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diff --git a/old/armdl10.txt b/old/armdl10.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0e9bbc5..0000000 --- a/old/armdl10.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,33132 +0,0 @@ -***The Project Gutenberg Etext of Armadale, by Wilkie Collins*** -#20 in our series by Wilkie Collins - - -Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check -the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! - -Please take a look at the important information in this header. -We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an -electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. - - -**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** - -**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** - -*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* - -Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and -further information is included below. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* - - - - - -Prepared by James Rusk (jrusk@cyberramp.net) -Italics are indicated by underscores. - - - - - -Armadale - -by Wilkie Collins - - - - -TO - -JOHN FORSTER. - -In acknowledgment of the services which he has rendered to the -cause of literature by his "Life of Goldsmith;" and in -affectionate remembrance of a friendship which is associated with -some of the happiest years of my life. - - - -READERS in general--on whose friendly reception experience has -given me some reason to rely--will, I venture to hope, appreciate -whatever merit there may be in this story without any prefatory -pleading for it on my part. They will, I think, see that it has -not been hastily meditated or idly wrought out. They will judge -it accordingly, and I ask no more. - -Readers in particular will, I have some reason to suppose, be -here and there disturbed, perhaps even offended, by finding that -"Armadale" oversteps, in more than one direction, the narrow -limits within which they are disposed to restrict the development -of modern fiction--if they can. - -Nothing that I could say to these persons here would help me with -them as Time will help me if my work lasts. I am not afraid of my -design being permanently misunderstood, provided the execution -has done it any sort of justice. Estimated by the clap-trap -morality of the present day, this may be a very daring book. -Judged by the Christian morality which is of all time, it is only -a book that is daring enough to speak the truth. - -LONDON, April, 1866. - - - -ARMADALE. - -PROLOGUE. - -CHAPTER I. - -THE TRAVELERS. - -IT was the opening of the season of eighteen hundred and -thirty-two, at the Baths of WILDBAD. - -The evening shadows were beginning to gather over the quiet -little German town, and the diligence was expected every minute. -Before the door of the principal inn, waiting the arrival of the -first visitors of the year, were assembled the three notable -personages of Wildbad, accompanied by their wives--the mayor, -representing the inhabitants; the doctor, representing the -waters; the landlord, representing his own establishment. Beyond -this select circle, grouped snugly about the trim little square -in front of the inn, appeared the towns-people in general, mixed -here and there with the country people, in their quaint German -costume, placidly expectant of the diligence--the men in short -black jackets, tight black breeches, and three-cornered beaver -hats; the women with their long light hair hanging in one thickly -plaited tail behind them, and the waists of their short woolen -gowns inserted modestly in the region of their shoulder-blades. -Round the outer edge of the assemblage thus formed, flying -detachments of plump white-headed children careered in perpetual -motion; while, mysteriously apart from the rest of the -inhabitants, the musicians of the Baths stood collected in one -lost corner, waiting the appearance of the first visitors to play -the first tune of the season in the form of a serenade. The light -of a May evening was still bright on the tops of the great wooded -hills watching high over the town on the right hand and the left; -and the cool breeze that comes before sunset came keenly fragrant -here with the balsamic odor of the first of the Black Forest. - -"Mr. Landlord," said the mayor's wife (giving the landlord his -title), "have you any foreign guests coming on this first day of -the season?" - -"Madame Mayoress," replied the landlord (returning the -compliment), "I have two. They have written--the one by the hand -of his servant, the other by his own hand apparently--to order -their rooms; and they are from England, both, as I think by their -names. If you ask me to pronounce those names, my tongue -hesitates; if you ask me to spell them, here they are, letter by -letter, first and second in their order as they come. First, a -high-born stranger (by title Mister) who introduces himself in -eight letters, A, r, m, a, d, a, l, e--and comes ill in his own -carriage. Second, a high-born stranger (by title Mister also), -who introduces himself in four letters--N, e, a, l--and comes ill -in the diligence. His excellency of the eight letters writes to -me (by his servant) in French; his excellency of the four letters -writes to me in German. The rooms of both are ready. I know no -more." - -"Perhaps," suggested the mayor's wife, "Mr. Doctor has heard from -one or both of these illustrious strangers?" - -"From one only, Madam Mayoress; but not, strictly speaking, from -the person himself. I have received a medical report of his -excellency of the eight letters, and his case seems a bad one. -God help him!" - -"The diligence!" cried a child from the outskirts of the crowd. - -The musicians seized their instruments, and silence fell on the -whole community. From far away in the windings of the forest -gorge, the ring of horses' bells came faintly clear through the -evening stillness. Which carriage was approaching--the private -carriage with Mr. Armadale, or the public carriage with Mr. Neal? - -"Play, my friends!" cried the mayor to the musicians. "Public or -private, here are the first sick people of the season. Let them -find us cheerful." - -The band played a lively dance tune, and the children in the -square footed it merrily to the music. At the same moment, their -elders near the inn door drew aside, and disclosed the first -shadow of gloom that fell over the gayety and beauty of the -scene. Through the opening made on either hand, a little -procession of stout country girls advanced, each drawing after -her an empty chair on wheels; each in waiting (and knitting while -she waited) for the paralyzed wretches who came helpless by -hundreds then--who come helpless by thousands now--to the waters -of Wildbad for relief. - -While the band played, while the children danced, while the buzz -of many talkers deepened, while the strong young nurses of the -coming cripples knitted impenetrably, a woman's insatiable -curiosity about other women asserted itself in the mayor's wife. -She drew the landlady aside, and whispered a question to her on -the spot. - -"A word more, ma'am," said the mayor's wife, "about the two -strangers from England. Are their letters explicit? Have they got -any ladies with them?" - -"The one by the diligence--no," replied the landlady. "But the -one by the private carriage--yes. He comes with a child; he comes -with a nurse; and," concluded the landlady, skillfully keeping -the main point of interest till the last, "he comes with a Wife." - -The mayoress brightened; the doctoress (assisting at the -conference) brightened; the landlady nodded significantly. In the -minds of all three the same thought started into life at the same -moment--"We shall see the Fashions! " - -In a minute more, there was a sudden movement in the crowd; and a -chorus of voices proclaimed that the travelers were at hand. - -By this time the coming vehicle was in sight, and all further -doubt was at an end. It was the diligence that now approached by -the long street leading into the square--the diligence (in a -dazzling new coat of yellow paint) that delivered the first -visitors of the season at the inn door. Of the ten travelers -released from the middle compartment and the back compartment of -the carriage--all from various parts of Germany--three were -lifted out helpless, and were placed in the chairs on wheels to -be drawn to their lodgings in the town. The front compartment -contained two passengers only--Mr. Neal and his traveling -servant. With an arm on either side to assist him, the stranger -(whose malady appeared to be locally confined to a lameness in -one of his feet) succeeded in descending the steps of the -carriage easily enough. While he steadied himself on the pavement -by the help of his stick--looking not over-patiently toward the -musicians who were serenading him with the waltz in "Der -Freischutz"--his personal appearance rather damped the enthusiasm -of the friendly little circle assembled to welcome him. He was a -lean, tall, serious, middle-aged man, with a cold gray eye and a -long upper lip, with overhanging eyebrows and high cheek-bones; a -man who looked what he was--every inch a Scotchman. - -"Where is the proprietor of this hotel?" he asked, speaking in -the German language, with a fluent readiness of expression, and -an icy coldnes s of manner. "Fetch the doctor," he continued, -when the landlord had presented himself, "I want to see him -immediately." - -"I am here already, sir," said the doctor, advancing from the -circle of friends, "and my services are entirely at your -disposal." - -"Thank you," said Mr. Neal, looking at the doctor, as the rest of -us look at a dog when we have whistled and the dog has come. "I -shall be glad to consult you to-morrow morning, at ten o'clock, -about my own case. I only want to trouble you now with a message -which I have undertaken to deliver. We overtook a traveling -carriage on the road here with a gentleman in it--an Englishman, -I believe--who appeared to be seriously ill. A lady who was with -him begged me to see you immediately on my arrival, and to secure -your professional assistance in removing the patient from the -carriage. Their courier has met with an accident, and has been -left behind on the road, and they are obliged to travel very -slowly. If you are here in an hour, you will be here in time to -receive them. That is the message. Who is this gentleman who -appears to be anxious to speak to me? The mayor? If you wish to -see my passport, sir, my servant will show it to you. No? You -wish to welcome me to the place, and to offer your services? I am -infinitely flattered. If you have any authority to shorten the -performances of your town band, you would be doing me a kindness -to exert it. My nerves are irritable, and I dislike music. Where -is the landlord? No; I want to see my rooms. I don't want your -arm; I can get upstairs with the help of my stick. Mr. Mayor and -Mr. Doctor, we need not detain one another any longer. I wish you -good-night." - -Both mayor and doctor looked after the Scotchman as he limped -upstairs, and shook their heads together in mute disapproval of -him. The ladies, as usual, went a step further, and expressed -their opinions openly in the plainest words. The case under -consideration (so far as _they_ were concerned) was the -scandalous case of a man who had passed them over entirely -without notice. Mrs. Mayor could only attribute such an outrage -to the native ferocity of a savage. Mrs. Doctor took a stronger -view still, and considered it as proceeding from the inbred -brutality of a hog. - -The hour of waiting for the traveling-carriage wore on, and the -creeping night stole up the hillsides softly. One by one the -stars appeared, and the first lights twinkled in the windows of -the inn. As the darkness came, the last idlers deserted the -square; as the darkness came, the mighty silence of the forest -above flowed in on the valley, and strangely and suddenly hushed -the lonely little town. - -The hour of waiting wore out, and the figure of the doctor, -walking backward and forward anxiously, was still the only living -figure left in the square. Five minutes, ten minutes, twenty -minutes, were counted out by the doctor's watch, before the first -sound came through the night silence to warn him of the -approaching carriage. Slowly it emerged into the square, at the -walking pace of the horses, and drew up, as a hearse might have -drawn up, at the door of the inn. - -"Is the doctor here?" asked a woman's voice, speaking, out of the -darkness of the carriage, in the French language. - -"I am here, madam," replied the doctor, taking a light from the -landlord's hand and opening the carriage door. - -The first face that the light fell on was the face of the lady -who had just spoken--a young, darkly beautiful woman, with the -tears standing thick and bright in her eager black eyes. The -second face revealed was the face of a shriveled old negress, -sitting opposite the lady on the back seat. The third was the -face of a little sleeping child in the negress's lap. With a -quick gesture of impatience, the lady signed to the nurse to -leave the carriage first with the child. "Pray take them out of -the way," she said to the landlady; "pray take them to their -room." She got out herself when her request had been complied -with. Then the light fell clear for the first time on the further -side of the carriage, and the fourth traveler was disclosed to -view. - -He lay helpless on a mattress, supported by a stretcher; his -hair, long and disordered, under a black skull-cap; his eyes wide -open, rolling to and fro ceaselessly anxious; the rest of his -face as void of all expression of the character within him, and -the thought within him, as if he had been dead. There was no -looking at him now, and guessing what he might once have been. -The leaden blank of his face met every question as to his age, -his rank, his temper, and his looks which that face might once -have answered, in impenetrable silence. Nothing spoke for him now -but the shock that had struck him with the death-in-life of -paralysis. The doctor's eye questioned his lower limbs, and -Death-in-Life answered, _I am here._ The doctor's eye, rising -attentively by way of his hands and arms, questioned upward and -upward to the muscles round his mouth, and Death-in-Life -answered, _I am coming._ - -In the face of a calamity so unsparing and so dreadful, there was -nothing to be said. The silent sympathy of help was all that -could be offered to the woman who stood weeping at the carriage -door. - -As they bore him on his bed across the hall of the hotel, his -wandering eyes encountered the face of his wife. They rested on -her for a moment, and in that moment he spoke. - -"The child?" he said in English, with a slow, thick, laboring -articulation. - -"The child is safe upstairs," she answered, faintly. - -"My desk?" - -"It is in my hands. Look! I won't trust it to anybody; I am -taking care of it for you myself." - -He closed his eyes for the first time after that answer, and said -no more. Tenderly and skillfully he was carried up the stairs, -with his wife on one side of him, and the doctor (ominously -silent) on the other. The landlord and the servants following saw -the door of his room open and close on him; heard the lady burst -out crying hysterically as soon as she was alone with the doctor -and the sick man; saw the doctor come out, half an hour later, -with his ruddy face a shade paler than usual; pressed him eagerly -for information, and received but one answer to all their -inquiries--"Wait till I have seen him to-morrow. Ask me nothing -to-night." They all knew the doctor's ways, and they augured ill -when he left them hurriedly with that reply. - -So the two first English visitors of the year came to the Baths -of Wildbad in the season of eighteen hundred and thirty-two. - -CHAPTER II. - -THE SOLID SIDE OF THE SCOTCH CHARACTER. - -AT ten o'clock the next morning, Mr. Neal--waiting for the -medical visit which he had himself appointed for that -hour--looked at his watch, and discovered, to his amazement, that -he was waiting in vain. It was close on eleven when the door -opened at last, and the doctor entered the room. - -"I appointed ten o'clock for your visit," said Mr. Neal. "In my -country, a medical man is a punctual man." - -"In my country," returned the doctor, without the least -ill-humor, "a medical man is exactly like other men--he is at the -mercy of accidents. Pray grant me your pardon, sir, for being so -long after my time; I have been detained by a very distressing -case--the case of Mr. Armadale, whose traveling-carriage you -passed on the road yesterday." - -Mr. Neal looked at his medical attendant with a sour surprise. -There was a latent anxiety in the doctor's eye, a latent -preoccupation in the doctor's manner, which he was at a loss to -account for. For a moment the two faces confronted each other -silently, in marked national contrast--the Scotchman's, long and -lean, hard and regular; the German's, plump and florid, soft and -shapeless. One face looked as if it had never been young; the -other, as if it would never grow old. - -"Might I venture to remind you," said Mr. Neal, "that the case -now under consideration is MY case, and not Mr. Armadale's?" - -"Certainly," replied the doctor, still vacillating between the -case he had come to see and the case he had just left. "You -appear to be suffering from lameness; let me look at your foot." - -Mr. Neal's malady, however serious it might be in his own -estimation, was of no extraordinary importance in a medical poi -nt of view. He was suffering from a rheumatic affection of the -ankle-joint. The necessary questions were asked and answered and -the necessary baths were prescribed. In ten minutes the -consultation was at an end, and the patient was waiting in -significant silence for the medical adviser to take his leave. - -"I cannot conceal from myself," said the doctor, rising, and -hesitating a little, "that I am intruding on you. But I am -compelled to beg your indulgence if I return to the subject of -Mr. Armadale." - -"May I ask what compels you?" - -"The duty which I owe as a Christian," answered the doctor, "to a -dying man." - -Mr. Neal started. Those who touched his sense of religious duty -touched the quickest sense in his nature. - -"You have established your claim on my attention," he said, -gravely. "My time is yours." - -"I will not abuse your kindness," replied the doctor, resuming -his chair. "I will be as short as I can. Mr. Armadale's case is -briefly this: He has passed the greater part of his life in the -West Indies--a wild life, and a vicious life, by his own -confession. Shortly after his marriage--now some three years -since--the first symptoms of an approaching paralytic affection -began to show themselves, and his medical advisers ordered him -away to try the climate of Europe. Since leaving the West Indies -he has lived principally in Italy, with no benefit to his health. -From Italy, before the last seizure attacked him, he removed to -Switzerland, and from Switzerland he has been sent to this place. -So much I know from his doctor's report; the rest I can tell you -from my own personal experience. Mr. Armadale has been sent to -Wildbad too late: he is virtually a dead man. The paralysis is -fast spreading upward, and disease of the lower part of the spine -has already taken place. He can still move his hands a little, -but he can hold nothing in his fingers. He can still articulate, -but he may wake speechless to-morrow or next day. If I give him a -week more to live, I give him what I honestly believe to be the -utmost length of his span. At his own request I told him, as -carefully and as tenderly as I could, what I have just told you. -The result was very distressing; the violence of the patient's -agitation was a violence which I despair of describing to you. I -took the liberty of asking him whether his affairs were -unsettled. Nothing of the sort. His will is in the hands of his -executor in London, and he leaves his wife and child well -provided for. My next question succeeded better; it hit the mark: -'Have you something on your mind to do before you die which is -not done yet?' He gave a great gasp of relief, which said, as no -words could have said it, Yes. 'Can I help you?' 