> + +<p>The document itself was yellow with age and was headed:</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p><div class="blockquot"><p>"Certain remarkable passages relating to the death of the late +Ebenezer Jenkins, sometime organist of this cathedral, obiit April +3, 1686; related by John Gibson, lay clerk."</p></div> + +<p>Enclosed within it was also a fragment of music. Unrolling the +parchment, I proceeded to decipher with difficulty this narrative.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"On the Wednesday evening before Easter, <span class="smcap">A.D.</span> 1686, I, John Gibson, +was called to the bedside of Master Jenkins.</p> + +<p>"He had manifested a wish to hold converse with me, and to see me +concerning some matters in which we had both been engaged. He had +suffered grievously for many days, and it was plain to all his +friends that he had not long to tarry with us. A right skilful +player upon the organ was Master Jenkins, and a man beloved of all. +He had written much music for the Glory of God and the edification +of his Church, wherein his life seemed mirrored, for his music +appealed to men's hearts and led them to serve God, as did also the +example of his blameless life and conversation among us. He had +been busied for some time in the writing of a Service for Easter +Day, in the which he designed to express the thoughts of his waning +years. I had been privileged to hear some of these sweet strains, +and do affirm that finer music hath never been written by any man +in this realm of England. The Italians do make much boast of their +skill in music, and doubtless in their use of counterpoints, +fugues, and divers other devices they have hitherto excelled our +nation; but I doubt if Palestrina himself could have written more +excellent music, or have devised more cunning harmonies than those +of Master Jenkins.</p> + +<p>"The work had of late been hindered by the pains of sickness, for +the master's eyes were dim with age, and his hands could scarce +hold pen; and so I, his most intimate friend, had on sundry +occasions transcribed his thoughts as he related them.</p> + +<p>"On receiving his message I forthwith hastened to the presence of +my friend, and was sore troubled to find him in so grievous a +plight. It was plain to all beholders that his course was well-nigh +run, for a great change had taken place even in the last few hours.</p> + +<p>"He revived somewhat on seeing me, and begged me at once to fetch +paper and ink. 'I am going,' said he, 'to keep Easter in my Lord's +Court; but ere I go, I fain would finish what hath been my life's +work. Then shall I rest in peace.'</p> + +<p>"There was but little time, and so I made haste to fetch pen and +paper, and waited for his words.</p> + +<p>"Never, I trow, hath music been written before at such a season as +this. We were finishing the last movement—the Creed, and those +words went direct to my heart as they had never done before. I +could scarce refrain from weeping, but joy was mingled even with +tears, for the light upon the master's face was not of earth, and +there was a sound of triumph in his voice which told of conflict +well-nigh ended and rest won.</p> + +<p>"We had come to the words 'I believe in the resurrection of the +dead, and the life of the world to come.' For the moment, strength<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> +seemed to have returned and my pen could scarce keep pace with his +thoughts, so rapid and so earnest were they. But the end was closer +even than I had supposed, for just as we reached the word 'life,' +the light suddenly failed from his face and he fell back. He smiled +once, and whispered that word Life, and I saw that his soul had +departed.</p> + +<p>"In fulfilment of his last wishes I made diligent search for the +remaining portions of this his work, but failed to find them, and +can only suppose that they have been heedlessly destroyed. It would +scarce have seemed right to imprint so small a fragment, and so I +have deemed it wise to place it, with this narrative of its +history, in the cathedral library.</p> + +<p>"Ere I close this narrative I must record certain strange passages +which came under my notice and which are vouched for by Gregory +Jowett, who likewise beheld them. They happened in this wise. On +the year after Master Jenkins's death, on the same date and about +the same hour, we were passing through the cathedral, having come +from a practice of the singers, and Master Jowett remembered some +music he had left by the side of the organ. He went up the stair +leading to the claviers and I remained below.</p> + +<p>"Of a sudden he surprised me by rushing down, greatly affrighted, +and affirmed that he had seen Master Jenkins sitting at the organ; +whereupon I reassured him, and at length prevailed upon him to +return with me. Then, indeed, did we both actually behold Master +Jenkins, just as he had appeared in life, attired in somewhat +sad-coloured raiment, playing upon the keys from which no sound +proceeded. I was not one to be easily affrighted, and so advanced +as if to greet him, when of a sudden the figure vanished.</p> + +<p>"We do both of us affirm the truth of this marvellous relation, and +do here append our joint signatures, having made solemn affirmation +upon oath, in the presence of Master Simpson, attorney, of this +city:</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 6em;">"(<i>Signed</i>) <span class="smcap">John Gibson</span>.</span></p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 8em;">"<span class="smcap">Gregory Jowett</span>.</span></p> + +<p>"Witnessed by me; Nicholas Simpson, Attorney-at-law, the 27th day +of April, 1687."</p></div> + + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<p>The Doctor smiled at the perplexity which showed itself most +unmistakably in my face as I laid down the manuscript.</p> + +<p>"Are you a believer in ghosts or apparitions?" said he.</p> + +<p>"Theoretically but not practically," I replied. "They resolve +themselves, more or less, into a question of evidence; I would never +believe one man's word on the subject without further proof, because it +is always a fair solution of the difficulty to suppose him the victim of +a delusion. There are so many cases of mysterious appearances, however, +vouched for upon overwhelming evidence, that I am compelled to admit +their truth, at the same time believing they would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> be scientifically +explainable if we understood all the laws governing this world and could +more clearly distinguish between the spiritual and the material. There +is one thing usually noticeable about these appearances which, to my +mind, is very significant: they never actually do anything, they only +appear to do it and vanish away, leaving behind them no sign of their +presence."</p> + +<p>"Are you prepared to accept that narrative as true?" said the Doctor.</p> + +<p>"The balance of evidence compels me to accept it," I replied. "There +appears to be no motive for fraud; one could, of course, invent theories +to account for the apparition, but I am forced to believe, nevertheless, +that two highly trustworthy men did actually imagine that they saw the +organist's ghost. Whether they actually did so or not is another +matter."</p> + +<p>"Very good," replied Dr. F. "Now will you believe me if I tell you still +more wonderful things which I myself have witnessed; and will you give +me credit for being a perfectly reliable witness? I only ask you to +believe; I, myself, cannot explain."</p> + +<p>"My dear Doctor," I replied, "I shall receive anything you tell me with +great respect, for you are a most unlikely subject to ever be the victim +of a delusion."</p> + +<p>At this the Doctor laughed and said: "Here goes, once and for ever, my +reputation for practical common-sense; henceforth, I suppose, you will +class me with musicians generally, who I know bear a character for +eccentricity. I will tell the tale, however, and you shall see I possess +proofs of its being no delusion, and can contradict your assertion that +ghosts never leave behind them traces of their presence.</p> + +<p>"I put the old manuscript aside, intending, at some future time, to have +the Credo sung as a fragment. It would have been presumption on my part +to have completed the Service, so I left it, and being much occupied, +forgot all about it. Just about this time we decided to do away with +manual labour in blowing the organ, and substituted a small hydraulic +engine. I mention this because it has a bearing on what follows.</p> + +<p>"To be as brief as possible. Just before Easter I was called away +suddenly on business for a day, and, on returning, was surprised at +receiving a visit from the Dean. He appeared annoyed, and complained +that his rest had been broken the previous night by someone playing the +organ quite into the small hours. He was surprised beyond measure on my +informing him of my absence from home. We tried to discover a solution +to the mystery, but failed. One day, however, I showed the Dean the old +manuscript in my possession, and was surprised to hear that he knew of a +tradition of the appearance, once a year, of the apparition. An old +verger, since dead, had declared several times that he had seen it; but, +being old and childish, no one took any notice of the story.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Strange to say, the date when the ghost appeared was always the +same—the Wednesday before Easter. That was also the date mentioned in +the manuscript, and also the date when the organ was heard by the Dean. +We considered these facts of sufficient importance to warrant our making +further investigation; and decided, when the time came round again, to +go ourselves into the cathedral; meanwhile we kept our own counsel.</p> + +<p>"The time soon passed on and the week before Easter again arrived, and +on the Wednesday evening, about 11.45, we entered the cathedral by the +transept door. The moon shone brightly and we easily found our way into +the nave; and sitting down, awaited the development of events. The +shadows cast by the moonlight were very weird and ghostly in their +effect; and had we been at all impressionable, we should doubtless have +wished ourselves back again. After remaining some time, however, we came +to the conclusion that we had come upon a foolish errand, and had just +risen to go, when an exquisite strain of very soft music came from the +organ. We listened spell-bound, rooted to the spot. The theme was +simple, almost Gregorian in its character, but handled in a most +masterly way. Such playing I had never before heard; it was the very +perfection of style.</p> + +<p>"We were listening evidently to what was an opening prelude, for several +different subjects were introduced and only partially worked out.</p> + +<p>"Several times I fancied a resemblance to the old Credo, and once +distinctly caught a well-known phrase; my doubts were soon solved, +however, for in a few moments we heard it in its entirety.</p> + +<p>"You know how difficult it is to put one's impressions of music into +words; language never fully expresses them. Music can be easily +described in dry technical language, the language which deals in +'discords and their resolutions,' but that does not express its +influence upon ourselves. No language can do that, for it is an attempt +to fathom the infinite.</p> + +<p>"As the varied harmonies echoed through the vaulted nave, flooding it +with a perfect sea of melody, it appeared as if we were listening to the +story of a man's life.</p> + +<p>"There were the uncertain strains of youth, the shadowing forth of vague +possibilities, the expression of hope undimmed by disappointment. A +nameless undefined longing for greater liberty. The desire to be free +from the restraints of home, and to mingle with the busy world in all +the pride of early manhood. Soon the voyager puts off from the shore, +and at first all seems smooth and alluring. He drifts along the ocean of +life, wafted by favourable winds, delighting in each new pleasure. But +storm soon succeeds calm, as night follows day, and the young man is +soon encompassed with the sorrows and temptations of this life, battling +against evil habits, struggling to keep himself unspotted from the +world.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Bella premunt hostilia<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Da robur, fer auxilium.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>"Youth passes on to middle age, there is now an earnestness of purpose +which at first was lacking. Material pleasures are losing their hold, +there are traces of another holy influence: two lives are joined in +happy union, leading and encouraging each other to high and noble +thoughts and actions. A sound of thankfulness and praise is heard, to be +followed only too soon by the strain which tells of mourning and +heaviness: one was taken, the other left to toil on alone. But still +there was a purpose in life, a work to be done, something to live for. +And with lamentation is blended hope.</p> + +<p>"The years roll on and the spiritual more and more overshadows the +material. The little spark of the Divine life dwelling in the heart has +developed and permeated the whole being. The soul seems chained and +hampered by its surroundings. Like a bird it beats itself against its +prison walls, until at length it wings its way heavenward.</p> + +<p>"And then that ancient hymn, which before had wedded itself in my +imagination to the music, pealed forth in all its grandeur, and I seemed +to hear the songs of men united to the purer strains of angelic music:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Uni trinoque Domino<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sit sempiterna gloria<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Qui vitam sine termino<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nobis donet in patria.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"The music ceased and we awoke as from a dream, and, remembering why we +had come, rushed up to the organ loft, only to find it in perfect +darkness."</p> + + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<p>In relating his experience in the cathedral, and in attempting to +describe the music he had heard, Dr. F. grew excited and even dramatic, +and his voice had quite a ring of triumph in it as he recited the "O +Salutaris"—to my mind, the grandest of all the old Latin hymns, lost +for many years to our Church, but at length restored in our native +tongue.</p> + +<p>He paused for a few moments to recover himself and then continued.</p> + +<p>"On the morrow I resolved, if possible, to write from memory the +complete Service as we had heard it. During the day, being much +occupied, I was only able to jot down phrases which recurred to my +memory. The principal themes were well impressed upon my mind, and, +although my treatment of them was sure to differ in many ways from the +original, I felt more justified than formerly in attempting what seemed +rather a piece of presumption.</p> + +<p>"After a fairly early dinner I settled down in my study about 6.30 p.m., +determined to work right on until my task was finished.</p> + +<p>"My success did not please me. Several times I rose and tried the score +over upon the piano. There was no doubt about it, the main<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> ideas were +there, but still there was everything lacking. The whole affair was +weak, unworthy of my own reputation, and doubly unworthy of the great +writer who had written the Credo. Time after time I studied that +fragment, and strove to find out what it was that gave it such vigour +and force, but it was useless. That was undoubtedly the work of a great +genius, and everything I had written was nothing short of a libel upon +myself, strung together so as to be quite correct in harmony and +counterpoint, but full, nevertheless, of nothing but commonplaces.</p> + +<p>"In thorough disgust I gave it up altogether, when suddenly I remembered +there was no Kyrie in the Service we had heard.</p> + +<p>"A something prompted me to supply the want out of my own mind. All I +strove was to make the style blend with the Credo; in every other +respect it was perfectly original, and when finished gave me great cause +to be pleased with my own work.</p> + +<p>"Looking at my watch I discovered it was fast getting on to midnight, so +I drew an arm-chair up to the fire and lighted a cigar. It was only +natural that my mind should be full of the music heard the previous +evening. I was no believer in the supernatural, and had unsparingly +ridiculed all ghost stories heard at various times. Now there was no +doubt: I had listened to music played by no earthly fingers. What could +it all mean? Why did the old man's ghost return to haunt the scene of +his former labours? Was it because he had left a solemn injunction which +had never been complied with? Was it because his life's purpose had been +left unfulfilled, and his last cherished wish had died with him?</p> + +<p>"There was the solution, no doubt. And what a loss it was to the world; +only to think of so priceless a work being lost for ever!</p> + +<p>"At this stage I was conscious of nodding, and waking up with a start, +endeavoured to pursue my train of thought. The fire was comfortable, and +my cigar was still alight; only a few moments more, and then bed. The +resolution was scarcely formed before my head dropped again and I was +fast asleep.</p> + +<p>"How long I slept I know not; a sensation of coldness caused me to +awake, only to find the fire nearly out, my reading-lamp smouldering, +and the moon brightly shining into the room. Imagine, if you can, my +surprise, when, turning round, there, full in the light of the moon, was +a figure writing at my table. It was an old man dressed in old-fashioned +style, just like what was worn two hundred or more years ago. There was +the wig, the coat with square flaps, the shoes with silver +buckles—everything except the sword. The face could not be clearly +defined, but the figure was most distinct.</p> + +<p>"My first sensations were, to say the least, peculiar. I was for the +moment frightened, and it was several moments before common sense +asserted itself. A feeling of intense curiosity soon overpowered all +sense of fear. Sitting in my chair I could hear the scratching of his +pen upon the paper. He wrote at a very rapid pace and seemed too<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> intent +upon his labours to notice my presence. I waited for some time in +absolute stillness, but then, becoming weary of the situation, +endeavoured to attract his attention with a cough. He took no notice, +and so I arose and walked towards him.</p> + +<p>"I am telling you the entire truth when I assure you I could find +nothing in that chair. I grasped nothing tangible, and the chair +appeared quite empty, while still the scratching of the pen continued; +and as I walked away from the window the apparition appeared as plain as +ever. Every line of the figure was clear as if in life. At last while I +watched, the sound of writing ceased, and the figure vanished from my +view, leaving the roll of manuscript just as it had been before I fell +asleep.</p> + +<p>"Rushing up to the mantelpiece I seized a box of matches, hurriedly +lighted a candle, and approached the desk, and there found the Service +written out in full in a strange handwriting. My own work was +obliterated, the pen drawn through it all with the exception of the +Kyrie, which was as I left it, save that the word Kyrie was written over +it in the strange handwriting. At the conclusion of the Service were +written these words: 'E.I. hoc fecit. R.I.P.'"</p> + +<p>As the Doctor uttered these words, he went to the bookshelf and drew +down a book bound carefully in calf, which he opened and passed to me. +It was the original copy as he had found it, his own work crossed out +just as he had said, and the Service written in an altogether strange +hand.</p> + +<p>"I took those letters, R.I.P., to impose a solemn obligation upon me," +continued the Doctor. "The Service was at length restored, and I felt +sure that if it were used his soul would rest in peace. That is why we +have it here every Easter Sunday. It has become, in fact, quite a +tradition of the cathedral, which I hope no future organist will ever +depart from. The apparition has never since appeared, so I take it that +was evidently the wish expressed, and the reason why the old man's ghost +for so many years haunted the scene of his former labours."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>This story is finished. I leave it just as the Doctor related it. Do I +believe it? Undoubtedly I do, but all explanation I leave as impossible. +Perhaps some day we shall know better the relation existing between the +material world and the unknown. At present the subject is best left +alone. Facts we must accept, our imperfect knowledge prevents their +explanation.</p> + +<p class="name"><span class="smcap">John Græme</span>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE ONLY SON OF HIS MOTHER.</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">By Letitia McClintock</span>.</h3> + + +<p>"Dear Mrs. Archer, be consoled; I promise to stand by Henry as if he +were my brother. Indeed, I look upon him quite as my brother, having no +near ties of my own."</p> + +<p>"God bless you for the promise," said Mrs. Archer. "You are better to +Henry than any brother could be. Thy love is wonderful, passing the love +of woman."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Archer, the widowed mother of an only child, was deeply imbued with +sacred lore. No great reader of general literature, she knew her Bible +from cover to cover, and was much in the habit of expressing herself in +Scriptural language. Her husband had been the Rector of a lonely parish +in Donegal, where for twenty-five years he had taught an unsophisticated +people, "letting his light shine," as his wife expressed it.</p> + +<p>One recreation he had: the writing of a Commentary on the Epistle to the +Romans. While he was shut up in his study, little Henry, a mischievous, +wild urchin, had to be kept quiet. Here was field for the full exercise +of Mrs. Archer's ingenuity. As the boy's life went on, she gained an +able assistant in this loving labour, namely Malcolm McGregor, Henry's +school-friend. Malcolm and Henry were sent to Foyle College at the same +time. Mrs. Archer could hardly read for joy the day she expected her +darling home for his first vacation, accompanied by "the jolliest chap +in the school," whom he had begged leave to bring with him.</p> + +<p>From the Rectory door the parents could watch the outside car coming +down the steep hill; King William, the Rector's old horse, slipping a +little, and two shabby, hair-covered trunks falling on his back, to be +recovered by Jack Dunn, the man-of-all-work, who could drive on +occasion.</p> + +<p>Which of the little black figures running on in front of the car was the +mother's treasure? Henry was up to as many pranks as ever, but now he +had a quiet friend to restrain him, and his mother and the parish were +very glad of it.</p> + +<p>"Dear mistress, thon's a settled wee fellow, thon McGregor: he's the +quare wise guide for we'er ain wichel." Thus spoke Jack Dunn when the +holidays drew near an end. "Fleech him to come back."</p> + +<p>"There is no need to urge him, Jack," replied his mistress, smiling; "he +is very anxious to visit us again."</p> + +<p>"Weel-a-weel, ma'am, I never tould you how Master Henry blew up the +sexton wi' his crackers, twa nights afore he went to school—"</p> + +<p>"Never, Jack!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Na, na! Jack wadna be for vexin' you an' his reverence. Master Henry +an' Mat, the herd, let off fireworks outside the sexton's door, an' him +an' the wife, an' the sisters an' the grannie jumpin' out o' their beds, +an' runnin' about the house, thinkin' the Judgment Day was come, an' +maybe that the Old Enemy was come for them—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jack, hush; how terrible! Think what you are saying."</p> + +<p>"Nae word o' lie, mistress. The sexton was in a quare rage, an' the +grannie lay for three weeks wi' the scare. It was hushed up becase there +isna a soul in the parish wad like to annoy his reverence. But +whist—not a word out o' your mouth! Our wean has got thon ither wee +comrade to steady him <i>now</i>."</p> + +<p>McGregor did steady Henry. They fished Gartan Lough; they boated, they +shot over the mountains, they skated on the same lovely expanse of lake, +and they heard, in the marshes each Easter the whirring bleat of the +snipe. This was the history of school and college vacations for many +years. Then first love came—society was sought for; the neighbouring +clergy and their families came to Gartan Rectory; young couples wandered +blissfully in the fairest scenes in all the world. The friends loved the +same sweet maiden, and she deceived them both, and married a ponderous +rector, possessed of six hundred per annum, the very year they left old +Trinity! They were firmer friends than ever, yet that sweet false one +was never mentioned between them. In a reverently-veiled corner in each +heart, however, still dwelt a dear ideal which the false beloved had not +been able to destroy.</p> + +<p>Then events crowded upon Mrs. Archer. The Rector died, and she left her +old home; and her son and his friend went into the army, Henry as sub., +Malcolm as surgeon.</p> + +<p>At the commencement of the story, Malcolm was assuring the mother that +he would stand by Henry in all dangers—under all circumstances +whatever.</p> + +<p>"You will hear of the 5th Fusiliers favourably, I am sure," said he +lightly, trying to calm her agitation.</p> + +<p>"Henry is so rash and ardent," she returned.</p> + +<p>"And I am a cool, quiet fellow, ma'am. Oh, you may trust me—I'll have +an eye to him."</p> + +<p>"Will there be wars, Doctor dear, where you ones is goin'?" asked old +Jack Dunn, wistfully, as he polished the young gentlemen's boots for the +last time before their departure. The friends were smoking a last pipe +by the kitchen fire of the cottage where Mrs. Archer lived in her +husband's old parish, among the people who had loved him. Jack was +polishing the boots close to them, pausing every now and then to +exchange a word with his "wichel," whom he had nursed as an infant, +petted and scolded as a schoolboy, and shielded from punishment on +innumerable occasions. His "wichel" was now a huge young man, taller +than Dr. McGregor by four inches.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Wha'll black them boots now?" said Jack in a sentimental tone. "Wha'll +put the richt polish on them? Some scatter-brained youngster, I'm +thinkin', that shouldna be trusted to handle boots like these anes." +Thus he spoke, making the hissing, purring noise with which he +accompanied his rubbing down of King William.</p> + +<p>The friends smiled at each other. "That's hard work, Jack," remarked +Henry.</p> + +<p>"But are ye goin' to the wars, my wean? Doctor dear, tell me, will he be +fightin' them savage Indians?"</p> + +<p>"We believe so, Jack. We are to join the 5th Fusiliers, and they are to +fight the warlike Hill Tribes, fine soldiers—tall, fine men they are, +we are told."</p> + +<p>"Alase-a-nie! You'll nae be fightin' yoursel, Doctor?"</p> + +<p>"No," smiled McGregor, "my duty will be to cure, not to kill."</p> + +<p>"Then, man alive, ye'll hae an eye to Henry."</p> + +<p>So the young men tore themselves away from the sobbing mother, and, +through her blinding tears, she watched them mount the steep road +leading to Letterkenny first and then to the outside world, where danger +must be faced and glory won. Her husband's loving people collected that +evening in her cottage garden to condole with her and offer their +roughly-expressed but heartfelt sympathy.</p> + +<p>"Dinna be cryin' that way, mistress dear," said old Jack. "Sure thon's a +quare steady fellow, thon Doctor, an' he will hae an eye to Henry."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>It was November, 1888, when our troops were obliged to retreat from the +Black Mountain, and Mrs. Archer's son and his friend were among them. +Need it be recorded here how bravely Englishmen had fought, how +unmurmuringly they had endured the extremity of cold and fatigue? Their +Gourka allies had stood by them well; but the wild Hill Tribes, the +"fine soldiers" of whom McGregor had told Jack Dunn, were getting the +best of it, and we were forced to retreat. Many months had passed since +the two friends first saw the Black Mountain, compared with which the +mightiest highland in wild Donegal, land of mountains, was an anthill. +Dear Gartan Lough was as a drop of water in their eyes, their +snipe-haunted marshes as a potato garden, when they saw the gigantic +scale of Indian scenery. Henry had fought well in many a skirmish and +had escaped without a wound. Malcolm had used his surgical skill pretty +often, generally with good effect. He was beloved by officers and men +for his kindness of heart. Was there a letter to be written for any poor +fellow—a last message to be sent home, words of Christian hope to be +spoken, Dr. McGregor was called upon.</p> + +<p>On the 4th of November, the first column began the retreat, the enemy +"sniping," as usual, and a party had to be sent out to clear the flank, +before the troops left camp. The retiring column then got carefully +along the Chaila Ridge as far as the Ghoraphir Point,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> where some of the +5th Fusiliers were placed with a battery of guns, and ordered to remain +until all were passed. The enemy, in force, followed the last regiment +and were steadily shelled from the battery. The guns were then sent down +and the men, firing volleys, followed the guns, only two companies being +left. Of these, Lieutenant Archer and ten men were told to stay as the +last band to cover the retreat, and the enemy made a determined attempt +to annihilate them. McGregor was with Henry and his ten. All the pluck +that ever animated hero inspired those twelve men. Each felt the honour +of being chosen for such a post. No time for words; no time for more +thoughts than one, namely, "England expects every man to do his duty."</p> + +<p>But of course Malcolm McGregor had a thought underlying the thought of +duty to Queen and country; he remembered his promise to the widowed +mother: he must "have an eye to Henry!"</p> + +<p>The path that led down the hill was a most difficult one, being winding +and very rocky. Above the soldiers rose a precipice, manned by parties +of the enemy, who harassed them incessantly by throwing fragments of +rock down upon their heads. These immense stones were hurled from a +height of fifty yards; but the companies wound round the mountain in +good order.</p> + +<p>Last of all came Henry Archer and his ten men, attended by the Doctor. +Theirs was the chief post of honour and of peril. Henry's foot slipped; +he tried to recover himself, but in vain. Down he rolled with the loose +stones that had been hurled from above. McGregor stopped, and two of the +men with him; the other eight men pushed forward. Henry's leg was +broken; he could not move. Here was, indeed, an anxious dilemma.</p> + +<p>"We must carry him, of course," said the surgeon. "You are the best man +of us three, Henderson; we'll hoist him on your back."</p> + +<p>To stagger along such a path, bearing a heavy burden, was well-nigh +impossible, even for the stalwart soldier. Dark faces might have been +seen looking over the ridge, had they glanced upwards. They knew of the +presence of these foes by the falling of the rocks about their ears. The +peril of the situation demoralised the second soldier; he picked up his +rifle, which he had laid on the ground while he helped the surgeon to +lift Henry upon Henderson's back, and ran.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Doctor dear, he's too weighty for me," groaned Henderson. "I canna +carry him anither foot o' the way; sure, sure he's the biggest man in +the regiment."</p> + +<p>"Lay me down, Henderson, and save yourself; why should I sacrifice +<i>you</i>?" groaned the wounded man.</p> + +<p>"I'll take him from you, man; quick, quick, help me to get him on my +back."</p> + +<p>"Why, Doctor, he's a bigger man nor you," said Henderson in his Ulster +dialect.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No matter. I'll carry him or die! He has fainted. He is a dead weight +now—but we leave this road together, or we stay here together." +Muttering the last words, Malcolm set out, and he carried him safely +over very rough ground, under a heavy shower of bullets and rockets, for +one hundred and fifty yards to where the nine men awaited them.</p> + +<p>Malcolm's strength was now gone; but Henderson had recovered his powers +a little, and joining hands with him, they managed to carry Henry on to +the spot where the last company of the Fusiliers and a company of +Gourkas were forming, a sharp fire being kept up all the time on both +sides.</p> + +<p>Neither of them expected to reach the company, as they told one another +in after days. Their sole expectation was to drop with their burden on +the stony path of Ghoraphir, and leave their bones among the wild hill +tribes.</p> + +<p>"McGregor, you have carried Archer all the way?—Incredible!" cried his +brother officers.</p> + +<p>"Not I alone—Henderson helped. Let us improvise some kind of stretcher, +and get him on with us, men, for Heaven's sake."</p> + +<p>A stretcher was obtained, and he was carried on, while the retreat +continued, the two companies alternately firing to keep back the enemy, +who pursued for three miles.