'Yes. I have -something to write that I _must_ write; can you make me hold a -pen?' - -"He might as well have asked me if I could perform a miracle. I -could only say No. 'If I dictate the words,' he went on, 'can you -write what I tell you to write?' Once more I could only say No. I -understand a little English, but I can neither speak it nor write -it. Mr. Armadale understands French when it is spoken (as I speak -it to him) slowly, but he cannot express himself in that -language; and of German he is totally ignorant. In this -difficulty, I said, what any one else in my situation would have -said: 'Why ask _me?_ there is Mrs. Armadale at your service in -the next room.' Before I could get up from my chair to fetch her, -he stopped me--not by words, but by a look of horror which fixed -me, by main force of astonishment, in my place. 'Surely,' I said, -'your wife is the fittest person to write for you as you desire?' -'The last person under heaven!' he answered. 'What!' I said, 'you -ask me, a foreigner and a stranger, to write words at your -dictation which you keep a secret from your wife!' Conceive my -astonishment when he answered me, without a moment's hesitation, -'Yes!' I sat lost; I sat silent. 'If _you_ can't write English,' -he said, 'find somebody who can.' I tried to remonstrate. He -burst into a dreadful moaning cry--a dumb entreaty, like the -entreaty of a dog. 'Hush! hush!' I said, 'I will find somebody.' -'To-day!' he broke out, 'before my speech fails me, like my -hand.' 'To-day, in an hour's time.' He shut his eyes; he quieted -himself instantly. 'While I am waiting for you,' he said, 'let me -see my little boy.' He had shown no tenderness when he spoke of -his wife, but I saw the tears on his cheeks when he asked for his -child. My profession, sir, has not made me so hard a man as you -might think; and my doctor's heart was as heavy, when I went out -to fetch the child, as if I had not been a doctor at all. I am -afraid you think this rather weak on my part?" - -The doctor looked appealingly at Mr. Neal. He might as well have -looked at a rock in the Black Forest. Mr. Neal entirely declined -to be drawn by any doctor in Christendom out of the regions of -plain fact. - -"Go on," he said. "I presume you have not told me all that you -have to tell me, yet?" - -"Surely you understand my object in coming here, now?" returned -the other - -"Your object is plain enough, at last. You invite me to connect -myself blindfold with a matter which is in the last degree -suspicious, so far. I decline giving you any answer until I know -more than I know now. Did you think it necessary to inform this -man's wife of what had passed between you, and to ask her for an -explanation?" - -"Of course I thought it necessary!" said the doctor, indignant at -the reflection on his humanity which the question seemed to -imply. "If ever I saw a woman fond of her husband, and sorry for -her husband, it is this unhappy Mrs. Armadale. As soon as we were -left alone together, I sat down by her side, and I took her hand -in mine. Why not? I am an ugly old man, and I may allow myself -such liberties as these!" - -"Excuse me," said the impenetrable Scotchman. "I beg to suggest -that you are losing the thread of the narrative." - -"Nothing more likely," returned the doctor, recovering his good -humor. "It is in the habit of my nation to be perpetually losing -the thread; and it is evidently in the habit of yours, sir, to be -perpetually finding it. What an example here of the order of the -universe, and the everlasting fitness of things!" - -"Will you oblige me, once for all, by confining yourself to the -facts," persisted Mr. Neal, frowning impatiently. "May I inquire, -for my own information, whether Mrs. Armadale could tell you what -it is her husband wishes me to write, and why it is that he -refuses to let her write for him?" - -"There is my thread found--and thank you for finding it!" said -the doctor. "You shall hear what Mrs. Armadale had to tell me, in -Mrs. Armadale's own words. 'The cause that now shuts me out of -his confidence,' she said, 'is, I firmly believe, the same cause -that has always shut me out of his heart. I am the wife he has -wedded, but I am not the woman he loves. I knew when he married -me that another man had won from him the woman he loved. I -thought I could make him forget her. I hoped when I married him; -I hoped again when I bore him a son. Need I tell you the end of -my hopes--you have seen it for yourself.' (Wait, sir, I entreat -you! I have not lost the thread again; I am following it inch by -inch.) 'Is this all you know?' I asked. 'All I knew,' she said, -'till a short time since. It was when we were in Switzerland, and -when his illness was nearly at its worst, that news came to him -by accident of that other woman who has been the shadow and the -poison of my life--news that she (like me) had borne her husband -a son. On the instant of his making that discovery--a trifling -discovery, if ever there was one yet--a mortal fear seized on -him: not for me, not for himself; a fear for his own child. The -same day (without a word to me) he sent for the doctor. I was -mean, wicked, what you please--I listened at the door. I heard -him say: _I have something to tell my son, when my son grows old -enough to understand me. Shall I live to tell it?_ The doctor -would say nothing certain. The same night (still without a word -to me) he locked himself into his room. What would any woman, -treated as I was, have done in my place? She would have done as I -did--she would have list ened again. I heard him say to himself: -_I shall not live to tell it: I must; write it before I die._ I -heard his pen scrape, scrape, scrape over the paper; I heard him -groaning and sobbing as he wrote; I implored him for God's sake -to let me in. The cruel pen went scrape, scrape, scrape; the -cruel pen was all the answer he gave me. I waited at the -door--hours--I don't know how long. On a sudden, the pen stopped; -and I heard no more. I whispered through the keyhole softly; I -said I was cold and weary with waiting; I said, Oh, my love, let -me in! Not even the cruel pen answered me now: silence answered -me. With all the strength of my miserable hands I beat at the -door. The servants came up and broke it in. We were too late; the -harm was done. Over that fatal letter, the stroke had struck -him--over that fatal letter, we found him paralyzed as you see -him now. Those words which he wants you to write are the words he -would have written himself if the stroke had spared him till the -morning From that time to this there has been a blank place left -in the letter; and it is that blank place which he has just asked -you to fill up.'--In those words Mrs. Armadale spoke to me; in -those words you have the sum and substance of all the information -I can give. Say, if you please, sir, have I kept the thread at -last? Have I shown you the necessity which brings me here from -your countryman's death-bed?" - -"Thus far," said Mr. Neal, "you merely show me that you are -exciting yourself. This is too serious a matter to be treated as -you are treating it now. You have involved Me in the business, -and I insist on seeing my way plainly. Don't raise your hands; -your hands are not a part of the question. If I am to be -concerned in the completion of this mysterious letter, it is only -an act of justifiable prudence on my part to inquire what the -letter is about. Mrs. Armadale appears to have favored you with -an infinite number of domestic particulars--in return, I presume, -for your polite attention in taking her by the hand. May I ask -what she could tell you about her husband's letter, so far as her -husband has written it?" - -"Mrs. Armadale could tell me nothing," replied the doctor, with a -sudden formality in his manner, which showed that his forbearance -was at last failing him. "Before she was composed enough to think -of the letter, her husband had asked for it, and had caused it to -be locked up in his desk. She knows that he has since, time after -time, tried to finish it, and that, time after time, the pen has -dropped from his fingers. She knows, when all other hope of his -restoration was at an end, that his medical advisers encouraged -him to hope in the famous waters of this place. And last, she -knows how that hope has ended; for she knows what I told her -husband this morning." - -The frown which had been gathering latterly on Mr. Neal's face -deepened and darkened. He looked at the doctor as if the doctor -had personally offended him. - -"The more I think of the position you are asking me to take," he -said, "the less I like it. Can you undertake to say positively -that Mr. Armadale is in his right mind?" - -"Yes; as positively as words can say it." - -"Does his wife sanction your coming here to request my -interference?" - -"His wife sends me to you--the only Englishman in Wildbad--to -write for your dying countryman what he cannot write for himself; -and what no one else in this place but you can write for him." - -That answer drove Mr. Neal back to the last inch of ground left -him to stand on. Even on that inch the Scotchman resisted still. - -"Wait a little!" he said. "You put it strongly; let us be quite -sure you put it correctly as well. Let us be quite sure there is -nobody to take this responsibility but myself. There is a mayor -in Wildbad, to begin with--a man who possesses an official -character to justify his interference." - -"A man of a thousand," said the doctor. "With one fault--he knows -no language but his own." - -"There is an English legation at Stuttgart," persisted Mr. Neal. - -"And there are miles on miles of the forest between this and -Stuttgart," rejoined the doctor. "If we sent this moment, we -could get no help from the legation before to-morrow; and it is -as likely as not, in the state of this dying man's articulation, -that to-morrow may find him speechless. I don't know whether his -last wishes are wishes harmless to his child and to others, -wishes hurtful to his child and to others; but I _do_ know that -they must be fulfilled at once or never, and that you are the -only man that can help him." - -That open declaration brought the discussion to a close. It fixed -Mr. Neal fast between the two alternatives of saying Yes, and -committing an act of imprudence, or of saying No, and committing -an act of inhumanity. There was a silence of some minutes. The -Scotchman steadily reflected; and the German steadily watched -him. - -The responsibility of saying the next words rested on Mr. Neal, -and in course of time Mr. Neal took it. He rose from his chair -with a sullen sense of injury lowering on his heavy eyebrows, and -working sourly in the lines at the corners of his mouth. - -"My position is forced on me," he said. "I have no choice but to -accept it." - -The doctor's impulsive nature rose in revolt against the -merciless brevity and gracelessness of that reply. "I wish to -God," he broke out fervently, "I knew English enough to take your -place at Mr. Armadale's bedside!" - -"Bating your taking the name of the Almighty in vain," answered -the Scotchman, "I entirely agree with you. I wish you did." - -Without another word on either side, they left the room -together--the doctor leading the way. - -CHAPTER III. - -THE WRECK OF THE TIMBER SHIP. - -NO one answered the doctor's knock when he and his companion -reached the antechamber door of Mr. Armadale's apartments. They -entered unannounced; and when they looked into the sitting-room, -the sitting-room was empty. - -"I must see Mrs. Armadale," said Mr. Neal. "I decline acting in -the matter unless Mrs. Armadale authorizes my interference with -her own lips." - -"Mrs. Armadale is probably with her husband," replied the doctor. -He approached a door at the inner end of the sitting-room while -he spoke--hesitated--and, turning round again, looked at his sour -companion anxiously. "I am afraid I spoke a little harshly, sir, -when we were leaving your room," he said. "I beg your pardon for -it, with all my heart. Before this poor afflicted lady comes in, -will you--will you excuse my asking your utmost gentleness and -consideration for her?" - -"No, sir," retorted the other harshly; "I won't excuse you. What -right have I given you to think me wanting in gentleness and -consideration toward anybody?" - -The doctor saw it was useless. "I beg your pardon again," he -said, resignedly, and left the unapproachable stranger to -himself. - -Mr. Neal walked to the window, and stood there, with his eyes -mechanically fixed on the prospect, composing his mind for the -coming interview. - -It was midday; the sun shone bright and warm; and all the little -world of Wildbad was alive and merry in the genial springtime. -Now and again heavy wagons, with black-faced carters in charge, -rolled by the window, bearing their precious lading of charcoal -from the forest. Now and again, hurled over the headlong current -of the stream that runs through the town, great lengths of -timber, loosely strung together in interminable series--with the -booted raftsmen, pole in hand, poised watchful at either -end--shot swift and serpent-like past the houses on their course -to the distant Rhine. High and steep above the gabled wooden -buildings on the river-bank, the great hillsides, crested black -with firs, shone to the shining heavens in a glory of lustrous -green. In and out, where the forest foot-paths wound from the -grass through the trees, from the trees over the grass, the -bright spring dresses of women and children, on the search for -wild flowers, traveled to and fro in the lofty distance like -spots of moving light. Below, on the walk by the stream side, the -booths of the little bazar that had opened punctually with the -opening season showed all their glittering trinkets, and -fluttered in the balmy air their splendor of m any-colored flags. -Longingly, here the children looked at the show; patiently the -sunburned lasses plied their knitting as they paced the walk; -courteously the passing townspeople, by fours and fives, and the -passing visitors, by ones and twos, greeted each other, hat in -hand; and slowly, slowly, the cripple and the helpless in their -chairs on wheels came out in the cheerful noontide with the rest, -and took their share of the blessed light that cheers, of the -blessed sun that shines for all. - -On this scene the Scotchman looked, with eyes that never noted -its beauty, with a mind far away from every lesson that it -taught. One by one he meditated the words he should say when the -wife came in. One by one he pondered over the conditions he might -impose before he took the pen in hand at the husband's bedside. - -"Mrs. Armadale is here," said the doctor's voice, interposing -suddenly between his reflections and himself. - -He turned on the instant, and saw before him, with the pure -midday light shining full on her, a woman of the mixed blood of -the European and the African race, with the Northern delicacy in -the shape of her face, and the Southern richness in its color--a -woman in the prime of her beauty, who moved with an inbred grace, -who looked with an inbred fascination, whose large, languid black -eyes rested on him gratefully, whose little dusky hand offered -itself to him in mute expression of her thanks, with the welcome -that is given to the coming of a friend. For the first time in -his life the Scotchman was taken by surprise. Every -self-preservative word that he had been meditating but an instant -since dropped out of his memory. His thrice impenetrable armor of -habitual suspicion, habitual self-discipline, and habitual -reserve, which had never fallen from him in a woman's presence -before, fell from him in this woman's presence, and brought him -to his knees, a conquered man. He took the hand she offered him, -and bowed over it his first honest homage to the sex, in silence. - -She hesitated on her side. The quick feminine perception which, -in happier circumstances, would have pounced on the secret of his -embarrassment in an instant, failed her now. She attributed his -strange reception of her to pride, to reluctance--to any cause -but the unexpected revelation of her own beauty. "I have no words -to thank you," she said, faintly, trying to propitiate him. "I -should only distress you if I tried to speak." Her lip began to -tremble, she drew back a little, and turned away her head in -silence. - -The doctor, who had been standing apart, quietly observant in a -corner, advanced before Mr. Neal could interfere, and led Mrs. -Armadale to a chair. "Don't be afraid of him," whispered the good -man, patting her gently on the shoulder. "He was hard as iron in -my hands, but I think, by the look of him, he will be soft as wax -in yours. Say the words I told you to say, and let us take him to -your husband's room, before those sharp wits of his have time to -recover themselves." - -She roused her sinking resolution, and advanced half-way to the -window to meet Mr. Neal. "My kind friend, the doctor, has told -me, sir, that your only hesitation in coming here is a hesitation -on my account," she said, her head drooping a little, and her -rich color fading away while she spoke. "I am deeply grateful, -but I entreat you not to think of _me._ What my husband wishes--" -Her voice faltered; she waited resolutely, and recovered herself. -"What my husband wishes in his last moments, I wish too." - -This time Mr. Neal was composed enough to answer her. In low, -earnest tones, he entreated her to say no more. "I was only -anxious to show you every consideration," he said. "I am only -anxious now to spare you every distress." As he spoke, something -like a glow of color rose slowly on his sallow face. Her eyes -were looking at him, softly attentive; and he thought guiltily of -his meditations at the window before she came in. - -The doctor saw his opportunity. He opened the door that led into -Mr. Armadale's room, and stood by it, waiting silently. Mrs. -Armadale entered first. In a minute more the door was closed -again; and Mr. Neal stood committed to the responsibility that -had been forced on him--committed beyond recall. - -The room was decorated in the gaudy continental fashion, and the -warm sunlight was shining in joyously. Cupids and flowers were -painted on the ceiling; bright ribbons looped up the white -window-curtains; a smart gilt clock ticked on a velvet-covered -mantelpiece; mirrors gleamed on the walls, and flowers in all the -colors of the rainbow speckled the carpet. In the midst of the -finery, and the glitter, and the light, lay the paralyzed man, -with his wandering eyes, and his lifeless lower face--his head -propped high with many pillows; his helpless hands laid out over -the bed-clothes like the hands of a corpse. By the bed head -stood, grim, and old, and silent, the shriveled black nurse; and -on the counter-pane, between his father's outspread hands, lay -the child, in his little white frock, absorbed in the enjoyment -of a new toy. When the door opened, and Mrs. Armadale led the way -in, the boy was tossing his plaything--a soldier on -horseback--backward and forward over the helpless hands on either -side of him; and the father's wandering eyes were following the -toy to and fro, with a stealthy and ceaseless vigilance--a -vigilance as of a wild animal, terrible to see. - -The moment Mr. Neal appeared in the doorway, those restless eyes -stopped, looked up, and fastened on the stranger with a fierce -eagerness of inquiry. Slowly the motionless lips struggled into -movement. With thick, hesitating articulation, they put the -question which the eyes asked mutely, into words: "Are you the -man?" - -Mr. Neal advanced to the bedside, Mrs. Armadale drawing back from -it as he approached, and waiting with the doctor at the further -end of the room. The child looked up, toy in hand, as the -stranger came near, opened his bright brown eyes in momentary -astonishment, and then went on with his game. - -"I have been made acquainted with your sad situation, sir," said -Mr. Neal; "and I have come here to place my services at your -disposal--services which no one but myself, as your medical -attendant informs me, is in a position to render you in this -strange place. My name is Neal. I am a writer to the signet in -Edinburgh; and I may presume to say for myself that any -confidence you wish to place in me will be confidence not -improperly bestowed." - -The eyes of the beautiful wife