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>Henry lay helpless in a bare room in the fort—a blessed haven of refuge +for the sick and wounded. Dr. McGregor had invalids in every room; his +whole time was occupied, and his ingenuity was taxed to make the poor +fellows somewhat comfortable.</p> + +<p>"Another death, Doctor," said the officer in command one morning.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, yes; it is that brave chap, Henderson, who helped me to bring +Archer in. Bronchitis has carried him off; a man of fine physique; a +fine young fellow, and a countryman of my own. The cold of this mountain +district is fearful. I can't keep my patients warm enough, all I can +do."</p> + +<p>"How is Archer? Will he pull through?"</p> + +<p>"He is low to-day; but the limb is doing all right. There is more fever +than I like to see," and the surgeon, looking very grave, hurried away.</p> + +<p>Not to neglect any duty, and yet to nurse his comrade as he ought to be +nursed was the problem our Jonathan had to solve.</p> + +<p>Henry's fever ran high for several days, leaving him utterly weak. It +was midnight. The patient and his surgeon were alone; the latter +beginning to cherish a feeble hope, the former believing that he had +done with earthly things.</p> + +<p>"You carried me on your back down Ghoraphir, old fellow," he said +faintly, stretching out a hand and arm that were dried up to skin and +bone.</p> + +<p>"What of that, Henry? Keep quiet, I'd advise you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You took off your tunic and laid it over me on the stretcher. Henderson +told me that; and you might have caught your death of cold—"</p> + +<p>"Hush, my good man; you are talking too much."</p> + +<p>"You doctors are all tyrants. I <i>will</i> speak, for I may not be able +again. Reach me that writing-case. Yes. Open it and take out the things. +The Bible—her own Bible—is for the mater, with my love. My meerschaum +is for Jack Dunn; and please tell them both that you looked after +me—you 'had an eye to Henry.'"</p> + +<p>This with a smile. Then, as Malcolm took a photograph out of the +case—"Ah, you did not know I had it? Emmie gave it me that time when +she—well, well, they put a pressure upon her, and I had nothing to +marry on—a pauper, eh?"</p> + +<p>"She liked you the best of us two, Henry."</p> + +<p>"Ay, but she did not like me well enough. I dreamt of her yesterday, and +I quite forgive her. If you care to keep that photo., you can, and the +case, and gold pen and studs."</p> + +<p>"Now, my chap, you just drink this, and hold your tongue. Please God, +you and I will <i>both</i> see Gartan parish again; and you may tell mother +and Jack that I stood by you and looked after you, if you please. You're +mad angry with me this minute; but I'm shutting you up for your good."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A time came, through the mercy of God, when the widow received her son +back again, with the friend who was now almost as dear to her, and when +tar barrels blazed on every hill around Gartan Lough.</p> + +<p>Jack polished the boots that had travelled so far, the while tales of +adventure delighted his ear.</p> + +<p>Henry talked the most, his quiet friend hearing him with pleasure. +Surgeon McGregor never realised that he was a hero; yet his deeds were +bruited abroad and became the talk of all that countryside.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/01de.jpg" + alt="Decorative" + title="Decorative" /> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Argosy, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ARGOSY *** + +***** This file should be named 18373-h.htm or 18373-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/3/7/18373/ + +Produced by Paul Murray, Taavi Kalju and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +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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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Argosy + Vol. 51, No. 3, March, 1891 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Charles W. Woods + +Release Date: May 11, 2006 [EBook #18373] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ARGOSY *** + + + + +Produced by Paul Murray, Taavi Kalju and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + _"Laden with Golden Grain"_ + + * * * * * + + THE + ARGOSY. + + + EDITED BY + CHARLES W. WOOD. + + * * * * * + + + VOLUME LI. + + _January to June, 1891._ + + * * * * * + + + RICHARD BENTLEY & SON, + 8, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, LONDON, W. + + Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty. + + _All rights reserved._ + + + LONDON: + PRINTED BY OGDEN, SMALE AND CO. LIMITED, + GREAT SAFFRON HILL, E.C. + + + + + +_CONTENTS._ + + +THE FATE OF THE HARA DIAMOND. Illustrated by M.L. GOW. + + Chap. I. My Arrival at Deepley Walls Jan + II. The Mistress of Deepley Walls Jan + III. A Voyage of Discovery Jan + IV. Scarsdale Weir Jan + V. At Rose Cottage Feb + VI. The Growth of a Mystery Feb + VII. Exit Janet Hope Feb + VIII. By the Scotch Express Feb + IX. At "The Golden Griffin" Mar + X. The Stolen Manuscript Mar + XI. Bon Repos Mar + XII. The Amsterdam Edition of 1698 Mar + XIII. M. Platzoff's Secret--Captain Ducie's Translation of + M. Paul Platzoff's MS Mar + XIV. Drashkil-Smoking Apr + XV. The Diamond Apr + XVI. Janet's Return Apr + XVII. Deepley Walls after Seven Years Apr + XVIII. Janet in a New Character May + XIX. The Dawn of Love May + XX. The Narrative of Sergeant Nicholas May + XXI. Counsel taken with Mr. Madgin May + XXII. Mr. Madgin at the Helm Jun + XXIII. Mr. Madgin's Secret Journey Jun + XXIV. Enter Madgin Junior Jun + XXV. Madgin Junior's First Report Jun + + * * * * * + +THE SILENT CHIMES. By JOHNNY LUDLOW (Mrs. HENRY WOOD). + + Putting Them Up Jan + Playing Again Feb + Ringing at Midday Mar + Not Heard Apr + Silent for Ever May + + * * * * * + +THE BRETONS AT HOME. By CHARLES W. WOOD, F.R.G.S. With + 35 Illustrations Jan, Feb, Mar, Apr, May, Jun + + * * * * * + +About the Weather Jun +Across the River. By HELEN M. BURNSIDE Apr +After Twenty Years. By ADA M. TROTTER Feb +A Memory. By GEORGE COTTERELL Feb +A Modern Witch Jan +An April Folly. By GILBERT H. PAGE Apr +A Philanthropist. By ANGUS GREY Jun +Aunt Phoebe's Heirlooms: An Experience in Hypnotism Feb +A Social Debut Mar +A Song. By G.B. STUART Jan +Enlightenment. By E. NESBIT Feb +In a Bernese Valley. By ALEXANDER LAMONT Feb +Legend of an Ancient Minster. By JOHN GRAEME Mar +Longevity. By W.F. AINSWORTH, F.S.A. Apr +Mademoiselle Elise. By EDWARD FRANCIS Jun +Mediums and Mysteries. By NARISSA ROSAVO Feb +Miss Kate Marsden Jan +My May Queen. By JOHN JERVIS BERESFORD, M.A. May +Old China Jun +On Letter-Writing. By A.H. JAPP, LL.D. May +Paul. By the Author of "Adonais, Q.C." May +"Proctorised" Apr +Rondeau. By E. NESBIT Mar +Saint or Satan? By A. BERESFORD Feb +Sappho. By MARY GREY Mar +Serenade. By E. NESBIT Jun +Sonnets. By JULIA KAVANAGH Jan, Feb, Apr, Jun +So Very Unattractive! Jun +Spes. By JOHN JERVIS BERESFORD, M.A. Apr +Sweet Nancy. By JEANIE GWYNNE BETTANY May +The Church Garden. By CHRISTIAN BURKE May +The Only Son of his Mother. By LETITIA MCCLINTOCK Mar +To my Soul. From the French of Victor Hugo Jun +Unexplained. By LETITIA MCCLINTOCK Apr +Who Was the Third Maid? Jan +Winter in Absence Feb + + * * * * * + +_POETRY._ + +Sonnets. By JULIA KAVANAGH Jan, Feb, Apr, Jun +A Song. By G.B. STUART Jan +Enlightenment. By E. NESBIT Feb +Winter in Absence Feb +A Memory. By GEORGE COTTERELL Feb +In a Bernese Valley. By ALEXANDER LAMONT Feb +Rondeau. By E. NESBIT Mar +Spes. By JOHN JERVIS BERESFORD, M.A. Apr +Across the River. By HELEN M. BURNSIDE Apr +My May Queen. By JOHN JERVIS BERESFORD, M.A. May +The Church Garden. By CHRISTIAN BURKE May +Serenade. By E. NESBIT Jun +To my Soul. From the French of Victor Hugo Jun +Old China Jun + + * * * * * + +_ILLUSTRATIONS._ + +By M.L. Gow. + + "I advanced slowly up the room, stopped, and curtsied." + + "I saw and recognised the mysterious midnight visitor." + + "He came back in a few minutes, but so transformed in outward + appearance that Ducie scarcely knew him." + + "Behold!" + + "Sister Agnes knelt for a few moments and bent her head in silent + prayer." + + "He put his hand to his side, and motioned Mirpah to open the letter." + + * * * * * + +Illustrations to "The Bretons at Home." + + + + +[Illustration: HE CAME BACK IN A FEW MINUTES, BUT SO TRANSFORMED IN +OUTWARD APPEARANCE THAT DUCIE SCARCELY KNEW HIM.] + + + + +THE ARGOSY. + +_MARCH, 1891._ + + + + +THE FATE OF THE HARA DIAMOND. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +AT "THE GOLDEN GRIFFIN." + + +Captain Edmund Ducie was one of the first to emerge from the wreck. He +crept out of the broken window of the crushed-up carriage, and shook +himself as a dog might have done. "Once more a narrow squeak for life," +he said, half aloud. "If I had been worth ten thousand a-year, I should +infallibly have been smashed. Not being worth ten brass farthings, here +I am. What has become of my little Russian, I wonder?" + +No groan or cry emanated from that portion of the broken carriage out of +which Captain Ducie had just crept. Could it be possible that Platzoff +was killed? + +With considerable difficulty Ducie managed to wrench open the smashed +door. Then he called the Russian by name; but there was no answer. He +could discern nothing inside save a confused heap of rugs and minor +articles of luggage. Under these, enough in themselves to smother him, +Platzoff must be lying. One by one these articles were fished out of the +carriage, and thrown aside by Ducie. Last of all he came to Platzoff, +lying in a heap, white and insensible, as one already dead. + +Putting forth all his great strength, Ducie lifted the senseless body +out of the carriage as carefully and tenderly as though it were that of +a new-born child. He then saw that the Russian was bleeding from an ugly +jagged wound at the back of his head. There was no trace of any other +outward hurt. A faint pulsation of the heart told that he was still +alive. + +On looking round, Ducie saw that there was a large country tavern only a +few hundred yards from the scene of the accident. Towards this house, +which announced itself to the world under the title of "The Golden +Griffin," he now hastened with long measured strides, carrying the still +insensible Russian in his arms. In all, some half-dozen carriages had +come over the embankment. The shrieks and cries of the wounded +passengers were something appalling. Already the passengers in the fore +part of the train, who had escaped unhurt, together with the officials +and a few villagers who happened to be on the spot, were doing their +best to rescue these unfortunates from the terrible wreckage in which +they were entangled. + +Captain Ducie was the first man from the accident to cross the threshold +of "The Golden Griffin." He demanded to be shown the best spare room in +the house. On the bed in this room he laid the body of the still +insensible Platzoff. His next act was to despatch a mounted messenger +for the nearest doctor. Then, having secured the services of a brisk, +steady-nerved chambermaid, he proceeded to dress the wound as well as +the means at his command would allow of--washing it, and cutting away +the hair, and, by means of some ice, which he was fortunate enough to +procure, succeeding in all but stopping the bleeding, which, to a man so +frail of body, so reduced in strength as Platzoff, would soon have been +fatal. A teaspoonful of brandy administered at brief intervals did its +part as a restorative, and some minutes before the doctor's arrival +Ducie had the satisfaction of seeing his patient's eyes open, and of +hearing him murmur faintly a few soft guttural words in some language +which the Captain judged to be his native Russ. + +Platzoff had quite recovered his senses by the time the doctor arrived, +but was still too feeble to do more than whisper a few unconnected +words. There were many claimants this forenoon on the doctor's +attention, and the services required by Platzoff at his hands had to be +performed as expeditiously as possible. + +"You must make up your mind to be a guest of 'The Golden Griffin' for at +least a week to come," he said, as he took up his hat preparatory to +going. "With quiet, and care, and a strict adherence to my instructions, +I daresay that by the end of that time you will be sufficiently +recovered to leave here for your own home. Humanly speaking, sir, you +owe your life to this gentleman," indicating Ducie. "But for his skill +and promptitude you would have been a dead man before I reached you." + +Platzoff's thin white hand was extended feebly. Ducie took it in his +sinewy palms and pressed it gently. "You have this day done for me what +I can never forget," whispered the Russian, brokenly. Then he closed his +eyes, and seemed to sink off into a sleep of exhaustion. + +Leaving strict injunctions with the chambermaid not to quit the room +till he should come back, Captain Ducie went downstairs with the +intention of revisiting the scene of the disaster. He called in at the +bar to obtain his favourite "thimbleful" of cognac, and there he found a +very agreeable landlady, with whom he got into conversation respecting +the accident. Some five minutes had passed thus when the chambermaid +came up to him. "If you please, sir, the foreign gentleman has woke up, +and is anxiously asking to see you." + +With a shrug of the shoulders and a slight lowering of his black +eyebrows, Captain Ducie went back upstairs. Platzoff's eager eyes fixed +him as he entered the room. Ducie sat down close by the bed and said in +a kindly tone: "What is it? What can I do for you? Command me in any +way." + +"My servant--where is he? And--and my despatch box. Valuable papers. Try +to find it." + +Ducie nodded and left the room. The inquiries he made soon elicited the +fact that Platzoff's servant had been even more severely injured than +his master, and was at that moment lying, more dead than alive, in a +little room upstairs. Slowly and musingly, with hands in pocket, Captain +Ducie then took his way towards the scene of the accident. "It may suit +my book very well to make friends with this Russian," he thought as he +went along. "He is no doubt very rich; and I am very poor. In us the two +extremes meet and form the perfect whole. He might serve my purposes in +more ways than one, and it is just as likely that his purposes might be +served by me: for a man like that must have purposes that want serving. +Nous verrons. Meanwhile, I am his obedient servant to command." + +Captain Ducie, hunting about among the debris of the train, was not long +in finding the fragments of M. Platzoff's despatch box. Its contents +were scattered about. Ducie spent ten minutes in gathering together the +various letters and documents which it had contained. Then, with the +broken box under his arm and the papers in his hands, he went back to +the Russian. + +He showed the papers one by one to Platzoff, who was strangely eager in +the matter. When Ducie held up the last of them, Platzoff groaned and +shut his eyes. "They are all there as far as I can judge," he murmured, +"except the most important one of all--a paper covered with figures, of +no use to anyone but myself. Oh, dear Captain Ducie! do please go once +more and try to find the one that is still missing. If I only knew that +it was burnt, or torn into fragments, I should not mind so much. But if +it were to fall into the hands of a scoundrel skilful enough to master +the secret which it contains, then I--" + +He stopped with a scared look on his face, as though he had unwittingly +said more than he had intended. + +"Pray don't trouble yourself with any explanations just now," said +Ducie. "You want the paper: that is enough. I will go and have a +thorough hunt for it." + +Back went Ducie to the broken carriages and began to search more +carefully than before. "What can be the nature of the great secret, I +wonder, that is hidden between the Sibylline leaves I am in search of? +If what Platzoff's words implied be true, he who learns it is master of +the situation. Would that it were known to me!" + +Slowly and carefully, inside and out of the carriage in which he and +Platzoff had travelled, Captain Ducie conducted his search. One by one +he again turned over the wraps and different articles of personal +luggage belonging to both of them, which had not yet been removed. The +first object that rewarded his search was a splendid diamond pin which +he remembered having seen in Platzoff's scarf. Ducie picked it up and +looked cautiously around. No one was regarding him. "Of the first water +and worth a hundred guineas at the very least," he muttered. Then he put +it in his waistcoat pocket and went on with his search. + +A minute or two later, hidden away under one of the cushions of the +carriage, he found what he was looking for: a folded sheet of thick blue +paper covered with a complicated array of figures--that and nothing +more. + +Captain Ducie regarded the recovered treasure with a strange mixture of +feelings. His hands trembled slightly; his heart was beating more +quickly than usual; his eyes seemed to see and yet not to see the paper +in his hands. As one mazed and in deep doubt he stood. + +His reverie was broken by the approach of some of the railway officials. +The cloud vanished from before his eyes, and he was his cool, +imperturbable self in a moment. Heading the long array of figures on the +parchment were a few lines of ordinary writing, written, however, not in +English, but Italian. These few lines Ducie now proceeded to read over +more attentively than he had done at the first glance. He was +sufficiently master of Italian to be able to translate them without much +difficulty. Translated they ran as under:-- + + "Bon Repos, + + "Windermere. + + "CARLO MIO,--In the Amsterdam edition of 1698 of _The Confessions + of Parthenio the Mystic_ occur the passages given below. To your + serious consideration, O friend of my heart, I recommend these + words. To read them much patience is required. But they are + freighted with wisdom, as you will discover long before you reach + the end of them, and have a deep significance for that great cause + to which the souls of both of us are knit by bonds which in this + life can never be severed. When you read these lines, the hand that + writes them will be cold in the grave. But Nature allows nothing to + be lost, and somewhere in the wide universe the better part of me + (the mystic EGO) will still exist; and if there be any truth in the + doctrine of the affinity of souls, then shall you and I meet again + elsewhere. Till that time shall come--Adieu! + + "Thine, + + "PAUL PLATZOFF." + +Having carefully read these lines twice over, Captain Ducie refolded the +paper, put it away in an inner pocket, and buttoned his coat over it. +Then he took his way, deep in thought, back to "The Golden Griffin." + +The Russian's eager eyes asked him: "What success?" before he could say +a word. + +"I am sorry to say that I have not been able to find the paper," said +Captain Ducie in slow, deliberate tones. "I have found something +else--your diamond pin, which you appear to have lost out of your +scarf." + +Platzoff gazed at him with a sort of blank despair on his saffron face, +but a low moan was his only reply. Then he turned his face to the wall +and shut his eyes. + +Captain Ducie was a patient man, and he waited without speaking for a +full hour. At the end of that time Platzoff turned, and held out a +feeble hand. + +"Forgive me, my friend--if you will allow me to call you so," he said. +"I must seem horribly ungrateful after all the trouble I have put you +to, but I do not feel so. The loss of my MS. affected me so deeply for a +little while that I could think of nothing else. I shall get over it by +degrees." + +"If I remember rightly," remarked Ducie, "you said that the lost MS. was +merely a complicated array of figures. Of what possible value can it be +to anyone who may chance to find it?" + +"Of no value whatever," answered Platzoff, "unless they who find it +should also be skilful enough to discover the key by which alone it can +be read; for, as I may now tell you, there is a hidden meaning in the +figures. The finders may or may not make that discovery, but how am I to +ascertain what is the fact either one way or the other? For want of such +knowledge my sense of security will be gone. I would almost prefer to +know for certain that the MS. had been read than be left in utter doubt +on the point. In the one case I should know what I had to contend +against, and could take proper precautionary measures; in the other, I +am left to do battle with a shadow that may or may not be able to work +me harm." + +"Would possession of the information that is contained in the MS. enable +anyone to work you harm?" + +"It would to this extent, that it would put them in possession of a +cherished secret, which--But why talk of these things? What is done +cannot be undone. I can only prepare myself for the worst." + +"One moment," said Ducie. "I think that after the thorough search made +by me the chances are twenty to one against the MS. ever being found. +But granting that it does turn up, the finder of it will probably be +some ignorant navvie or incurious official, without either inclination +or ability to master the secret of the cipher." + + * * * * * + +Ten days later M. Platzoff was sufficiently recovered to set out for Bon +Repos. At his earnest request Ducie had put off his own journey to stay +with him. At another time the ex-Captain might not have cared to spend +ten days at a forlorn country tavern, even with a rich Russian; but as +he often told himself he had "his book to make," and he probably looked +upon this as a necessary part of the process. Before they parted, it was +arranged that as soon as Ducie should return from Scotland he should go +and spend a month at Bon Repos. Then the two shook hands, and each went +his own way. As one day passed after another without bringing any +tidings of the lost MS., Platzoff's anxiety respecting it seemed to +lessen, and by the time he left "The Golden Griffin" he had apparently +ceased to trouble his mind any further in the matter. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE STOLEN MANUSCRIPT. + + +Captain Edmund Ducie came of a good family. His people were people of +mark among the landed gentry of their county, and were well-to-do even +for their position. Although only a fourth son, his allowance had been a +very handsome one, both while at Cambridge and afterwards during the +early years of his life in the army. When of age, he had come into the +very nice little fortune, for a fourth son, of nine thousand pounds; and +it was known that there would be "something handsome" for him at his +father's death. He had a more than ordinary share of good looks; his +mind was tolerably cultivated, and afterwards enlarged by travel and +service in various parts of the world; in manners and address he was a +finished gentleman of the modern school. Yet all these advantages of +nature and fortune were in a great measure nullified and rendered of no +avail by reason of one fatal defect, of one black speck at the core. In +a word, Captain Ducie was a born gambler. + +He had gambled when a child in the nursery, or had tried to gamble, for +cakes and toys. He had gambled when at school for coppers, +pocket-knives, and marbles. He had gambled when at the University, and +had felt the claws of the Children of Usury. He gambled away his nine +thousand pounds, or such remainder of it as had not been forestalled, +when he came of age. Later on, when in the army, and on home allowance +again, for his father would not let him starve, he had kept on gambling; +so that when, some five years later, his father died, and he dropped in +for the "something handsome," two-thirds of it had to be paid down on +the nail to make a free man of him again. On the remaining one-third he +contrived to keep afloat for a couple of years longer; then, after a +season of heavy losses, came the final crash, and Captain Ducie found +himself under the necessity of selling his commission, and of retiring +into private life. + +From this date Captain Ducie was compelled to live by "bleeding" his +friends and connections. He was a great favourite among them, and they +rallied gallantly to his rescue. But Ducie still gambled; and the best +of friends, and the most indulgent of relatives, grew tired after a +time of seeing their cherished gold pieces slip heedlessly through the +fingers of the man whom it was intended that they should substantially +help, and be lost in the foul atmosphere of a gaming-house. One by one, +friend and relative dropped away from the doomed man, till none were +left. Little by little the tide of fortune ebbed away from his feet, +leaving him stranded high and dry on the cruel shore of impecuniosity, +hemmed in by a thousand debts, with the gaunt wolf of beggary staring +him in the face. + +There was one point about Captain Ducie's gambling that redounded to his +credit. No one ever suspected him of cheating. His "run of luck" was so +uniformly bad, despite a brief fickle gleam of fortune now and again, +which seemed sent only to lure him on to deeper destruction; it was so +well known that he had spent two fortunes and alienated all his friends +through his passion for the green cloth, that it would have been the +height of absurdity to even suspect him of roguery. Indeed, "Ducie's +luck" was a proverbial phrase at the whist-tables of his club. He was +not a "turf" man, and had no knowledge of horses beyond that legitimate +knowledge which every soldier ought to have. His money had all been lost +either at cards or roulette. He was one of the most imperturbable of +gamblers. Whatever the varying chances of the game might be, no man ever +saw him either elated or depressed: he fought with his vizor down. + +No man could be more aware of his one besetting weakness, nor of his +inability to conquer it, than was Captain Ducie. When he could no longer +muster five pounds to gamble with, he would gamble with five shillings. +There was a public-house in Southwark to which, poorly dressed, he +sometimes went when his funds were low. Here, unknown to the police, a +little quiet gambling for small stakes went on from night to night. But +however small might be the amount involved, there was the passion, the +excitement, the gambling contagion, precisely as at Homburg or Baden; +and these it was that made the very salt of Captain Ducie's life. + +About six months before we made his acquaintance he had been compelled +to leave his pleasant suite of apartments in New Bond Street, and had, +since that time, been the tenant of a shabby bed-room in a shabby little +out-of-the-way street. When in town he took his meals at his club, and +to that address all letters and papers for him were sent. But of late +even the purlieus of his club had become dangerous ground. Round the +palatial portal duns seemed to hover and flit mysteriously, so that the +task of reaching the secure haven of the smoking-room was one of danger +and difficulty; while the return voyage to the shabby little bed-room in +the shabby little street could be accomplished in safety only by +frequent tacking and much skilful pilotage, to avoid running foul of +various rocks and quicksands by the way. + +But now, after a six weeks' absence in Scotland, Captain Ducie felt +that for a day or two at least he was tolerably safe. He felt like an +old fox venturing into the open after the noise of the hunt has died +away in the distance, who knows that for a little while he is safe from +molestation. How delightful town looked, he thought, after the dull life +he had been leading at Stapleton. He had managed to screw another fifty +pounds out of Barnstake, and this very evening, the first of his return, +he would go to Tom Dawson's rooms and there refresh himself with a +little quiet faro or chicken-hazard: very quiet it must of necessity be, +unless he saw that it was going to turn out one of his lucky evenings, +in which case he would try to "put up" the table and finish with a +fortunate coup. But there was one little task that he had set himself to +do before going out for the evening, and he proceeded to consider it +over while discussing his cup of strong green tea and his strip of dry +toast. + +To aid him in considering the matter he brought out of an inner pocket +the stolen manuscript of M. Platzoff. + +While in Scotland, when shut up in his own room of a night, he had often +exhumed the MS., and had set himself seriously to the task of +deciphering it, only to acknowledge at the end of a terrible half-hour +that he was ignominiously beaten. Whereupon he would console himself by +saying that such a task was "not in his line," that his brains were not +of that pettifogging order which would allow of his sitting down with +the patience requisite to master the secret of the figures. To-night, +for the twentieth time, he brought out the MS. He again read the +prefatory note carefully over, although he could almost have said it by +heart, and once more his puzzled eyes ran over the complicated array of +figures, till at last, with an impatient "Pish!" he flung the MS. to the +other side of the table, and poured out for himself another cup of tea. + +"I must send it to Bexell," he said to himself. "If anyone can make it +out, he can. And yet I don't like making another man as wise as myself +in such a matter. However, there is no help for it in the present case. +If I keep the MS. by me till doomsday I shall never succeed in making +out the meaning of those confounded figures." + +When he had finished his tea he took out his writing desk and wrote as +under: + + "MY DEAR BEXELL,--I have only just got back from Scotland after an + absence of six weeks. I have brought with me a severe catarrh, a + new plaid, a case of Mountain Dew, and a MS. written in cipher. The + first and second of these articles I retain for my own use. Of the + third I send you half-a-dozen bottles by way of sample: a judicious + imbibition of the contents will be found to be a sovereign remedy + for the Pip and other kindred disorders that owe their origin to a + melancholy frame of mind. The fourth article on my list I send you + bodily. It has been lent to me by a friend of mine who states that + he found it in his muniment chest among a lot of old title deeds, + leases, etc., the first time he waded through them after coming + into possession of his property. Neither he nor any friend to whom + he has shown it can make out its meaning, and I must confess to + being myself one of the puzzled. My friend is very anxious to have + it deciphered, as he thinks it may in some way relate to his + property, or to some secret bit of family history with which it + would be advisable that he should become acquainted. Anyhow, he + gave it to me to bring to town, with a request that I should seek + out someone clever in such things, and try to get it interpreted + for him. Now I know of no one except yourself who is at all expert + in such matters. You, I remember, used to take a delight that to me + was inexplicable in deciphering those strange advertisements which + now and again appear in the newspapers. Let me therefore ask of you + to bring your old skill to bear in the present case, and if you can + make me anything like a presentable translation to send back to my + friend the laird, you will greatly oblige + + "Your friend, + + "E. DUCIE." + +The MS. consisted of three or four sheets of deed-paper fastened +together at one corner with silk. The prefatory note was on the first +sheet. This first sheet Ducie cut away with his penknife and locked up +in his desk. The remaining sheets he sent to his friend Bexell, together +with the note which he had written. + +Three days later Mr. Bexell returned the sheets with his reply. In order +properly to understand this reply it will be necessary to offer to the +reader's notice a specimen of the MS. The conclusion arrived at by Mr. +Bexell, and the mode by which he reached them, will then be more clearly +comprehensible. + +The following is a counterpart of the first few lines of the MS.: + +253.12 59.25 14.5 96.14 158.49 1.29 465.1 28.53 + + 4 1 6 10 4 12 9 1 + ----------------------------------- + 16.36 151.18 58.7 14.29 368.1 209.18 43.11 1.31 1.1 + ----------------------------------- + 11 3 9 8 + 29.6 186.9 204.11 86.19 43.16 348.14 196.29 203.5 + + 4 5 10 6 1 5 6 2 +186.9 1.31 21.10 143.18 200.6 29.40 408.9 61.5 + + 5 9 4 8 3 12 11 4 +209.11 496.1 24.24 28.59 69.39 391.10 60.13 200.1 + 2 6 4 1 10 11 5 3 + +The following is Mr. Bexell's reply to his friend Captain Ducie: + + "MY DEAR DUCIE,--With this note you will receive back your + confounded MS., but without a translation. I have spent a good deal + of time and labour in trying to decipher it, and the conclusions at + which I have arrived may be briefly laid before you. + + 1. Each group of three sets of figures represents a word. + + 2. Each group of two sets of figures--those with a line above and a + line below--represents a letter only. + + 3. Those letters put together from the point where the double line + begins to the point where it ceases, make up a word. + + 4. In the composition of this cryptogram _a book_ has been used as + the basis on which to work. + + 5. In every group of three sets of figures the first set represents + the page of the book; the second, the number of the line on that + page, probably counting from the top; the third the position in + ordinary rotation of the word on that line. Thus you have the + number of the page, the number of the line, and the number of the + word. + + 6. In the case of the interlined groups of two sets of figures, the + first set represents the number of the page; the second set the + number of the line, probably counting from the top, of which line + the required letter will prove to be the initial one. + + 7. The words thus spelled out by the interlined groups of double + figures are, in all probability, proper names, or other uncommon + words not to be found in their entirety in the book on which the + cryptogram is based, and consequently requiring to be worked out + letter by letter. + + 8. The book in question is not a dictionary, nor any other work the + words of which come in alphabetical rotation. It is probably some + ordinary book, which the writer of the cryptogram and the person + for whom it is written have agreed upon beforehand to make use of + as a key. I have no means of judging whether the book in question + is an English or a foreign one, but by it alone, whatever it may + be, can the cryptogram be read. + + "Now, my dear Ducie, it would be wearisome for me to describe, and + equally wearisome for you to read, the processes of reasoning by + means of which the above deductions have been arrived at. But in + order to satisfy you that my assumptions are not entirely fanciful + or destitute of sober sense, I will describe to you, as briefly as + may be, the process by means of which I have come to the conclusion + that the book used as the basis of the cryptogram was not a + dictionary or other work in which the words come in alphabetical + rotation; and such a conclusion is very easy of proof. + + "In a document so lengthy as the MS. of your friend the Scotch + laird there must of necessity be many repetitions of what may be + called 'indispensable words'--words one or more of which are used + in the composition of almost every long sentence. I allude to such + words as _a_, _an_, _and_, _as_, _of_, _by_, _the_, _their_, + _them_, _these_, _they_, _you_, _I_, _it_, etc. The first thing to + do was to analyse the MS. and classify the different groups of + figures for the purpose of ascertaining the number of repetitions + of any one group. My analysis showed me that these repetitions were + surprisingly few. Forty groups were repeated twice, fifteen three + times, and nine groups four times. Now, according to my + calculation, the MS. contains one thousand two hundred and + eighty-three words. Out of those one thousand two hundred and + eighty-three words there must have been more than the number of + repetitions shown by my analysis, and not of one only, but of + several of what I have called 'indispensable words.' Had a + dictionary been made use of by the writer of the MS. all such + repetitions would have been referred to one particular page, and to + one particular line of that page: that is to say, in every case + where a word repeated itself in the MS. the same group of numbers + would in every case have been its _valeur_. As the repetitions were + so few I could only conclude that some book of an ordinary kind had + been made use of, and that the writer of the cryptogram had been + sufficiently ingenious not to repeat his numbers very frequently in + the case of 'indispensable words,' but had in the majority of cases + given a fresh group of numbers at each repetition of such a word. I + might, perhaps, go further and say that in the majority of cases + where a group of figures is repeated such group refers to some word + less frequently used than any of those specified above, and that + one group was obliged to do duty on two or more occasions, simply + because the writer was unable to find the word more than once in + the book on which his cryptogram was based. + + "Having once arrived at the conclusion that some book had been used + as the basis of the cryptogram, my next supposition that each group + of three sets of numbers showed the page of the book, the number of + the line from the top, and the position of the required word in + that line, seemed at once borne out by an analysis of the figures + themselves. Thus, taking the first set of figures in each group, I + found that in no case did they run to a higher number than 500, + which would seem to indicate that the basis-book was limited to + that number of pages. The second set of figures ran to no higher + number than 60, which would seem to limit the lines on each page to + that number. The third set of figures in no case yielded a higher + number than 12, which numerals, according to my theory, would + indicate the maximum number of words in each line. Thus you have at + once (if such information is of any use to you) a sort of a key to + the size of the required volume. + + "I think I have now written enough, my dear Ducie, to afford you + some idea of the method by means of which my conclusions have been + arrived at. If you wish for further details I will supply them--but + by word of mouth, an it be all the same to your honour; for this + child detests letter-writing, and has taken a vow that if he reach + the end of his present pen-and-ink venture in safety, he will never + in time to come devote more than two pages of cream note to even + the most exacting of friends: the sequitur of which is, that if you + want to know more than is here set down you must give the writer a + call, when you shall be talked to to your heart's content. + + "Your exhausted friend, + + "GEO. BEXELL." + +Captain Ducie had too great a respect for the knowledge of his friend +Bexell in matters like the one under review to dream for one moment of +testing the validity of any of his conclusions. He accepted the whole of +them as final. Having got the conclusions themselves, he cared nothing +as to the processes by which they had been deduced: the details +interested him not at all. Consequently he kept out of the way of his +friend, being in truth considerably disgusted to find that, so far as he +was himself concerned, the affair had ended in a fiasco. He could not +look upon it in any other light. It was utterly out of the range of +probability that he should ever succeed in ascertaining on what +particular book the cryptogram was based, and no other knowledge was now +of the slightest avail. He was half inclined to send back the MS. +anonymously to Platzoff, as being of no further use to himself; but he +was restrained by the thought that there was just a faint chance that +the much-desired volume might turn up during his forthcoming visit to +Bon Repos--that even at the eleventh hour the key might be found. + +He was terribly chagrined to think that the act of genteel petty +larceny, by which he had lowered himself more in his own eyes than he +would have cared to acknowledge, had been so absolutely barren of +results. That portion of his moral anatomy which he would have called +his conscience pricked him shrewdly now and again, but such pricks had +their origin in the fact of his knavery having been unsuccessful. Had +his wrong-doing won for him such a prize as he had fondly hoped to gain +by its means, Conscience would have let her rusted spear hang unheeded +on the wall, and beyond giving utterance now and then to a faint whisper +in the dead of night, would have troubled him not at all. + +It was some time in the middle of the night, about a week after Bexell +had sent him back the papers, that he awoke suddenly and completely, and +there before him, as clearly as though it had been written in letters of +fire on the black wall, he saw the title of the wished-for book. It was +the book mentioned by Platzoff in his prefatory note: _The Confessions +of Parthenio the Mystic_. The knowledge had come to him like a +revelation. How stupid he must have been never to have thought of it +before! That night he slept no more. + +Next morning he went to one of the most famous bookdealers in the +metropolis. The book inquired for by Ducie was not known to the man. But +that did not say that there was no such work in existence. Through his +agents at home and abroad inquiry should be made, and the result +communicated to Captain Ducie. Therewith the latter was obliged to +content himself. Three days later came a pressing note of invitation +from Platzoff. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +BON REPOS. + + +On a certain fine morning towards the end of May, Captain Ducie took +train at Euston Square, and late the same afternoon was set down at +Windermere. A fly conveyed himself and his portmanteau to the edge of +the lake. Singling out one from the tiny fleet of pleasure boats always +to be found at the Bowness landing-stage, Captain Ducie seated himself +in the stern and lighted his cigar. The boatman's sinewy arms soon +pulled him out into the middle of the lake, when the head of the little +craft was set for Bon Repos. + +The sun was dipping to the western hills. In his wake he had left a rack +of torn and fiery cloud, as though he had rent his garments in wrath and +cast them from him. Soft, grey mists and purple shadows were beginning +to strike upward from the vales, but on the great shoulders of +Fairfield, and on the scarred fronts of other giants further away, the +sunshine lingered lovingly. It was like the hand of Childhood caressing +the rugged brows of Age. + +With that glorious panorama which crowns the head of the lake before his +eyes, with the rhythmic beat of the oars and the soft pulsing of the +water in his ears, with the blue smoke-rings of his cigar rising like +visible aspirations through the evening air, an unwonted peace, a soft +brooding quietude, began to settle down upon the Captain's world-worn +spirit; and through the stillness came a faint whisper, like his +mother's voice speaking from the far-off years of childhood, recalling +to his memory things once known, but too long forgotten; lessons too +long despised, but with a vital truth underlying them which he seemed +never to have realised till now. Suddenly the boat's keel grazed the +shingly strand, and there before him, half shrouded in the shadows of +evening, was Bon Repos. + +A genuine north-country house, strong, rugged and homely-looking, +despite its Gallic cognomen. It was built of the rough grey stone of the +district, and roofed with large blue slates. It stood at the head of a +small lawn that sloped gently up from the lake. Immediately behind the +house a precipitous hill, covered with a thick growth of underwood and +young trees, swept upward to a considerable height. A narrow, winding +lane, the only carriage approach to the house, wound round the base of +this hill, and joined the high road a quarter of a mile away. The house +was only two stories high, but was large enough to have accommodated a +numerous and well-to-do family. The windows were all set in a framework +of plain stone, but on the lower floor some of them had been modernised, +the small, square, bluish panes having given place to polished plate +glass, of which two panes only were needed for each window. But this was +an innovation that had not spread far. The lawn was bordered with a +tasteful diversity of shrubs and flowers, while here and there the +tender fingers of some climbing plant seemed trying to smoothe away a +wrinkle in the rugged front of the old house. + +Captain Ducie walked up the gravelled pathway that led from the lake to +the house, the boatman with his portmanteau bringing up the rear. Before +he could touch either bell or knocker, the door was noiselessly opened, +and a coloured servant, in a suit of plain black, greeted him with a +respectful bow. + +"Captain Ducie, sir, if I am not misinformed?" + +"I am Captain Ducie." + +"Sir, you are expected. Your rooms are ready. Dinner will be served in +half-an-hour from now. My master will meet you when you come +downstairs." + +The portmanteau having been brought in, and the boatman paid and +dismissed, said the coloured servant: "I will show you to your rooms, if +you will allow me to do so. The man appointed to wait upon you will +follow with your luggage in a minute or two." + +He led the way, and Ducie followed in silence. + +The tired Captain gave a sigh of relief and gratitude, and flung himself +into an easy-chair as the door closed behind his conductor. His two +rooms were _en suite_, and while as replete with comfort as the most +thorough-going Englishman need desire, had yet about them a touch of +lightness and elegance that smacked of a taste that had been educated on +the Continent, and was unfettered by insular prejudices. + +"At Stapleton I had a loft that was hardly fit for a groom to sleep in; +here I have two rooms that a cardinal might feel proud to occupy. Vive +la Russie!" + +M. Platzoff was waiting at the foot of the staircase when Ducie went +down. A cordial greeting passed between the two, and the host at once +led the way to the dining-room. Platzoff in his suit of black and white +cravat, with his cadaverous face, blue-black hair and chin-tuft, and the +elaborate curl on the top of his forehead, looked, at the first glance, +more like a ghastly undertaker's man than the host of an English country +house. + +But a second glance would have shown you his embroidered linen and the +flashing gems on his fingers; and you could not be long with him without +being made aware that you were in the company of a thorough man of the +world--of one who had travelled much and observed much; of one whose +correspondents kept him au courant with all the chief topics of the day. +He knew, and could tell you, the secret history of the last new opera; +how much had been paid for it, what it had cost to produce, and all +about the great green-room cabal against the new prima donna. He knew +what amount of originality could be safely claimed for the last new +drama that was taking the town by storm, and how many times the same +story had been hashed up before. He had read the last French novel of +any note, and could favour you with a few personal reminiscences of its +author not generally known. As regarded political knowledge--if all his +statements were to be trusted--he was informed as to much that was going +on behind the great drop-scene. He knew how the wires were pulled that +moved the puppets who danced in public, especially those wires which +were pulled in Paris, Vienna and St. Petersburg. Before Ducie had been +six hours at Bon Repos he knew more about political intrigues at home +and abroad than he had ever dreamt of in the whole course of his +previous life. + +The dining-room at Bon Repos was a long low-ceilinged apartment, +panelled with black oak, and fitted up in a rich and sombre style that +was yet very different from the dull, heavy formality that obtains among +three-fourths of the dining-rooms in English country houses. Indeed, +throughout the appointments and fittings of Bon Repos there was a touch +of something Oriental grafted on to French taste, combined with a +thorough knowledge and appreciation of insular comfort. From the +dining-room windows a lovely stretch of the lake could be seen +glimmering in the starlight, and our two friends sat this evening over +their wine by the wide open sash, gazing out into the delicious night. +Behind them, in the room, two or three candles were burning in silver +sconces; but at the window they were sitting in that sort of half light +which seems exactly suited for confidential talk. Captain Ducie took +advantage of it after a time to ask his host a question which he would +perhaps have scarcely cared to put by broad daylight. + +"Have you heard any news of your lost manuscript?" + +"None whatever," answered Platzoff. "Neither do I expect, after this +lapse of time, to hear anything further concerning it. It has probably +never been found, or if found, has (as you suggested at 'The Golden +Griffin') fallen into the hands of someone too ignorant, or too +incurious, to master the secret of the cipher." + +"It has been much in my thoughts since I saw you last," said Ducie. "Was +the MS. in your own writing, may I ask?" + +"It was in my own writing," answered the Russian. "It was a confidential +communication intended for the eye of my dearest friend, and for his eye +only. It was unfinished when I lost it. I had been staying a few days at +one of your English spas when I joined you in the train on the day of +the accident. The MS., as far as it went, had all been written before I +left home; but I took it with me in my despatch-box, together with other +private papers, although I knew that I could not add a single line to it +while I should be from home. I have wished a thousand times since that I +had left it behind me." + +"I have heard of people to whom cryptography is a favourite study," said +the Captain; "people who pride themselves on their ability to master the +most difficult cipher ever invented. Let us hope that your MS. has not +fallen into the hands of one of these clever individuals." + +Platzoff shrugged his shoulders. "Let us hope so, indeed," he said. +"But I will not believe in any such untoward event. Too long a time has +elapsed since the loss for me not to have heard something respecting the +MS., had it been found by anyone who knew how to make use of it. +Besides, I would defy the most clever reader of cryptography to master +my MS. without--Ah, Bah! where's the use of talking about it? Should not +you like some tobacco? Daylight's last tint has vanished, and there is a +chill air sweeping down from the hills." + +As they left the window, Platzoff added: "One of the most annoying +features connected with my loss arises from the fact that all my labour +will have to be gone through again--and very tedious work it is. I am +now engaged on a second MS., which is, as nearly as I can make it, a +copy of the first one; and it is a task which must be done by myself +alone. To have even one confidant would be to stultify the whole affair. +Another glass of claret, and then I will introduce you to my sanctum." + +The coloured man who had opened the door for Captain Ducie had been in +and out of the dining-room several times. He was evidently a favourite +servant. Platzoff had addressed him as Cleon, and Ducie had now a +question or two to ask concerning him. + +Cleon was a mulatto, tall, agile and strong. Not bad-looking by any +means, but carrying with him unmistakable traces of the negro blood in +his veins. His hair was that of a genuine African--crisp and black, and +was one mass of short curls; but except for a certain fulness of the +lips his features were of the ordinary Caucasian type. He wore no beard, +but a thin, straight line of black moustache. His complexion was yellow, +but a different yellow from that of his master--dusky, passionate, +lava-like; suggestive of fiery depths below. His eyes, too, glowed with +a smothered fire that seemed as if it might blaze out at any moment, and +there was in them an expression of snake-like treachery that made +Captain Ducie shudder involuntarily, as though he had seen some +loathsome reptile, the first time he looked steadily into their +half-veiled depths. One look into each other's eyes was sufficient for +both these men. + +"Monsieur Cleon and I are born enemies, and he knows it as well as I +do," murmured Ducie to himself, after the first secret signal of +defiance had passed between the two. "Well, I never was afraid of any +man in my life, and I'm not going to begin by being afraid of a valet." +With that he shrugged his shoulders, and turned his back contemptuously +on the mulatto. + +Cleon, in his suit of black and white tie, with his quiet, stealthy +movements and unobtrusive attentions, would have been pronounced good +style as a gentleman's gentleman in the grandest of Belgravian mansions. +Had he suddenly come into a fortune, and gone into society where his +antecedents were unknown, five-sixths of his male associates would have +pronounced him "a deuced gentlemanly fellow." The remaining one-sixth +might have held a somewhat different opinion. + +"That coloured fellow seems to be a great favourite with you," remarked +Ducie, as Cleon left the room. + +"And well he may be," answered Platzoff. "On two separate occasions I +owed my life to him. Once in South America, when a couple of brigands +had me at their mercy and were about to try the temper of their knives +on my throat. He potted them both one after the other. On the second +occasion he rescued me from a tiger in the jungle, who was desirous of +dining _a la Russe_. I have not made a favourite of Cleon without having +my reasons for so doing." + +"He seems to me a shrewd fellow, and one who understands his business." + +"Cleon is not destitute of ability. When I settled at Bon Repos I made +him major-domo of my small establishment, but he still retains his old +position as my body-servant. I offered long ago to release him; but he +will not allow any third person to come between himself and me, and I +should not feel comfortable under the attentions of anyone else." + +Platzoff opened the door as he ceased speaking and led the way to the +smoking room. + +As you lifted the curtain and went in, it was like passing at one step +from Europe to the East--from the banks of Windermere to the shores of +the Bosphorus. It was a circular apartment with a low cushioned divan +running completely round it, except where broken by the two doorways, +curtained with hangings of dark brown. The floor was an arabesque of +different-coloured tiles, covered here and there with a tiny square of +bright-hued Persian carpet. The walls were panelled with stamped leather +to the height of six feet from the ground; above the panelling they were +painted of a delicate cream colour with here and there a maxim or +apophthegm from the Koran, in the Arabic character, picked out in +different colours. From the ceiling a silver lamp swung on chains of +silver. In the centre of the room was a marble table on which were pipes +and hookahs, cigars and tobaccos of various kinds. Smaller tables were +placed here and there close to the divan for the convenience of smokers. + +Platzoff having asked Ducie to excuse him for five minutes, passed +through the second doorway, and left the Captain to an undisturbed +survey of the room. He came back in a few minutes, but so transformed in +outward appearance that Ducie scarcely knew him. He had left the room in +the full evening costume of an English gentleman: he came back in the +turban and flowing robes of a follower of the Prophet. But however +comfortable his Eastern habit might be, M. Platzoff lacked the quiet +dignity and grave repose of your genuine Turkish gentleman. + +"I am going to smoke one of these hookahs; let me recommend you to try +another," said Platzoff as he squatted himself cross-legged on the +divan. + +He touched a tiny gong, and Cleon entered. + +"Select a hookah for Monsieur Ducie, and prepare it." + +So Cleon, having chosen a pipe, tipped it with a new amber mouthpiece, +charged the bowl with fragrant Turkish tobacco, handed the stem to +Ducie, and then applied the light. The same service was next performed +for his master. Then he withdrew, but only to reappear a minute or two +later with coffee served up in the Oriental fashion--black and strong, +without sugar or cream. + +"This is one of my little smoke-nights," said Platzoff as soon as they +were alone. "Last night was one of my big smoke-nights." + +"You speak a language I do not understand." + +"I call those occasions on which I smoke opium my big smoke-nights." + +"Can it be true that you are an opium smoker?" said Ducie. + +"It can be and is quite true that I am addicted to that so-called +pernicious habit. To me it is one of the few good things this world has +to offer. Opium is the key that unlocks the golden gates of Dreamland. +To its disciples alone is revealed the true secret of subjective +happiness. But we will talk more of this at some future time." + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE AMSTERDAM EDITION OF 1698. + + +Captain Ducie soon fell into the quiet routine of life at Bon Repos. It +was not distasteful to him. To a younger man it might have seemed to +lack variety, to have impinged too closely on the verge of dulness; but +Captain Ducie had reached that time of life when quiet pleasures please +the most, and when much can be forgiven the man who sets before you a +dinner worth eating. Not that Ducie had anything to forgive. Platzoff +had contracted a great liking for his guest, and his hospitality was of +that cordial quality which makes the object of it feel himself +thoroughly at home. Besides this, the Captain knew when he was well off, +and had no wish to exchange his present pleasant quarters, his rambles +across the hills, and his sailings on the lake, for his dingy bed-room +in town with the harassing, hunted down life of a man upon whom a dozen +writs are waiting to be served, and who can never feel certain that his +next day's dinner may not be eaten behind the locks and bars of a +prison. + +Sometimes on horseback, sometimes on foot, sometimes accompanied by his +host, sometimes alone, Ducie explored the lovely country round Bon Repos +to his heart's content. Another source of pleasure and healthful +exercise he found in long solitary pulls up and down the lake in a tiny +skiff which had been set apart for his service. In the evening came +dinner and conversation with his host, with perhaps a game or two of +billiards to finish up the day. + +Captain Ducie found no scope for the exercise of his gambling +proclivities at Bon Repos. Platzoff never touched card or dice. He +could handle a cue tolerably well, but beyond a half-crown game, Ducie +giving him ten points out of fifty, he could never be persuaded to +venture. If the Captain, when he went down to Bon Repos, had any +expectation of replenishing his pockets by means of faro and unlimited +loo, he was wretchedly mistaken. But whatever secret annoyance he might +feel, he was too much a man of the world to allow his host even to +suspect its existence. + +Of society in the ordinary meaning of that word there was absolutely +none at Bon Repos. None of the neighbouring families by any chance ever +called on Platzoff. By no chance did Platzoff ever call on any of the +neighbouring families. + +"They are too good for me, too orthodox, too strait-laced," exclaimed +the Russian one day in his quiet, jeering way. "Or it may be that I am +not good enough for them. Any way, we do not coalesce. Rather are we +like flint and steel, and eliminate a spark whenever we come in contact. +They look upon me as a pagan, and hold me in horror. I look upon +three-fourths of them as Pharisees, and hold them in contempt. Good +people there are among them no doubt; people whom it would be a pleasure +to know, but I have neither time, health, nor inclination for +conventional English visiting--for your ponderous style of hospitality. +I am quite sure that my ideas of men and manners would not coincide with +those of the quiet country ladies and gentlemen of these parts; while +theirs would seem to me terribly wearisome and jejune. Therefore, as I +take it, we are better apart." + +By and by Ducie discovered that his host was not so entirely isolated +from the world as at first sight he appeared to be. + +Occasional society there was of a certain kind, intermittent, coming and +going like birds of passage. One, or sometimes two visitors, of whose +arrival Ducie had heard no previous mention, would now and again put in +an appearance at the dinner-table, would pass one, or at the most two +nights at Bon Repos, and would then be seen no more, having gone as +mysteriously as they had come. + +These visitors were always foreigners, now of one nationality, now of +another: and were always closeted privately with Platzoff for several +hours. In appearance some of them were strangely shabby and unkempt, in +a wild, un-English sort of fashion, while others among them seemed like +men to whom the good things of this world were no strangers. But +whatever their appearance, they were all treated by Platzoff as honoured +guests for whom nothing at his command was too good. + +As a matter of course, they were all introduced to Captain Ducie, but +none of their names had been heard by him before--indeed, he had a dim +suspicion, gathered, he could not have told how, that the names by which +they were made known to him were in some cases fictitious ones, and +appropriated for that occasion only. But to the Captain that fact +mattered nothing. They were people whom he should never meet after +leaving Bon Repos, or if he did chance to meet them, whom he should +never recognise. + +One other noticeable feature there was about these birds of passage. +They were all men of considerable intelligence--men who could talk +tersely and well on almost any topic that might chance to come uppermost +at table, or during the after-dinner smoke. Literature, art, science, +travel--on any or all of these subjects they had opinions to offer; but +one subject there was that seemed tabooed among them as by common +consent: that subject was politics. Captain Ducie saw and recognised the +fact, but as he himself was a man who cared nothing for politics of any +kind, and would have voted them a bore in general conversation, he was +by no means disposed to resent their extrusion from the table talk at +Bon Repos. + +As to whom and what these strangers might be, no direct information was +vouchsafed by the Russian. Captain Ducie was left in a great measure to +draw his own conclusions. A certain conversation which he had one day +with his host seemed to throw some light on the matter. Ducie had been +asking Platzoff whether he did not sometimes regret having secluded +himself so entirely from the world; whether he did not long sometimes to +be in the great centres of humanity, in London or Paris, where alone +life's full flavour can be tasted. + +"Whenever Bon Repos becomes Mal Repos," answered Platzoff--"whenever a +longing such as you speak of comes over me--and it does come +sometimes--then I flee away for a few weeks, to London oftener than +anywhere else--certainly not to Paris: that to me is forbidden ground. +By-and-by I come back to my nest among the hills, vowing there is no +place like it in the world's wide round. But even when I am here, I am +not so shut out from the world and its great interests as you seem to +imagine. I see History enacting itself before my eyes, and I cannot sit +by with averted face. I hear the grand chant of Liberty as the beautiful +goddess comes nearer and nearer and smites down one Oppressor after +another with her red right hand; and I cannot shut my ears. I have been +an actor in the great drama of Revolution ever since a lad of twelve. I +saw my father borne off in chains to Siberia, and heard my mother with +her dying breath curse the tyrant who had sent him there. Since that day +Conspiracy has been the very salt of my life. For it I have fought and +bled; for it I have suffered hunger, thirst, imprisonment, and dangers +unnumbered. Paris, Vienna, St. Petersburg, are all places that I can +never hope to see again. For me to set foot in any one of the three +would be to run the risk of almost certain detection, and in my case +detection would mean hopeless incarceration for the poor remainder of my +days. To the world at large I may seem nothing but a simple country +gentleman, living a dull life in a spot remote from all stirring +interests. But I may tell you, sir (in strictest confidence, mind), that +although I stand a little aside from the noise and heat of the battle, +I work for it with heart and brain as busily, and to better purpose, let +us hope, than when I was a much younger man. I am still a conspirator, +and a conspirator I shall remain till Death taps me on the shoulder and +serves me with his last great writ of _habeas corpus_." + +These words recurred to Ducie's memory a day or two later when he found +at the dinner-table two foreigners whom he had never seen before. + +"Is it possible that these bearded gentlemen are also conspirators?" +asked the Captain of himself. "If so, their mode of life must be a very +uncomfortable one. It never seems to include the use of a razor, and +very sparingly that of comb and brush. I am glad that I have nothing to +do with what Platzoff calls _The Great Cause_." + +But Captain Ducie was not a man to trouble himself with the affairs of +other people unless his own interests were in some way affected thereby. +M. Paul Platzoff might have been mixed up with all the plots in Europe +for anything the Captain cared: it was a mere question of taste, and he +never interfered with another man's tastes when they did not clash with +his own. Besides, in the present case, his attention was claimed by what +to him was a matter of far more serious interest. From day to day he was +anxiously waiting for news from the London bookseller who was making +inquiries on his behalf as to the possibility of obtaining a copy of +_The Confessions of Parthenio the Mystic_. Day passed after day till a +fortnight had gone, and still there came no line from the bookseller. + +Ducie's impatience could no longer be restrained: he wrote, asking for +news. The third day brought a reply. The bookseller had at last heard of +a copy. It was in the library of a monastery in the Low Countries. The +coffers of the monastery needed replenishing; the abbot was willing to +part with the book, but the price of it would be a sum equivalent to +fifty guineas of English money. Such was the purport of the letter. + +To Captain Ducie, just then, fifty guineas were a matter of serious +moment. For a full hour he debated with himself whether or no he should +order the book to be bought. + +Supposing it duly purchased; supposing that it really proved to be the +key by which the secret of the Russian's MS. could be mastered; might +not the secret itself prove utterly worthless as far as he, Ducie, was +concerned? Might it not be merely a secret bearing on one of those +confounded political plots in which Platzoff was implicated--a matter of +moment no doubt to the writer, but of no earthly utility to anyone not +inoculated with such March-hare madness? + +These were the questions that it behoved him to consider. At the end of +an hour he decided that the game was worth the candle: he would risk his +fifty guineas. + +Taking one of Platzoff's horses, he rode without delay to the nearest +telegraph station. His message to the bookseller was as under: + +"Buy the book, and send it down to me here by confidential messenger." + +The next few day were days of suspense, of burning impatience. The +messenger arrived almost sooner than Ducie expected, bringing the book +with him. Ducie sighed as he signed the cheque for fifty guineas, with +ten pounds for expenses. That shabby calf-bound worm-eaten volume seemed +such a poor exchange for the precious slip of paper that had just left +his fingers. But what was done could not be undone, so he locked the +book away carefully in his desk and locked up his impatience with it +till nightfall. + +He could not get away from Platzoff till close upon midnight. When he +got to his own room he bolted the door, and drew the curtains across the +windows, although he knew that it was impossible for anyone to spy on +him from without. Then he opened his desk, spread out the MS. before +him, and took up the volume. A calf-bound volume, with red edges, and +numbering five hundred pages. It was in English, and the title-page +stated it to be "_The Confessions of Parthenio the Mystic: A Romance_. +Translated from the Latin. With Annotations, and a Key to Sundrie Dark +Meanings. Imprinted at Amsterdam in the Year of Grace 1698." It was in +excellent condition. + +Captain Ducie's eagerness to test his prize would not allow of more than +a very cursory inspection of the general contents of the volume. So far +as he could make out, it seemed to be a political satire veiled under +the transparent garb of an Eastern story. Parthenio was represented as a +holy man--a Spiritualist or Mystic--who had lived for many years in a +cave in one of the Arabian deserts. Commanded at length by what he calls +the "inner voice," he sets out on his travels to visit sundry courts and +kingdoms of the East. He returns after five years, and writes, for the +benefit of his disciples, an account of the chief things he has seen and +learned while on his travels. The courts of England, France and Spain, +under fictitious names, are the chief marks for his ponderous satire, +and some of the greatest men in the three kingdoms are lashed with his +most scurrilous abuse. Under any circumstances the book was not one that +Captain Ducie would have cared to wade through, and in the present case, +after dipping into a page here and there, and finding that it contained +nothing likely to interest him, he proceeded at once to the more serious +business of the evening. + +The clocks of Bon Repos were striking midnight as Captain Ducie +proceeded to test the value of the first group of figures on the MS., +according to the formula laid down for him by his friend Bexell. + +The first group of figures was 253.12/4. Turning to page two hundred and +fifty-three of the Confessions, and counting from the top of that page, +he found that the fourth word of the twelfth line gave him _you_. The +second clump of figures was 59.25/1. The first word of the twenty-fifth +line of page fifty-nine gave him _will_. The third clump of figures gave +him _have_, and the fourth _gathered_. These four words, ranged in +order, read: _You will have gathered_. Such a sequence of words could +not arise from mere accident. When he had got thus far Ducie knew that +Platzoff's secret would soon be a secret no longer, that in a very +little while the heart of the mystery would be laid bare. + +Encouraged by his success, Ducie went to work with renewed vigour, and +before the clock struck one he had completed the first sentence of the +MS., which ran as under:-- + + _You will have gathered from the foregoing note, my dear Carlo, + that I have something of importance to relate to you--something + that I am desirous of keeping a secret from everyone but yourself._ + +As his friend Bexell surmised, Ducie found that the groups of figures +distinguished from the rest by two horizontal lines, one above and one +below, as thus 58.7 14.29 368.1 209.18 43.11, were the _valeurs_ of some +proper name or other word for which there was no equivalent in the book. +Such words had to be spelt out letter by letter in the same way that +complete words were picked out in other cases. Thus the marked figures +as above, when taken letter by letter, made up the word _Carlo_--a name +to which there was nothing similar in the Confessions. + +It had been broad daylight for two hours before Captain Ducie grew tired +of his task and went to bed. He went on with it next night, and every +night till it was finished. It was a task that deepened in interest as +he proceeded with it. It grew upon him to such a degree that when near +the close he feigned illness, and kept his room for a whole day, so that +he might the sooner get it done. + +If Captain Ducie had ever amused himself with trying to imagine the +nature of the secret which he had now succeeded in unravelling, the +reality must have been very different from his expectations. One +gigantic thought, whose coming made him breathless for a moment, took +possession of him, as a demon might have done, almost before he had +finished his task, dwarfing all other thoughts by its magnitude. It was +a thought that found relief in six words only: + +"It must and shall be mine!