were not confusing him now. He -spoke to the helpless husband quietly and seriously, without his -customary harshness, and with a grave compassion in his manner -which presented him at his best. The sight of the death-bed had -steadied him. - -"You wish me to write something for you?" he resumed, after -waiting for a reply, and waiting in vain. - -"Yes!" said the dying man, with the all-mastering impatience -which his tongue was powerless to express, glittering angrily in -his eye. "My hand is gone, and my speech is going. Write!" - -Before there was time to speak again, Mr. Neal heard the rustling -of a woman's dress, and the quick creaking of casters on the -carpet behind him. Mrs. Armadale was moving the writing-table -across the room to the foot of the bed. If he was to set up those -safeguards of his own devising that were to bear him harmless -through all results to come, now was the time, or never. He, kept -his back turned on Mrs. Armadale, and put his precautionary -question at once in the plainest terms. - -"May I ask, sir, before I take the pen in hand, what it is you -wish me to write?" - -The angry eyes of the paralyzed man glittered brighter and -brighter. His lips opened and closed again. He made no reply. - -Mr. Neal tried another precautionary question, in a new -direction. - -"When I have written what you wish me to write," he asked, "what -is to be done with it?" - -This time the answer came: - -"Seal it up in my presence, and post it to my ex--" - -His laboring articulation suddenly stopped and he looked -piteously in the questioner's face for the next word. - -"Do you mean your executor?" - -"Yes." - -"It is a letter, I suppose, that I am to post?" There was no -answer. "May - I ask if it is a letter altering your will?" - -"Nothing of the sort." - -Mr. Neal considered a little. The mystery was thickening. The one -way out of it, so far, was the way traced faintly through that -strange story of the unfinished letter which the doctor had -repeated to him in Mrs. Armadale's words. The nearer he -approached his unknown responsibility, the more ominous it seemed -of something serious to come. Should he risk another question -before he pledged himself irrevocably? As the doubt crossed his -mind, he felt Mrs. Armadale's silk dress touch him on the side -furthest from her husband. Her delicate dark hand was laid gently -on his arm; her full deep African eyes looked at him in -submissive entreaty. "My husband is very anxious," she whispered. -"Will you quiet his anxiety, sir, by taking your place at the -writing-table?" - -It was from _her_ lips that the request came--from the lips of -the person who had the best right to hesitate, the wife who was -excluded from the secret! Most men in Mr. Neal's position would -have given up all their safeguards on the spot. The Scotchman -gave them all up but one. - -"I will write what you wish me to write," he said, addressing Mr. -Armadale. "I will seal it in your presence; and I will post it to -your executor myself. But, in engaging to do this, I must beg you -to remember that I am acting entirely in the dark; and I must ask -you to excuse me, if I reserve my own entire freedom of action, -when your wishes in relation to the writing and the posting of -the letter have been fulfilled." - -"Do you give me your promise?" - -"It you want my promise, sir, I will give it--subject to the -condition I have just named." - -"Take your condition, and keep your promise. My desk," he added, -looking at his wife for the first time. - -She crossed the room eagerly to fetch the desk from a chair in a -corner. Returning with it, she made a passing sign to the -negress, who still stood, grim and silent, in the place that she -had occupied from the first. The woman advanced, obedient to the -sign, to take the child from the bed. At the instant when she -touched him, the father's eyes--fixed previously on the -desk--turned on her with the stealthy quickness of a cat. "No!" -he said. "No!" echoed the fresh voice of the boy, still charmed -with his plaything, and still liking his place on the bed. The -negress left the room, and the child, in high triumph, trotted -his toy soldier up and down on the bedclothes that lay rumpled -over his father's breast. His mother's lovely face contracted -with a pang of jealousy as she looked at him. - -"Shall I open your desk?" she asked, pushing back the child's -plaything sharply while she spoke. An answering look from her -husband guided her hand to the place under his pillow where the -key was hidden. She opened the desk, and disclosed inside some -small sheets of manuscript pinned together. "These?" she -inquired, producing them. - -"Yes," he said. "You can go now." - -The Scotchman sitting at the writing-table, the doctor stirring a -stimulant mixture in a corner, looked at each other with an -anxiety in both their faces which they could neither of them -control. The words that banished the wife from the room were -spoken. The moment had come. - -"You can go now," said Mr. Armadale, for the second time. - -She looked at the child, established comfortably on the bed, and -an ashy paleness spread slowly over her face. She looked at the -fatal letter which was a sealed secret to her, and a torture of -jealous suspicion--suspicion of that other woman who had been the -shadow and the poison of her life--wrung her to the heart. After -moving a few steps from the bedside, she stopped, and came back -again. Armed with the double courage of her love and her despair, -she pressed her lips on her dying husband's cheek, and pleaded -with him for the last time. Her burning tears dropped on his face -as she whispered to him: "Oh, Allan, think how I have loved you! -think how hard I have tried to make you happy! think how soon I -shall lose you! Oh, my own love! don't, don't send me away!" - -The words pleaded for her; the kiss pleaded for her; the -recollection of the love that had been given to him, and never -returned, touched the heart of the fast-sinking man as nothing -had touched it since the day of his marriage. A heavy sigh broke -from him. He looked at her, and hesitated. - -"Let me stay," she whispered, pressing her face closer to his. - -"It will only distress you," he whispered back. - -"Nothing distresses me, but being sent away from _you!_" - -He waited. She saw that he was thinking, and waited too. - -"If I let you stay a little--?" - -"Yes! yes!" - -"Will you go when I tell you?" - -"I will." - -"On your oath?" - -The fetters that bound his tongue seemed to be loosened for a -moment in the great outburst of anxiety which forced that -question to his lips. He spoke those startling words as he had -spoken no words yet. - -"On my oath!" she repeated, and, dropping on her knees at the -bedside, passionately kissed his hand. The two strangers in the -room turned their heads away by common consent. In the silence -that followed, the one sound stirring was the small sound of the -child's toy, as he moved it hither and thither on the bed. - -The doctor was the first who broke the spell of stillness which -had fallen on all the persons present. He approached the patient, -and examined him anxiously. Mrs. Armadale rose from her knees; -and, first waiting for her husband's permission, carried the -sheets of manuscript which she had taken out of the desk to the -table at which Mr. Neal was waiting. Flushed and eager, more -beautiful than ever in the vehement agitation which still -possessed her, she stooped over him as she put the letter into -his hands, and, seizing on the means to her end with a woman's -headlong self-abandonment to her own impulses, whispered to him, -"Read it out from the beginning. I must and will hear it!" Her -eyes flashed their burning light into his; her breath beat on his -cheek. Before he could answer, before he could think, she was -back with her husband. In an instant she had spoken, and in that -instant her beauty had bent the Scotchman to her will. Frowning -in reluctant acknowledgment of his own inability to resist her, -he turned over the leaves of the letter; looked at the blank -place where the pen had dropped from the writer's hand and had -left a blot on the paper; turned back again to the beginning, and -said the words, in the wife's interest, which the wife herself -had put into his lips. - -"Perhaps, sir, you may wish to make some corrections," he began, -with all his attention apparently fixed on the letter, and with -every outward appearance of letting his sour temper again get the -better of him. "Shall I read over to you what you have already -written?" - -Mrs. Armadale, sitting at the bed head on one side, and the -doctor, with his fingers on the patient's pulse, sitting on the -other, waited with widely different anxieties for the answer to -Mr. Neal's question. Mr. Armadale's eyes turned searchingly from -his child to his wife. - -"You _will_ hear it?" he said. Her breath came and went quickly; -her hand stole up and took his; she bowed her head in silence. -Her husband paused, taking secret counsel with his thoughts, and -keeping his eyes fixed on his wife. At last he decided, and gave -the answer. "Read it," he said, "and stop when I tell you." - -It was close on one o'clock, and the bell was ringing which -summoned the visitors to their early dinner at the inn. The quick -beat of footsteps, and the gathering hum of voices outside, -penetrated gayly into the room, as Mr. Neal spread the manuscript -before him on the table, and read the opening sentences in these -words: - - -"I address this letter to my son, when my son is of an age to -understand it. Having lost all hope of living to see my boy grow -up to manhood, I have no choice but to write here what I would -fain have said to him at a future time with my own lips. - -"I have three objects in writing. First, to reveal the -circumstances which attended the marriage of an English lady of -my acquaintance, in the island of Madeira. Secondly, to throw the -true light on the death of her husband a short time afterward, on -board the French - timber ship _La Grace de Dieu._ Thirdly, to warn my son of a -danger that lies in wait for him--a danger that will rise from -his father's grave when the earth has closed over his father's -ashes. - -"The story of the English lady's marriage begins with my -inheriting the great Armadale property, and my taking the fatal -Armadale name. - -"I am the only surviving son of the late Mathew Wrentmore, of -Barbadoes. I was born on our family estate in that island, and I -lost my father when I was still a child. My mother was blindly -fond of me; she denied me nothing, she let me live as I pleased. -My boyhood and youth were passed in idleness and self-indulgence, -among people--slaves and half-castes mostly--to whom my will was -law. I doubt if there is a gentleman of my birth and station in -all England as ignorant as I am at this moment. I doubt if there -was ever a young man in this world whose passions were left so -entirely without control of any kind as mine were in those early -days. - -"My mother had a woman's romantic objection to my father's homely -Christian name. I was christened Allan, after the name of a -wealthy cousin of my father's--the late Allan Armadale--who -possessed estates in our neighborhood, the largest and most -productive in the island, and who consented to be my godfather by -proxy. Mr. Armadale had never seen his West Indian property. He -lived in England; and, after sending me the customary godfather's -present, he held no further communication with my parents for -years afterward. I was just twenty-one before we heard again from -Mr. Armadale. On that occasion my mother received a letter from -him asking if I was still alive, and offering no less (if I was) -than to make me the heir to his West Indian property. - -"This piece of good fortune fell to me entirely through the -misconduct of Mr. Armadale's son, an only child. The young man -had disgraced himself beyond all redemption; had left his home an -outlaw; and had been thereupon renounced by his father at once -and forever. Having no other near male relative to succeed him, -Mr. Armadale thought of his cousin's son and his own godson; and -he offered the West Indian estate to me, and my heirs after me, -on one condition--that I and my heirs should take his name. The -proposal was gratefully accepted, and the proper legal measures -were adopted for changing my name in the colony and in the mother -country. By the next mail information reached Mr. Armadale that -his condition had been complied with. The return mail brought -news from the lawyers. The will had been altered in my favor, and -in a week afterward the death of my benefactor had made me the -largest proprietor and the richest man in Barbadoes. - -"This was the first event in the chain. The second event followed -it six weeks afterward. - -"At that time there happened to be a vacancy in the clerk's -office on the estate, and there came to fill it a young man about -my own age who had recently arrived in the island. He announced -himself by the name of Fergus Ingleby. My impulses governed me in -everything; I knew no law but the law of my own caprice, and I -took a fancy to the stranger the moment I set eyes on him. He had -the manners of a gentleman, and he possessed the most attractive -social qualities which, in my small experience, I had ever met -with. When I heard that the written references to character which -he had brought with him were pronounced to be unsatisfactory, I -interfered, and insisted that he should have the place. My will -was law, and he had it. - -"My mother disliked and distrusted Ingleby from the first. When -she found the intimacy between us rapidly ripening; when she -found me admitting this inferior to the closest companionship and -confidence (I had lived with my inferiors all my life, and I -liked it), she made effort after effort to part us, and failed in -one and all. Driven to her last resources, she resolved to try -the one chance left--the chance of persuading me to take a voyage -which I had often thought of--a voyage to England. - -"Before she spoke to me on the subject, she resolved to interest -me in the idea of seeing England, as I had never been interested -yet. She wrote to an old friend and an old admirer of hers, the -late Stephen Blanchard, of Thorpe Ambrose, in Norfolk--a -gentleman of landed estate, and a widower with a grown-up family. -After-discoveries informed me that she must have alluded to their -former attachment (which was checked, I believe, by the parents -on either side); and that, in asking Mr. Blanchard's welcome for -her son when he came to England, she made inquiries about his -daughter, which hinted at the chance of a marriage uniting the -two families, if the young lady and I met and liked one another. -We were equally matched in every respect, and my mother's -recollection of her girlish attachment to Mr. Blanchard made the -prospect of my marrying her old admirer's daughter the brightest -and happiest prospect that her eyes could see. Of all this I knew -nothing until Mr. Blanchard's answer arrived at Barbadoes. Then -my mother showed me the letter, and put the temptation which was -to separate me from Fergus Ingleby openly in my way. - -"Mr. Blanchard's letter was dated from the Island of Madeira. He -was out of health, and he had been ordered there by the doctors -to try the climate. His daughter was with him. After heartily -reciprocating all my mother's hopes and wishes, he proposed (if I -intended leaving Barbadoes shortly) that I should take Madeira on -my way to England, and pay him a visit at his temporary residence -in the island. If this could not be, he mentioned the time at -which he expected to be back in England, when I might be sure of -finding a welcome at his own house of Thorpe Ambrose. In -conclusion, he apologized for not writing at greater length; -explaining that his sight was affected, and that he had disobeyed -the doctor's orders by yielding to the temptation of writing to -his old friend with his own hand. - -"Kindly as it was expressed, the letter itself might have had -little influence on me. But there was something else besides the -letter; there was inclosed in it a miniature portrait of Miss -Blanchard. At the back of the portrait, her father had written, -half-jestingly, half-tenderly, 'I can't ask my daughter to spare -my eyes as usual, without telling her of your inquiries, and -putting a young lady's diffidence to the blush. So I send her in -effigy (without her knowledge) to answer for herself. It is a -good likeness of a good girl. If she likes your son--and if I -like him, which I am sure I shall--we may yet live, my good -friend, to see our children what we might once have been -ourselves--man and wife.' My mother gave me the miniature with -the letter. The portrait at once struck me--I can't say why, I -can't say how--as nothing of the kind had ever struck me before. - -"Harder intellects than mine might have attributed the -extraordinary impression produced on me to the disordered -condition of my mind at that time; to the weariness of my own -base pleasures which had been gaining on me for months past, to -the undefined longing which that weariness implied for newer -interests and fresher hopes than any that had possessed me yet. I -attempted no such sober self-examination as this: I believed in -destiny then, I believe in destiny now. It was enough for me to -know--as I did know--that the first sense I had ever felt of -something better in my nature than my animal self was roused by -that girl's face looking at me from her picture as no woman's -face had ever looked at me yet. In those tender eyes--in the -chance of making that gentle creature my wife--I saw my destiny -written. The portrait which had come into my hands so strangely -and so unexpectedly was the silent messenger of happiness close -at hand, sent to warn, to encourage, to rouse me before it was -too late. I put the miniature under my pillow at night; I looked -at it again the next morning. My conviction of the day before -remained as strong as ever; my superstition (if you please to -call it so) pointed out to me irresistibly the way on which I -should go. There was a ship in port which was to sail for England -in a fortnight, touching at Madeira. In that ship I took - my passage." - - -Thus far the reader had advanced with no interruption to disturb -him. But at the last words the tones of another voice, low and -broken, mingled with his own. - -"Was she a fair woman," asked the voice, "or dark, like me?" - -Mr. Neal paused, and looked up. The doctor was still at the bed -head, with his fingers mechanically on the patient's pulse. The -child, missing his midday sleep, was beginning to play languidly -with his new toy. The father's eyes were watching him with a rapt -and ceaseless attention. But one great change was visible in the -listeners since the narrative had begun. Mrs. Armadale had -dropped her hold of her husband's hand, and sat with her face -steadily turned away from him The hot African blood burned red in -her dusky cheeks as she obstinately repeated the question: "Was -she a fair woman, or dark, like me?" - -"Fair," said her husband, without looking at her. - -Her hands, lying clasped together in her lap, wrung each other -hard--she said no more. Mr. Neal's overhanging eyebrows lowered -ominously as he returned to the narrative. He had incurred his -own severe displeasure--he had caught himself in the act of -secretly pitying her. - - -"I have said"--the letter proceeded--"that Ingleby was admitted -to my closest confidence. I was sorry to leave him; and I was -distressed by his evident surprise and mortification when he -heard that I was going away. In my own justification, I showed -him the letter and the likeness, and told him the truth. His -interest in the portrait seemed to be hardly inferior to my own. -He asked me about Miss Blanchard's family and Miss Blanchard's -fortune with the sympathy of a true friend; and he strengthened -my regard for him, and my belief in him, by putting himself out -of the question, and by generously encouraging me to persist in -my new purpose. When we parted, I was in high health and spirits. -Before we met again the next day, I was suddenly struck by an -illness which threatened both my reason and my life. - -"I have no proof against Ingleby. There was more than one woman -on the island whom I had wronged beyond all forgiveness, and -whose vengeance might well have reached me at that time. I can -accuse nobody. I can only say that my life was saved by my old -black nurse; and that the woman afterward acknowledged having -used the known negro antidote to a known negro poison in those -parts. When my first days of convalescence came, the ship in -which my passage had been taken had long since sailed. When I -asked for Ingleby, he was gone. Proofs of his unpardonable -misconduct in his situation were placed before me, which not even -my partiality for him could resist. He had been turned out of the -office in the first days of my illness, and nothing more was -known of him but that he had left the island. - -"All through my sufferings the portrait had been under my pillow. -All through my convalescence it was my one consolation when I -remembered the past, and my one encouragement when I thought of -the future. No words can describe the hold that first fancy had -now taken of me--with time and solitude and suffering to help it. -My mother, with all her interest in the match, was startled by -the unexpected success of her own project. She had written to -tell Mr. Blanchard of my illness, but had received no reply. She -now offered to write again, if I would promise not to leave her -before my recovery was complete. My impatience acknowledged no -restraint. Another ship in port gave me another chance of leaving -for Madeira. Another examination of Mr. Blanchard's letter of -invitation assured me that I should find him still in the island, -if I seized my opportunity on the spot. In defiance of my -mother's entreaties, I insisted on taking my passage in the -second ship--and this time, when the ship sailed, I was on board. - -"The change did me good; the sea-air made a man of me again. -After an unusually rapid voyage, I found myself at the end of my -pilgrimage. On a fine, still evening which I can never forget, I -stood alone on the shore, with her likeness in my bosom, and saw -the white walls of the house where I knew that she lived. - -"I strolled round the outer limits of the grounds to compose -myself before I went in. Venturing through a gate and a -shrubbery, I looked into the garden, and saw a lady there, -loitering alone on the lawn. She turned her face toward me--and I -beheld the original of my portrait, the fulfillment of my dream! -It is useless, and worse than useless, to write of it now. Let me -only say that every promise which the likeness had made to my -fancy the living woman kept to my eyes in the moment when they -first looked on her. Let me say this--and no more. - -"I was too violently agitated to trust myself in her presence. I -drew back undiscovered, and, making my way to the front door of -the house, asked for her father first. Mr. Blanchard had retired -to his room, and could see nobody. Upon that I took courage, and -asked for Miss Blanchard. The servant smiled. 