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +M. PLATZOFF'S SECRET--CAPTAIN DUCIE'S TRANSLATION OF M. PAUL PLATZOFF'S +MS. + + +"You will have gathered from the foregoing note, my dear Carlo, that I +have something of importance to relate to you; something that I am +desirous of keeping a secret from everyone but yourself. From the same +source you will have learned where to find the key by which alone the +lock of my secret can be opened. + +"I was induced by two reasons to make use of _The Confessions of +Parthenio the Mystic_ as the basis of my cryptographic communication. In +the first place, each of us has in his possession a copy of the same +edition of that rare book, _viz._, the Amsterdam edition of 1698. In the +second place, there are not more than half-a-dozen copies of the same +work in England; so that if this document were by mischance to fall into +the hands of some person other than him for whom it is intended, such +person, even if sufficiently acute to guess at the means by which alone +the cryptogram can be read, would still find it a matter of some +difficulty to obtain possession of the requisite key. + +"I address these lines to you, my dear Lampini, not because you and I +have been friends from youth, not because we have shared many dangers +and hardship together, not because we have both kept the same great +object in view throughout life; in fine, I do not address them to you as +a private individual, but in your official capacity as Secretary of the +Secret Society of San Marco. + +"You know how deeply I have had the objects of the Society at heart ever +since, twenty-five years ago, I was deemed worthy of being made one of +the initiated. You know how earnestly I have striven to forward its +views both in England and abroad; that through my connection with it I +am _suspect_ at nearly every capital on the Continent--that I could not +enter some of them except at the risk of my life; that health, time, +money--all have been ungrudgingly given for the furtherance of the same +great end. + +"Heaven knows I am not penning these lines in any self-gratulatory frame +of mind--I who write from this happy haven among the hills. +Self-gratulation would ill-become such as me. Where I have given gold, +others have given their blood. Where I have given time and labour, +others have undergone long and cruel imprisonments, have been separated +from all they loved on earth, and have seen the best years of their life +fade hopelessly out between the four walls of a living tomb. What are my +petty sacrifices to such as these? + +"But not to everyone is granted the happiness of cementing a great cause +with his heart's blood. We must each work in the appointed way--some of +us in the full light of day; others in obscure corners, at work that can +never be seen, putting in the stones of the foundation painfully one by +one, but never destined to share in the glory of building the roof of +the edifice. + +"Sometimes, in your letters to me, especially when those letters +contained any disheartening news, I have detected a tone of despondency, +a latent doubt as to whether the cause to which both of us are so firmly +bound was really progressing; whether it was not fighting against hope +to continue the battle any longer; whether it would not be wiser to +retreat to the few caves and fastnesses that were left us, and leaving +Liberty still languishing in chains, and Tyranny still rampant in the +high places of the world, to wage no longer a useless war against the +irresistible Fates. Happily, with you such moods were of the rarest: you +would have been more than mortal had not your soul at times sat in +sackcloth and ashes. + +"Such seasons of doubt and gloom have come to me also; but I know that +in our secret hearts we both of us have felt that there was a +self-sustaining power, a latent vitality in our cause that nothing could +crush out utterly; that the more it was trampled on the more dangerous +it would become, and the faster it would spread. Certain great events +that have happened during the last twelve months have done more towards +the propagation of the ideas we have so much at heart than in our +wildest dreams we dare have hoped only three short years ago. Gravely +considering these things, it seems to me that the time cannot be far +distant when the contingent plan of operations as agreed upon by the +Central Committee two years ago, to which I gave in my adhesion on the +occasion of your last visit to Bon Repos, will have to replace the +scheme at present in operation, and will become the great lever in +carrying out the Society's policy in time to come. + +"When the time shall be ripe, but one difficulty will stand in the way +of carrying out the proposed contingent plan. That difficulty will arise +from the fact that the Society's present expenses will then be trebled +or quadrupled, and that a vast accession to the funds at command of the +Committee for the time being will thus be imperatively necessitated. As +a step, as a something towards obviating whatever difficulty may arise +from lack of funds, I have devised to you, as Secretary of the Society, +the whole of my personal estate, amounting in the aggregate to close +upon fifteen thousand pounds. This property will not accrue to you till +my decease; but that event will happen no very long time hence. My will, +duly signed and witnessed, will be found in the hands of my lawyer. + +"But it was not merely to advise you of this bequest that I have sought +such a roundabout mode of communication. I have a greater and a much +more important bequest to make to the Society, through you, its +accredited agent. I have in my possession a green DIAMOND, the estimated +value of which is a hundred and fifty thousand pounds. This precious gem +I shall leave to you, by you to be sold after my death, the proceeds of +the sale to be added to the other funded property of the Society of San +Marco. + +"The Diamond in question became mine during my travels in India many +years ago. I believe my estimate of its value to be a correct one. +Except my confidential servant, Cleon (whom you will remember), no one +is aware that I have in my possession a stone of such immense value. I +have never trusted it out of my own keeping, but have always retained +it by me, in a safe place, where I could lay my hands upon it at a +moment's notice. But not even to Cleon have I entrusted the secret of +the hiding-place, incorruptibly faithful as I believe him to be. It is a +secret locked in my own bosom alone. + +"You will now understand why I have resorted to cryptography in bringing +these facts under your notice. It is intended that these lines shall not +be read by you till after my decease. Had I adopted the ordinary mode of +communicating with you, it seemed to me not impossible that some other +eye than the one for which it was intended might peruse this statement +before it reached you, and that through some foul play or underhand deed +the Diamond might never come into your possession. + +"It only remains for me now to point out where and by what means the +Diamond may be found. It is hidden away in--" + + * * * * * + +Here the MS., never completed, ended abruptly. + +(_To be continued._) + + + + +RONDEAU. + + + In vain we call to youth, "Return!" + In vain to fires, "Waste not, yet burn!" + In vain to all life's happy things, + "Give the days song--give the hours wings! + Let us lose naught--yet always learn!" + + The tongue must lose youth, as it sings-- + New knowledge still new sorrow brings: + Oh, sweet lost youth, for which we yearn + In vain! + But even this hour from which ye turn-- + Impatient--o'er its funeral urn + Your soul with mad importunings + Will cry, "Come back, lost hour!" So rings + Ever the cry of those who yearn + In vain. + +E. NESBIT. + + + + +SAPPHO. + + +When the Akropolis at Athens bore its beautiful burden entire and +perfect, one miniature temple stood dedicated to wingless Victory, in +token that the city which had defied and driven back the barbarian +should never know defeat. + +But only a few decades had passed away when that temple stood as a mute +and piteous witness that Athens had been laid low in the dust, and that +Victory, though she could never weave a garland for Hellenes who had +conquered Hellenes, was no longer a living power upon her chosen +citadel. By the eighteenth century the shrine had altogether +disappeared: the site only could be traced, and four slabs from its +frieze were discovered close at hand, built into the walls of a Turkish +powder magazine; but not another fragment could be found. + +The descriptions of Pausanias and of one or two later travellers were +all that remained to tell us of the whole; of its details we might form +some faint conception from those frieze marbles, rescued by Lord Elgin +and now in the British museum. + +But we are not left to restore the temple of wingless Victory in our +imagination merely, aided by description and by fragment. It stands +to-day almost complete except for its shattered sculptures, placed upon +its original site, and looking, among the ruins of the grander buildings +around it, like a beautiful child who gazes for the first time on sorrow +which it feels but cannot share. The blocks of marble taken from its +walls and columns had been embedded in a mass of masonry, and when +Greece was once more free, and all traces of Turkish occupation were +being cleared from the Akropolis, these were carefully put together with +the result that we have described. + +Like this in part, but unhappily only in part, is the story of the poems +of Sappho. She wrote, as the architect planned, for all time. We have +one brief fragment, proud, but pathetic in its pride, that tells us she +knew she was meant not altogether to die: + + "I say that there will be remembrance of us hereafter," + +and again with lofty scorn she addresses some other woman: + + "But thou shalt lie dead, nor shall there ever be remembrance of + thee then or in the time to come, for thou hast no share in the + roses of Pieria; but thou shalt wander unseen even in the halls of + Hades, flitting forth amid the shades of the dead." + +The words sound in our ears with a melancholy close as we remember how +hopelessly lost is almost every one of those poems that all Hellas +loved and praised as long as the love and praise of Hellas was of any +worth. Remembrance among men was, to her, the Muses' crowning gift; that +which should distinguish her from ordinary mortals, even beyond the +grave, and grant her new life in death. But it was only for her songs' +sake that she cared to live; she looked for immortality only because she +felt that they were too fair to die. + +It was almost by accident that the name of Sappho was first associated +with the slanders that have ever since clung round it. + +By the close of the fourth century, B.C., Athenian comedy had +degenerated into brilliant and witty and scandalous farce, in many +essentials resembling the new Comedy of the Restoration in England. But +the vitiated Athenian palate required a seasoning which did not commend +itself to English taste; it was necessary that the shafts of the +writer's wit should strike some real and well-known personage. + +Politics, which had furnished so many subjects and so many characters to +Aristophanes, were now a barren field, and public life at Athens in +those days was nothing if not political. Hence arose the practice of +introducing great names of bygone days into these comedies, in all kinds +of ridiculous and disgraceful surroundings. + +There was a piquancy about these libels on the dead which we cannot +understand, but which we may contrast with the less dishonourable +process known to modern historians as "whitewashing." Just as Tiberius +and Henry VIII. have been rescued from the infamy of ages, and placed +among us upon pedestals of honour from which it will be difficult +hereafter wholly to dislodge them, many honoured names were taken by +these iconoclasts of the Middle Comedy and hurled down to such infamy as +they alone could bestow. + +Sappho stood out prominently as the one supreme poetess of Hellas, and +the poets, if so they must be called, of the decline of Greek dramatic +art were never weary of loading her name with every most disgraceful +reproach they could invent. It is hardly worth while to discuss a +subject so often discussed with so little profit, or it would be easy to +show that these gentlemen, Ameipsias, Antiphanes, Diphilus, and the +rest, were indebted solely to their imagination for their facts. + +It would be as fair to take the picture of Sokrates in the "Clouds" of +Aristophanes for a faithful representation of the philosopher as it +would be to take the Sappho of the comic stage for the true Sappho. +Indeed, it would be fairer; for the Sokrates of the "Clouds" is an +absurd caricature, but, like every good caricature, it bore some +resemblance to the original. + +Aristophanes and his audience were familiar with the figure of Sokrates +as he went in and out amongst them; they knew his character and his +manner of life; and, though the poet ventured to pervert the teaching +and to ridicule the habits of a well-known citizen, he would not venture +to put before the people a representation in which there was not a grain +of truth. + +But Sappho had been dead for two hundred years: the Athenian populace +knew little of her except that she had been great and that she had been +unhappy; and the descendants of the men who had thronged the theatre to +see the Oedipus of Sophokles, sickening with that strange disease which +makes the soul crave to batten on the fruits that are its poison, found +a rare feast furnished forth in the imaginary history of the one great +woman of their race. + +The centuries went on, and Sappho came before the tribunal of the early +Christian Church. + +The chief witnesses against her were these same comic poets, who were +themselves prisoners at the bar; and her judges, with the ruthless +impartiality of undiscriminating zeal, condemned the whole of her works, +as well as those of her accusers, to be destroyed in the flames. + +Thus her works have almost totally perished: the fragments that are +extant give us only the faintest hints of the grace and sweetness that +we have for ever lost. + +The mode of the preservation of these remains is half-pathetic, +half-grotesque. We have one complete poem and a considerable portion of +another; the rest are the merest fragments--now two or three lines, now +two or three words, often unintelligible without their context. We have +imitations and translations by Catullus and by Horace; but even Catullus +has conspicuously failed to reproduce her. As Mr. Swinburne has candidly +and very truly said: "No man can come close to her." + +No; all that we possess of Sappho is gleaned from the dictionary, the +geography, the grammar and the archaeological treatise; from a host of +worthy authors who are valued now chiefly for these quotations which +they have enshrined. Here a painful scholar of Alexandria has preserved +the phrase-- + + "The golden sandalled dawn but now has (waked) me," + +to show how Sappho employed the adverb. Apollonius, to prove that the +AEolic dialect had a particular form for the genitive case of the first +personal pronoun, has treasured up two sad and significant utterances, + + "But thou forgettest me!" + +and + + "Or else thou lovest another than me," + +The AEolic genitive has saved for us another of these sorrow-laden +sentences which Mr. Swinburne has amplified in some beautiful but too +wordy lines. Sappho only says + + "I am full weary of Gorgo." + +--A few of these fragments tell us of the poet herself. + + "I have a daughter like golden flowers, Kleis my beloved, for whom + (I would take) not all Sydia...." + +and one beautiful line which we can recognise in the translation by +Catullus, + + "Like a child after its mother, I--" + +The touches by which she has painted nature are so fine and delicate +that the only poet of our time who has a right to attempt to translate +them has declared it to be "the one impossible task." Our English does, +indeed, sound harsh and unmusical as we try to represent her words; yet +what a picture is here-- + + "And round about the cold (stream) murmurs through the + apple-orchards, and slumber is shed down from trembling leaves." + +She makes us hear the wind upon the mountains falling on the oaks; she +makes us feel the sun's radiance and beauty, as it glows through her +verses; she makes us love with her the birds and the flowers that she +loved. She has a womanly pity not only for the dying doves when-- + + "Their hearts grew cold and they dropped their wings," + +but for the hyacinth which the shepherds trample under foot upon the +hillside. The golden pulse growing on the shore, the roses, the garlands +of dill, are yet fragrant for us; we can even now catch the sweet tones +of the "Spring's angel," as she calls it, the nightingale that sang in +Lesbos ages and ages ago. One beautiful fragment has been woven with +another into a few perfect lines by Dante Gabriel Rossetti; but it shall +be given here as it stands. It describes a young, unwedded maiden: + + "As the sweet apple blushes on the end of the bough, the very end + of the bough which the gatherers overlooked--nay, overlooked not, + but could not reach." + +The Ode to Aphrodite and the fragment to Anaktoria are too often found +in translations to be quoted here. Indeed, it is of but little use to +quote; for Sappho can be known only in her own language and by those who +will devote time to these inestimable fragments. Their beauty grows upon +us as we read; we catch in one the echo of a single tone, so sweet that +it needs no harmony; and again a few stray chords that haunt the ear and +fill us with an exquisite dissatisfaction; and yet again a grave and +stately measure such as her rebuke to Alkaeus-- + + "Had thy desire been for what was good or noble and had not thy + tongue framed some evil speech, shame had not filled thine eyes--" + +MARY GREY. + + + + +THE SILENT CHIMES. + +RINGING AT MIDDAY. + + +It was an animated scene; and one you only find in England. The stubble +of the cornfields looked pale and bleak in the departing autumn, the +wind was shaking down the withered leaves from the trees, whose thinning +branches told unmistakably of the rapidly-advancing winter. But the day +was bright after the night's frost, and the sun shone on the glowing +scarlet coats of the hunting men, and the hounds barked in every variety +of note and leaped with delight in the morning air. It was the first run +of the season, and the sportsmen were fast gathering at the appointed +spot--a field flanked by a grove of trees called Poachers' Copse. + +Ten o'clock, the hour fixed for the throw-off, came and went, and still +Poachers' Copse was not relieved of its busy intruders. Many a gentleman +foxhunter glanced at his hunting-watch as the minutes passed, many a +burly farmer jerked his horse impatiently; while the grey-headed +huntsman cracked his long whip amongst his canine favourites and +promised them they should soon be on the scent. The delay was caused by +the non-arrival of the Master of the Hounds. + +But now all eyes were directed to a certain quarter, and by the +brightened looks and renewed stir, it might be thought that he was +appearing. A stranger, sitting his horse well and quietly at the edge of +Poachers' Copse, watched the newcomers as they came into view. Foremost +of them rode an elderly gentleman in scarlet, and by his side a young +lady who might be a few years past twenty. + +"Father and daughter, I'll vow," commented the stranger, noting that +both had the same well-carved features, the same defiant, haughty +expression, the same proud bearing. "What a grandly-handsome girl! And +he, I suppose, is the man we are waiting for. Is that the Master of the +Hounds?" he asked aloud of the horseman next him, who chanced to be +young Mr. Threpp. + +"No, sir, that is Captain Monk," was the answer. "They are saying yonder +that he has brought word the Master is taken ill and cannot hunt +to-day"--which proved to be correct. The Master had been taken with +giddiness when about to mount his horse. + +The stranger rode up to Captain Monk; judging him to be regarded--by the +way he was welcomed and the respect paid him--as the chief personage at +the meet, representing in a manner the Master. Lifting his hat, he +begged grace for having, being a stranger, come out, uninvited, to join +the field; adding that his name was Hamlyn and he was staying with Mr. +Peveril at Peacock's Range. + +Captain Monk wheeled round at the address; his head had been turned +away. He saw a tall, dark man of about five-and-thirty years, so dark +and sunburnt as to suggest ideas of his having recently come from a +warmer climate. His hair was black, his eyes were dark brown, his +features and manner prepossessing, and he spoke as a man accustomed to +good society. + +Captain Monk, lifting his hat in return, met him with cordiality. The +field was open to all, he said, but any friend of Peveril's would be +doubly welcome. Peveril himself was a muff, in so far as that he never +hunted. + +"Hearing there was to be a meet to-day, I could not resist the +temptation of joining it; it is many years since I had the opportunity," +remarked the stranger. + +There was not time for more, the hounds were throwing off. Away dashed +the Captain's steed, away dashed the stranger's, away dashed Miss +Monk's, the three keeping side by side. + +Presently came a fence. Captain Monk leaped it and galloped onwards +after the other red-coats. Miss Eliza Monk would have leaped it next, +but her horse refused it; yet he was an old hunter and she a fearless +rider. The stranger was waiting to follow her. A touch of the angry Monk +temper assailed her and she forced her horse to the leap. He had a +temper also; he did not clear it, and horse and rider came down +together. + +In a trice Mr. Hamlyn was off his own steed and raising her. She was not +hurt, she said, when she could speak; a little shaken, a little +giddy--and she leaned against the fence. The refractory horse, unnoticed +for the moment, got upon his legs, took the fence of his own accord and +tore away after the field. Young Mr. Threpp, who had been in some +difficulty with his own steed, rode up now. + +"Shall I ride back to the Hall and get the pony-carriage for you, Miss +Eliza?" asked the young man. + +"Oh, dear, no," she replied, "thank you all the same. I would prefer to +walk home." + +"Are you equal to the walk?" interposed the stranger. + +"Quite. The walk will do away with this faintness. It is not the first +fall I have had." + +The stranger whispered to young Mr. Threpp--who was as good-natured a +young fellow as ever lived. Would he consent to forego the sport that +day and lead his horse to Mr. Peveril's? If so, he would accompany the +young lady and give her the support of his arm. + +So William Threpp rode off, leading Mr. Hamlyn's horse, and Miss Monk +accepted the stranger's arm. He told her a little about himself as they +walked along. It might not have been an ominous commencement, but +intimacies have grown sometimes out of a slighter introduction. Their +nearest way led past the Vicarage. Mr. Grame saw them from its windows +and came running out. + +"Has any accident taken place?" he asked hurriedly. "I hope not." + +Eliza Monk's face flushed. He had been Lucy's husband several months +now, but she could not yet suddenly meet him without a thrill of +emotion. Lucy ran out next; the pretty young wife for whom she had been +despised. Eliza answered Mr. Grame curtly, nodded to Lucy, and passed +on. + +"And, as I was telling you," continued Mr. Hamlyn, "when this property +was left to me in England, I made it a plea for throwing up my post in +India, and came home. I landed about six weeks ago, and have been since +busy in London with lawyers. Peveril, whom I knew in the days gone by, +wrote to invite me to come to him here on a week's visit, before he and +his wife leave for the South of France." + +"They are going to winter there for Mrs. Peveril's health," observed +Eliza. "Peacock's Range, the place they live at, belongs to my cousin, +Harry Carradyne. Did I understand you to say that you were not an +Englishman?" + +"I was born in the West Indies. My family were English and had settled +there." + +"What a coincidence!" exclaimed Eliza Monk with a smile. "My mother was +a West Indian, and I was born there.--There's my home, Leet Hall!" + +"A fine old place," cried Mr. Hamlyn, regarding the mansion before him. + +"You may well say 'old,'" remarked the young lady. "It has been the +abode of the Monk family from generation to generation. For my part, I +sometimes half wish it would fall down that we might get away to a more +lively locality. Church Leet is a dead-alive place at best." + +"We always want what we have not," laughed Mr. Hamlyn. "I would give all +I am worth to possess an ancestral home, no matter if it were grim and +gloomy. We who can boast of only modern wealth look upon these family +castles with an envy you have little idea of." + +"If you possess modern wealth, you possess a very good and substantial +thing," she answered, echoing his laugh.--"Here comes my aunt, full of +wonder." + +Full of alarm also. Mrs. Carradyne stood on the terrace steps, asking if +there had been an accident. + +"Not much of one, Aunt Emma. Saladin refused the fence at Ring Gap, and +we both came down together. This gentleman was so obliging as to forego +his day's sport and escort me home. Mr.--Mr. Hamlyn, I believe?" she +added. "My aunt, Mrs. Carradyne." + +The stranger confirmed it. "Philip Hamlyn," he said to Mrs. Carradyne, +lifting his hat. + +Gaining the hall-door with slow and gentle steps came a young man, whose +beautiful features were wasting more perceptibly day by day, and their +hectic growing of a deeper crimson. "What is amiss, Eliza?" he cried. +"Have you come to grief? Where's Saladin?" + +"My brother," she said to Mr. Hamlyn. + +Yes, it was indeed Hubert Monk. For he did not die of that run to the +church the past New Year's Eve. The death-like faint proved to be a +faint, nothing more. Nothing more _then_. But something else was +advancing with gradual steps: steps that seemed to be growing almost +perceptible now. + +Now and again Hubert fainted in the same manner; his face taking a +death-like hue, the blue tinge surrounding his mouth. Captain Monk, +unable longer to shut his eyes to what might be impending, called in the +best medical advice that Worcestershire could afford; and the doctors +told him the truth--that Hubert's days were numbered. + +To say that Captain Monk began at once to "set his house in order" would +not be quite the right expression, since it was not he himself who was +going to die. But he set his affairs straight as to the future, and +appointed another heir in his son's place--his nephew, Harry Carradyne. + +Harry Carradyne, a brave young lieutenant, was then with his regiment in +some almost inaccessible fastness of the Indian Empire. Captain Monk +(not concealing his lamentation and the cruel grief it was to himself +personally) wrote word to him of the fiat concerning poor Hubert, +together with a peremptory order to sell out and return home as the +future heir. This was being accomplished, and Harry might now be +expected almost any day. + +But it may as well be mentioned that Captain Monk, never given to be +confidential about himself or his affairs, told no one what he had done, +with one exception. Even Mrs. Carradyne was ignorant of the change in +her son's prospects and of his expected return. The one exception was +Hubert. Soon to lose him, Captain Monk made more of his son than he had +ever done, and seemed to like to talk with him. + +"Harry will make a better master to succeed you than I should have made, +father," said Hubert, as they were slowly pacing home from the +parsonage, arm-in-arm, one dull November day, some little time after the +meet of the hounds, as recorded. It was surprising how often Captain +Monk would now encounter his son abroad, as if by accident, and give him +his arm home. + +"What d'ye mean?" wrathfully responded the Captain, who never liked to +hear his own children disparaged, by themselves or by anyone else. + +Hubert laughed a little. "Harry will look after things better than I +ever should. I was always given to laziness. Don't you remember, +father, when a little boy in the West Indies, you used to tell me I was +good for nothing but to bask in the heat?" + +"I remember one thing, Hubert; and, strange to say, have remembered it +only lately. Things lie dormant in the memory for years, and then crop +up again. Upon getting home from one of my long voyages, your mother +greeted me with the news that your heart was weak; the doctor had told +her so. I gave the fellow a trimming for putting so ridiculous a notion +into her head--and it passed clean out of mine. I suppose he was right, +though." + +"Little doubt of that, father. I wonder I have lived so long." + +"Nonsense!" exploded the Captain; "you may live on yet for years. I +don't know that I did not act foolishly in sending post-haste for Harry +Carradyne." + +Hubert smiled a sad smile. "You have done quite right, father; right in +all ways; be sure of that. Harry is one of the truest and best fellows +that ever lived: he will be a comfort to you when I am gone, and the +best of all successors later. Just--a--moment--father!" + +"Why, what's the matter?" cried Captain Monk--for his son had suddenly +halted and stood with a rapidly-paling face and shortened breath, +pressing his hands to his side. "Here, lean on me, lad; lean on me." + +It was a sudden faintness. Nothing very much, and it passed off in a +minute or two. Hubert made a brave attempt at smiling, and resumed his +way. But Captain Monk did not like it at all; he knew all these things +were but the beginning of the end. And that end, though not with actual +irreverence, he was resenting bitterly in his heart. + +"Who's that coming out?" he asked, crossly, alluding to some figure +descending the steps of his house--for his sight was not what it used to +be. + +"It is Mr. Hamlyn," said Hubert. + +"Oh--Hamlyn! He seems to be always coming in. I don't like that man +somehow, Hubert. Wonder what he's lagging in the neighbourhood for?" + +Hubert Monk had an idea that he could have told. But he did not want to +draw down an explosion on his own head. Mr. Hamlyn came to meet them +with friendly smiles and hand-shakes. Hubert liked him; liked him very +much. + +Not only had Mr. Hamlyn prolonged his stay beyond the "day or two" he +had originally come for, but he evinced no intention of leaving. When +Mr. Peveril and his wife departed for the south, he made a proposal to +remain at Peacock's Range for a time as their tenant. And when the +astonished couple asked his reasons, he answered that he should like to +get a few runs with the hounds. + + +II. + +The November days glided by. The end of the month was approaching, and +still Philip Hamlyn stayed on, and was a very frequent visitor at Leet +Hall. Little doubt that Miss Monk was his attraction, and the parish +began to say so without reticence. + +The parish was right. One fine, frosty morning Mr. Hamlyn sought an +interview with Captain Monk and laid before him his proposals for Eliza. + +One might have thought by the tempestuous words showered down upon him +in answer that he had proposed to smother her. Reproaches, hot and fast, +were poured forth upon the suitor's unlucky head. + +"Why, you are a stranger!" stormed the Captain; "you have not known her +a month! How dare you? It's not commonly decent." + +Mr. Hamlyn quietly answered that he had known her long enough to love +her, and went on to say that he came of a good family, had plenty of +money, and could make a liberal settlement upon her. + +"That you never will," said Captain Monk. "I should not like you for my +son-in-law," he continued candidly, calming down from his burst of +passion to the bounds of reason. "But there can be no question of it in +any way. Eliza is to become Lady Rivers." + +Mr. Hamlyn opened his eyes in astonishment. "Lady Rivers!" he echoed. +"Do you speak of Sir Thomas Rivers?--that old man!" + +"No, I do not, sir. Sir Thomas Rivers has one foot in the grave. I speak +of his eldest son. He wants her, and he shall have her." + +"Pardon me, Captain, I--I do not think Miss Monk can know anything of +this. I am sure she did not last night. I come to you with her full +consent and approbation." + +"I care nothing about that. My daughter is aware that any attempt to +oppose her will to mine would be utterly futile. Young Tom Rivers has +written to me to ask for her; I have accepted him, and I choose that she +shall accept him. She'll like it herself, too; it will be a good match." + +"Young Tom Rivers is next door to a simpleton: he is not half-baked," +retorted Mr. Hamlyn, his own temper getting up: "if I may judge by what +I've seen of him in the field." + +"Tom Rivers is a favourite everywhere, let me tell you, sir. Eliza would +not refuse him for you." + +"Perhaps, Captain Monk, you will converse with her upon this point?" + +"I intend to give her my orders--if that's what you mean," returned the +Captain. "And now, sir, I think our discussion may terminate." + +Mr. Hamlyn saw no use in prolonging it for the present. Captain Monk +bowed him out of the house and called his daughter into the room. + +"Eliza," he began, scorning to beat about the bush, "I have received an +offer of marriage for you." + +Miss Eliza blushed a little, not much: few things could make her do that +now. Once our blushes have been wasted, as hers were on Robert Grame, +their vivid freshness has faded for ever and aye. "The song has left the +bird." + +"And I have accepted it," continued Captain Monk. "He would like the +wedding to be early in the year, so you may get your rattletraps in +order for it. Tell your aunt I will give her a blank cheque for the +cost, and she may fill it in." + +"Thank you, papa." + +"There's the letter; you can read it"--pushing one across the table to +her. "It came by special messenger last night, and I have sent my answer +this morning." + +Eliza Monk glanced at the contents, which were written on rose-coloured +paper. For a moment she looked puzzled. + +"Why, papa, this is from Tom Rivers! You cannot suppose I would marry +_him_! A silly boy, younger than I am! Tom Rivers is the greatest goose +I know." + +"How dare you say so, Eliza?" + +"Well, he is. Look at his note! Pink paper and a fancy edge!" + +"Stuff! Rivers is young and inexperienced, but he'll grow older--he is a +very nice young fellow, and a capital fox-hunter. You'd be master and +mistress too--and that would suit your book, I take it. I want to have +you settled near me, see, Eliza--you are all I have left, or soon will +be." + +"But, papa--" + +Captain Monk raised his hand for silence. + +"You sent that man Hamlyn to me with a proposal for you. Eliza; you +_know_ that would not do. Hamlyn's property lies in the West Indies, his +home too, for all I know. He attempted to tell me that he would not take +you out there against my consent; but I know better, and what such +ante-nuptial promises are worth. It might end in your living there." + +"No, no." + +"What do you say 'no, no' for, like a parrot? Circumstances might compel +you. I do not like the man, besides." + +"But why, papa?" + +"I don't know; I have never liked him from the first. There! that's +enough. You must be my Lady Rivers. Poor old Tom is on his last legs." + +"Papa, I never will." + +"Listen, Eliza. I had one trouble with Katherine; I will not have +another with you. She defied me; she left my home rebelliously to enter +upon one of her own setting-up: what came of it? Did luck attend her? Do +you be more wise." + +"Father," she said, moving a step forward with head uplifted; and the +resolute, haughty look which rendered their faces so much alike was very +conspicuous on hers, "do not let us oppose each other. Perhaps we can +each give way a little? I have promised to be the wife of Philip Hamlyn, +and that promise I will fulfil. You wish me to live near you: well, he +can take a place in this neighbourhood and settle down in it; and on my +part, I will promise you not to leave this country. He may have to go +from time to time to the West Indies; I will remain at home." + +Captain Monk looked steadily at her before he answered. He marked the +stern, uncompromising expression, the strong will in the dark eyes and +in every feature, which no power, not even his, might unbend. He thought +of his elder daughter, now lying in her grave; he thought of his son, so +soon to be lying beside her; he did not care to be bereft of _all_ his +children, and for once in his hard life he attempted to conciliate. + +"Hark to me, Eliza. Give up Hamlyn--I have said I don't like the man; +give up Tom Rivers also, an' you will. Remain at home with me until a +better suitor shall present himself, and Leet Hall and its broad lands +shall be yours." + +She looked up in surprise. Leet Hall had always hitherto gone in the +male line; and, failing Hubert, it would be, or ought to be, Harry +Carradyne's. Though she knew not that any steps had already been taken +in that direction. + +"Leet Hall?" she exclaimed. + +"Leet Hall and its broad lands," repeated the Captain impatiently. "Give +up Mr. Hamlyn and it shall all be yours." + +She remained for some moments in deep thought, her head bent, revolving +the offer. She was fond of pomp and power, as her father had ever been, +and the temptation to rule as sole domineering mistress in her +girlhood's home was great. But at that very instant the tall fine form +of Philip Hamlyn passed across a pathway in the distance, and she turned +from the temptation for ever. What little capability of loving had been +left to her after the advent of Robert Grame was given to Mr. Hamlyn. + +"I cannot give him up," she said in low tones. + +"What moonshine, Eliza! You are not a love-sick girl now." + +The colour dyed her face painfully. Did her father suspect aught of the +past; of where her love _had_ been given--and rejected? The suspicion +only added fuel to the fire. + +"I cannot give up Mr. Hamlyn," she reiterated. + +"Then you will never inherit Leet Hall. No, nor aught else of mine." + +"As you please, sir, about that." + +"You set me at defiance, then!" + +"I don't wish to do so, father; but I shall marry Mr. Hamlyn." + +"At defiance," repeated the Captain, as she moved to escape from his +presence; "Katherine secretly, you openly. Better that I had never had +children. Look here, Eliza: let this matter remain in abeyance for six +or twelve months, things resting as they are. By that time you may have +come to your senses; or I (yes, I see you are ready to retort it) to +mine. If not--well, we shall only then be where we are." + +"And that we should be," returned Eliza, doggedly. "Time will never +change either of us." + +"But events may. Let it be so, child. Stay where you are for the +present, in your maiden home." + +She shook her head in denial; not a line of her proud face giving way, +nor a curve of her decisive lips: and Captain Monk knew that he had +pleaded in vain. She would neither give up her marriage nor prolong the +period of its celebration. + +What could be the secret of her obstinacy? Chiefly the impossibility of +tolerating opposition to her own indomitable will. It was her father's +will over again; his might be a very little softening with years and +trouble; not much. Had she been in desperate love with Hamlyn one could +have understood it, but she was not; at most it was but a passing fancy. +What says the poet? I daresay you all know the lines, and I know I have +quoted them times and again, they are so true: + + "Few hearts have never loved, but fewer still + Have felt a second passion. _None_ a third. + The first was living fire; the next a thrill; + The weary heart can never more be stirred: + Rely on it the song has left the bird." + +Very, very true. Her passion for Robert Grame had been as living fire in +its wild intensity; it was but the shadow of a thrill that warmed her +heart for Philip Hamlyn. Possibly she mistook it in a degree; thought +more of it than it was. The feeling of gratification which arises from +flattered vanity deceives a woman's heart sometimes: and Mr. Hamlyn did +not conceal his rapturous admiration of her. + +She held to her defiant course, and her father held to his. He did not +continue to say she should not marry; he had no power for that--and +perhaps he did not want her to make a moonlight escapade of it, as +Katherine had made. So the preparation for the wedding went on, Eliza +herself paying for the rattletraps, as they had been called; Captain +Monk avowed that he "washed his hands of it," and then held his peace. + +Whether Mr. Hamlyn and his intended bride considered it best to get the +wedding over and done with, lest adverse fate, set afoot by the Captain, +should, after all, circumvent them, it is impossible to say, but the day +fixed was a speedy one. And if Captain Monk had deemed it "not decent" +in Mr. Hamlyn to propose for a young lady after only a month's +knowledge, what did he think of this? They were to be married on the +last day of the year. + +Was it fixed upon in defiant mockery?--for, as the reader knows, it had +proved an ominous day more than once in the Monk family. But no, +defiance had no hand in that, simply adverse fate. The day originally +fixed by the happy couple was Christmas Eve: but Mr. Hamlyn, who had to +go to London about that time on business connected with his property, +found it impossible to get back for the day, or for some days after it. +He wrote to Eliza, asking that the day should be put off for a week, if +it made no essential difference, and fixed the last day in the year. +Eliza wrote word back that she would prefer that day; it gave more time +for preparation. + +They were to be married in her own church, and by its Vicar. Great +marvel existed at the Captain's permitting this, but he said nothing. +Having washed his hands of the affair, he washed them for good: had the +bride been one of the laundry-maids in his household he could not have +taken less notice. A Miss Wilson was coming from a little distance to be +bridesmaid; and the bride and bridegroom would go off from the church +door. The question of a breakfast was never mooted: Captain Monk's +equable indifference might not have stood that. + +"I shall wish them good-luck with all my heart--but I don't feel +altogether sure they'll have it!" bewailed poor Mrs. Carradyne in +private. "Eliza should have agreed to the delay proposed by her father." + + +III. + +Ring, ring, ring, broke forth the chimes on the frosty midday air. Not +midnight, you perceive, but midday, for the church clock had just given +forth its twelve strokes. Another round of the dial, and the old year +would have departed into the womb of the past. + +Bowling along the smooth turnpike road which skirted the churchyard on +one side came a gig containing a gentleman; a tall, slender, +frank-looking young man, with a fair face and the pleasantest blue eyes +ever seen. He wore a white top-coat, the fashion then, and was driving +rapidly in the direction of Leet Hall; but when the chimes burst forth +he pulled up abruptly. + +"Why, what in the world?--" he began--and then sat still listening to +the sweet strains of "The Bay of Biscay." The day, though in mid-winter, +was bright and beautiful, and the golden sunlight, shining from the +dark-blue sky, played on the young man's golden hair. + +"Have they mistaken midday for midnight?" he continued, as the chimes +played out their tune and died away on the air. "What's the meaning of +it?" + +He, Harry Carradyne, was not the only one to ask this. No human being in +and about Church Leet, save Captain Monk and they who executed his +orders, knew that he had decreed that the chimes should play that day +at midday. Why did he do it? What could his motive be? Surely not that +they should, by playing (according to Mrs. Carradyne's theory), +inaugurate ill-luck for Eliza! At the moment they began to play she was +coming out of church on Mr. Hamlyn's arm, having left her maiden name +behind her. + +A few paces more, for he was driving gently on now, and Harry pulled up +again, in surprise, as before, for the front of the church was now in +view. Lots of spectators, gentle and simple, stood about, and a handsome +chariot, with four post horses and a great coat-of-arms emblazoned on +its panels, waited at the church gate. + +"It must be a wedding!" decided Harry. + +The next moment the chariot was in motion; was soon about to pass him, +the bride and bridegroom inside it. A very dark but good-looking man, +with an air of command in his face, he, but a stranger to Harry; she, +Eliza. She wore a grey silk dress, a white bonnet, with orange blossoms +and a veil, which was quite the fashionable wedding attire of the day. +Her head was turned, nodding its farewells yet to the crowd, and she did +not see her cousin as the chariot swept by. + +"Dear me!" he exclaimed, mentally. "I wonder who she has married?" + +Staying quietly where he was until the spectators should have dispersed, +whose way led them mostly in opposite directions, Harry next saw the +clerk come out of the church by the small vestry door, lock it and cross +over to the stile; which brought him out close to the gig. + +"Why, my heart alive!" he exclaimed. "Is it Captain Carradyne?" + +"That's near enough," said Harry, who knew the title was accorded him by +the rustic natives of Church Leet, as he bent down with his sunny smile +to shake the old clerk's hand. "You are hearty as ever, I see, John. And +so you have had a wedding here?" + +"Ay, sir, there have been one in the church. I was not in my place, +though. The Captain, he ordered me to let the church go for once, and to +be ready up aloft in the belfry to set the chimes going at midday. As +chance had it, the party came out just at the same time; Miss Eliza was +a bit late in coming, ye see; so it may be said the chimes rang 'em out. +I guess the sound astonished the people above a bit, for nobody knew +they were going to play." + +"But how was it all, Cale? Why should the Captain order them to chime at +midday?" + +John Cale shook his head. "I can't tell ye that rightly, Mr. Harry; the +Captain, as ye know, sir, never says why he does this or why he does +t'other. Young William Threpp, who had to be up there with me, thought +he must have ordered 'em to play in mockery--for he hates the marriage +like poison." + +"Who is the bridegroom?" + +"It's a Mr. Hamlyn, sir. A gentleman who is pretty nigh as haughty as +the Captain himself; but a pleasant-spoken, kindly man, as far as I've +seen: and a rich one, too." + +"Why did Captain Monk object to him?" + +"It's thought 'twas because he was a stranger to the place and has lived +over in the Indies; and he wanted Miss Eliza, so it's said, to have +young Tom Rivers. That's about it, I b'lieve, Mr. Harry." + +Harry Carradyne drove away thoughtfully. At the foot of the slight +ascent leading to Leet Hall, one of the grooms happened to be standing. +Harry handed over to him the horse and gig, and went forward on foot. + +"Bertie!" he called out. For he had seen Hubert before him, walking at a +snail's pace: the very slightest hill tried him now. The only one left +of the wedding-party, for the bridesmaid drove off from the church door. +Hubert turned at the call. + +"Harry! Why, Harry!" + +Hand locked in hand, they sat down on a bench beside the path; face +gazing into face. There had always been a likeness between them: in the +bright-coloured, waving hair, the blue eyes and the well-favoured +features. But Harry's face was redolent of youth and health; in the +other's might be read approaching death. + +"You are very thin, Bertie; thinner even than I expected to see, you," +broke from the traveller involuntarily. + +"_You_ are looking well, at any rate," was Hubert's answer. "And I am so +glad you are come: I thought you might have been here a month ago." + +"The voyage was unreasonably long; we had contrary winds almost from +port to port. I got on to Worcester yesterday, slept there, and hired a +horse and gig to bring me over this morning. What about Eliza's wedding, +Hubert? I was just in time to see her drive away. Cale, with whom I had +a word down yonder, says the master does not like it." + +"He does not like it and would not countenance it: washed his hands of +it (as he told us) altogether." + +"Any good reason for that?" + +"Not particularly good, that I see. Somehow he disliked Hamlyn; and Tom +Rivers wanted Eliza, which would have pleased him greatly. But Eliza was +not without blame. My father gave way so far as to ask her to delay +things for a few months, not to marry in a hurry, and she would not. She +might have conceded as much as that." + +"Did you ever know Eliza concede anything, Bertie?" + +"Well, not often." + +"Who gave her away?" + +"I did: look at my gala toggery"--opening his overcoat. "He wanted to +forbid it. 'Don't hinder me, father,' I pleaded; 'it is the last +brotherly service I can ever render her.' And so," his tone changing to +lightness, "I have been and gone and done it." + +Harry Carradyne understood. "Not the last, Hubert; don't say that. I +hope you will live to render her many another yet." + +Hubert smiled faintly. "Look at me," he said in answer. + +"Yes, I know; I see how you look. But you may take a turn yet." + +"Ah, miracles are no longer wrought for us. Shall I surprise you very +much, cousin mine, if I say that were the offer made me of prolonged +life, I am not sure that I should accept it?" + +"Not unless health were renewed with it; I can understand that. You have +had to endure suffering, Bertie." + +"Ay. Pain, discomfort, fears, weariness. After working out their torment +upon me, they--why then they took a turn and opened out the vista of a +refuge." + +"A refuge?" + +"The one sure Refuge offered by God to the sick and sorrowful, the weary +and heavy-laden--Himself. I found it. I found _Him_, and all His +wonderful mercy. It will not be long now, Harry, before I see Him face +to face. And here comes His true minister but for whom I might have +missed the way." + +Harry turned his head, and saw, advancing up the drive, a good-looking +young clergyman. "Who is it?" he involuntarily cried. + +"Your brother-in-law, Robert Grame. Lucy's husband." + +It was not the fashion in those days for a bride's mother (or one acting +as her mother) to attend the bride to church; therefore Mrs. Carradyne, +following it, was spared risk of conflict with Captain Monk on that +score. She was in Eliza's room, assisting at the putting on of the +bridal robes (for we have to go back an hour or so) when a servant came +up to say that Mr. Hamlyn waited below. Rather wondering--for he was to +have driven straight to the church--Mrs. Carradyne went downstairs. + +"Pardon me, dear Mrs. Carradyne," he said, as he shook hands, and she +had never seen him look so handsome, "I could not pass the house without +making one more effort to disarm Captain Monk's prejudices, and asking +for his blessing on us. Do you think he will consent to see me?" + +Mrs. Carradyne felt sure he would not, and said so. But she sent Rimmer +to the library to ask the question. Mr. Hamlyn pencilled down a few +anxious words on paper, folded it, and put it into the man's hand. + +No; it proved useless. Captain Monk was harder than adamant; he sent +Rimmer back with a flea in his ear, and the petition torn in two. + +"I feared so," sighed Mrs. Carradyne. "He will not this morning see even +Eliza." + +Mr. Hamlyn did not sigh in return; he spoke a cross, impatient word: he +had never been able to see reason in the Captain's dislike to him, and, +with a brief good-morning, went out to his carriage. But, remembering +something when crossing the hall, he came back. + +"Forgive me, Mrs. Carradyne; I quite forgot that I have a note for you. +It is from Mrs. Peveril, I believe; it came to me this morning, enclosed +in a letter of her husband's." + +"You have heard at last, then!" + +"At last--as you observe. Though Peveril had nothing particular to write +about; I daresay he does not care for letter writing." + +Slipping the note into her pocket, to be opened at leisure, Mrs. +Carradyne returned to the adorning of Eliza. Somehow, it was rather a +prolonged business--which made it late when the bride with her +bridesmaid and Hubert drove from the door. + +Mrs. Carradyne remained in the room--to which Eliza was not to +return--putting this up, and that. The time slipped on, and it was close +upon twelve o'clock when she got back to the drawing-room. Captain Monk +was in it then, standing at the window; which he had thrown wide open. +To see more clearly the bridal party come out of the church, was the +thought that crossed Mrs. Carradyne's mind in her simplicity. + +"I very much feared they would be late," she observed, sitting down near +her brother: and at that moment the church clock began to strike twelve. + +"A good thing if they were _too_ late!" he answered. "Listen." + +She supposed he wanted to count the strokes--what else could he be +listening to? And now, by the stir at the distant gates, she saw that +the bridal party had come out. + +"Good heavens, what's that?" shrieked Mrs. Carradyne, starting from her +chair. + +"The chimes," stoically replied the Captain. And he proceeded to hum +through the tune of "The Bay of Biscay," and beat a noiseless +accompaniment with his foot. + +"_The Chimes_, Emma," he repeated, when the melody had finished itself +out. "I ordered them to be played. It's the last day of the old year, +you know." + +Laughing slightly at her consternation, Captain Monk closed the window +and quitted the room. As Mrs. Carradyne took her handkerchief from her +pocket to pass it over her face, grown white with startled terror, the +note she had put there came out also, and fell on the carpet. + +Picking it up, she stood at the window, gazing forth. Her sight was not +what it used to be; but she discerned the bride and bridegroom enter +their carriage and drive away; next she saw the bridesmaid get into the +carriage from the Hall, assisted by Hubert, and that drive off in its +turn. She saw the crowd disperse, this way and that; she even saw the +gig there, its occupant talking with John Cale. But she did not look at +him particularly; and she had not the slightest idea but that Harry was +in India. + +And all that time an undercurrent of depression was running riot in her +heart. None knew with what a strange terror she had grown to dread the +chimes. + +She sat down now and opened Mrs. Peveril's note. It treated chiefly of +the utterly astounding ways that untravelled old lady was meeting with +in foreign parts. "If you will believe me," wrote she, "the girl that +waits on us wears carpet slippers down at heel, and a short cotton +jacket for best, and she puts the tea-tray before me with the handle of +the teapot turned to me and the spout standing outwards, and she comes +right into the bed-room of a morning with Charles's shaving-water +without knocking." But the one sentence that arrested Mrs. Carradyne's +attention above any other was the following: "I reckon that by this time +you have grown well acquainted with our esteemed young friend. He is a +good, kindly gentleman, and I'm sure never could have done anything to +deserve his wife's treatment of him." + +"Can she mean Mr. Hamlyn?" debated Mrs. Carradyne, all sorts of ideas +leaping into her mind with a rush. "If not--what other 'esteemed friend' +can she allude to?--_she_, old herself, would call _him_ young. But Mr. +Hamlyn has not any wife. At least, had not until to-day." + +She read the note over again. She sat with it open, buried in a reverie, +thinking no end of things, good and bad: and the conclusion she at last +came to was, that, with the unwonted exercise of letter-writing, poor +old Mrs. Peveril's head had grown confused. + +"Well, Hubert, did it all go off well?" she questioned, as her nephew +entered the room, some sort of excitement on his wasted face. "I saw +them drive away." + +"Yes, it went off well; there was no hitch anywhere," replied Hubert. +"But, Aunt Emma, I have brought a friend home with me. Guess who it is." + +"Some lady or other who came to see the wedding," she returned. "I can't +guess." + +"You never would, though I were to give you ten guesses; no, though je +vous donne en mille, as the French have it. What should you say to a +young man come all the way over seas from India? There, that's as good +as telling you, Aunt Emma. Guess now." + +"Oh, Hubert!" clasping her trembling hands. "It cannot be Harry! What is +wrong?" + +Harry brought his bright face into the room and was clasped in his +mother's arms. She could not understand it one bit, and fears assailed +her. Come home in _this_ unexpected manner! Had he left the army? What +had he done? _What_ had he done? Hubert laughed and told her then. + +"He has done nothing wrong; everything that's good. He has sold out at +my father's request and left with honours--and is come home, the heir of +Leet Hall. I said all along it was a shame to keep you out of the plot, +Aunt Emma." + +Well, it was glorious news for her. But, as if to tarnish its delight, +like an envious sprite of evil, deep down in her mind lay that other +news, just read--the ambiguous remark of old Mrs. Peveril's. + + +IV. + +The walk on the old pier was pleasant enough in the morning sun. Though +yet but the first month in the year, the days were bright, the blue +skies without a cloud. Mr. and Mrs. Hamlyn had enjoyed the fine weather +at Cheltenham for a week or two; from that pretty place they had now +come to Brighton, reaching it the previous night. + +"Oh, it is delightful!" exclaimed Eliza, gazing at the waves. She had +not seen the sea since she crossed it, a little girl, from the West +Indies. Those were not yet the days when all people, gentle and simple, +told one another that an autumn tour was essential to existence. "Look +at the sunbeams sparkling on the ripples and on the white sails of the +little boats! Philip, I should like to spend a month here." + +"All right," replied Mr. Hamlyn. + +They were staying at the Old Ship, a fashionable hotel then for ladies +as well as gentlemen, and had come out after breakfast; and they had the +pier nearly to themselves at that early hour. A yellow, gouty gentleman, +who looked as if he had quarrelled with his liver in some clime all fire +and cayenne, stood at the end leaning on his stick, alternately looking +at the sea and listlessly watching any advancing stragglers. + +There came a sailor, swaying along, a rope in his hand; following him, +walked demurely three little girls in frocks and trousers, with their +French governess; then came two eye-glassed young men, dandyfied and +supercilious, who appeared to have more money than brains--and the +jaundiced man went into a gaping fit of lassitude. + +Anyone else coming? Yes; a lady and gentleman arm-in-arm: quiet, +well-dressed, good-looking. As the invalid watched their approach, a +puzzled look of doubt and surprise rose to his countenance. Moving +forward a step or two on his gouty legs, he spoke. + +"Can it be possible, Hamlyn, that we meet here?" + +Even through his dark skin a red flush coursed into Mr. Hamlyn's face. +He was evidently very much surprised in his turn, if not startled. + +"Captain Pratt!" he exclaimed. + +"Major Pratt now," was the answer, as they shook hands. "That wretched +climate played the deuce with me, and they graciously gave me a step and +allowed me to retire upon it. The very deuce, I assure you, Philip. Beg +pardon, ma'am," he added seeing the lady look at him. + +"My wife, Mrs. Hamlyn," spoke her husband. + +Major Pratt contrived to lift his hat, and bow: which feat, what with +his gouty hands and his helpless legs and his great invalid stick, was a +work of time. "I saw your marriage in _The Times_, Hamlyn, and wondered +whether it could be you, or not: I didn't know, you see, that you were +over here. Wish you luck; and you also, ma'am. Hope it will turn out +more fortunate for you, Philip, than--" + +"Where are you staying?" broke in Mr. Hamlyn, as if something were +frightening him. + +"At some lodgings over yonder, where they fleece me," replied the Major. +"You should see the bill they've brought me in for last week. They've +made me eat four pounds of butter and five joints of meat, besides +poultry and pickles and a fruit pie! Why, I live mostly upon dry toast; +hardly dare touch an ounce of meat in a day. When I had 'em up before +me, the harpies, they laid it upon my servant's appetite--old Saul, you +know. _He_ answered them." + +Mrs. Hamlyn laughed. "There are two articles that are very convenient, +as I have heard, to some of the lodging-house keepers: their lodgers' +servant, and their own cat." + +"By Jove, ma'am, yes!" said the Major. "But I've given warning to this +lot where I am." + +Saying au revoir to Major Pratt, Mr. Hamlyn walked down the pier again +with his wife. "Who is he, Philip?" she asked. "You seem to know him +well." + +"Very well. He is a sort of connection of mine, I believe," laughed Mr. +Hamlyn, "and I saw a good deal of him in India a few years back. He is +greatly changed. I hardly think I should have known him had he not +spoken. It's his liver, I suppose." + +Leaving his wife at the hotel, Mr. Hamlyn went back again to Major +Pratt, much to the lonely Major's satisfaction, who was still leaning on +his substantial stick as he gazed at the water. + +"The sight of you has brought back to my mind all that unhappy business, +Hamlyn," was his salutation. "I shall have a fit of the jaundice now, I +suppose! Here--let's sit down a bit." + +"And the sight of you has brought it to mine," said Mr. Hamlyn, as he +complied. "I have been striving to drive it out of my remembrance." + +"I know little about it," observed the Major. "She never wrote to me at +all afterwards, and you wrote me but two letters: the one announcing the +fact of her disgrace; the other, the calamity and the deaths." + +"That is quite enough to know; don't ask me to go over the details to +you personally," said Mr. Hamlyn in a tone of passionate discomfort. "So +utterly repugnant to me is the remembrance altogether, that I have +never spoken of it--even to my present wife." + +"Do you mean you've not told her you were once a married man?" cried +Major Pratt. + +"No, I have not." + +"Then you've shown a lack of judgment which I wouldn't have given you +credit for, my friend," declared the Major. "A man may whisper to his +girl any untoward news he pleases of his past life, and she'll forgive +and forget; aye, and worship him all the more for it, though it were the +having set fire to a church: but if he keeps it as a