'My young lady is -not Miss Blanchard any longer, sir,' he said. 'She is married.' -Those words would have struck some men, in my position, to the -earth. They fired my hot blood, and I seized the servant by the -throat, in a frenzy of rage 'It's a lie!' I broke out, speaking -to him as if he had been one of the slaves on my own estate. -'It's the truth,' said the man, struggling with me; 'her husband -is in the house at this moment.' 'Who is he, you scoundrel?' The -servant answered by repeating my own name, to my own face: -'_Allan Armadale._' - -"You can now guess the truth. Fergus Ingleby was the outlawed son -whose name and whose inheritance I had taken. And Fergus Ingleby -was even with me for depriving him of his birthright. - -"Some account of the manner in which the deception had been -carried out is necessary to explain--I don't say to justify--the -share I took in the events that followed my arrival at Madeira. - -"By Ingleby's own confession, he had come to Barbadoes--knowing -of his father's death and of my succession to the estates--with -the settled purpose of plundering and injuring me. My rash -confidence put such an opportunity into his hands as he could -never have hoped for. He had waited to possess himself of the -letter which my mother wrote to Mr. Blanchard at the outset of my -illness--had then caused his own dismissal from his -situation--and had sailed for Madeira in the very ship that was -to have sailed with me. Arrived at the island, he had waited -again till the vessel was away once more on her voyage, and had -then presented himself at Mr. Blanchard's--not in the assumed -name by which I shall continue to speak of him here, but in the -name which was as certainly his as mine, 'Allan Armadale.' The -fraud at the outset presented few difficulties. He had only an -ailing old man (who had not seen my mother for half a lifetime) -and an innocent, unsuspicious girl (who had never seen her at -all) to deal with; and he had learned enough in my service to -answer the few questions that were put to him as readily as I -might have answered them myself. His looks and manners, his -winning ways with women, his quickness and cunning, did the rest. -While I was still on my sickbed, he had won Miss Blanchard's -affections. While I was dreaming over the likeness in the first -days of my convalescence, he had secured Mr. Blanchard's consent -to the celebration of the marriage before he and his daughter -left the island. - -"Thus far Mr. Blanchard's infirmity of sight had helped the -deception. He had been content to send messages to my mother, and -to receive the messages which were duly invented in return. But -when the suitor was accepted, and the wedding-day was appointed, -he felt it due to his old friend to write to her, asking her -formal consent and inviting her to the marriage. He could only -complete part of the letter himself; the rest was finished, under -his dictation, by Miss Blanchard. There was no chance of being -beforehand with the post-office this time; and Ingleby, sure of -his place in the heart of his victim, waylaid her as she came out -of her father's room with the letter, and privately told her the -truth. She was still under age, and the position was a serious -one. If the lett er was posted, no resource would be left but to -wait and be parted forever, or to elope under circumstances which -made detection almost a certainty. The destination of any ship -which took them away would be known beforehand; and the -fast-sailing yacht in which Mr. Blanchard had come to Madeira was -waiting in the harbor to take him back to England. The only other -alternative was to continue the deception by suppressing the -letter, and to confess the truth when they were securely married. -What arts of persuasion Ingleby used--what base advantage he -might previously have taken of her love and her trust in him to -degrade Miss Blanchard to his own level--I cannot say. He did -degrade her. The letter never went to its destination; and, with -the daughter's privity and consent, the father's confidence was -abused to the very last. - -"The one precaution now left to take was to fabricate the answer -from my mother which Mr. Blanchard expected, and which would -arrive in due course of post before the day appointed for the -marriage. Ingleby had my mother's stolen letter with him; but he -was without the imitative dexterity which would have enabled him -to make use of it for a forgery of her handwriting. Miss -Blanchard, who had consented passively to the deception, refused -to take any active share in the fraud practiced on her father. In -this difficulty, Ingleby found an instrument ready to his hand in -an orphan girl of barely twelve years old, a marvel of precocious -ability, whom Miss Blanchard had taken a romantic fancy to -befriend and whom she had brought away with her from England to -be trained as her maid. That girl's wicked dexterity removed the -one serious obstacle left to the success of the fraud. I saw the -imitation of my mother's writing which she had produced under -Ingleby's instructions and (if the shameful truth must be told) -with her young mistress's knowledge--and I believe I should have -been deceived by it myself. I saw the girl afterward--and my -blood curdled at the sight of her. If she is alive now, woe to -the people who trust her! No creature more innately deceitful and -more innately pitiless ever walked this earth. - -"The forged letter paved the way securely for the marriage; and -when I reached the house, they were (as the servant had truly -told me) man and wife. My arrival on the scene simply -precipitated the confession which they had both agreed to make. -Ingleby's own lips shamelessly acknowledged the truth. He had -nothing to lose by speaking out--he was married, and his wife's -fortune was beyond her father's control. I pass over all that -followed--my interview with the daughter, and my interview with -the father--to come to results. For two days the efforts of the -wife, and the efforts of the clergyman who had celebrated the -marriage, were successful in keeping Ingleby and myself apart. On -the third day I set my trap more successfully, and I and the man -who had mortally injured me met together alone, face to face. - -"Remember how my confidence had been abused; remember how the one -good purpose of my life had been thwarted; remember the violent -passions rooted deep in my nature, and never yet controlled--and -then imagine for yourself what passed between us. All I need tell -here is the end. He was a taller and a stronger man than I, and -he took his brute's advantage with a brute's ferocity. He struck -me. - -"Think of the injuries I had received at that man's hands, and -then think of his setting his mark on my face by a blow! - -"I went to an English officer who had been my fellow-passenger on -the voyage from Barbadoes. I told him the truth, and he agreed -with me that a meeting was inevitable. Dueling had its received -formalities and its established laws in those days; and he began -to speak of them. I stopped him. 'I will take a pistol in my -right hand,' I said, 'and he shall take a pistol in his: I will -take one end of a handkerchief in my left hand, and he shall take -the other end in his; and across that handkerchief the duel shall -be fought.' The officer got up, and looked at me as if I had -personally insulted him. 'You are asking me to be present at a -murder and a suicide,' he said; 'I decline to serve you.' He left -the room. As soon as he was gone I wrote down the words I had -said to the officer and sent them by a messenger to Ingleby. -While I was waiting for an answer, I sat down before the glass, -and looked at his mark on my face. 'Many a man has had blood on -his hands and blood on his conscience,' I thought, 'for less than -this.' - -"The messenger came back with Ingleby's answer. It appointed a -meeting for three o'clock the next day, at a lonely place in the -interior of the island. I had resolved what to do if he refused; -his letter released me from the horror of my own resolution. I -felt grateful to him--yes, absolutely grateful to him--for -writing it. - -"The next day I went to the place. He was not there. I waited two -hours, and he never came. At last the truth dawned on me. 'Once a -coward, always a coward,' I thought. I went back to Mr. -Blanchard's house. Before I got there, a sudden misgiving seized -me, and I turned aside to the harbor. I was right; the harbor was -the place to go to. A ship sailing for Lisbon that afternoon had -offered him the opportunity of taking a passage for himself and -his wife, and escaping me. His answer to my challenge had served -its purpose of sending me out of the way into the interior of the -island. Once more I had trusted in Fergus Ingleby, and once more -those sharp wits of his had been too much for me. - -"I asked my informant if Mr. Blanchard was aware as yet of his -daughter's departure. He had discovered it, but not until the -ship had sailed. This time I took a lesson in cunning from -Ingleby. Instead of showing myself at Mr. Blanchard's house, I -went first and looked at Mr. Blanchard's yacht. - -"The vessel told me what the vessel's master might have -concealed--the truth. I found her in the confusion of a sudden -preparation for sea. All the crew were on board, with the -exception of some few who had been allowed their leave on shore, -and who were away in the interior of the island, nobody knew -where. When I discovered that the sailing-master was trying in, -to supply their places with the best men he could pick up at a -moment's notice, my resolution was instantly taken. I knew the -duties on board a yacht well enough, having had a vessel of my -own, and having sailed her myself. Hurrying into the town, I -changed my dress for a sailor's coat and hat, and, returning to -the harbor, I offered myself as one of the volunteer crew. I -don't know what the sailing-master saw in my face. My answers to -his questions satisfied him, and yet he looked at me and -hesitated. But hands were scarce, and it ended in my being taken -on board. An hour later Mr. Blanchard joined us, and was assisted -into the cabin, suffering pitiably in mind and body both. An hour -after that we were at sea, with a starless night overhead, and a -fresh breeze behind us. - -"As I had surmised, we were in pursuit of the vessel in which -Ingleby and his wife had left the island that afternoon. The ship -was French, and was employed in the timber trade: her name was -_La Grace de Dieu._ Nothing more was known of her than that she -was bound for Lisbon; that she had been driven out of her course; -and that she had touched at Madeira, short of men and short of -provisions. The last want had been supplied, but not the first. -Sailors distrusted the sea-worthiness of the ship, and disliked -the look of the vagabond crew. When those two serious facts had -been communicated to Mr. Blanchard, the hard words he had spoken -to his child in the first shock of discovering that she had -helped to deceive him smote him to the heart. He instantly -determined to give his daughter a refuge on board his own vessel, -and to quiet her by keeping her villain of a husband out of the -way of all harm at my hands. The yacht sailed three feet and more -to the ship's one. There was no doubt of our overtaking _La Grace -de Dieu_; the only fear was that we might pass her in the -darkness. - -"After we had been some little time out, the wind suddenly -dropped, and there fell on us an airless, sultry calm. W hen the -order came to get the topmasts on deck, and to shift the large -sails, we all knew what to expect. In little better than an hour -more, the storm was upon us, the thunder was pealing over our -heads, and the yacht was running for it. She was a powerful -schooner-rigged vessel of three hundred tons, as strong as wood -and iron could make her; she was handled by a sailing-master who -thoroughly understood his work, and she behaved nobly. As the new -morning came, the fury of the wind, blowing still from the -southwest quarter, subsided a little, and the sea was less heavy. -Just before daybreak we heard faintly, through the howling of the -gale, the report of a gun. The men collected anxiously on deck, -looked at each other, and said: 'There she is!' - -"With the daybreak we saw the vessel, and the timber-ship it was. -She lay wallowing in the trough of the sea, her foremast and her -mainmast both gone--a water-logged wreck. The yacht carried three -boats; one amidships, and two slung to davits on the quarters; -and the sailing-master, seeing signs of the storm renewing its -fury before long, determined on lowering the quarter-boats while -the lull lasted. Few as the people were on board the wreck, they -were too many for one boat, and the risk of trying two boats at -once was thought less, in the critical state of the weather, than -the risk of making two separate trips from the yacht to the ship. -There might be time to make one trip in safety, but no man could -look at the heavens and say there would be time enough for two. - -"The boats were manned by volunteers from the crew, I being in -the second of the two. When the first boat was got alongside of -the timber-ship--a service of difficulty and danger which no -words can describe--all the men on board made a rash to leave the -wreck together. If the boat had not been pulled off again before -the whole of them had crowded in, the lives of all must have been -sacrificed. As our boat approached the vessel in its turn, we -arranged that four of us should get on board--two (I being one of -them) to see to the safety of Mr. Blanchard's daughter, and two -to beat back the cowardly remnant of the crew if they tried to -crowd in first. The other three--the coxswain and two -oarsmen--were left in the boat to keep her from being crushed by -the ship. What the others saw when they first boarded _La Grace -de Dieu_ I don't know; what I saw was the woman whom I had lost, -the woman vilely stolen from me, lying in a swoon on the deck. We -lowered her, insensible, into the boat. The remnant of the -crew--five in number--were compelled by main force to follow her -in an orderly manner, one by one, and minute by minute, as the -chance offered for safely taking them in. I was the last who -left; and, at the next roll of the ship toward us, the empty -length of the deck, without a living creature on it from stem to -stern, told the boat's crew that their work was done. With the -louder and louder howling of the fast-rising tempest to warn -them, they rowed for their lives back to the yacht. - -"A succession of heavy squalls had brought round the course of -the new storm that was coming, from the south to the north; and -the sailing-master, watching his opportunity, had wore the yacht -to be ready for it. Before the last of our men had got on board -again, it burst on us with the fury of a hurricane. Our boat was -swamped, but not a life was lost. Once more we ran before it, due -south, at the mercy of the wind. I was on deck with the rest, -watching the one rag of sail we could venture to set, and waiting -to supply its place with another, if it blew out of the -bolt-ropes, when the mate came close to me, and shouted in my ear -through the thunder of the storm: 'She has come to her senses in -the cabin, and has asked for her husband. Where is he?' Not a man -on board knew. The yacht was searched from one end to another -without finding him. The men were mustered in defiance of the -weather--he was not among them. The crews of the two boats were -questioned. All the first crew could say was that they had pulled -away from the wreck when the rush into their boat took place, and -that they knew nothing of whom they let in or whom they kept out. -All the second crew could say was that they had brought back to -the yacht every living soul left by the first boat on the deck of -the timber-ship. There was no blaming anybody; but, at the same -time, there was no resisting the fact that the man was missing. - -"All through that day the storm, raging unabatedly, never gave us -even the shadow of a chance of returning and searching the wreck. -The one hope for the yacht was to scud. Toward evening the gale, -after having carried us to the southward of Madeira, began at -last to break--the wind shifted again--and allowed us to bear up -for the island. Early the next morning we got back into port. Mr. -Blanchard and his daughter were taken ashore, the sailing-master -accompanying them, and warning us that he should have something -to say on his return which would nearly concern the whole crew. - -"We were mustered on deck, and addressed by the sailing-master as -soon as he came on board again. He had Mr. Blanchard's orders to -go back at once to the timber-ship and to search for the missing -man. We were bound to do this for his sake, and for the sake of -his wife, whose reason was despaired of by the doctors if -something was not done to quiet her. We might be almost sure of -finding the vessel still afloat, for her ladling of timber would -keep her above water as long as her hull held together. If the -man was on board--living or dead--he must be found and brought -back. And if the weather continued to be moderate, there was no -reason why the men, with proper assistance, should not bring the -ship back, too, and (their master being quite willing) earn their -share of the salvage with the officers of the yacht. - -"Upon this the crew gave