bonne bouchee to +drop out after marriage, when she has him fast and tight, she'll +curry-comb his hair for him in style. Believe that." + +Mr. Hamlyn laughed. + +"There never was a hidden skeleton between man and wife yet but it came +to light sooner or later," went on the Major. "If you are wise, you will +tell her at once, before somebody else does." + +"What 'somebody?' Who is there here that knows it?" + +"Why, as to 'here,' I know it, and nearly spoke of it before her, as you +must have heard; and my servant knows it. That's nothing, you'll say; we +can be quiet, now I have the cue: but you are always liable to meet with +people who knew you in those days, and who knew _her_. Take my advice, +Philip Hamlyn, and tell your wife. Go and do it now." + +"I daresay you are right," said the younger man, awaking out of a +reverie. "Of the two evils it may be the lesser." And with lagging +steps, and eyes that seemed to have weights to them, he set out to walk +back to the Old Ship Hotel. + +JOHNNY LUDLOW. + + + + +THE BRETONS AT HOME. + +BY CHARLES W. WOOD, F.R.G.S., AUTHOR OF "THROUGH HOLLAND," "LETTERS FROM +MAJORCA," ETC. ETC. + + +The English courage and constitution, for which Madame Hellard of the +Hotel d'Europe professed so much admiration, carried us through the +ordeal of a sound drenching. Perhaps our escape was partly due to +firmness of will, which goes for much; perhaps in part to the dose of +strong waters added to the black coffee our loquacious but interesting +hostess at the little auberge by the river-side had brewed for us. + +[Illustration: ST. POL DE LEON.] + +"Had we been to Roscoff?" she had asked us on that memorable afternoon, +when the clouds opened all their waterspouts and threatened the world +with a second deluge. And we had replied that we had not seen Roscoff, +but hoped to do so the following day, wind and weather permitting. Not +that we had to reach Roscoff by water; but the elements can make +themselves quite as disagreeable on land as at sea: and like the Marines +might take for their motto, PER MARE, PER TERRAM. + +The next day wind and weather were not permitting. Madame Hellard +clasped her hands with a favourite and pathetic gesture that would melt +the hardest heart and dispose it to grant the most outrageous request. +She bemoaned our fate and the uncertainty of the Breton climate. + +"Enfin!" she concluded, "the climate of la Petite Bretagne is very much +the same as that of la Grande Bretagne, from all I have heard. You must +be accustomed to these variations. When the Saxons came over and +settled here centuries and centuries ago, and peopled our little +country, they brought their weather with them. It has never changed. +Like the Breton temperament, it is founded upon a rock--though I often +wish it were a little more pliable and responsive. Changes are good +sometimes. I am not of those who think what is must always be best. If I +were in your Parliament--but you don't have ladies in your Parliament, +though they seem to have a footing everywhere else--I should be a +Liberal; without going too far, bien-intendu; I am all for progress, but +with moderation." + +To-day there seemed no prospect of even moderately fine weather, and we +could only improve our time by cultivating the beauties of Morlaix under +weeping skies. + +Its quaint old streets certainly have an unmistakable, an undying charm, +which seems to be in touch with all seasons. Blue skies will light them +up and cause them to stand out with almost a joyous air; the declining +sun will illumine their latticed panes with a fire and flame mysterious +with the weight of generations; strong lights and shadows will be thrown +by gables and deep recesses, and sculptured porches; by the "aprons" +that protect the carven beams, and the eaves that stand out so strongly +in outline against the background of the far-off sky. And if those skies +are sad and sorrowful, immediately the quaint houses put on all the +dignity of age: from every gable end, from every lattice, every niche +and grotesque, the rain trickles and falls, and they, too, you would +say, are weeping for their lost youth. + +But they are too old to do that. It is not the very aged who weep for +their early days; they have forgotten what is now too far off to be +realised. They weep who stand upon the boundary line separating youth +from age; who at once look behind and beyond: look back with longing +upon the glow and romance which have not yet died out of the heart, and +forward into the future where romance can have no place, and nothing is +visible excepting what has been called the calmness and repose of old +age. + + "There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away, + When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's dull decay; + 'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone which fades so fast, + But the bloom of early youth is gone ere youth itself be past." + +The reader will probably quote the remainder for himself; Byron never +wrote truer or sadder lines. And we all know of a great man in history +who, at eighty years old, turned to his friend and, pointing to a young +chimney-sweeper, exclaimed: "I would give my wealth, fame, coronet--all, +to be once more that boy's age, even if I must take his place!" One of +the saddest sentences, perhaps, that one of eighty could utter. + +To-day every house was weeping. Even the women who kept the stalls in +the covered market-place dispensed their butter and poultry, their +fruit and flowers, with a melancholy air, and looked as if they had not +the courage to keep up the prices. Ladies and housekeepers wandered from +stall to stall followed by their maids, a few of whom wore picturesque +caps, conspicuous in their rarity: for even Breton stubbornness has +yielded very much, where, for once, it should have been firm as a rock, +and it is only in the remoter districts that costume is still general. +We were invited to many purchases as we looked around, and had we +yielded to all might have stocked Madame Hellard's larder to +overflowing: a very unnecessary attention, for the table is kept on the +most liberal principles. + +It was really alarming to see the quantity that some of the Bretons +managed to appropriate in an incredibly short space of time at the table +d'hote. H.C., who was accustomed to the aesthetic table of his aunt, Lady +Maria, more than once had to retire to his room, and recover his +composure, and wonder whether his own appetite would ever return to him. +And once or twice when I unfeelingly drew attention to an opposite +neighbour and wondered what Lady Maria would say to it, he could only +reply by a dismal groan which caused the opposite neighbour for a moment +to arrest his mission of destruction and stare. + +On the second occasion that it happened he called up the head +waitress--they were all women who served in the room--and asked her if +the "Monsieur Anglais vis-a-vis" was not ill. + +"He looks pale and thin," he added, feelingly, and might well think so, +placed in juxtaposition with himself, for he was large and round, with +cheeks, as Tony Lumpkin would have said, broad and red as a pulpit +cushion. It was simply cause and effect. + +In his case, too, the cause was not confined to eating. Two bottles of +the white wine, supplied gratis in unlimited quantities at the table +d'hote disappeared during the repast; and we began to think of Mr. +Weller senior, the tea-party, and the effect of the unlimited cups upon +Mr. Stiggins. "I come from Quimper," we heard the Breton say on one +occasion to his next-door neighbour, "and I think it the best town in +France, not excepting Paris. Where do you come from?" + +"From Rouen," replied the neighbour, a far more refined specimen of +humanity, who spoke in quiet tones. "I am not a Breton." + +"So much the worse for you," returned our modern Daniel Lambert +unceremoniously. "The French would beat the world, and the Bretons would +beat the French. Then I suppose you don't deal in horses?" + +"No," with an amused smile. "I am only a humble architect." But we +discovered afterwards that he was celebrated all over France. +Travelling, no less than adversity, makes us acquainted with strange +bedfellows. + +The head waitress was a very interesting character, much older than the +other waitresses, whom she took under her wing with a species of +hen-like protection, keeping them well up to their duties, and rating +them soundly where they failed. She was a Bretonne, but of the better +type, with sharp, clearly-cut features, and eyes full of vivacity, that +seemed in all places at once. She wore list shoes, and would flit like a +phantom from one end of the room to the other, her cap-strings flying +behind her, directing, surveying all. Very independent, too, was she, +and evidently held certain of her guests in sovereign contempt. + +"This terrible fair!" she would say, "which lasts three days, and gives +us no rest and no peace; and one or two of those terrible dealers, who +have a greater appetite than their own cattle, and would eat from six +o'clock until midnight, if one only let them! Monsieur Hellard loses +pretty well by some of them; I am sure of it!" + +The lift which brought things up from the kitchen was at the end of the +room, and every now and then she would go to it, and in a shrill voice, +which seemed to penetrate to very far-off regions--Halls of Eblis or +caverns measureless to man--cry out "LA SUITE!" the _a_ very much +_circumflexed_ with true Breton pronunciation. + +It was amusing, occasionally, when a certain dish was sent up that in +some way or other did not please her, to hear it sent down again in the +return lift accompanied by a reprimand that was very much to the point, +and was audible to the assembled room. The whole table on those +occasions would break into laughter, for her reprimand was always spiced +with inimitable humour, which penetrated even the impervious Breton +intellect. + +Then she would fly down the room with the dish returned to her +satisfaction, a suppressed smile lurking about the corners of her mouth, +and, addressing the table at large with a freedom that only the French +can assume without familiarity, exclaim: "It is not because some of you +give the chef too much to do, with your enormous capacities, that I am +going to allow him to neglect his work." And the table would laugh again +and applaud Catherine, the head waitress. For she was very capable and +therefore very popular, as ministering well to their wants. And the +Breton temperament is seldom sensitive. + +She had her favourites, to whom she was devoted, making no secret of her +preference. We were amongst the fortunate, and soon fell into her good +graces. Woe betide anyone who attempted to appropriate our seats before +we entered; or a waitress who brought us the last remnants of a +dish--for nothing seemed to escape her observation. She was most +concerned about H.C.'s want of appetite and ethereal +appearance--certainly a startling contrast to some of her experiences. + +[Illustration: CREISKER, ST. POL DE LEON.] + +"Monsieur hasn't the appetite of a lark," she complained to me one +morning. "Tell him that the Breton climate is as difficult to fight as +the Breton soldier; and if he does not eat, he will be washed away by +the rains. WHAT EYES!" she exclaimed; "quite the eyes of a poet. I am +sure monsieur is a poet. Have I not reason?" + +Thus proving herself even more that an excellent waitress--a woman of +penetration. + +We have said that the day after our aquatic adventure at the little inn +by the river-side, "Au retour de la Peche," the rain came down with +vengeance. There was no doubt about its energy; and this, at least, was +consoling. Nothing is more annoying than your uncertain morning, when +you don't know whether to start or stay at home. On these occasions, +whichever you do turns out a mistake. + +But the following day our patience was rewarded by bright sunshine and +blue skies. "The very day for Roscoff," said Madame Hellard; "though I +cannot think why you are determined to pay it a visit. There is +absolutely nothing to see. It is a sad town, and its streets are given +over to melancholy. Of course, you will take St. Pol de Leon on your +way. It is equally quiet, and even less picturesque." + +This was not very encouraging, but we have learned to beware of other +people's opinions: they often praise what is worthless, and pass over +delights and treasures in absolute silence. + +So, remembering this, we entered the hotel omnibus with our sketching +materials and small cameras, and struggled up the hill to the railway +station and the level of the huge viaduct. + +On our way we passed the abode of our refined and interesting +antiquarian. He was standing at his door, the same patient look upon his +beautiful face, the same resigned attitude. He caught sight of us and +woke up out of a reverie. His spirit always seemed taking some far-off +flight. + +"Ces messieurs are not leaving?" he cried, for we passed slowly and +close to him. There was evidence of slight anxiety or disappointment in +his tone; the crucifix yet hung on his walls, and H.C.'s mind still +hovered in the balance. + +"No," we replied. "We are going to Roscoff, and shall be back to-night." + +"Roscoff? It is lovely," he said. "I know you will like it. But it is +very quiet, and only appeals to the artistic temperament. You will see +few shops there; no antiquarians; and the people are stupid. Still, the +place is remarkable." + +The omnibus passed on and we were soon steaming away from Morlaix. + +It was a desperately slow train. The surrounding country was not very +interesting, but the journey, fortunately, was short. As we passed the +celebrated St. Pol de Leon on the way, we decided to take it first. +Roscoff was the terminus, and appeared like the ends of the earth at the +very extreme point of land, jutting into the sea and looking out upon +the English Channel. If vision could have reached so far, we might have +seen the opposite English coast, and peered right into Plymouth Sound; +where, the last time that we climbed its heights straight from the +hospitality of a delightful cruise in a man-of-war, the band of the +Marine Artillery was ravishing all ears and discoursing sweet music in a +manner that few bands could rival. + +We approached St. Pol de Leon, which may be described as an +ecclesiastical, almost a dead city. But how glorious and interesting +some of these dead cities are, with their silent streets and their +remnants of the past! The shadow of death seems upon them, and they +impress you with a mute eloquence more thrilling and effective than the +greatest oration ever listened to. + +As we approached St. Pol, which lay half a mile or so from the railway, +its churches and towers were so disposed that the place looked like one +huge ecclesiastical building. These stood out with wonderful effect and +clearness against the background of the sky. + +We left the station, and thought we might as well use the omnibus in +waiting. It was small and held about four passengers. As soon as we had +taken our seats two fat priests came up and entered. We felt rather +crowded, and, like the moping owl, resented the intrusion; but when +three stout ladies immediately followed, and looked appealingly at the +state of affairs, it was too much. We gave up our seats and walked; and +presently the omnibus passed us, one of the ladies having wedged herself +in by a miracle between the priests. It would take a yet greater miracle +to unpack them again. The driver looked round with a smile--he had +admitted us into the omnibus and released us--and, pointing to the roof +with his whip, humorously exclaimed: "Complet!" + +The towers and steeples of St. Pol de Leon raised themselves mightily in +front of us as we walked, beautiful and imposing. The town dates back to +the sixth century, and though once important, is now almost deserted. +Pol, or Paul, a monk, who, according to one tradition was Welsh, +according to another Cornish, went over to a neighbouring island about +the year 530 and there established a monastery. He became so famous for +his piety that a Breton king founded a bishopric at Leon, and presented +him with the mitre. The name of the town was then changed to St. Pol de +Leon. His successors were men distinguished for their goodness, and St. +Pol became one of the most famous ecclesiastical towns in Brittany. +Churches were built, monasteries and convents were founded. + +In course of time its reputation for wealth excited the envy of the +Counts of Leon, and in 875 the Normans came down upon it, pillaged the +town and devastated the cathedral. It was one of those Counts of Leon +who so vigorously claimed his rights "de bris et d'epaves"--the laws of +flotsam and jetsam--esteeming priceless as diamonds certain rocks upon +which vessels were frequently wrecked. This law, rigorously enforced +through long ages, has now almost died out. + +In the fourteenth century du Guesclin took possession of the town in +the name of Charles V., but the French garrison was put to the sword by +the barbarous Duke John IV. of Brittany in the year 1374. In 1590 the +inhabitants of the town joined a plot formed for their emancipation, and +the neighbouring villages rose up in insurrection against an army of +three hundred thousand men raised by the Convention. The rebels were +conquered after two disastrous battles--one within, the other without +the town--when an immense number of the peasants were slain. + +Seeing it to-day, no one would imagine that it had once passed such +stirring times: had once been a place of importance, wealth, and envy. +Its streets are deserted, its houses grey and sad-looking. The place +seems lifeless. The shadows cast by the sun fall athwart the silent, +grass-grown streets, and have it all their own way. During our short +visit I do not think we met six people. Yet the town has seven thousand +inhabitants. Some we saw within their houses; and here and there the +sound of the loom broke the deadly silence, and in small cottages +pale-faced men bent laboriously over their shuttles. The looms were +large and seemed to take up two-thirds of the room, which was evidently +the living-room also. Many were furnished with large open cabinets or +wardrobes carved in Breton work, rough but genuine. + +Passing up the long narrow street leading to the open and deserted +market-place, the Chapelle de Creisker rises before you with its +wonderful clock-tower that is still the pride of the town. The original +chapel, according to tradition, was founded by a young girl whom St. +Kirec, Archdeacon of Leon in the sixth century, had miraculously cured +of paralysis; but the greater part of the present chapel, including the +tower and spire, was built towards the end of the fourteenth century, by +John IV., Duke of Brittany. The porches are fifteenth century; the north +porch, in the Flamboyant style, being richly decorated with figures and +foliage deeply and elaborately carved. On the south side are six +magnificent windows, unfortunately not filled in with magnificent glass. +The interior possesses nothing remarkable, excepting its fine rose +window and the opposite east window, distinguished for their size and +tracery. + +The tower is its glory. It is richly ornamented, and surmounted by a +cornice so projecting that, until the eye becomes accustomed to it, the +slender tower beneath seems overweighted: an impression not quite lost +at a first visit. The light and graceful tower, two hundred and +sixty-three feet high, rises between the nave and the choir, upon four +arches sustained by four quadrangular pillars four yards wide, composed +of innumerable small columns almost resembling bundles of rods, in which +the arms of Jean Pregent, Chancellor of Brittany and Bishop of Leon in +1436, may be seen on the keystone of each arch. The upper tower, like +those of the cathedral, is pierced by narrow bays, supported on either +side by false bays. From the upper platform, with its four-leaved +balustrade, rises the beautiful open-work spire, somewhat resembling +that of St. Peter's at Caen, and flanked by four turrets. This tower is +said to have been built by an English architect, but there is no +authority for the tradition. + +Proceeding onwards to the market-place, there rises the cathedral, far +better placed than many of the cathedrals abroad. It is one of the +remarkable buildings of Brittany, possessing certain distinguishing +features peculiar to the Breton churches. + +The cathedral dates from three periods. A portion of the north transept +is Romanesque; the nave, west front, and towers date from the thirteenth +century and the commencement of the fourteenth; the interior, almost +entirely Gothic, and very striking, lost much of its beauty when +restored in 1866. It is two hundred and sixty feet long and fifty-two +feet high to the vaulting, the latter being attributed to William of +Rochefort, who was Bishop of Leon in 1349. The towers are very fine, +with central storeys pierced by lancet windows, like those of the +Creisker. The south transept has a fine circular window, with tracery +cut in granite. + +[Illustration: INTERIOR OF CATHEDRAL, ST. POL DE LEON.] + +The stalls, the chief beauty of the choir, are magnificently carved, and +date from 1512. The choir, completely surrounded by a stone screen, is +larger and more ornamented than the nave, and is surrounded by double +aisles, ending in a Lady Chapel possessing some good carved woodwork of +the sixteenth century. + +The towers are almost equal in dimension but somewhat different in +design. One of them--the south tower--possesses a small lancet doorway +on the west side, called the Lepers' Doorway, where probably lepers +entered to attend mass in days gone by, remaining unseen and isolated +from the rest of the congregation. The south wall possesses a +magnificent rose window, above which is another window, called the +_Window of Excommunication_. The rose window is unfortunately filled +with modern glass, but one or two of the side windows are good. The +basin for holy-water, dating from the twelfth century, is said to have +been the tomb of Conan Meriadec, first of the Breton kings. + +A small bell, said to have belonged to St. Pol, is kept in the church, +and on the day of the _Pardon_ of Leon (the chief fete of the year) is +carried up and down the nave and rung vigorously over the heads of the +faithful to preserve them from headache and ear-ache. + +The best view of the interior is obtained by standing in the choir, as +near as possible to the tomb of St. Pol--distinguished by a black marble +slab immediately in front of the altar--and looking westward. The +long-drawn aisle is very fine; the stalls and decoration of the choir +stand out well, whilst the Early-Pointed arches on either side are +marked by beauty and refinement. The west end of the nave seems quite +far off and becomes almost dream-like. + +Yet in some way the Cathedral of St. Pol de Leon left upon us a certain +feeling of disappointment. The interior did not seem equal to the +exterior; and as the church has been much praised at different times by +those capable of distinguishing the good in architecture, we attributed +this impression to the effect of its comparatively recent restoration. + +Behind the cathedral is an old prebendal house, belonging to the +sixteenth century and possessing many interesting details. Beyond it +again was the small chapel of St. Joseph, attached to the convent of the +Ursuline nuns, founded in 1630. For St. Pol de Leon is still essentially +a religious and ecclesiastical town, living on its past glory and +reputation. Once immensely rich, it now impresses one with a feeling of +sadness and poverty. + +One wonderful little glimpse we had of an earthly paradise. + +Not far from the cathedral we had strayed into a garden, for the great +gates were open and the vision dazzled us. We had rarely seen such a +wealth of flowers. Large rose-trees, covered with blooms, outvied each +other in scenting the air with delicious perfume. Some of these trees or +bushes were many yards round. Immense rhododendrons also flourished. +Exquisite and graceful trees rose above them; the laburnum, no longer in +bloom, acacias, and the lovely pepper tree. Standing out from a wealth +of blossom and verdure was an old well, surmounted by some ancient and +picturesque ironwork. Beyond it was a yet more ancient and picturesque +house of grey stone, an equally venerable flight of steps leading up to +the front entrance. The house was large, and whatever it might be now, +must once have fulfilled some ecclesiastical purpose. It occupied the +whole length of the large garden, the remainder being closed in by high +walls. Opposite, to the right, uprose the Bishop's palace, and beyond it +the lovely towers and spires of the cathedral. + +It was one of those rare scenes very seldom met with, which plunge one +at once out of the world into an Arcadia beautiful as dreamland. We +stood and gazed, silent with rapture and admiration; threw +conventionality to the winds, forgot that we had no right here, and +wandered about, inhaling the scent of the flowers, luxuriating in their +rich colours, feasting our eyes and senses on all the old-world beauty +of architecture by which we were surrounded; carrying our sight upwards +to the blue skies and wondering if we had not been transported to some +paradise beyond the veiling. It was a Garden of Eden. + +[Illustration: CHAPEL OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS, ROSCOFF.] + +Then suddenly at the open doorway of the house appeared a lady with a +wealth of white hair and a countenance full of the beauty of sweetness +and age. She was dignified, as became the owner of this fair domain, and +her rich robe rustled as she quietly descended the steps. + +We now remembered ourselves and our intrusion, yet it was impossible to +retreat. We advanced bareheaded to make our humble apologies and sue for +grace. + +The owner of this earthly paradise made us an elaborate curtsey that +surely she had learned at the Tuileries or Versailles in the bygone days +of an illustrious monarchy. + +"Monsieur," she said, in a voice that was still full of melody, "do not +apologise; I see that you are strangers and foreigners, and you are +welcome. This garden might indeed entice anyone to enter. I have grown +old here, and my eyes are never tired of beholding the beauties of +Nature. In St. Pol we are favoured, you know, in possessing one of the +most fertile soils in France." + +And then she bade us enter, with a politeness that yet sounded like a +command; and we obeyed and passed up the ancient steps into a +richly-panelled hall. Over the doorways hung boars' heads, shot by her +sons, Countess C---- for she told us her name--informed us, in the +forests of Brittany. + +"They are great sportsmen," she added with a smile, "and you know we +Bretons do nothing by halves. Our sportsmen are fierce and strong in the +chase, and know nothing of the effeminate pastimes of those who live in +more southern latitudes." + +Then, to do us honour, and because she thought it would interest us, she +showed us through some of the reception rooms, magnificent with tapestry +and carved oak and dark panelling, and family portraits of bygone +generations, when people were taken as shepherds and shepherdesses, and +the world was a real Arcadia; and everywhere were trophies of the chase. +And, conducting us up an ancient oak staircase to a large recess looking +to the back, there our dazzled vision saw another garden stretched out +before us, longer, broader, than the paradise in front, full of roses +and lilies, and a countless number of fruit trees. + +"That is my orchard," she said; "but I must have flowers everywhere, and +so, all down the borders my lilies and roses scent the air; and there I +walk and try to make my old age beautiful and contented, as every old +age ought to be. My young days were passed at Court; my later years in +this quiet seclusion, out of the world. Alas! there is no more Court for +old or young." + +Then again we descended into a salon so polished that you could trace +your features on the parquet flooring; a room that would have dignified +a monarch; a room where everything was old-fashioned and beautiful, +subdued and refined; and our hostess, pointing to lovely old chairs +covered with tapestry that had been worked a century-and-a-half ago, +touched a bell and insisted upon our refreshing ourselves with some wine +of the country and a cake peculiar to St. Pol de Leon. It is probable +that H.C.'s poetical eyes and ethereal countenance, whilst captivating +her heart, had suggested a dangerous delicacy of constitution. These +countenances, however, are deceptive; it is often your robust and florid +people who fail to reach more than the stage of early manhood. + +In response to the bell there entered a Breton maid with cake and wine +on a silver tray. She was youthful and comely, and wore a picturesque +Breton cap with mysterious folds, the like of which we had seen neither +in Morlaix nor in St. Pol de Leon. As far as the latter town was +concerned it was not surprising, since we had met so few of the +inhabitants. + +[Illustration: HOUSE IN WHICH THE YOUNG PRETENDER TOOK REFUGE AFTER THE +BATTLE OF CULLODEN, ROSCOFF.] + +The maid curtsied on entering, placed the tray upon the table, curtsied +again to her mistress, and withdrew. All was done in absolute silence: +the silence of a well-bred domestic and a perfectly organised household. +She moved as if her feet had been encased in down. + +With her own fair and kindly hands, the Comtesse poured out the red and +sparkling liquid, and, breaking the cake, once more bade us welcome. + +We would rather have been excused; such hospitality to strangers was so +rare, excepting in remote places where the customs of the primitive ages +still existed. But hospitality so gracefully and graciously offered had +to be met with graciousness and gratitude in return. + +"The cake I offer you," she remarked, "is peculiar to St. Pol de Leon. +There is a tradition that it has come to us from the days of St. Pol +himself, and that the saintly monk-bishop made his daily meal of it. But +I feel very sure," she added with a smile, "that those early days of +fasting and penance never rejoiced in anything as refined and civilized +and as good as this." + +And then for a little while we talked of Brittany and the Bretons; and +if we could have stayed longer we should have heard many an anecdote and +many an experience. But time and a due regard to politeness forbade a +"longer lingering," charming as were the old lady's manners and +conversation, delightful the atmosphere in which she lived. With mingled +stateliness and grace she accompanied us to the wonderful garden and +bade us farewell. + +"This is your first visit to St. Pol," she said, as she gave us her hand +in the English fashion; "I hope it will not be your last. Remember that +if ever you come here again my doors will open to you, and a welcome +will await you. Only, let your next visit be a longer one. You see that +I speak with the freedom of age; and if you think me impulsive in thus +tendering hospitality to one hitherto unknown, I must answer that I have +lived in the world, and make no mistakes. I believe also in a certain +mental mesmerism, which rarely fails. When I saw you enter, something +told me that I might come to you. Fare you well!--Sans adieu!" she added +as we expressed our gratitude and bent over her hand with an earnest "Au +revoir!" + +We went our way, both charmed into silence for a time. I felt that we +were thinking the same thoughts--rejoicing in our happy fortune in these +occasional meetings which flashed across the horizon of our lives and +disappeared, not without leaving behind them an abiding effect; an +earnest appreciation of human nature and the amount of leaven that must +exist in the world. We thought instinctively of Mdlle. Martin, the +little Receveuse des Postes de Retraite at Grace: and of Mdlle. de +Pressense at Villeneuve, who had welcomed us even as the Comtesse had +now done; and we felt that we were favoured. + +Time was up, and we decided to make this our last impression of St. Pol +de Leon. We passed down the quiet streets, under the shadow of the +Creisker, out into the open country and the railway station. We were +just in time for the train to Roscoff, and in a very few minutes had +reached that little terminus. + +Immediately we felt more out of the world than ever. There was something +so primitive about the station and its surroundings and the people who +hovered about, that this seemed a true _finis terre_. It was, however, +sufficiently civilized to boast of two omnibuses; curiously constructed +machines that, remembering our St. Pol experience, we did not enter. The +town was only a little way off, and its church steeple served us as +beacon. + +We passed a few modern houses near the station, which looked like a +settlement in the backwoods with the trees cut down, and then a short +open road led to the quiet streets. + +Quiet indeed they were, with a look about them yet more old-world, +deadly and deserted even than St. Pol de Leon. The houses are nearly all +built of that grey _Kersanton_ stone, which has a cold and cheerless +tone full of melancholy; like some of the far away Scotch or Welsh +villages, where nature seems to have died out, no verdure is to be seen, +and the very hedges, that in softer climes bud and blossom and put forth +the promise of spring to make glad the heart of man, are replaced by dry +walls that have no beauty in them. + +Yet at once we felt that there was a certain charm about Roscoff, and a +very marked individuality. Never yet, in Brittany, had we felt so out of +the world and removed from civilization. Its quaint houses are +substantial though small, and many of them still possess the old cellars +that open by large winged doors into the streets, where the poorer +people live an underground life resembling that of the moles. The +cellars go far back, and light never penetrates into their recesses. + +Again, some of the houses had courtyards of quaint and interesting +architecture. One of them especially is worth visiting. A long narrow +passage leads you to a quaint yard with seven arches supported by +columns, with an upper gallery supported by more columns. It might have +formed part of a miniature cloister in days gone by. + +On the way towards the church, we passed the chapel dedicated to St. +Ninian, of which nothing remains now but the bare enclosure and the +ancient and beautiful gateway. This, ruined as it is, is the most +interesting relic in Roscoff. It was here that Mary Queen of Scots +landed when only five years old, to be married to the Dauphin of France. +The form of her foot was cut out in the rock on which she first stepped, +but we failed to see it. Perhaps time and the effect of winds and waves +have worn it away. Footsteps disappear even on a stronger foundation +than the sands of time. The little chapel was built to commemorate her +landing, and its ruins are surrounded by a halo of sadness and romance. +Four days after her landing she was betrothed. But the happy careless +childhood was quickly to pass away; the "fevered life of a throne" was +most essentially to be hers; plot and counterplot were to embitter her +days; until at last, at the bidding of "great Elizabeth," those +wonderful eyes were to close for the last time upon the world, and that +lovely head was to be laid upon the block. + +The sad history overshadows the little chapel in Roscoff as a halo; for +us overshadowed the whole town. + +Adjoining the chapel still exists the house in which the child-queen +lodged on landing, also with a very interesting courtyard. + +Looking down towards the church from this point, the houses wore a grey, +sad and deserted aspect. The church tower rises above them, quaint and +curious, in the Renaissance style. The interior is only remarkable for +some curious alabaster bas-reliefs, representing the Passion and the +Resurrection; an old tomb serving as _benitier_, some ancient fonts, and +the clever sculpturing of a boat representing the arms of the town; a +device also found on the left front of the tower. + +There is also a large ossuary in the corner of the small churchyard, now +disused. These ossuaries, or _reliquaires_, in the graveyards of +Brittany were built to carry out a curious and somewhat barbarous +custom. It was considered by "those of old time" to be paying deference +to the dead to dig up their coffins after a certain number of years, and +to place the skulls and bones in the ossuary, arranging them on shelves +and labelling them in a British Museum style so that all might gaze upon +them as they went by. This custom is still kept up in some places; for, +as we have said, the Bretons are a slow moving people in the way of +progress, and cling to their habits and customs as tenaciously as the +Medes and Persians did to their laws. They are not ambitious, and what +sufficed for the sires a generation or two ago suffices for the sons +to-day. + +But to us, the chief beauty of the town was its little port, with its +stone pier. The houses leading down to it are the quaintest in Roscoff, +of sixteenth century date, with many angles and gables. In one of them +lodged Charles Stuart, the Young Pretender, when he escaped after the +battle of Culloden, the quaintest and most interesting of all. + +Looking back from the end of the jetty, it lies prominently before you, +together with the whole town, forming a group full of wonderful tone and +picturesque beauty. In the foreground are the vessels in the harbour, +with masts rising like a small forest, and flags gaily flying. The water +which plashes against the stone pier is the greenest, purest, most +translucent ever seen. It dazzled by its brilliancy and appeared to +"hold the light." Before us stretched the great Atlantic, to-day calm +and sleeping and reflecting the sun travelling homewards; but often +lashed to furious moods, which break madly over the pier, and send their +spray far over the houses. Few scenes in Brittany are more +characteristic and impressive than this little unknown town. + +A narrow channel lies between Roscoff and L'Ile de Batz, which would +form a fine harbour of refuge if it were not for the strong currents for +ever running there. At high water the island is half submerged. It is +here that St. Pol first came from Cornwall, intending to live there the +remainder of his life; but, as we have seen, he was made Bishop of Leon, +and had to take up his abode in the larger town. + +No tree of any height is to be seen here, but the tamarisk grows in +great abundance. All the men are sailors and pass their lives upon the +water, coming home merely to rest. The women cultivate the ground. The +church possesses, and preserves as its greatest treasure, a stole worn +by St. Pol. Tradition has it that when St. Pol landed, the island was a +prey to a fierce and fiery dragon, whom the monk conquered by throwing +his stole round the neck of the monster and commanding it to cast itself +into the sea; a command it instantly and amiably obeyed by rushing to +the top of a high rock and plunging for ever beneath the waves. The rock +is still called in Breton language Toul ar Sarpent, signifying Serpent's +Hole. + +[Illustration: ROSCOFF.] + +Roscoff itself is extremely fertile; the deadly aspect of the little +town is not extended to the surrounding plains. The climate is much +influenced by the Gulf Stream, and the winters are temperate. Flowers +and vegetables grow here all the year round that in less favoured +districts are found only in summer. Like Provence in the far South, +Roscoff is famous for its primeurs, or early vegetables. If you go to +some of the great markets in Paris in the spring and notice certain +country people with large round hats, very primitive in appearance, +disposing of these vegetables, you may at once know them for Bretons +from Roscoff. You will not fall in love with them; they are plain, +honest, and stupid. We found the few people we spoke to in Roscoff quite +answering to this description, and could make nothing of them. + +On our way back to the station we visited the great natural curiosity of +the place: a fig tree whose branches cover an area of nearly two hundred +square yards, supported by blocks of wood or by solid masonry built up +for the purpose. It yields an immense quantity of fruit, and would +shield a small army beneath its foliage. Its immense trunk is knotted +and twisted about in all directions; but the tree is full of life and +vigour, and probably without parallel in the world. + +Soon after this, we were once more steaming towards Morlaix, our +head-quarters. As we passed St. Pol de Leon, its towers and steeples +stood out grandly in the gathering twilight. Before us there rose up the +vision of the aged Countess who had received and entertained us with so +much kindness and hospitality. It was not too much to say that we longed +to renew our experience, to pass not hours but days in that charmed and +charming abode, refined by everything that was old-world and artistic; +and to number our hostess amongst those friends whom time and chance, +silence and distance, riches or poverty, life or death, can never +change. + +We re-entered Morlaix with the shadows of night. Despising the omnibus, +we went down Jacob's Ladder, rejoicing and revelling in all the +old-world atmosphere about us, and on our way passed our Antiquarian. He +was still at his doorway, evidently watching for our arrival, and might +have been motionless as a wooden sentry ever since we had left him in +the morning. + +The workshop was lighted up, and the old cabinets and the modern +wood-carving looked picturesque and beautiful in the lights and shadows +thrown by the lamps. The son, handsome as an Adonis, was bending over +some delicate carving that he was chiseling, flushed with the success of +his work, yet outwardly strangely quiet and gentle. The cherub we had +seen a morning or two ago at the doorstep ought now to have been in bed +and asleep. Instead of that he was perched upon a table, and with large, +wide-opened blue eyes was gazing with all the innocence and inquiry of +infancy into his father's face, as if he would there read the mystery of +life and creation, which the wondering gaze of early childhood seems for +ever asking. + +It was a rare picture. The rift within the lute was out of sight +upstairs, and there was nothing to disturb the harmony of perfection. +The child saw us, and immediately held out his little arms with a +confiding gesture and a crow of delight that would have won over the +sternest misanthropist, as if he recognised us for old friends between +whom there existed a large amount of affection and an excellent +understanding. His father threw down his chisel, and catching him up in +his arms perched him upon his shoulder and ran him up and down the room, +while the little fellow shrieked with happiness. Then both disappeared +up the staircase, the child looking, in all his loveliness, as if he +would ask us to follow--a perfect representation of trust and +contentment, as he felt himself borne upwards, safe and secure from +danger, in the strong arms of his natural protector. + +The old man turned to us with a sigh. Was he thinking of his own past +youth, when he, too, was once the principal actor in a counterpart +scene? Or of a day, which could not be very far off, when such a scene +as this and all earthly scenes must for him for ever pass away? Or of +the little rift within the lute? Who could tell? + +"So, sirs, you are back once more," was all he remarked. "Have you seen +Roscoff? Was I not right in praising it?" + +"You were, indeed," we replied. "It is full of indescribable beauty and +interest. Why is it so little known?" + +"Because there are so few true artists in the world," he answered. "It +cannot appeal to any other temperament. Those who see things only with +the eyes and not with the soul, will never care for it. And so it has +made no noise in the world, and few visit it. Of those who do, probably +many think more of the wonderful fig tree than of the exquisite tone of +the houses, the charm of the little port, the matchless purity of the +water." + +We felt he was right. Then he pointed to the marvellous crucifix that +hung upon the wall, and seemed by its beauty and sacredness almost to +sanctify the room. + +"Is it not a wonderful piece of art?" he cried, with quiet enthusiasm. +"If Michel Angelo had ever carved in ivory, I should say it was his +work. But be that as it may, it is the production of a great master." + +We promised to return. There was something about the old man and his +surroundings which compelled one to do so. It was so rare to find three +generations of perfection, about whom there clung a charm indescribable +as the perfume that clings to the rose. We passed out into the night, +and our last look showed him standing in his quaint little territory, +thrown out in strong relief by the lamplight, gazing in rapt devotion +upon his treasures, all the religious fervour of the true Breton +temperament shining out of his spiritual face, thinking perhaps of the +"one far-off Divine event" that for him was growing so very near. + + + + +A SOCIAL DEBUT. + + +It is hoped that the following anecdote of the ways and customs of that +rare animal, the modest, diffident youth (soon, naturalists assure us, +to become as extinct in these islands as the Dodo), may afford a +moment's amusement to the superior young people who rule journalism, +politics, and life for us to-day. + +Some ten years ago Mr. Edward Everett came up from the wilds of +Devonshire to study law with Braggart and Pushem, in Chancery Lane. He +was placed to board, by a prudent mother, with a quiet family in +Bayswater. + +That even quiet Bayswater families are not without their dangers +Everett's subsequent career may be taken as proof, but with this, at +present, I have nothing to do. I merely intend to give the history of +his debut in society, although the title is one of which, after reading +the following pages, you may find reason to complain. + +Everett had not been many weeks in London when he received, quite +unexpectedly, his first invitation to an evening party. + +His mother's interest had procured it for him, and it came from Lady +Charlton, the wife of Sir Robert, the eminent Q.C. It was with no little +elation that he passed the card round the breakfast-table for the +benefit of Mrs. Browne and the girls. There stood Lady Charlton's name, +engraved in the centre, and his own, "Mr. Edward Everett," written up in +the left-hand corner; while the date, a Thursday in February, was as yet +too far ahead for him to have any inkling of the trepidation he was +presently to feel. + +Everett, although nineteen, had never been to a real party before; in +the wilds of Devonshire one does not even require dress clothes; +therefore, after sending an acceptation in his best handwriting, his +first step was to go and get himself measured for an evening suit. + +Now, Everett looked even younger than his age, and this is felt to be a +misfortune when one is still in one's teens. Later in life people appear +to bear it much better. He found himself feeling more than usually young +and insignificant on presenting himself to his tailor and stating his +requirements. Mr. Lucas condescended to him from the elevation of six +inches superior height and thirty years' seniority. He received +Everett's orders with toleration, and re-translated them with decision. +"Certainly, sir, I understand what you mean precisely. What you require +is this, that, or the other;" and the young gentleman found himself +meekly gathering views that never had emanated from his own bosom. +Nevertheless he took the most profound interest in the building up of +his suit, and constantly invented excuses to drop in upon Mr. Lucas and +see how the work was getting on. + +Meanwhile, at home he, with the Browne girls, especially with Lily, the +youngest, often discussed the coming "At Home." Lily wondered what Lady +Charlton was like, if she had any daughters, whether there would be +dancing. Everett had never seen his hostess; thought, however, he had +heard there were daughters, but sincerely hoped they wouldn't dance; +for, although the Browne girls had taught him to waltz, he was conscious +he did them small credit as pupil. + +"I'm sure it will be a splendid party!" cried Lily the enthusiastic. +"How I wish some good fairy would just transport me there in the middle +of the evening, so that I might have a peep at you in all your glory!" + +"I wish with all my heart you were going too, Lil," said Everett; "I +shan't know a soul, I'm sure." And though he spoke in an airy, +matter-of-fact tone, qualms were beginning to shake his bosom as he +pictured himself thus launched alone on the tide of London society. + +He began to count the days which yet remained to him of happy obscurity; +and as Time moves with inexorable footsteps, no matter how earnestly we +would hurry or delay him, so at length there remained but a week's +slender barrier between Everett and the fatal date. For while he would +not acknowledge it even yet to himself, all sense of pleasurable +anticipation had gradually given place to the most unmitigated condition +of fright. + +Thus when he awoke on the actual Monday morning preceding the party, he +could not at first imagine to what cause he owed the burden of +oppression which immediately descended on his breast; just so used he to +feel as a boy when awaking to the consciousness of an impending visit to +the dentist. Then all at once he remembered that in four days more +Thursday night would have come, and his fate would be sealed. + +He carried a sinking spirit to his legal studies all that day and the +next, and yet was somewhat cheered on returning home on the Tuesday +evening to find a parcel awaiting him from the tailor's. He experienced +real pleasure in putting on the new suit after dinner and going down to +exhibit himself to the girls in the drawing-room. It was delightful to +listen to their exclamations and their praise; to hear Lily declare, +"Oh, you do look nice, Ted! Splendacious! Doesn't it suit him well, +mammy?" + +In that intoxicating moment, Everett felt he could hold his own in any +drawing-room in the land; nor could he help inwardly agreeing on +catching sight of himself in the chimney-glass that he did look +remarkably well in spite of a hairless lip and smooth young cheeks. He +mentally decided to get his hair cut, buy lavender gloves and Parma +violets, and casually inquire of Leslie, their "swell" man down at old +Braggart's, whether coloured silk socks were still considered "good +form." + +But when he donned those dress clothes for the second time, on the +Thursday night itself, he didn't feel half so happy. He suffered from +"fright" pains in his inside, and his fingers shook so, he spoilt a +dozen cravats in the tying. He got Lily to fix him one at last, and it +was she who found him a neat little cardboard box for his flowers, that +his overcoat might not crush them. For, as the night was fine, and +shillings scarce with him in those days, he intended walking to his +destination. + +Of course he was ready much too soon, and spent a restless, not to say a +miserable hour in the Brownes' drawing-room, afraid of starting, yet +unable to settle down to anything. Then, when half-past nine struck, +seized with sudden terror lest he should be too late, he made most hasty +adieux and rushed from the house. Only to hear Lily's light foot-fall +immediately following him, and her little breathless cry of "Oh, Ted! +you've forgotten your latch-key." + +"I wish to Heaven I was going to pass the evening quietly with you, +Lil!" sighed the poor youth, all his heart in his boots; but she begged +him not to be a goose, told him he would meet much nicer girls, and made +him promise to notice how they were all dressed, so as to describe the +frocks to her next day. Then she tripped back into the house, gave him a +final smile, the door closed, and there was nothing for Everett to do +but set off. + +He has told me since what a dreadful walk that was. He can remember it +vividly across all the intervening years, and he declares that no +criminal on his way to the gallows could have suffered from more +agonising apprehensions. He pictured his reception in a thousand dismal +forms. He saw himself knocking at the door; the moment's suspense; the +servant facing him. What ought he to say? "Is Lady Charlton at home?" +But that was ridiculous, since he knew she was at home; should he then +walk straight in without a word? but what would the servant think? Or, +supposing--awful thought!--he had made a mistake in the date; supposing +this wasn't the night at all? He searched in his pockets for the card +with feverish eagerness, and remembered he had left it stuck in the +dining-room chimney glass. + +His forehead grew damp with sweat, his hands clammy. He slackened his +speed. Why was he walking so fast? He would get there too soon: how +embarrassing to be the first arrival! Then he saw by the next baker's +shop it was on the stroke of ten, and terror lent him wings. How much +more embarrassing to arrive the last! + +The Charltons lived in Harley Street, which he had no sooner reached +than he guessed that must be the house, mid-way down. For a stream of +light expanded wedge-wise from the door, which was flung open as a +carriage drew up to the kerbstone. Everett calculated he should arrive +precisely as the occupants were getting out. Better wait a couple of +minutes. + +Blessed respite! He crossed the road and loitered along in the shadow of +the opposite side. He examined the house from this point of vantage. It +was a blaze of light from top to bottom. The balcony on the drawing-room +floor had been roofed in with striped canvas. One of the red curtains +hanging from it was drawn aside; he caught glimpses of moving forms and +bright colours within. + +He heard the long-drawn notes of a violin. The ever-opening hall-door +exhibited a brilliant interior, with numberless men-servants conspicuous +upon a scarlet background. Ladies in light wraps had entered the house +from the carriage, and other carriages arriving in quick succession had +disgorged other lovely beings. If the door closed for one instant it +sprang open the next at the sound of wheels. + +"I'll walk to the top of the street," Everett determined, "cross over, +and then present myself." But as he again approached with courage +screwed to the sticking-place, a spruce hansom dashed up before him. Two +very "masher" young men sprang out. They stood for a moment laughing +together while one found the fare. The other glanced at Everett, and, as +it seemed to my too sensitive young friend, with a certain amusement. +"Is it possible that this little boy is coming to Lady Charlton's too?" +This at least is the meaning Everett read in an eye probably devoid of +any meaning at all. He felt he could not go in the company of these +gentlemen. He must wait now until they were admitted. So assuming as +unconscious an air as possible he stepped through the band of gaslight, +and was once more swallowed up in the friendly darkness beyond. + +"I'll just walk once to the corner and back," said he; but, fresh +obstacle! when he returned, a servant with powdered head swaggered on +the threshold exchanging witticisms with the commissionaire keeping +order outside; and the crimson carpet laid down across the pavement was +fringed with loiterers at either edge, some of whom, as he drew near, +turned to look at him with an expectant air. + +It was a moment of exquisite suffering. Should he go in? Should he pass +on? Only those, (and nowadays such are rare) who have themselves gone +through the agonies of shyness can appreciate the situation. As he +reached the full glare of the house-light, Everett's indecision was +visible in his face. + +"Lady Charlton's, sir?" queried Jeames. + +My poor Everett! His imbecility will scarcely be believed. + +"Thanks--no--ah--er!" he stammered feebly; "I am looking for Mr. +Browne's!" + +Which was the first name that occurred to him, and he heard the men +chuckling together as he fled. After this he walked up and down the +long, accursed length of Harley Street, on the dark side of the way, no +less than seven mortal times; until, twice passing the same policeman, +his sapience began to eye the wild-faced youth with disfavour. Then he +made a tour, east, south, west, north, round the block in which Lady +Charlton's house stands, and so came round to the door once more. + +Yet it was clearly impossible to present himself there now, after his +folly. It was also too late--or he thought it so. On the other hand, it +was too early to go home. Mrs. Browne had said she should not expect to +hear he was in before two or three. On this account he dared not return, +for never, never would he confess to her the depths of his cowardice! He +therefore continued street-walking with treadmill regularity, cold, +hungry, and deadly dull. + +But when twelve was gone on the church clocks, he could endure it no +longer. He turned and slunk home. Delicately did he insert the key in +the door; most mouse-like did he creep in; and yet someone heard him. +Lily, with flying locks, looked over the balusters, and then ran +noiselessly down to the hall. + +"Oh, Teddy, I couldn't go to bed for thinking of your party and how much +you must be enjoying yourself! But what is the matter? You look +so--funny!" + +Somehow Everett found himself telling her the whole story, and never +perhaps has humiliated mortal found a kinder little comforter. Far from +laughing at him, as he may have deserved, tears filled her pretty eyes +at the recital of his unfortunate evening, and no amount of petting was +deemed too much. She took him to the drawing-room, where she had +hitherto been sitting unplaiting her hair; stirred the fire into a +brighter blaze, wheeled him up the easiest couch, and, signal proof of +feminine heroism, braved the kitchen beetles to get him something to +eat. + +What a delightful impromptu picnic she spread out upon the sofa! How +capital was the cold beef and pickles, the gruyere cheese, the bottled +beer! How they laughed and enjoyed themselves, always with due +consideration not to disturb the sleepers above. How Everett, with the +audacity born of the swing back of the pendulum, seized upon this +occasion to-- + +But no! I did not undertake to give further developments; these must +stand over to another time. + + + + +LEGEND OF AN ANCIENT MINSTER. + + +I. + +Fairchester Abbey is noted for the mixed character of its architecture. +Such a confused blending of styles is very rarely to be met with in any +of our English cathedrals. There is no such thing as uniformity and no +possibility of tracing out the original architect's plan; it has been so +altered by later builders. + +The Norman pillars of the nave still remain, but they are surmounted by +a vaulted Gothic roof. The side aisles of the choir are also Norman, but +this heavier work is most beautifully screened from view and completely +panelled over with the light tracery of the later Perpendicular. + +It is almost impossible to adequately describe the beauties of this +noble choir. The architect seems to have been inspired, in the face of +unusual difficulty, to preserve all that was beautiful in the work of +his predecessors, and to blend it in a marvellous manner with his more +perfect conceptions. There is nothing sombre or heavy about it. It is a +perfect network of tall, slender pillars and gauzy tracery, and at the +east end there is the finest window to be seen in this country, +harmonising in the colour of its glass with the rest of the building; +shedding, in the sun's rays, no gloomy, heavy colourings, but bright +golden, creamy white, and even pink tints, on the receptive freestone, +which, unlike marble, is not cold or forbidding, but naturally warm and +pleasing to the eye. + +To conclude this brief description, we can choose no better words than +these: "Gloria soli Deo." + +They occur on the roof of the choir at its junction with the nave, and +explain the unity and harmony which exists amidst all this diversity. +Each successive architect worked with this one object in view, the glory +of God alone, and so he did not ruthlessly destroy, but recognised the +same purpose in the work of his predecessors and endeavoured to blend +all into one harmonious whole, thus leaving for future ages a lesson +written in stone which churchmen of the present day would do well to +learn. + +Early in the year 188--, I was appointed Precentor of this cathedral, +and in the course of duty was brought much in contact with Dr. F., the +organist. + +It was my custom frequently, after service, to join him in the +organ-loft and to discuss various matters of interest connected with our +own church and the outside world. He was a most charming companion; a +first-rate organist and master of theory, and a man of large experience +and great general culture. + +One morning, soon after my appointment, I joined Dr. F. with a special +purpose in view. + +We had met to discuss the music for the approaching festival of Easter. +The Doctor was in his shirt-sleeves, standing in the interior of the +organ, covered with cobwebs and dirt, inspecting the woodwork, which was +getting into a very ruinous condition, and endeavouring to replace a +pipe which had fallen from its proper position so as to interfere with +many of its neighbours. + +"Here's a nice state of things," said he, ruefully regarding his +surroundings. "If we don't have something done soon the whole organ will +fall to pieces; and I am so afraid, lest in re-modelling it, the tone of +these matchless diapasons will be affected. There is nothing like them +anywhere in England. We must have it done soon, however; I only hope we +may gain more than we lose." + +It was indeed time something was done. The key-boards of the old organ +were yellow and uneven with age. They reminded one of steps hollowed by +the knees of pilgrims, they were so scooped out by the fingers of past +generations of organists. Its stops were of all shapes and sizes, and +their character was indicated by paper labels gummed underneath. It had +been built about the year 1670 by Renatus Harris and, although added to +on several occasions, the original work still remained. Being placed on +a screen between the nave and the choir, it occupied an unrivalled +position for sound. + +After awhile Dr. F. succeeded in putting matters a little to rights and, +seated at the key-boards, proceeded to play upon the diapasons, the tone +of which he had so extolled. It would really be impossible to exaggerate +the solemnity, the richness, and the indescribable sadness of the sounds +which proceeded from them; one never hears anything like it in modern +organs. These have their advantages and their peculiar effects, but they +lack that mellowed richness of tone which seems an art belonging to the +builders of the past. + +Presently the Doctor ceased, and producing a roll of music told me it +was a Service he was accustomed to have each Easter, and asked me to +listen and say what I thought of it. + +It would be impossible for me to express in words the admiration I felt +on hearing it. It was a most masterly composition, and was moreover +entirely original and unlike the writing of any known composer. It +possessed an individuality which distinguished it from every other work +of a like nature. All one could say with certainty about it was that it +was not modern music. There was a simplicity and a severity about it +which stamped it unmistakably as belonging to an age anterior even to +Bach or Handel: modern writers employ more ornamentation and are not so +restricted in their harmonies; modern art sanctions a greater liberty, a +less simplicity of method, and a less rigid conformity to rule. + +The movement which most impressed me was the Credo. + +There was a certainty of conviction in its opening phrases pointing to +a real earnestness of purpose. It was as if the composer's faith had +successfully withstood all the doubts, anxieties, and conflicts of life. +It was the song of the victorious Christian who saw before him the prize +for which he had long and steadfastly contended. _He believed_; he did +more than that; he actually _realised_. It was the joy, not of +anticipation, but of actual possession, the consciousness of the Divine +life dwelling in the heart, cramped and hindered by its surroundings, +but destined to develop in the light of clearer and fuller knowledge. + +As the story of the Incarnation and Passion was told, there crept over +the listener feelings of mingled sadness and thanksgiving: sadness at +the life of suffering and pain endured "For us men and for our +salvation," and thanksgiving for the Gift so freely bestowed. And then +Heaven and Earth combined to tell the story of the Resurrection morning, +and the strains of thankfulness and praise increased until it seemed as +if the writer had at length passed from Earth to Heaven, and was face to +face with the joys of the "Life Everlasting" which all the resources of +his art were powerless fully to express. + +The music ceased, and I awoke as from a dream. + +"You need not tell me your opinion," said the Doctor; "your face shows +it most unmistakably; you can form only a very faint idea of its +beauties without the voice parts. When you hear our choir sing it you +will say it is the most powerful sermon you have ever heard within these +walls." + +"Who is the composer?" I asked excitedly, my curiosity thoroughly +aroused. + +"My dear fellow," replied Dr. F., "before telling its history, you must +see the proofs I have in my possession, for I shall have to relate one +of the most remarkable stories you have ever heard. So strange indeed +are the circumstances connected with that old Service that I have kept +them to myself, lest people should think me an eccentric musician. Our +late Dean knew part of them and witnessed some of the things I shall +tell you. The story will take some little time, but if you will come +across to my house you shall hear it and also see the proofs I hold in +my possession." + + +II. + +We went direct from the cathedral into the library of Dr. F.'s house, +where, without wasting any time, he produced a roll of manuscript and +gave it me to read. + +It was tied up neatly with tape and enclosed in another sheet of paper, +which bore the date January, 1862, and a note in the Doctor's +handwriting stating that he had discovered it in an old chest in the +cathedral library. + +The document itself was yellow with age and was headed: + + "Certain remarkable passages relating to the death of the late + Ebenezer Jenkins, sometime organist of this cathedral, obiit April + 3, 1686; related by John Gibson, lay clerk." + +Enclosed within it was also a fragment of music. Unrolling the +parchment, I proceeded to decipher with difficulty this narrative. + + "On the Wednesday evening before Easter, A.D. 1686, I, John Gibson, + was called to the bedside of Master Jenkins. + + "He had manifested a wish to hold converse with me, and to see me + concerning some matters in which we had both been engaged. He had + suffered grievously for many days, and it was plain to all his + friends that he had not long to tarry with us. A right skilful + player upon the organ was Master Jenkins, and a man beloved of all. + He had written much music for the Glory of God and the edification + of his Church, wherein his life seemed mirrored, for his music + appealed to men's hearts and led them to serve God, as did also the + example of his blameless life and conversation among us. He had + been busied for some time in the writing of a Service for Easter + Day, in the which he designed to express the thoughts of his waning + years. I had been privileged to hear some of these sweet strains, + and do affirm that finer music hath never been written by any man + in this realm of England. The Italians do make much boast of their + skill in music, and doubtless in their use of counterpoints, + fugues, and divers other devices they have hitherto excelled our + nation; but I doubt if Palestrina himself could have written more + excellent music, or have devised more cunning harmonies than those + of Master Jenkins. + + "The work had of late been hindered by the pains of sickness, for + the master's eyes were dim with age, and his hands could scarce + hold pen; and so I, his most intimate friend, had on sundry + occasions transcribed his thoughts as he related them. + + "On receiving his message I forthwith hastened to the presence of + my friend, and was sore troubled to find him in so grievous a + plight. It was plain to all beholders that his course was well-nigh + run, for a great change had taken place even in the last few hours. + + "He revived somewhat on seeing me, and begged me at once to fetch + paper and ink. 