three cheers, and set to work forthwith -to get the schooner to sea again. I was the only one of them who -drew back from the enterprise. I told them the storm had upset -me--I was ill, and wanted rest. They all looked me in the face as -I passed through them on my way out of the yacht, but not a man -of them spoke to me. - -"I waited through that day at a tavern on the port for the first -news from the wreck. It was brought toward night-fall by one of -the pilot-boats which had taken part in the enterprise--a -successful enterprise, as the event proved--for saving the -abandoned ship. _La Grace de Dieu_ had been discovered still -floating, and the body of Ingleby had been found on board, -drowned in the cabin. At dawn the next morning the dead man was -brought back by the yacht; and on the same day the funeral took -place in the Protestant cemetery." - - -"Stop!" said the voice from the bed, before the reader could turn -to a new leaf and begin the next paragraph. - -There was a change in the room, and there were changes in the -audience, since Mr. Neal had last looked up from the narrative. A -ray of sunshine was crossing the death-bed; and the child, -overcome by drowsiness, lay peacefully asleep in the golden -light. The father's countenance had altered visibly. Forced into -action by the tortured mind, the muscles of the lower face, which -had never moved yet, were moving distortedly now. Warned by the -damps gathering heavily on his forehead, the doctor had risen to -revive the sinking man. On the other side of the bed the wife's -chair stood empty. At the moment when her husband had interrupted -the reading, she had drawn back behind the bed head, out of his -sight. Supporting herself against the wall, she stood there in -hiding, her eyes fastened in hungering suspense on the manuscript -in Mr. Neal's hand. - -In a minute more the silence was broken again by Mr. Armadale. - -"Where is she?" he asked, looking angrily at his wife's empty -chair. The doctor pointed to the place. She had no choice but to -come forward. She came slowly and stood before him. - -"You promised to go when I told you," he said. "Go now." - -Mr. Neal tried hard to control his hand as it kept his place -between the leaves of the manuscripts but it trembled in spite of -him. A suspicion which had been slowly forcing itself on his mind -, while he was reading, became a certainty when he heard those -words. From one revelation to another the letter had gone on, -until it had now reached the brink of a last disclosure to come. -At that brink the dying man had predetermined to silence the -reader's voice, before he had permitted his wife to hear the -narrative read. There was the secret which the son was to know in -after years, and which the mother was never to approach. From -that resolution, his wife's tenderest pleadings had never moved -him an inch--and now, from his own lips, his wife knew it. - -She made him no answer. She stood there and looked at him; looked -her last entreaty--perhaps her last farewell. His eyes gave her -back no answering glance: they wandered from her mercilessly to -the sleeping boy. She turned speechless from the bed. Without a -look at the child--without a word to the two strangers -breathlessly watching her--she kept the promise she had given, -and in dead silence left the room. - -There was something in the manner of her departure which shook -the self-possession of both the men who witnessed it. When the -door closed on her, they recoiled instinctively from advancing -further in the dark. The doctor's reluctance was the first to -express itself. He attempted to obtain the patient's permission -to withdraw until the letter was completed. The patient refused. - -Mr. Neal spoke next at greater length and to more serious -purpose. - -"The doctor is accustomed in his profession," he began, "and I am -accustomed in mine, to have the secrets of others placed in our -keeping. But it is my duty, before we go further, to ask if you -really understand the extraordinary position which we now occupy -toward one another. You have just excluded Mrs. Armadale, before -our own eyes, from a place in your confidence. And you are now -offering that same place to two men who are total strangers to -you." - -"Yes," said Mr. Armadale, "_because_ you are strangers." - -Few as the words were, the inference to be drawn from them was -not of a nature to set distrust at rest. Mr. Neal put it plainly -into words. - -"You are in urgent need of my help and of the doctor's help," he -said. "Am I to understand (so long as you secure our assistance) -that the impression which the closing passages of this letter may -produce on us is a matter of indifference to you?" - -"Yes. I don't spare you. I don't spare myself. I _do_ spare my -wife." - -"You force me to a conclusion, sir, which is a very serious one," -said Mr. Neal. "If I am to finish this letter under your -dictation, I must claim permission--having read aloud the greater -part of it already--to read aloud what remains, in the hearing of -this gentleman, as a witness." - -"Read it." - -Gravely doubting, the doctor resumed his chair. Gravely doubting, -Mr. Neal turned the leaf, and read the next words: - - -"There is more to tell before I can leave the dead man to his -rest. I have described the finding of his body. But I have not -described the circumstances under which he met his death. - -"He was known to have been on deck when the yacht's boats were -seen approaching the wreck; and he was afterward missed in the -confusion caused by the panic of the crew. At that time the water -was five feet deep in the cabin, and was rising fast. There was -little doubt of his having gone down into that water of his own -accord. The discovery of his wife's jewel box, close under him, -on the floor, explained his presence in the cabin. He was known -to have seen help approaching, and it was quite likely that he -had thereupon gone below to make an effort at saving the box. It -was less probable--though it might still have been inferred--that -his death was the result of some accident in diving, which had -for the moment deprived him of his senses. But a discovery made -by the yacht's crew pointed straight to a conclusion which struck -the men, one and all, with the same horror. When the course of -their search brought them to the cabin, they found the scuttle -bolted, and the door locked on the outside. Had some one closed -the cabin, not knowing he was there? Setting the panic-stricken -condition of the crew out of the question, there was no motive -for closing the cabin before leaving the wreck. But one other -conclusion remained. Had some murderous hand purposely locked the -man in, and left him to drown as the water rose over him? - -"Yes. A murderous hand had locked him in, and left him to drown. -That hand was mine. " - - -The Scotchman started up from the table; the doctor shrank from -the bedside. The two looked at the dying wretch, mastered by the -same loathing, chilled by the same dread. He lay there, with his -child's head on his breast; abandoned by the sympathies of man, -accursed by the justice of God--he lay there, in the isolation of -Cain, and looked back at them. - -At the moment when the two men rose to their feet, the door -leading into the next room was shaken heavily on the outer side, -and a sound like the sound of a fall, striking dull on their -ears, silenced them both. Standing nearest to the door, the -doctor opened it, passed through, and closed it instantly. Mr. -Neal turned his back on the bed, and waited the event in silence. -The sound, which had failed to awaken the child, had failed also -to attract the father's notice. His own words had taken him far -from all that was passing at his deathbed. His helpless body was -back on the wreck, and the ghost of his lifeless hand was turning -the lock of the cabin door. - -A bell rang in the next room--eager voices talked; hurried -footsteps moved in it--an interval passed, and the doctor -returned. "Was she listening?" whispered Mr. Neal, in German. -"The women are restoring her," the doctor whispered back. "She -has heard it all. In God's name, what are we to do next?" Before -it was possible to reply, Mr. Armadale spoke. The doctor's return -had roused him to a sense of present things. - -"Go on," he said, as if nothing had happened. - -"I refuse to meddle further with your infamous secret," returned -Mr. Neal. "You are a murderer on your own confession. If that -letter is to be finished, don't ask _me_ to hold the pen for -you." - -"You gave me your promise," was the reply, spoken with the same -immovable self-possession. "You must write for me, or break your -word." - -For the moment, Mr. Neal was silenced. There the man -lay--sheltered from the execration of his fellow-creatures, under -the shadow of Death--beyond the reach of all human condemnation, -beyond the dread of all mortal laws; sensitive to nothing but his -one last resolution to finish the letter addressed to his son. - -Mr. Neal drew the doctor aside. "A word with you," he said, in -German. "Do you persist in asserting that he may be speechless -before we can send to Stuttgart?" - -"Look at his lips," said the doctor, "and judge for yourself." - -His lips answered for him: the reading of the narrative had left -its mark on them already. A distortion at the corners of his -mouth, which had been barely noticeable when Mr. Neal entered the -room, was plainly visible now. His slow articulation labored more -and more painfully with every word he uttered. The position was -emphatically a terrible one. After a moment more of hesitation, -Mr. Neal made a last attempt to withdraw from it. - -"Now my eyes are open," he said, sternly, "do you dare hold me to -an engagement which you forced on me blindfold?" - -"No," answered Mr. Armadale. "I leave you to break your word." - -The look which accompanied that reply stung the Scotchman's pride -to the quick. When he spoke next, he spoke seated in his former -place at the table. - -"No man ever yet said of me that I broke my word," he retorted, -angrily; "and not even you shall say it of me now. Mind this! If -you hold me to my promise, I hold you to my condition. I have -reserved my freedom of action, and I warn you I will use it at my -own sole discretion, as soon as I am released from the sight of -you." - -"Remember he is dying," pleaded the doctor, gently. - -"Take your place, sir," said Mr. Neal, pointing to the empty -chair. "What remains to be read, I will only read in your -hearing. What remains to be written, I will only write in your -presence. _You_ brought me here. I have a right to insist--and I -do insist --on your remaining as a witness to the last." - -The doctor accepted his position without remonstrance. Mr. Neal -returned to the manuscript, and read what remained of it -uninterruptedly to the end: - - -"Without a word in my own defense, I have acknowledged my guilt. -Without a word in my own defense, I will reveal how the crime was -committed. - -"No thought of him was in my mind, when I saw his wife insensible -on the deck of the timber-ship. I did my part in lowering her -safely into the boat. Then, and not till then, I felt the thought -of him coming back. In the confusion that prevailed while the men -of the yacht were forcing the men of the ship to wait their time, -I had an opportunity of searching for him unobserved. I stepped -back from the bulwark, not knowing whether he was away in the -first boat, or whether he was still on board--I stepped back, and -saw him mount the cabin stairs empty-handed, with the water -dripping from him. After looking eagerly toward the boat (without -noticing me), he saw there was time to spare before the crew were -taken. 'Once more!' he said to himself--and disappeared again, to -make a last effort at recovering the jewel box. The devil at my -elbow whispered, 'Don't shoot him like a man: drown him like a -dog!' He was under water when I bolted the scuttle. But his head -rose to the surface before I could close the cabin door. I looked -at him, and he looked at me--and I locked the door in his face. -The next minute, I was back among the last men left on deck. The -minute after, it was too late to repent. The storm was -threatening us with destruction, and the boat's crew were pulling -for their lives from the ship. - -"My son! I have pursued you from my grave with a confession which -my love might have spared you. Read on, and you will know why. - -"I will say nothing of my sufferings; I will plead for no mercy -to my memory. There is a strange sinking at my heart, a strange -trembling in my hand, while I write these lines, which warns me -to hasten to the end. I left the island without daring to look -for the last time at the woman whom I had lost so miserably, whom -I had injured so vilely. When I left, the whole weight of the -suspicion roused by the manner of Ingleby's death rested on the -crew of the French vessel. No motive for the supposed murder -could be brought home to any of them; but they were known to be, -for the most part, outlawed ruffians capable of any crime, and -they were suspected and examined accordingly. It was not till -afterward that I heard by accident of the suspicion shifting -round at last to me. The widow alone recognized the vague -description given of the strange man who had made one of the -yacht's crew, and who had disappeared the day afterward. The -widow alone knew, from that time forth, why her husband had been -murdered, and who had done the deed. When she made that -discovery, a false report of my death had been previously -circulated in the island. Perhaps I was indebted to the report -for my immunity from all legal proceedings; perhaps (no eye but -Ingleby's having seen me lock the cabin door) there was not -evidence enough to justify an inquiry; perhaps the widow shrank -from the disclosures which must have followed a public charge -against me, based on her own bare suspicion of the truth. However -it might be, the crime which I had committed unseen has remained -a crime unpunished from that time to this. - -"I left Madeira for the West Indies in disguise. The first news -that met me when the ship touched at Barbadoes was the news of my -mother's death. I had no heart to return to the old scenes. The -prospect of living at home in solitude, with the torment of my -own guilty remembrances gnawing at me day and night, was more -than I had the courage to confront. Without landing, or -discovering myself to any one on shore, I went on as far as the -ship would take me--to the island of Trinidad. - -"At that place I first saw your mother. It was my duty to tell -her the truth--and I treacherously kept my secret. It was my duty -to spare her the hopeless sacrifice of her freedom and her -happiness to such an existence as mine--and I did her the injury -of marrying her. If she is alive when you read this, grant her -the mercy of still concealing the truth. The one atonement I can -make to her is to keep her unsuspicious to the last of the man -she has married. Pity her, as I have pitied her. Let this letter -be a sacred confidence between father and son. - -"The time when you were born was the time when my health began to -give way. Some months afterward, in the first days of my -recovery, you were brought to me; and I was told that you had -been christened during my illness. Your mother had done as other -loving mothers do--she had christened her first-born by his -father's name. You, too, were Allan Armadale. Even in that early -time--even while I was happily ignorant of what I have discovered -since--my mind misgave me when I looked at you, and thought of -that fatal name. - -"As soon as I could be moved, my presence was required at my -estates in Barbadoes. It crossed my mind--wild as the idea may -appear to you--to renounce the condition which compelled my son -as well as myself to take the Armadale name, or lose the -succession to the Armadale property. But, even in those days, the -rumor of a contemplated emancipation of the slaves--the -emancipation which is now close at hand--was spreading widely in -the colony. No man could tell how the value of West Indian -property might be affected if that threatened change ever took -place. No man could tell--if I gave you back my own paternal -name, and left you without other provision in the future than my -own paternal estate--how you might one day miss the broad -Armadale acres, or to what future penury I might be blindly -condemning your mother and yourself. Mark how the fatalities -gathered one on the other! Mark how your Christian name came to -you, how your surname held to you, in spite of me! - -"My health had improved in my old home--but it was for a time -only. I sank again, and the doctors ordered me to Europe. -Avoiding England (why, you may guess), I took my passage, with -you and your mother, for France. From France we passed into -Italy. We lived here; we lived there. It was useless. Death had -got met and Death followed me, go where I might. I bore it, for I -had an alleviation to turn to which I had not deserved. You may -shrink in horror from the very memory of me now. In those days, -you comforted me. The only warmth I still felt at my heart was -the warmth you brought to it. My last glimpses of happiness in -this world were the glimpses given me by my infant son. - -"We removed from Italy, and went next to Lausanne--the place from -which I am now writing to you. The post of this morning has -brought me news, later and fuller than any I had received thus -far, of the widow of the murdered man. The letter lies before me -while I write. It comes from a friend of my early days, who has -seen her, and spoken to her--who has been the first to inform her -that the report of my death in Madeira was false. He writes, at a -loss to account for the violent agitation which she showed on -hearing that I was still alive, that I was married, and that I -had an infant son. He asks me if I can explain it. He speaks in -terms of sympathy for her--a young and beautiful woman, buried in -the retirement of a fishing-village on the Devonshire coast; her -father dead; her family estranged from her, in merciless -disapproval of her marriage. He writes words which might have cut -me to the heart, but for a closing passage in his letter, which -seized my whole attention the instant I came to it, and which has -forced from me the narrative that these pages contain. - -"I now know what never even entered my mind as a suspicion till -the letter reached me. I now know that the widow of the man whose -death lies at my door has borne a posthumous child. That child is -a boy--a year older than my own son. Secure in her belief in my -death, his mother has done what my son's mother did: she has -christened her child by his father's name. Again, in the second -generation, there are two Allan Armadales as there were in the -first. After working its deadly mischief with the fathers, the -fatal resemblance of names has descended to work its deadly -mischief with the sons. - -"Guiltless minds may see nothing thus far but the result of a -series of events which could lead no other way. I--with that -man's life to answer for--I, going down into my grave, with my -crime unpunished and unatoned, see what no guiltless minds can -discern. I see danger in the future, begotten of the danger in -the past--treachery that is the offspring of _his_ treachery, and -crime that is the child of _my_ crime. Is the dread that now -shakes me to the soul a phantom raised by the superstition of a -dying man? I look into the Book which all Christendom venerates, -and the Book tells me that the sin of the father shall be visited -on the child. I look out into the world, and I see the living -witnesses round me to that terrible truth. I see the vices which -have contaminated the father descending, and contaminating the -child; I see the shame which has disgraced the father's name -descending, and disgracing the child's. I look in on myself, and -I see my crime ripening again for the future in the self-same -circumstance which first sowed the seeds of it in the past, and -descending, in inherited contamination of evil, from me to my -son." - - -At those lines the writing ended. There the stroke had struck -him, and the pen had dropped from his hand. - -He knew the place; he remembered the words. At the instant when -the reader's voice stopped, he looked eagerly