'I am going,' said he, 'to keep Easter in my Lord's + Court; but ere I go, I fain would finish what hath been my life's + work. Then shall I rest in peace.' + + "There was but little time, and so I made haste to fetch pen and + paper, and waited for his words. + + "Never, I trow, hath music been written before at such a season as + this. We were finishing the last movement--the Creed, and those + words went direct to my heart as they had never done before. I + could scarce refrain from weeping, but joy was mingled even with + tears, for the light upon the master's face was not of earth, and + there was a sound of triumph in his voice which told of conflict + well-nigh ended and rest won. + + "We had come to the words 'I believe in the resurrection of the + dead, and the life of the world to come.' For the moment, strength + seemed to have returned and my pen could scarce keep pace with his + thoughts, so rapid and so earnest were they. But the end was closer + even than I had supposed, for just as we reached the word 'life,' + the light suddenly failed from his face and he fell back. He smiled + once, and whispered that word Life, and I saw that his soul had + departed. + + "In fulfilment of his last wishes I made diligent search for the + remaining portions of this his work, but failed to find them, and + can only suppose that they have been heedlessly destroyed. It would + scarce have seemed right to imprint so small a fragment, and so I + have deemed it wise to place it, with this narrative of its + history, in the cathedral library. + + "Ere I close this narrative I must record certain strange passages + which came under my notice and which are vouched for by Gregory + Jowett, who likewise beheld them. They happened in this wise. On + the year after Master Jenkins's death, on the same date and about + the same hour, we were passing through the cathedral, having come + from a practice of the singers, and Master Jowett remembered some + music he had left by the side of the organ. He went up the stair + leading to the claviers and I remained below. + + "Of a sudden he surprised me by rushing down, greatly affrighted, + and affirmed that he had seen Master Jenkins sitting at the organ; + whereupon I reassured him, and at length prevailed upon him to + return with me. Then, indeed, did we both actually behold Master + Jenkins, just as he had appeared in life, attired in somewhat + sad-coloured raiment, playing upon the keys from which no sound + proceeded. I was not one to be easily affrighted, and so advanced + as if to greet him, when of a sudden the figure vanished. + + "We do both of us affirm the truth of this marvellous relation, and + do here append our joint signatures, having made solemn affirmation + upon oath, in the presence of Master Simpson, attorney, of this + city: + + "(_Signed_) JOHN GIBSON. + + "GREGORY JOWETT. + + "Witnessed by me; Nicholas Simpson, Attorney-at-law, the 27th day + of April, 1687." + + +III. + +The Doctor smiled at the perplexity which showed itself most +unmistakably in my face as I laid down the manuscript. + +"Are you a believer in ghosts or apparitions?" said he. + +"Theoretically but not practically," I replied. "They resolve +themselves, more or less, into a question of evidence; I would never +believe one man's word on the subject without further proof, because it +is always a fair solution of the difficulty to suppose him the victim of +a delusion. There are so many cases of mysterious appearances, however, +vouched for upon overwhelming evidence, that I am compelled to admit +their truth, at the same time believing they would be scientifically +explainable if we understood all the laws governing this world and could +more clearly distinguish between the spiritual and the material. There +is one thing usually noticeable about these appearances which, to my +mind, is very significant: they never actually do anything, they only +appear to do it and vanish away, leaving behind them no sign of their +presence." + +"Are you prepared to accept that narrative as true?" said the Doctor. + +"The balance of evidence compels me to accept it," I replied. "There +appears to be no motive for fraud; one could, of course, invent theories +to account for the apparition, but I am forced to believe, nevertheless, +that two highly trustworthy men did actually imagine that they saw the +organist's ghost. Whether they actually did so or not is another +matter." + +"Very good," replied Dr. F. "Now will you believe me if I tell you still +more wonderful things which I myself have witnessed; and will you give +me credit for being a perfectly reliable witness? I only ask you to +believe; I, myself, cannot explain." + +"My dear Doctor," I replied, "I shall receive anything you tell me with +great respect, for you are a most unlikely subject to ever be the victim +of a delusion." + +At this the Doctor laughed and said: "Here goes, once and for ever, my +reputation for practical common-sense; henceforth, I suppose, you will +class me with musicians generally, who I know bear a character for +eccentricity. I will tell the tale, however, and you shall see I possess +proofs of its being no delusion, and can contradict your assertion that +ghosts never leave behind them traces of their presence. + +"I put the old manuscript aside, intending, at some future time, to have +the Credo sung as a fragment. It would have been presumption on my part +to have completed the Service, so I left it, and being much occupied, +forgot all about it. Just about this time we decided to do away with +manual labour in blowing the organ, and substituted a small hydraulic +engine. I mention this because it has a bearing on what follows. + +"To be as brief as possible. Just before Easter I was called away +suddenly on business for a day, and, on returning, was surprised at +receiving a visit from the Dean. He appeared annoyed, and complained +that his rest had been broken the previous night by someone playing the +organ quite into the small hours. He was surprised beyond measure on my +informing him of my absence from home. We tried to discover a solution +to the mystery, but failed. One day, however, I showed the Dean the old +manuscript in my possession, and was surprised to hear that he knew of a +tradition of the appearance, once a year, of the apparition. An old +verger, since dead, had declared several times that he had seen it; but, +being old and childish, no one took any notice of the story. + +"Strange to say, the date when the ghost appeared was always the +same--the Wednesday before Easter. That was also the date mentioned in +the manuscript, and also the date when the organ was heard by the Dean. +We considered these facts of sufficient importance to warrant our making +further investigation; and decided, when the time came round again, to +go ourselves into the cathedral; meanwhile we kept our own counsel. + +"The time soon passed on and the week before Easter again arrived, and +on the Wednesday evening, about 11.45, we entered the cathedral by the +transept door. The moon shone brightly and we easily found our way into +the nave; and sitting down, awaited the development of events. The +shadows cast by the moonlight were very weird and ghostly in their +effect; and had we been at all impressionable, we should doubtless have +wished ourselves back again. After remaining some time, however, we came +to the conclusion that we had come upon a foolish errand, and had just +risen to go, when an exquisite strain of very soft music came from the +organ. We listened spell-bound, rooted to the spot. The theme was +simple, almost Gregorian in its character, but handled in a most +masterly way. Such playing I had never before heard; it was the very +perfection of style. + +"We were listening evidently to what was an opening prelude, for several +different subjects were introduced and only partially worked out. + +"Several times I fancied a resemblance to the old Credo, and once +distinctly caught a well-known phrase; my doubts were soon solved, +however, for in a few moments we heard it in its entirety. + +"You know how difficult it is to put one's impressions of music into +words; language never fully expresses them. Music can be easily +described in dry technical language, the language which deals in +'discords and their resolutions,' but that does not express its +influence upon ourselves. No language can do that, for it is an attempt +to fathom the infinite. + +"As the varied harmonies echoed through the vaulted nave, flooding it +with a perfect sea of melody, it appeared as if we were listening to the +story of a man's life. + +"There were the uncertain strains of youth, the shadowing forth of vague +possibilities, the expression of hope undimmed by disappointment. A +nameless undefined longing for greater liberty. The desire to be free +from the restraints of home, and to mingle with the busy world in all +the pride of early manhood. Soon the voyager puts off from the shore, +and at first all seems smooth and alluring. He drifts along the ocean of +life, wafted by favourable winds, delighting in each new pleasure. But +storm soon succeeds calm, as night follows day, and the young man is +soon encompassed with the sorrows and temptations of this life, battling +against evil habits, struggling to keep himself unspotted from the +world. + + 'Bella premunt hostilia + Da robur, fer auxilium.' + +"Youth passes on to middle age, there is now an earnestness of purpose +which at first was lacking. Material pleasures are losing their hold, +there are traces of another holy influence: two lives are joined in +happy union, leading and encouraging each other to high and noble +thoughts and actions. A sound of thankfulness and praise is heard, to be +followed only too soon by the strain which tells of mourning and +heaviness: one was taken, the other left to toil on alone. But still +there was a purpose in life, a work to be done, something to live for. +And with lamentation is blended hope. + +"The years roll on and the spiritual more and more overshadows the +material. The little spark of the Divine life dwelling in the heart has +developed and permeated the whole being. The soul seems chained and +hampered by its surroundings. Like a bird it beats itself against its +prison walls, until at length it wings its way heavenward. + +"And then that ancient hymn, which before had wedded itself in my +imagination to the music, pealed forth in all its grandeur, and I seemed +to hear the songs of men united to the purer strains of angelic music: + + 'Uni trinoque Domino + Sit sempiterna gloria + Qui vitam sine termino + Nobis donet in patria.' + +"The music ceased and we awoke as from a dream, and, remembering why we +had come, rushed up to the organ loft, only to find it in perfect +darkness." + + +IV. + +In relating his experience in the cathedral, and in attempting to +describe the music he had heard, Dr. F. grew excited and even dramatic, +and his voice had quite a ring of triumph in it as he recited the "O +Salutaris"--to my mind, the grandest of all the old Latin hymns, lost +for many years to our Church, but at length restored in our native +tongue. + +He paused for a few moments to recover himself and then continued. + +"On the morrow I resolved, if possible, to write from memory the +complete Service as we had heard it. During the day, being much +occupied, I was only able to jot down phrases which recurred to my +memory. The principal themes were well impressed upon my mind, and, +although my treatment of them was sure to differ in many ways from the +original, I felt more justified than formerly in attempting what seemed +rather a piece of presumption. + +"After a fairly early dinner I settled down in my study about 6.30 p.m., +determined to work right on until my task was finished. + +"My success did not please me. Several times I rose and tried the score +over upon the piano. There was no doubt about it, the main ideas were +there, but still there was everything lacking. The whole affair was +weak, unworthy of my own reputation, and doubly unworthy of the great +writer who had written the Credo. Time after time I studied that +fragment, and strove to find out what it was that gave it such vigour +and force, but it was useless. That was undoubtedly the work of a great +genius, and everything I had written was nothing short of a libel upon +myself, strung together so as to be quite correct in harmony and +counterpoint, but full, nevertheless, of nothing but commonplaces. + +"In thorough disgust I gave it up altogether, when suddenly I remembered +there was no Kyrie in the Service we had heard. + +"A something prompted me to supply the want out of my own mind. All I +strove was to make the style blend with the Credo; in every other +respect it was perfectly original, and when finished gave me great cause +to be pleased with my own work. + +"Looking at my watch I discovered it was fast getting on to midnight, so +I drew an arm-chair up to the fire and lighted a cigar. It was only +natural that my mind should be full of the music heard the previous +evening. I was no believer in the supernatural, and had unsparingly +ridiculed all ghost stories heard at various times. Now there was no +doubt: I had listened to music played by no earthly fingers. What could +it all mean? Why did the old man's ghost return to haunt the scene of +his former labours? Was it because he had left a solemn injunction which +had never been complied with? Was it because his life's purpose had been +left unfulfilled, and his last cherished wish had died with him? + +"There was the solution, no doubt. And what a loss it was to the world; +only to think of so priceless a work being lost for ever! + +"At this stage I was conscious of nodding, and waking up with a start, +endeavoured to pursue my train of thought. The fire was comfortable, and +my cigar was still alight; only a few moments more, and then bed. The +resolution was scarcely formed before my head dropped again and I was +fast asleep. + +"How long I slept I know not; a sensation of coldness caused me to +awake, only to find the fire nearly out, my reading-lamp smouldering, +and the moon brightly shining into the room. Imagine, if you can, my +surprise, when, turning round, there, full in the light of the moon, was +a figure writing at my table. It was an old man dressed in old-fashioned +style, just like what was worn two hundred or more years ago. There was +the wig, the coat with square flaps, the shoes with silver +buckles--everything except the sword. The face could not be clearly +defined, but the figure was most distinct. + +"My first sensations were, to say the least, peculiar. I was for the +moment frightened, and it was several moments before common sense +asserted itself. A feeling of intense curiosity soon overpowered all +sense of fear. Sitting in my chair I could hear the scratching of his +pen upon the paper. He wrote at a very rapid pace and seemed too intent +upon his labours to notice my presence. I waited for some time in +absolute stillness, but then, becoming weary of the situation, +endeavoured to attract his attention with a cough. He took no notice, +and so I arose and walked towards him. + +"I am telling you the entire truth when I assure you I could find +nothing in that chair. I grasped nothing tangible, and the chair +appeared quite empty, while still the scratching of the pen continued; +and as I walked away from the window the apparition appeared as plain as +ever. Every line of the figure was clear as if in life. At last while I +watched, the sound of writing ceased, and the figure vanished from my +view, leaving the roll of manuscript just as it had been before I fell +asleep. + +"Rushing up to the mantelpiece I seized a box of matches, hurriedly +lighted a candle, and approached the desk, and there found the Service +written out in full in a strange handwriting. My own work was +obliterated, the pen drawn through it all with the exception of the +Kyrie, which was as I left it, save that the word Kyrie was written over +it in the strange handwriting. At the conclusion of the Service were +written these words: 'E.I. hoc fecit. R.I.P.'" + +As the Doctor uttered these words, he went to the bookshelf and drew +down a book bound carefully in calf, which he opened and passed to me. +It was the original copy as he had found it, his own work crossed out +just as he had said, and the Service written in an altogether strange +hand. + +"I took those letters, R.I.P., to impose a solemn obligation upon me," +continued the Doctor. "The Service was at length restored, and I felt +sure that if it were used his soul would rest in peace. That is why we +have it here every Easter Sunday. It has become, in fact, quite a +tradition of the cathedral, which I hope no future organist will ever +depart from. The apparition has never since appeared, so I take it that +was evidently the wish expressed, and the reason why the old man's ghost +for so many years haunted the scene of his former labours." + + * * * * * + +This story is finished. I leave it just as the Doctor related it. Do I +believe it? Undoubtedly I do, but all explanation I leave as impossible. +Perhaps some day we shall know better the relation existing between the +material world and the unknown. At present the subject is best left +alone. Facts we must accept, our imperfect knowledge prevents their +explanation. + +JOHN GRAEME. + + + + +THE ONLY SON OF HIS MOTHER. + +BY LETITIA MCCLINTOCK. + + +"Dear Mrs. Archer, be consoled; I promise to stand by Henry as if he +were my brother. Indeed, I look upon him quite as my brother, having no +near ties of my own." + +"God bless you for the promise," said Mrs. Archer. "You are better to +Henry than any brother could be. Thy love is wonderful, passing the love +of woman." + +Mrs. Archer, the widowed mother of an only child, was deeply imbued with +sacred lore. No great reader of general literature, she knew her Bible +from cover to cover, and was much in the habit of expressing herself in +Scriptural language. Her husband had been the Rector of a lonely parish +in Donegal, where for twenty-five years he had taught an unsophisticated +people, "letting his light shine," as his wife expressed it. + +One recreation he had: the writing of a Commentary on the Epistle to the +Romans. While he was shut up in his study, little Henry, a mischievous, +wild urchin, had to be kept quiet. Here was field for the full exercise +of Mrs. Archer's ingenuity. As the boy's life went on, she gained an +able assistant in this loving labour, namely Malcolm McGregor, Henry's +school-friend. Malcolm and Henry were sent to Foyle College at the same +time. Mrs. Archer could hardly read for joy the day she expected her +darling home for his first vacation, accompanied by "the jolliest chap +in the school," whom he had begged leave to bring with him. + +From the Rectory door the parents could watch the outside car coming +down the steep hill; King William, the Rector's old horse, slipping a +little, and two shabby, hair-covered trunks falling on his back, to be +recovered by Jack Dunn, the man-of-all-work, who could drive on +occasion. + +Which of the little black figures running on in front of the car was the +mother's treasure? Henry was up to as many pranks as ever, but now he +had a quiet friend to restrain him, and his mother and the parish were +very glad of it. + +"Dear mistress, thon's a settled wee fellow, thon McGregor: he's the +quare wise guide for we'er ain wichel." Thus spoke Jack Dunn when the +holidays drew near an end. "Fleech him to come back." + +"There is no need to urge him, Jack," replied his mistress, smiling; "he +is very anxious to visit us again." + +"Weel-a-weel, ma'am, I never tould you how Master Henry blew up the +sexton wi' his crackers, twa nights afore he went to school--" + +"Never, Jack!" + +"Na, na! Jack wadna be for vexin' you an' his reverence. Master Henry +an' Mat, the herd, let off fireworks outside the sexton's door, an' him +an' the wife, an' the sisters an' the grannie jumpin' out o' their beds, +an' runnin' about the house, thinkin' the Judgment Day was come, an' +maybe that the Old Enemy was come for them--" + +"Oh, Jack, hush; how terrible! Think what you are saying." + +"Nae word o' lie, mistress. The sexton was in a quare rage, an' the +grannie lay for three weeks wi' the scare. It was hushed up becase there +isna a soul in the parish wad like to annoy his reverence. But +whist--not a word out o' your mouth! Our wean has got thon ither wee +comrade to steady him _now_." + +McGregor did steady Henry. They fished Gartan Lough; they boated, they +shot over the mountains, they skated on the same lovely expanse of lake, +and they heard, in the marshes each Easter the whirring bleat of the +snipe. This was the history of school and college vacations for many +years. Then first love came--society was sought for; the neighbouring +clergy and their families came to Gartan Rectory; young couples wandered +blissfully in the fairest scenes in all the world. The friends loved the +same sweet maiden, and she deceived them both, and married a ponderous +rector, possessed of six hundred per annum, the very year they left old +Trinity! They were firmer friends than ever, yet that sweet false one +was never mentioned between them. In a reverently-veiled corner in each +heart, however, still dwelt a dear ideal which the false beloved had not +been able to destroy. + +Then events crowded upon Mrs. Archer. The Rector died, and she left her +old home; and her son and his friend went into the army, Henry as sub., +Malcolm as surgeon. + +At the commencement of the story, Malcolm was assuring the mother that +he would stand by Henry in all dangers--under all circumstances +whatever. + +"You will hear of the 5th Fusiliers favourably, I am sure," said he +lightly, trying to calm her agitation. + +"Henry is so rash and ardent," she returned. + +"And I am a cool, quiet fellow, ma'am. Oh, you may trust me--I'll have +an eye to him." + +"Will there be wars, Doctor dear, where you ones is goin'?" asked old +Jack Dunn, wistfully, as he polished the young gentlemen's boots for the +last time before their departure. The friends were smoking a last pipe +by the kitchen fire of the cottage where Mrs. Archer lived in her +husband's old parish, among the people who had loved him. Jack was +polishing the boots close to them, pausing every now and then to +exchange a word with his "wichel," whom he had nursed as an infant, +petted and scolded as a schoolboy, and shielded from punishment on +innumerable occasions. His "wichel" was now a huge young man, taller +than Dr. McGregor by four inches. + +"Wha'll black them boots now?" said Jack in a sentimental tone. "Wha'll +put the richt polish on them? Some scatter-brained youngster, I'm +thinkin', that shouldna be trusted to handle boots like these anes." +Thus he spoke, making the hissing, purring noise with which he +accompanied his rubbing down of King William. + +The friends smiled at each other. "That's hard work, Jack," remarked +Henry. + +"But are ye goin' to the wars, my wean? Doctor dear, tell me, will he be +fightin' them savage Indians?" + +"We believe so, Jack. We are to join the 5th Fusiliers, and they are to +fight the warlike Hill Tribes, fine soldiers--tall, fine men they are, +we are told." + +"Alase-a-nie! You'll nae be fightin' yoursel, Doctor?" + +"No," smiled McGregor, "my duty will be to cure, not to kill." + +"Then, man alive, ye'll hae an eye to Henry." + +So the young men tore themselves away from the sobbing mother, and, +through her blinding tears, she watched them mount the steep road +leading to Letterkenny first and then to the outside world, where danger +must be faced and glory won. Her husband's loving people collected that +evening in her cottage garden to condole with her and offer their +roughly-expressed but heartfelt sympathy. + +"Dinna be cryin' that way, mistress dear," said old Jack. "Sure thon's a +quare steady fellow, thon Doctor, an' he will hae an eye to Henry." + + * * * * * + +It was November, 1888, when our troops were obliged to retreat from the +Black Mountain, and Mrs. Archer's son and his friend were among them. +Need it be recorded here how bravely Englishmen had fought, how +unmurmuringly they had endured the extremity of cold and fatigue? Their +Gourka allies had stood by them well; but the wild Hill Tribes, the +"fine soldiers" of whom McGregor had told Jack Dunn, were getting the +best of it, and we were forced to retreat. Many months had passed since +the two friends first saw the Black Mountain, compared with which the +mightiest highland in wild Donegal, land of mountains, was an anthill. +Dear Gartan Lough was as a drop of water in their eyes, their +snipe-haunted marshes as a potato garden, when they saw the gigantic +scale of Indian scenery. Henry had fought well in many a skirmish and +had escaped without a wound. Malcolm had used his surgical skill pretty +often, generally with good effect. He was beloved by officers and men +for his kindness of heart. Was there a letter to be written for any poor +fellow--a last message to be sent home, words of Christian hope to be +spoken, Dr. McGregor was called upon. + +On the 4th of November, the first column began the retreat, the enemy +"sniping," as usual, and a party had to be sent out to clear the flank, +before the troops left camp. The retiring column then got carefully +along the Chaila Ridge as far as the Ghoraphir Point, where some of the +5th Fusiliers were placed with a battery of guns, and ordered to remain +until all were passed. The enemy, in force, followed the last regiment +and were steadily shelled from the battery. The guns were then sent down +and the men, firing volleys, followed the guns, only two companies being +left. Of these, Lieutenant Archer and ten men were told to stay as the +last band to cover the retreat, and the enemy made a determined attempt +to annihilate them. McGregor was with Henry and his ten. All the pluck +that ever animated hero inspired those twelve men. Each felt the honour +of being chosen for such a post. No time for words; no time for more +thoughts than one, namely, "England expects every man to do his duty." + +But of course Malcolm McGregor had a thought underlying the thought of +duty to Queen and country; he remembered his promise to the widowed +mother: he must "have an eye to Henry!" + +The path that led down the hill was a most difficult one, being winding +and very rocky. Above the soldiers rose a precipice, manned by parties +of the enemy, who harassed them incessantly by throwing fragments of +rock down upon their heads. These immense stones were hurled from a +height of fifty yards; but the companies wound round the mountain in +good order. + +Last of all came Henry Archer and his ten men, attended by the Doctor. +Theirs was the chief post of honour and of peril. Henry's foot slipped; +he tried to recover himself, but in vain. Down he rolled with the loose +stones that had been hurled from above. McGregor stopped, and two of the +men with him; the other eight men pushed forward. Henry's leg was +broken; he could not move. Here was, indeed, an anxious dilemma. + +"We must carry him, of course," said the surgeon. "You are the best man +of us three, Henderson; we'll hoist him on your back." + +To stagger along such a path, bearing a heavy burden, was well-nigh +impossible, even for the stalwart soldier. Dark faces might have been +seen looking over the ridge, had they glanced upwards. They knew of the +presence of these foes by the falling of the rocks about their ears. The +peril of the situation demoralised the second soldier; he picked up his +rifle, which he had laid on the ground while he helped the surgeon to +lift Henry upon Henderson's back, and ran. + +"Oh, Doctor dear, he's too weighty for me," groaned Henderson. "I canna +carry him anither foot o' the way; sure, sure he's the biggest man in +the regiment." + +"Lay me down, Henderson, and save yourself; why should I sacrifice +_you_?" groaned the wounded man. + +"I'll take him from you, man; quick, quick, help me to get him on my +back." + +"Why, Doctor, he's a bigger man nor you," said Henderson in his Ulster +dialect. + +"No matter. I'll carry him or die! He has fainted. He is a dead weight +now--but we leave this road together, or we stay here together." +Muttering the last words, Malcolm set out, and he carried him safely +over very rough ground, under a heavy shower of bullets and rockets, for +one hundred and fifty yards to where the nine men awaited them. + +Malcolm's strength was now gone; but Henderson had recovered his powers +a little, and joining hands with him, they managed to carry Henry on to +the spot where the last company of the Fusiliers and a company of +Gourkas were forming, a sharp fire being kept up all the time on both +sides. + +Neither of them expected to reach the company, as they told one another +in after days. Their sole expectation was to drop with their burden on +the stony path of Ghoraphir, and leave their bones among the wild hill +tribes. + +"McGregor, you have carried Archer all the way?--Incredible!" cried his +brother officers. + +"Not I alone--Henderson helped. Let us improvise some kind of stretcher, +and get him on with us, men, for Heaven's sake." + +A stretcher was obtained, and he was carried on, while the retreat +continued, the two companies alternately firing to keep back the enemy, +who pursued for three miles. + + * * * * * + +Henry lay helpless in a bare room in the fort--a blessed haven of refuge +for the sick and wounded. Dr. McGregor had invalids in every room; his +whole time was occupied, and his ingenuity was taxed to make the poor +fellows somewhat comfortable. + +"Another death, Doctor," said the officer in command one morning. + +"Indeed, yes; it is that brave chap, Henderson, who helped me to bring +Archer in. Bronchitis has carried him off; a man of fine physique; a +fine young fellow, and a countryman of my own. The cold of this mountain +district is fearful. I can't keep my patients warm enough, all I can +do." + +"How is Archer? Will he pull through?" + +"He is low to-day; but the limb is doing all right. There is more fever +than I like to see," and the surgeon, looking very grave, hurried away. + +Not to neglect any duty, and yet to nurse his comrade as he ought to be +nursed was the problem our Jonathan had to solve. + +Henry's fever ran high for several days, leaving him utterly weak. It +was midnight. The patient and his surgeon were alone; the latter +beginning to cherish a feeble hope, the former believing that he had +done with earthly things. + +"You carried me on your back down Ghoraphir, old fellow," he said +faintly, stretching out a hand and arm that were dried up to skin and +bone. + +"What of that, Henry? Keep quiet, I'd advise you." + +"You took off your tunic and laid it over me on the stretcher. Henderson +told me that; and you might have caught your death of cold--" + +"Hush, my good man; you are talking too much." + +"You doctors are all tyrants. I _will_ speak, for I may not be able +again. Reach me that writing-case. Yes. Open it and take out the things. +The Bible--her own Bible--is for the mater, with my love. My meerschaum +is for Jack Dunn; and please tell them both that you looked after +me--you 'had an eye to Henry.'" + +This with a smile. Then, as Malcolm took a photograph out of the +case--"Ah, you did not know I had it? Emmie gave it me that time when +she--well, well, they put a pressure upon her, and I had nothing to +marry on--a pauper, eh?" + +"She liked you the best of us two, Henry." + +"Ay, but she did not like me well enough. I dreamt of her yesterday, and +I quite forgive her. If you care to keep that photo., you can, and the +case, and gold pen and studs." + +"Now, my chap, you just drink this, and hold your tongue. Please God, +you and I will _both_ see Gartan parish again; and you may tell mother +and Jack that I stood by you and looked after you, if you please. You're +mad angry with me this minute; but I'm shutting you up for your good." + + * * * * * + +A time came, through the mercy of God, when the widow received her son +back again, with the friend who was now almost as dear to her, and when +tar barrels blazed on every hill around Gartan Lough. + +Jack polished the boots that had travelled so far, the while tales of +adventure delighted his ear. + +Henry talked the most, his quiet friend hearing him with pleasure. +Surgeon McGregor never realised that he was a hero; yet his deeds were +bruited abroad and became the talk of all that countryside. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Argosy, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ARGOSY *** + +***** This file should be named 18373.txt or 18373.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/3/7/18373/ + +Produced by Paul Murray, Taavi Kalju and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +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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