at the doctor. "I -have got what comes next in my mind," he said, with slower and -slower articulation. "Help me to speak it." - -The doctor administered a stimulant, and signed to Mr. Neal to -give him time. After a little delay, the flame of the sinking -spirit leaped up in his eyes once more. Resolutely struggling -with his failing speech, he summoned the Scotchman to take the -pen, and pronounced the closing sentences of the narrative, as -his memory gave them back to him, one by one, in these words: - - -"Despise my dying conviction if you will, but grant me, I -solemnly implore you, one last request. My son! the only hope I -have left for you hangs on a great doubt--the doubt whether we -are, or are not, the masters of our own destinies. It may be that -mortal free-will can conquer mortal fate; and that going, as we -all do, inevitably to death, we go inevitably to nothing that is -before death. If this be so, indeed, respect--though you respect -nothing else--the warning which I give you from my grave. Never, -to your dying day, let any living soul approach you who is -associated, directly or indirectly, with the crime which your -father has committed. Avoid the widow of the man I killed--if the -widow still lives. Avoid the maid whose wicked hand smoothed the -way to the marriage--if the maid is still in her service. And -more than all, avoid the man who bears the same name as your own. -Offend your best benefactor, if that benefactor's influence has -connected you one with the other. Desert the woman who loves you, -if that woman is a link between you and him. Hide yourself from -him under an assumed name. Put the mountains and the seas between -you; be ungrateful, be unforgiving; be all that is most repellent -to your own gentler nature, rather than live under the same roof, -and breathe the same air, with that man. Never let the two Allan -Armadales meet in this world: never, never, never! - -"There lies the way by which you may escape--if any way there be. -Take it, if you prize your own innocence and your own happiness, -through all your life to come! - -"I have done. If I could have trusted any weaker influence than -the influence of this confession to incline you to my will, I -would have spared you the disclosure which these pages contain. -You are lying on my breast, sleeping the innocent sleep of a -child, while a stranger's hand writes these words for you as they -fall from my lips. Think what the strength of my conviction must -be, when I can find the courage, on my death-bed, to darken all -your young life at its outset with the shadow of your father's -crime. Think, and be warned. Think, and forgive me if you can." - - -There it ended. Those were the father's last words to the son. - -Inexorably faithful to his forced duty, Mr. Neal laid aside the -pen, and read over aloud the lines he had just written. "Is there -more to add?" he asked, with his pitilessly steady voice. There -was no more to add. - -Mr. Neal folded the manuscript, inclosed it in a sheet of paper, -and sealed it with Mr. Armadale's own seal. "The address?" he -said, with his merciless business formality. "To Allan Armadale, -junior," he wrote, as the words were dictated from the bed. "Care -of Godfrey Hammick, Esq., Offices of Messrs. Hammick and Ridge, -Lincoln's Inn Fields, London." Having written the address, he -waited, and considered for a moment. "Is your executor to open -this?" he asked. - -"No! he is to give it to my son when my son is of an age to -understand it." - -"In that case," pursued Mr. Neal, with all his wits in -remorseless working order, "I will add a dated note to the -address, repeating your own words as you have just spoken them, -and explaining the circumstances under which my handwriting -appears on the document." He wrote the note in the briefest and -plainest terms, read it over aloud as he had read over what went -before, signed his name and address at the end, and made the -doctor sign next, as witness of the proceedings, and as medical -evidence of the condition in which Mr. Armadale then lay. This -done, he placed the letter in a second inclosure, sealed it as -before, and directed it to Mr. Hammick, with the superscription -of "private" added to the address. "Do you insist on my posting -this?" he asked, rising with the letter in his hand. - -"Give him time to think," said the doctor. "For the child's sake, -give him time to think! A minute may change him." - -"I will give him five minutes," answered Mr. Neal, placing his -watch on the table, implacably just to the very last. - -They waited, both looking attentively at Mr. Armadale. The signs -of change which had appeared in him already were multiplying -fast. The movement which continued mental agitation had -communicated to the muscles of his face was beginning, under the -same dangerous influence, to spread downward. His once helpless -hands lay still no longer; they struggled pitiably on the -bedclothes. At sight of that warning token, the doctor turned -with a gesture of alarm, and beckoned Mr. Neal to come nearer. -"Put the question at once," he said; "if you let the five minutes -pass, you may be too late." - -Mr. Neal approached the bed. He, too, noticed the movement of the -hands. "Is that a bad sign?" he asked. - -The doctor bent his head gravely. "Put your question at once," he -repeated, "or you may be too late." - -Mr. Neal held the letter before the eyes of the dying man "Do you -know what this is?" - -"My letter." - -"Do you insist on my posting it?" - -He mastered his failing speech for the last time, and gave the -answer: "Yes!" - -Mr. Neal moved to the door, with the letter in his hand. The -German followed him a few steps, opened his lips to plead for a -longer delay, met the Scotchman's inexorable eye, and drew back -again in silence. The door closed and parted them, without a word -having passed on either side. - -The doctor went back to the bed and whispered to the sinking man: -"Let me call him back; there is time to stop him yet!" It was -useless. No answer came; nothing showed that he heeded, or even -heard. His eyes wandered from the child, rested for a moment on -his own struggling hand, and looked up entreatingly in the -compassionate face that bent over him. The doctor lifted the -hand, paused, followed the father's longing eyes back to the -child, and, interpreting his last wish, moved the hand gently -toward the boy's head. The hand touched it, and trembled -violently. In another instant the trembling seized on the arm, -and spread over the whole upper part of the body. The face turned -from pale to red, from red to purple, from purple to pale again. -Then the toiling hands lay still, and the shifting color changed -no more. - - -The window of the next room was open, when the doctor entered it -from the death chamber, with the child in - his arms. He looked out as he passed by, and saw Mr. Neal in the -street below, slowly returning to the inn. - -"Where is the letter?" he asked. - -Three words sufficed for the Scotchman's answer. - -"In the post." - -THE END OF THE PROLOGUE. - - - -THE STORY. - -_BOOK THE FIRST._ - -CHAPTER I. - -THE MYSTERY OF OZIAS MIDWINTER. - -ON a warm May night, in the year eighteen hundred and fifty-one, -the Reverend Decimus Brock--at that time a visitor to the Isle of -Man--retired to his bedroom at Castletown, with a serious -personal responsibility in close pursuit of him, and with no -distinct idea of the means by which he might relieve himself from -the pressure of his present circumstances. - -The clergyman had reached that mature period of human life at -which a sensible man learns to decline (as often as his temper -will let him) all useless conflict with the tyranny of his own -troubles. Abandoning any further effort to reach a decision in -the emergency that now beset him, Mr. Brock sat down placidly in -his shirt sleeves on the side of his bed, and applied his mind to -consider next whether the emergency itself was as serious as he -had hitherto been inclined to think it. Following this new way -out of his perplexities, Mr. Brock found himself unexpectedly -traveling to the end in view by the least inspiriting of all -human journeys--a journey through the past years of his own life. - -One by one the events of those years--all connected with the same -little group of characters, and all more or less answerable for -the anxiety which was now intruding itself between the clergyman -and his night's rest--rose, in progressive series, on Mr. Brock's -memory. The first of the series took him back, through a period -of fourteen years, to his own rectory on the Somersetshire shores -of the Bristol Channel, and closeted him at a private interview -with a lady who had paid him a visit in the character of a total -stranger to the parson and the place. - - -The lady's complexion was fair, the lady's figure was well -preserved; she was still a young woman, and she looked even -younger than her age. There was a shade of melancholy in her -expression, and an undertone of suffering in her voice--enough, -in each case, to indicate that she had known trouble, but not -enough to obtrude that trouble on the notice of others. She -brought with her a fine, fair-haired boy of eight years old, whom -she presented as her son, and who was sent out of the way, at the -beginning of the interview, to amuse himself in the rectory -garden. Her card had preceded her entrance into the study, and -had announced her under the name of "Mrs. Armadale." Mr. Brock -began to feel interested in her before she had opened her lips; -and when the son had been dismissed, he awaited with some anxiety -to hear what the mother had to say to him. - -Mrs. Armadale began by informing the rector that she was a widow. -Her husband had perished by shipwreck a short time after their -union, on the voyage from Madeira to Lisbon. She had been brought -to England, after her affliction, under her father's protection; -and her child--a posthumous son--had been born on the family -estate in Norfolk. Her father's death, shortly afterward, had -deprived her of her only surviving parent, and had exposed her to -neglect and misconstruction on the part of her remaining -relatives (two brothers), which had estranged her from them, she -feared, for the rest of her days. For some time past she had -lived in the neighboring county of Devonshire, devoting herself -to the education of her boy, who had now reached an age at which -he required other than his mother's teaching. Leaving out of the -question her own unwillingness to part with him, in her solitary -position, she was especially anxious that he should not be thrown -among strangers by being sent to school. Her darling project was -to bring him up privately at home, and to keep him, as he -advanced in years, from all contact with the temptations and the -dangers of the world. - -With these objects in view, her longer sojourn in her own -locality (where the services of the resident clergyman, in the -capacity of tutor, were not obtainable) must come to an end. She -had made inquiries, had heard of a house that would suit her in -Mr. Brock's neighborhood, and had also been told that Mr. Brock -himself had formerly been in the habit of taking pupils. -Possessed of this information, she had ventured to present -herself, with references that vouched for her respectability, but -without a formal introduction; and she had now to ask whether (in -the event of her residing in the neighborhood) any terms that -could be offered would induce Mr. Brock to open his doors once -more to a pupil, and to allow that pupil to be her son. - -If Mrs. Armadale had been a woman of no personal attractions, or -if Mr. Brock had been provided with an intrenchment to fight -behind in the shape of a wife, it is probable that the widow's -journey might have been taken in vain. As things really were, the -rector examined the references which were offered to him, and -asked time for consideration. When the time had expired, he did -what Mrs. Armadale wished him to do--he offered his back to the -burden, and let the mother load him with the responsibility of -the son. - -This was the first event of the series; the date of it being the -year eighteen hundred and thirty-seven. Mr. Brock's memory, -traveling forward toward the present from that point, picked up -the second event in its turn, and stopped next at the year -eighteen hundred and forty-five. - - ------------- - -The fishing-village on the Somersetshire coast was still the -scene, and the characters were once again--Mrs. Armadale and her -son. - -Through the eight years that had passed, Mr. Brock's -responsibility had rested on him lightly enough. The boy had -given his mother and his tutor but little trouble. He was -certainly slow over his books, but more from a constitutional -inability to fix his attention on his tasks than from want of -capacity to understand them. His temperament, it could not be -denied, was heedless to the last degree: he acted recklessly on -his first impulses, and rushed blindfold at all his conclusions. -On the other hand, it was to be said in his favor that his -disposition was open as the day; a more generous, affectionate, -sweet-tempered lad it would have been hard to find anywhere. A -certain quaint originality of character, and a natural -healthiness in all his tastes, carried him free of most of the -dangers to which his mother's system of education inevitably -exposed him. He had a thoroughly English love of the sea and of -all that belongs to it; and as he grew in years, there was no -luring him away from the water-side, and no keeping him out of -the boat-builder's yard. In course of time his mother caught him -actually working there, to her infinite annoyance and surprise, -as a volunteer. He acknowledged that his whole future ambition -was to have a yard of his own, and that his one present object -was to learn to build a boat for himself. Wisely foreseeing that -such a pursuit as this for his leisure hours was exactly what was -wanted to reconcile the lad to a position of isolation from -companions of his own rank and age, Mr. Brock prevailed on Mrs. -Armadale, with no small difficulty, to let her son have his way. -At the period of that second event in the clergyman's life with -his pupil which is now to be related, young Armadale had -practiced long enough in the builder's yard to have reached the -summit of his wishes, by laying with his own hands the keel of -his own boat. - -Late on a certain summer day, not long after Allan had completed -his sixteenth year, Mr. Brock left his pupil hard at work in the -yard, and went to spend the evening with Mrs. Armadale, taking -the _Times_ newspaper with him in his hand. - -The years that had passed since they had first met had long since -regulated the lives of the clergyman and his neighbor. The first -advances which Mr. Brock's growing admiration for the widow had -led him to make in the early days of their intercourse had been -met on her side by an appeal to his forbearance which had closed -his lips for the future. She had satisfied him, at once and -forever, th at the one place in her heart which he could hope to -occupy was the place of a friend. He loved her well enough to -take what she would give him: friends they became, and friends -they remained from that time forth. No jealous dread of another -man's succeeding where he had failed imbittered the clergyman's -placid relations with the woman whom he loved. Of the few -resident gentlemen in the neighborhood, none were ever admitted -by Mrs. Armadale to more than the merest acquaintance with her. -Contentedly self-buried in her country retreat, she was proof -against every social attraction that would have tempted other -women in her position and at her age. Mr. Brock and his -newspaper, appearing with monotonous regularity at her tea-table -three times a week, told her all she knew or cared to know of the -great outer world which circled round the narrow and changeless -limits of her daily life. - -On the evening in question Mr. Brock took the arm-chair in which -he always sat, accepted the one cup of tea which he always drank, -and opened the newspaper which he always read aloud to Mrs. -Armadale, who invariably listened to him reclining on the same -sofa, with the same sort of needle-work everlastingly in her -hand. - -"Bless my soul!" cried the rector, with his voice in a new -octave, and his eyes fixed in astonishment on the first page of -the newspaper. - -No such introduction to the evening readings as this had ever -happened before in all Mrs. Armadale's experience as a listener. -She looked up from the sofa in a flutter of curiosity, and -besought her reverend friend to favor her with an explanation. - -"I can hardly believe my own eyes," said Mr. Brock. "Here is an -advertisement, Mrs. Armadale, addressed to your son." - -Without further preface, he read the advertisement as follows: - - -IF this should meet the eye of ALLAN ARMADALE, he is desired to -communicate, either personally or by letter, with Messrs. Hammick -and Ridge (Lincoln's Inn Fields, London), on business of -importance which seriously concerns him. Any one capable of -informing Messrs. E. and R. where the person herein advertised -can be found would confer a favor by doing the same. To prevent -mistakes, it is further notified that the missing Allan Armadale -is a youth aged fifteen years, and that this advertisement is -inserted at the instance of his family and friends. - - -"Another family, and other friends," said Mrs. Armadale. "The -person whose name appears in that advertisement is not my son." - -The tone in which she spoke surprised Mr. Brock. The change in -her face, when he looked up, shocked him. Her delicate complexion -had faded away to a dull white; her eyes were averted from her -visitor with a strange mixture of confusion and alarm; she looked -an older woman than she was, by ten good years at least. - -"The name is so very uncommon," said Mr. Brock, imagining he had -offended her, and trying to excuse himself. "It really seemed -impossible there could be two persons--" - -"There _are_ two," interposed Mrs. Armadale. "Allan, as you know, -is sixteen years old. If you look back at the advertisement, you -will find the missing person described as being only fifteen. -Although he bears the same surname and the same Christian name, -he is, I thank God, in no way whatever related to my son. As long -as I live, it will be the object of my hopes and prayers that -Allan may never see him, may never even hear of him. My kind -friend, I see I surprise you: will you bear with me if I leave -these strange circumstances unexplained? There is past misfortune -and misery in my early life too painful for me to speak of, even -to _you._ Will you help me to bear the remembrance of it, by -never referring to this again? Will you do even more--will you -promise not to speak of it to Allan, and not to let that -newspaper fall in his way?" - -Mr. Brock gave the pledge required of him, and considerately left -her to herself. - -The rector had been too long and too truly attached to Mrs. -Armadale to be capable of regarding her with any unworthy -distrust. But it would be idle to deny that he felt disappointed -by her want of confidence in him, and that he looked -inquisitively at the advertisement more than once on his way back -to his own house. - -It was clear enough, now, that Mrs. Armadale's motives for -burying her son as well as herself in the seclusion of a remote -country village was not so much to keep him under her own eye as -to keep him from discovery by his namesake. Why did she dread the -idea of their ever meeting? Was it a dread for herself, or a -dread for her son? Mr. Brock's loyal belief in his friend -rejected any solution of the difficulty which pointed at some -past misconduct of Mrs. Armadale's. That night he destroyed the -advertisement with his own hand; that night he resolved that the -subject should never be suffered to enter his mind again. There -was another Allan Armadale about the world, a stranger to his -pupil's blood, and a vagabond advertised in the public -newspapers. So much accident had revealed to him. More, for Mrs. -Armadale's sake, he had no wish to discover--and more he would -never seek to know. - -This was the second in the series of events which dated from the -rector's connection with Mrs. Armadale and her son. Mr. Brock's -memory, traveling on nearer and nearer to present circumstances, -reached the third stage of its journey through the by-gone time, -and stopped at the year eighteen hundred and fifty, next. - -The five years that had passed had made little if any change in -Allan's character. He had simply developed (to use his tutor's -own expression) from a boy of sixteen to a boy of twenty-one. He -was just as easy and open in his disposition as ever; just as -quaintly and inveterately good-humored; just as heedless in -following his own impulses, lead him where they might. His bias -toward the sea had strengthened with his advance to the years of -manhood. From building a boat, he had now got on--with two -journeymen at work under him--to building a decked vessel of -five-and-thirty tons. Mr. Brock had conscientiously tried to -divert him to higher aspirations; had taken him to Oxford, to see -what college life was like; had taken him to London, to expand -his mind by the spectacle of the great metropolis. The change had -diverted Allan, but had not altered him in the least. He was as -impenetrably superior to all worldly ambition as Diogenes -himself. "Which is best," asked this unconscious philosopher, "to -find out the way to be happy for yourself, or to let other people -try if they can find it out for you?" From that moment Mr. Brock -permitted his pupil's character to grow at its own rate of -development, and Allan went on uninterruptedly with the work of -his yacht. - -Time, which had wrought so little change in the son, had not -passed harmless over the mother. - -Mrs. Armadale's health was breaking fast. As her strength failed, -her temper altered for the worse: she grew more and more fretful, -more and more subject to morbid fears and fancies, more and more -reluctant to leave her own room. Since the appearance of the -advertisement five years since, nothing had happened to force her -memory back to the painful associations connected with her early -life. No word more on the forbidden topic had passed between the -rector and herself; no suspicion had ever been raised in Allan's -mind of the existence of his namesake; and yet, without the -shadow of a reason for any special anxiety, Mrs. Armadale had -become, of late years, obstinately and fretfully uneasy on the -subject of her son. More than once Mr. Brock dreaded a serious -disagreement between them; but Allan's natural sweetness of -temper, fortified by his love for his mother, carried him -triumphantly through all trials. Not a hard word or a harsh look -ever escaped him in her presence; he was unchangeably loving and -forbearing with her to the very last. - -Such were the positions of the son, the mother, and the friend, -when the next notable event happened in the lives of the three. -On a dreary afternoon, early in the month of November, Mr. Brock -was disturbed over the composition of his sermon by a visit from -the landlord of the village inn. - -After making his introductory apologies, the landlord st ated the -urgent business on which he had come to the rectory clearly -enough. - -A few hours since a young man had been brought to the inn by some -farm laborers in the neighborhood, who had found him wandering -about one of their master's fields in a disordered state of mind, -which looked to their eyes like downright madness. The landlord -had given the poor creature shelter while he sent for medical -help; and the doctor, on seeing him, had pronounced that he was -suffering from fever on the brain, and that his removal to the -nearest town at which a hospital or a work-house infirmary could -be found to receive him would in all probability be fatal to his -chances of recovery. After hearing this expression of opinion, -and after observing for himself that the stranger's only luggage -consisted of a small carpet-bag which had been found in the field -near him, the landlord had set off on the spot to consult the -rector, and to ask, in this serious emergency, what course he was -to take next. - -Mr. Brock was the magistrate as well as the clergyman of the -district, and the course to be taken, in the first instance, was -to his mind clear enough. He put on his hat, and accompanied the -landlord back to the inn. - -At the inn door they were joined by Allan, who had heard the news -through another channel, and who was waiting Mr. Brock's arrival, -to follow in the magistrate's train, and to see what the stranger -was like. The village surgeon joined them at the same moment, and -the four went into the inn together. - -They found the landlord's son on one side, and the hostler on the -other, holding the man down in his chair. Young, slim, and -undersized, he was strong enough at that moment to make it a -matter of difficulty for the two to master him. His tawny -complexion, his large, bright brown eyes, and his black beard -gave him something of a foreign look. His dress was a little -worn, but his linen was clean. His dusky hands were wiry and -nervous, and were lividly discolored in more places than one by -the scars of old wounds. The toes of one of his feet, off which -he had kicked the shoe, grasped at the chair rail through his -stocking, with the sensitive muscular action which is only seen -in those who have been accustomed to go barefoot. In the frenzy -that now possessed him, it was impossible to notice, to any -useful purpose, more than this. After a whispered consultation -with Mr. Brock, the surgeon personally superintended the -patient's removal to a quiet bedroom at the back of the house. -Shortly afterward his clothes and his carpet-bag were sent -downstairs, and were searched, on the chance of finding a clew by -which to communicate with his friends, in the magistrate's -presence. - -The carpet- bag contained nothing but a change of clothing, and -two books--the Plays of Sophocles, in the original Greek, and the -"Faust" of Goethe, in the original German. Both volumes were much -worn by reading, and on the fly-leaf of each were inscribed the -initials O. M. So much the bag revealed, and no more. - -The clothes which the man wore when he was discovered in the -field were tried next. A purse (containing a sovereign and a few -shillings), a pipe, a tobacco pouch, a handkerchief, and a little -drinking-cup of horn were produced in succession. The next -object, and the last, was found crumpled up carelessly in the -breast-pocket of the coat. It was a written testimonial to -character, dated and signed, but without any address. - -So far as this document could tell it, the stranger's story was a -sad one indeed. He had apparently been employed for a short time -as usher at a school, and had been turned adrift in the world, at -the outset of his illness, from the fear that the fever might be -infectious, and that the prosperity of the establishment might -suffer accordingly. Not the slightest imputation of any -misbehavior in his employment rested on him. On the contrary, the -schoolmaster had great pleasure in testifying to his capacity and -his character, and in expressing a fervent hope that he might -(under Providence) succeed in recovering his health in somebody -else's house. The written testimonial which afforded this glimpse -at the man's story served one purpose more: it connected him with -the initials on the books, and identified him to the magistrate -and the landlord under the strangely uncouth name of Ozias -Midwinter. - -Mr. Brock laid aside the testimonial, suspecting that the -schoolmaster had purposely abstained from writing his address on -it, with the view of escaping all responsibility in the event of -his usher's death. In any case, it was manifestly useless, under -existing circumstances, to think of tracing the poor wretch's -friends, if friends he had. To the inn he had been brought, and, -as a matter of common humanity, at the inn he must remain for the -present. The difficulty about expenses, if it came to the worst, -might possibly be met by charitable contributions from the -neighbors, or by a collection after a sermon at church. Assuring -the landlord that he would consider this part of the question and -would let him know the result, Mr. Brock quitted the inn, without -noticing for the moment that he had left Allan there behind him. - -Before he had got fifty yards from the house his pupil overtook -him. Allan had been most uncharacteristically silent and serious -all through the search at the inn; but he had now recovered his -usual high spirits A stranger would have set him down as wanting -in common feeling. - -"This is a sad business," said the rector. "I really don't know -what to do for the best about that unfortunate man." - -"You may make your mind quite easy, sir," said young Armadale, in -his off-hand way. "I settled it all with the landlord a minute -ago." - -"You!" exclaimed Mr. Brock, in the utmost astonishment. - -"I have merely given a few simple directions," pursued Allan. -"Our friend the usher is to have everything he requires, and is -to be treated like a prince; and when the doctor and the landlord -want their money they are to come to me." - -"My dear Allan," Mr. Brock gently remonstrated, "when will you -learn to think before you act on those generous impulses of -yours? You are spending more money already on your yacht-building -than you can afford--" - -"Only think! we laid the first planks of the deck the day before -yesterday," said Allan, flying off to the new subject in his -usual bird-witted way. "There's just enough of it done to walk -on, if you don't feel giddy. I'll help you up the ladder, Mr. -Brock, if you'll only come and try." - -"Listen to me," persisted the rector. "I'm not talking about the -yacht now; that is to say, I am only referring to the yacht as -all illustration--" - -"And a very pretty illustration, too," remarked the incorrigible -Allan. "Find me a smarter little vessel of her size in all -England, and I'll give up yacht-building to-morrow. Whereabouts -were we in our conversation, sir? I'm rather afraid we have lost -ourselves somehow." - -"I am rather afraid one of us is in the habit of losing himself -every time he opens his lips," retorted Mr. Brock. "Come, come, -Allan, this is serious. You have been rendering yourself liable -for expenses which you may not be able to pay. Mind, I am far -from blaming you for your kind feeling toward this poor -friendless man--" - -"Don't be low-spirited about him, sir. He'll get over it--he'll -be all right again in a week or so. A capital fellow, I have not -the least doubt!" continued Allan, whose habit it was to believe -in everybody and to despair of nothing. "Suppose you ask him to -dinner when he gets well, Mr. Brock? I should like to find out -(when we are all three snug and friendly together over our wine, -you know) how he came by that extraordinary name of his. Ozias -Midwinter! Upon my life, his father ought to be ashamed of -himself." - -"Will you answer me one question before I go in?" said the -rector, stopping in despair at his own gate. "This man's bill for -lodging and medical attendance may mount to twenty or thirty -pounds before he gets well again, if he ever does get well. How -are you to pay for it?" - -"What's that the Chancellor of the Exchequer says when he finds -himself in a mess with his accounts, and doesn't see his way out -again?" asked - Allan. "He always tells his honorable friend he is quite willing -to leave a something or other--" - -"A margin?" suggested Mr. Brock. - -"That's it," said Allan. "I'm like the Chancellor of the -Exchequer. I'm quite willing to leave a margin. The yacht (bless -her heart!) doesn't eat up everything. If I'm short by a pound or -two, don't be afraid, sir. There's no pride about me; I'll go -round with the hat, and get the balance in the neighborhood. -Deuce take the pounds, shillings, and pence! I wish they could -all three get rid of themselves, like the Bedouin brothers at the -show. Don't you remember the Bedouin brothers, Mr. Brock? 'Ali -will take a lighted torch, and jump down the throat of his -brother Muli; Muli will take a lighted torch, and jump down the -throat of his brother Hassan; and Hassan, taking a third lighted -torch, will conclude the performances by jumping down his own -throat, and leaving the spectators in total darkness.' -Wonderfully good, that--what I call real wit, with a fine strong -flavor about it. Wait a minute! Where are we? We have lost -ourselves again. Oh, I remember--money. What I can't beat into my -thick head," concluded Allan, quite unconscious that he was -preaching socialist doctrines to a clergyman; "is the meaning of -the fuss that's made about giving money away. Why can't the -people who have got money to spare give it to the people who -haven't got money to spare, and make things pleasant and -comfortable all the world over in that way? You're always telling -me to cultivate ideas, Mr. Brock There's an idea, and, upon my -life, I don't think it's a bad one." - -Mr. Brock gave his pupil a good-humored poke with the end of his -stick. "Go back to your yacht," he said. "All the little -discretion you have got in that flighty head of yours is left on -board in your tool-chest. How that lad will end," pursued the -rector, when he was left by himself, "is more than any human -being can say. I almost wish I had never taken the responsibility -of him on my shoulders." - -Three weeks passed before the stranger with the uncouth name was -pronounced to be at last on the way to recovery. - -During this period Allan had made regular inquiries at the inn, -and, as soon as the sick man was allowed to see visitors, Allan -was the first who appeared at his bedside. So far Mr. Brock's -pupil had shown no more than a natural interest in one of the few -romantic circumstances which had varied the monotony of the -village life: he had committed no imprudence, and he had exposed -himself to no blame. But as the days passed, young Armadale's -visits to the inn began to lengthen considerably, and the surgeon -(a cautious elderly man) gave the rector a private hint to bestir -himself. Mr. Brock acted on the hint immediately, and discovered -that Allan had followed his usual impulses in his usual headlong -way. He had taken a violent fancy to the castaway usher and had -invited Ozias Midwinter to reside permanently in the neighborhood -in the new and interesting character of his bosom friend. - -Before Mr. Brock could make up his mind how to act in this -emergency, he received a note from Allan's mother, begging him to -use his privilege as an old friend, and to pay her a visit in her -room. - -He found Mrs. Armadale suffering under violent nervous agitation, -caused entirely by a recent interview with her son. Allan had -been sitting with her all the morning, and had talked of nothing -but his new friend. The man with the horrible name (as poor Mrs. -Armadale described him) had questioned Allan, in a singularly -inquisitive manner, on the subject of himself and his family, but -had kept his own personal history entirely in the dark. At some -former period of his life he had been accustomed to the sea and -to sailing. Allan had, unfortunately, found this out, and a bond -of union between them was formed on the spot. With a merciless -distrust of the stranger--simply _because_ he was a -stranger--which appeared rather unreasonable to Mr. Brock, Mrs. -Armadale besought the rector to go to the inn without a moment's -loss of time, and never to rest until he had made the man give a -proper account of himself. "Find out everything about his father -and mother!" she said, in her vehement female way. "Make sure -before you leave him that he is not a vagabond roaming the -country under an assumed name." - -"My dear lady," remonstrated the rector, obediently taking his -hat, "whatever else we may doubt, I really think we may feel sure -about the man's name! It is so remarkably ugly that it must be -genuine. No sane human being would _assume_ such a name as Ozias -Midwinter." - -"You may be quite right, and I may be quite wrong; but pray go -and see him," persisted Mrs. Armadale. "Go, and don't spare him, -Mr. Brock. How do we know that this illness of his may not have -been put on for a purpose?" - -It was useless to reason with her. The whole College of -Physicians might have certified to the man's illness, and, in her -present frame of mind, Mrs. Armadale would have disbelieved the -College, one and all, from the president downward. Mr. Brock took -the wise way out of the difficulty--he said no more, and he set -off for the inn immediately. - -Ozias Midwinter, recovering from brain-fever, was a startling -object to contemplate on a first view of him. His shaven head, -tied up in an old yellow silk handkerchief; his tawny, haggard -cheeks; his bright brown eyes, preternaturally large and wild; -his rough black beard; his long, supple, sinewy fingers, wasted -by suffering till they looked like claws--all tended to -discompose the rector at the outset of the interview. When the -first feeling of surprise had worn off, the impression that -followed it was not an agreeable one. Mr. Brock could not conceal -from himself that the stranger's manner was against him. The -general opinion has settled that, if a man is honest, he is bound -to assert it by looking straight at his fellow-creatures when he -speaks to them. If this man was honest, his eyes showed a -singular perversity in looking away and denying it. Possibly they -were affected in some degree by a nervous restlessness in his -organization, which appeared to pervade every fiber in his lean, -lithe body. The rector's healthy Anglo-Saxon flesh crept -responsively at every casual movement of the usher's supple brown -fingers, and every passing distortion of the usher's haggard -yellow face. "God forgive me!" thought Mr. Brock, with his mind -running on Allan and Allan's mother, "I wish I could see my way -to turning Ozias Midwinter adrift in the world again!" - -The conversation which ensued between the two was a very guarded -one. Mr. Brock felt his way gently, and found himself, try where -he might, always kept politely, more or less, in the dark. - -From first to last, the man's real character shrank back with a -savage shyness from the rector's touch. He started by an -assertion which it was impossible to look at him and believe--he -declared that he was only twenty years of age. All he could be -persuaded to say on the subject of the school was that the bare -recollection of it was horrible to him. He had only filled the -usher's situation for ten days when the first appearance of his -illness caused his dismissal. How he had reached the field in -which he had been found was more than he could say. He remembered -traveling a long distance by railway, with a purpose (if he had a -purpose) which it was now impossible to recall, and then -wandering coastward, on foot, all through the day, or all through -the night--he was not sure which. The sea kept running in his -mind when his mind began to give way. He had been employed on the -sea as a lad. He had left it, and had filled a situation at a -bookseller's in a country town. He had left the bookseller's, and -had tried the school. Now the school had turned him out, he must -try something else. It mattered little what he tried---failure -(for which nobody was ever to blame but himself) was sure to be -the end of it, sooner or later. Friends to assist him, he had -none to apply to; and as for relations, he wished to be excused -from speaking of them. For all he knew they might be dead, and -for all _they_ knew _he_ might be dead. That was a melancholy -acknowledgment to ma ke at his time of life, there was no denying -it. It might tell against him in the opinions of others; and it -did tell against him, no doubt, in the opinion of the gentleman -who was talking to him at that moment. - -These strange answers were given in a tone and manner far removed -from bitterness on the one side, or from indifference on the -other. Ozias Midwinter at twenty spoke of his life as Ozias -Midwinter at seventy might have spoken with a long weariness of -years on him which he had learned to bear patiently. - -Two circumstances pleaded strongly against the distrust with -which, in sheer perplexity of mind, Mr. Brock blindly regarded -him. He had written to a savings-bank in a distant part of -England, had drawn his money, and had paid the doctor and the -landlord. A man of vulgar mind, after acting in this manner, -would have treated his obligations lightly when he had settled -his bills. Ozias Midwinter spoke of his obligations--and -especially of his obligation to Allan--with a fervor of -thankfulness which it was not surprising only, but absolutely -painful to witness. He showed a horrible sincerity of -astonishment at having been treated with common Christian -kindness in a Christian land. He spoke of Allan's having become -answerable for all the expenses of sheltering, nursing, and -curing him, with a savage rapture of gratitude and surprise which -burst out of him like a flash of lightning. "So help me God!" -cried the castaway usher, "I never met with the like of him: I -never heard of the like of him before!" In the next instant, the -one glimpse of light which the man had let in on his own -passionate nature was quenched again in darkness. His wandering -eyes, returning to their old trick, looked uneasily away from Mr. -Brock, and his voice dropped back once more into its unnatural -steadiness and quietness of tone. "I beg your pardon, sir," he -said. "I have been used to be hunted, and cheated, and starved. -Everything else comes strange to me. " Half attracted by the man, -half repelled by him, Mr. Brock, on rising to take leave, -impulsively offered his hand, and then, with a sudden misgiving, -confusedly drew it back again. "You meant that kindly, sir," said -Ozias Midwinter, with his own hands crossed resolutely behind -him. "I don't complain of your thinking better of it. A man who -can't give a proper account of himself is not a man for a -gentleman in your position to take by the hand." - -Mr. Brock left the inn thoroughly puzzled. Before returning to -Mrs. Armadale he sent for her son. The chances were that the -guard had been off the stranger's tongue when he spoke to Allan, -and with Allan's frankness there was no fear of his concealing -anything that had passed between them from the rector s -knowledge. - -Here again Mr. Brock's diplomacy achieved no useful results. - -Once started on the subject of Ozias Midwinter, Allan rattled on -about his new friend in his usual easy, light-hearted way. But he -had really nothing of importance to tell, for nothing of -importance had been revealed to him. They had talked about -boat-building and sailing by the hour together, and Allan had got -some valuable hints. They had discussed (with diagrams to assist -them, and with more valuable hints for Allan) the serious -impending question of the launch of the yacht. On other occasions -they had diverged to other subjects--to more of them than Allan -could remember, on the spur of the moment. Had Midwinter said -nothing about his relations in the flow of all this friendly -talk? Nothing, except that they had not behaved well to him--hang -his relations! Was he at all sensitive on the subject of his own -odd name? Not the least in the world; he had set the example, -like a sensible fellow, of laughing at it himself. - -Mr. Brock still persisted. He inquired next what Allan had seen -in the stranger to take such a fancy to? Allan had seen in -him--what he didn't see in people in general. He wasn't like all -the other fellows in the neighborhood. All the other fellows were -cut out on the same pattern. Every man of them was equally -healthy, muscular, loud, hard-hearted, clean-skinned, and rough; -every man of them drank the same draughts of beer, smoked the -same short pipes all day long, rode the best horse, shot over the -best dog, and put the best bottle of wine in England on his table -at night; every man of them sponged himself every morning in the -same sort of tub of cold water and bragged about it in frosty -weather in the same sort of way; every man of them thought -getting into debt a capital joke and betting on horse-races one -of the most meritorious actions that a human being can perform. -They were, no doubt, excellent fellows in their way; but the -worst of them was, they were all exactly alike. It was a perfect -godsend to meet with a man like Midwinter--a man who was not cut -out on the regular local pattern, and whose way in the world had -the one great merit (in those parts) of being a way of his own. - -Leaving all remonstrances for a fitter opportunity, the rector -went back to Mrs. Armadale. He could not disguise from himself -that Allan's mother was the person really answerable for Allan's -present indiscretion. If the lad had seen a little less of the -small gentry in the neighborhood, and a little more of the great -outside world at home and abroad, the pleasure of cultivating -Ozias Midwinter's society might have had fewer attractions for -him. - -Conscious of the unsatisfactory result of his visit to the inn, -Mr. Brock felt some anxiety about the reception of his report -when he found himself once more in Mrs. Armadale's presence. His -forebodings were soon realized. Try as he might to make the best -of it, Mrs. Armadale seized on the one suspicious fact of the -usher's silence about himself as justifying the strongest -measures that could be taken to separate him from her son. If the -rector refused to interfere, she declared her intention of -writing to Ozias Midwinter with her own hand. Remonstrance -irritated her to such a pitch that she astounded Mr. Brock by -reverting to the forbidden subject of five years since, and -referring him to the conversation which had passed between them -when the advertisement had been discovered in the newspaper. She -passionately declared that the vagabond Armadale of that -advertisement, and the vagabond Midwinter at the village inn, -might, for all she know to the contrary, be one and the same. -Foreboding a serious disagreement between the mother and son if -the mother interfered, Mr. Brock undertook to see Midwinter -again, and to tell him plainly that he must give a proper account -of himself, or that his intimacy with Allan must cease. The two -concessions which he exacted from Mrs. Armadale in return were -that she should wait patiently until the doctor reported the man -fit to travel, and that she should be careful in the interval not -to mention the matter in any way to her son. - -In a week's time Midwinter was able to drive out (with Allan for -his coachman) in the pony chaise belonging to the inn, and in ten -days the doctor privately reported him as fit to travel. Toward -the close of that tenth day, Mr. Brock met Allan and his new -friend enjoying the last gleams of wintry sunshine in one of the -inland lanes. He waited until the two had separated, and then -followed the usher on his way back to the inn. - -The rector's resolution to speak pitilessly to the purpose was in -some danger of failing him as he drew nearer and nearer to the -friendless man, and saw how feebly he still walked, how loosely -his worn coat hung about him, and how heavily he leaned on his -cheap, clumsy stick. Humanely reluctant to say the decisive words -too precipitately, Mr. Brock tried him first with a little -compliment on the range of his reading, as shown by the volume of -Sophocles and the volume of Goethe which had been found in his -bag, and asked how long he had been acquainted with German and -Greek. The quick ear of Midwinter detected something wrong in the -tone of Mr. Brock's voice. He turned in the darkening twilight, -and looked suddenly and suspiciously in the rector's face. - -"You have something to say to me," he answered; "and it is not -what you are saying now." - -There was no help for it but to accept the challenge. Very -delicately, with many preparatory words, to which the other -listened in unbroken silence, Mr. Brock came little by little -nearer and nearer to the point. Long before he had really reached -it--long before a man of no more than ordinary sensibility would -have felt what was coming--Ozias Midwinter stood still in the -lane, and told the rector that he need say no more. - -"I understand you, sir," said the usher. "Mr. Armadale has an -ascertained position in the world; Mr. Armadale has nothing to -conceal, and nothing to be ashamed of. I agree with you that I am -not a fit companion for him. The best return I can make for his -kindness is to presume on it no longer. You may depend on my -leaving this place to-morrow morning." - -He spoke no word more; he would hear no word more. With a -self-control which, at his years and with his temperament, was -nothing less than marvelous, he civilly took off his hat, bowed, -and returned to the inn by himself - -Mr. Brock slept badly that night. The issue of the interview in -the lane had made the problem of Ozias Midwinter a harder problem -to solve than ever. - -Early the next morning a letter was brought to the rector from -the inn, and the messenger announced that the strange gentleman -had taken his departure. The letter inclosed an open note -addressed to Allan, and requested Allan's tutor (after first -reading it himself) to forward it or not at his own sole -discretion. The note was a startlingly short one; it began and -ended in a dozen words: "Don't blame Mr. Brock; Mr. Brock is -right. Thank you, and good-by.--O. M." - -The rector forwarded the note to its proper destination, as a -matter of course, and sent a few lines to Mrs. Armadale at the -same time to quiet her anxiety by the news of the usher's -departure. This done, he waited the visit from his pupil, which -would probably follow the delivery of the note, in no very -tranquil frame of mind. There might or might not be some deep -motive at the bottom of Midwinter's conduct; but thus far it was -impossible to deny that he had behaved in such a manner as to -rebuke the rector's distrust, and to justify Allan's good opinion -of him. - -The morning wore on, and young Armadale never appeared. After -looking for him vainly in the yard where the yacht was building, -Mr. Brock went to Mrs. Armadale's house, and there heard news -from the servant which turned his steps in the direction of the -inn. The landlord at once acknowledged the truth: young Mr. -Armadale had come there with an open letter in his hand, and had -insisted on being informed of the road which his friend had -taken. For the first time in the landlord's experience of him, -the young gentleman was out of temper; and the girl who waited on -the customers had stupidly mentioned a circumstance which had -added fuel to the fire. She had acknowledged having heard Mr. -Midwinter lock himself into his room overnight, and burst into a -violent fit of crying. That trifling particular had set Mr. -Armadale's face all of a flame; he had shouted and sworn; he had -rushed into the stables; and forced the hostler to saddle him a -horse, and had set off full gallop on the road that Ozias -Midwinter had taken before him. - -After cautioning the landlord to keep Allan's conduct a secret if -any of Mrs. Armadale's servants came that morning to the inn, Mr. -Brock went home again, and waited anxiously to see what the day -would bring forth. - -To his infinite relief his pupil appeared at the rectory late in -the afternoon. - -Allan looked and spoke with a dogged determination which was -quite new in his old friend's experience of him. Without waiting -to be questioned, he told his story in his usual straightforward -way. He had overtaken Midwinter on the road; and--after trying -vainly first to induce him to return, then to find out where he -was going to--had threatened to keep company with him for the -rest of the day, and had so extorted the confession that he was -going to try his luck in London. Having gained this point, Allan -had asked next for his friend's address in London, had been -entreated by the other not to press his request, had pressed it, -nevertheless, with all his might, and had got the address at last -by making an appeal to Midwinter's gratitude, for which (feeling -heartily ashamed of himself) he had afterward asked Midwinter's -pardon. "I like the poor fellow, and I won't give him up," -concluded Allan, bringing his clinched fist down with a thump on -the rectory table. "Don't be afraid of my vexing my mother; I'll -leave you to speak to her, Mr. Brock, at your own time and in -your own way; and I'll just say this much more by way of bringing -the thing to an end. Here is the address safe in my pocket-book, -and here am I, standing firm for once on a resolution of my own. -I'll give you and my mother time to reconsider this; and, when -the time is up, if my friend Midwinter doesn't come to _me,_ I'll -go to my friend Midwinter." - -So the matter rested for the present; and such was the result of -turning the castaway usher adrift in the world again. - - ------------- - -A month passed, and brought in the new year--'51. Overleaping -that short lapse of time, Mr. Brock paused, with a heavy heart, -at the next event; to his mind the one mournful, the one -memorable event of the series--Mrs. Armadale's death. - -The first warning of the affliction that was near at hand had -followed close on the usher's departure in December, and had -arisen out of a circumstance which dwelt painfully on the -rector's memory from that time forth. - -But three days after Midwinter had left for London, Mr. Brock was -accosted in the village by a neatly dressed woman, wearing a gown -and bonnet of black silk and a red Paisley shawl, who was a total -stranger to him, and who inquired the way to Mrs. Armadale's -house. She put the question without raising the thick black veil -that hung over her face. Mr. Brock, in giving her the necessary -directions, observed that she was a remarkably elegant and -graceful woman, and looked after her as she bowed and left him, -wondering who Mrs. Armadale's visitor could possibly be. - -A quarter of an hour later the lady, still veiled as before, -passed Mr. Brock again close to the inn. She entered the house, -and spoke to the landlady. Seeing the landlord shortly afterward -hurrying round to the stables, Mr. Brock asked him if the lady -was going away. Yes; she had come from the railway in the -omnibus, but she was going back again more creditably in a -carriage of her own hiring, supplied by the inn. - -The rector proceeded on his walk, rather surprised to find his -thoughts running inquisitively on a woman who was a stranger to -him. When he got home again, he found the village surgeon waiting -his return with an urgent message from Allan's mother. About an -hour since, the surgeon had been sent for in great haste to see -Mrs. Armadale. He had found her suffering from an alarming -nervous attack, brought on (as the servants suspected) by an -unexpected, and, possibly, an unwelcome visitor, who had called -that morning. The surgeon had done all that was needful, and had -no apprehension of any dangerous results. Finding his patient -eagerly desirous, on recovering herself, to see Mr. Brock -immediately, he had thought it important to humor her, and had -readily undertaken to call at the rectory with a message to that -effect. - -Looking at Mrs. Armadale with a far deeper interest in her than -the surgeon's interest, Mr. Brock saw enough in her face, when it -turned toward him on his entering the room, to justify instant -and serious alarm. She allowed him no opportunity of soothing -her; she heeded none of his inquiries. Answers to certain -questions of her own were what she wanted, and what she was -determined to have: Had Mr. Brock seen the woman who had presumed -to visit her that morning? Yes. Had Allan seen her? No; Allan had -been at work since breakfast, and was at work still, in his yard -by the water-side. - -This latter reply appeared to quiet Mrs. Armadale for the moment; -she put her next question--the most extraordinary question of the -three--more composedly: Did the rector think Allan would object -to leaving his vessel for the presen t, and to accompanying his -mother on a journey to look out for a new house in some other -part of England? In the greatest amazement Mr. Brock asked what -reason there could possibly be for leaving her present residence? -Mrs. Armadale's reason, when she gave it, only added to his -surprise. The woman's first visit might be followed by a second; -and rather than see her again, rather than run the risk of -Allan's seeing her and speaking to her, Mrs. Armadale would leave -England if necessary, and end her days in a foreign land. Taking -counsel of his experience as a magistrate, Mr. Brock inquired if -the woman had come to ask for money. Yes; respectably as she was -dressed, she had described herself as being "in distress"; had -asked for money, and had got it. But the money was of no -importance; the one thing needful was to get away before the -woman came again. More and more surprised, Mr. Brock ventured on -another question: Was it long since Mrs. Armadale and her visitor -had last met? Yes; longer than all Allan's lifetime--as long ago -as the year before Allan was born. - -At that reply, the rector shifted his ground, and took counsel -next of his experience as a friend. - -"Is this person," he asked, "connected in any way with the -painful remembrances of your early life?" - -"Yes; with the painful remembrance of the time when I was -married," said Mrs. Armadale. "She was associated, as a mere -child, with a circumstance which I must think of with shame and -sorrow to my dying day." - -Mr. Brock noticed the altered tone in which his old friend spoke, -and the unwillingness with which she gave her answer. - -"Can you tell me more about her without referring to yourself?" -he went on. "I am sure I can protect you, if you will only help -me a little. Her name, for instance--you can tell me her name?" - -Mrs. Armadale shook her head, "The name I knew her by," she said, -"would be of no use to you. She has been married since then; she -told me so herself." - -"And without telling you her married name?" - -"She refused to tell it." - -"Do you know anything of her friends?" - -"Only of her friends when she was a child. They called themselves -her uncle and aunt. They were low people, and they deserted her -at the school on my father's estate. We never heard any more of -them." - -"Did she remain under your father's care?" - -"She remained under my care; that is to say, she traveled with -us. We were leaving England, just as that time, for Madeira. I -had my father's leave to take her with me, and to train the -wretch to be my maid--" - -At those words Mrs. Armadale stopped confusedly. Mr. Brock tried -gently to lead her on. It was useless; she started up in violent -agitation, and walked excitedly backward and forward in the room. - -"Don't ask me any more!" she cried out, in loud, angry tones. "I -parted with her when she was a girl of twelve years old. I never -saw her again, I never heard of her again, from that time to -this. I don't know how she has discovered me, after all the years -that have passed; I only know that she _has_ discovered me. She -will find her way to Allan next; she will poison my son's mind -against me. Help me to get away from her! help me to take Allan -away before she comes back!" - -The rector asked no more questions; it would have been cruel to -press her further. The first necessity was to compose her by -promising compliance with all that she desired. The second was to -induce her to see another medical man. Mr. Brock contrived to -reach his end harmlessly in this latter case by reminding her -that she wanted strength to travel, and that her own medical -attendant might restore her (all the more speedily to herself if -he were assisted by the best professional advice. Having overcome -her habitual reluctance to seeing strangers by this means, the -rector at once went to Allan; and, delicately concealing what -Mrs. Armadale had said at the interview, broke the news to him -that his mother was seriously ill. Allan would hear of no -messengers being sent for assistance: he drove off on the spot to -the railway, and telegraphed himself to Bristol for medical help. - -On the next morning the help came, and Mr. Brock's worst fears -were confirmed. The village surgeon had fatally misunderstood the -case from the first, and the time was past now at which his -errors of treatment might have been set right. The shock of the -previous morning had completed the mischief. Mrs. Armadale's days -were numbered. - -The son who dearly loved her, the old friend to whom her life was -precious, hoped vainly to the last. In a month from the -physician's visit all hope was over; and Allan shed the first -bitter tears of his life at his mother's grave. - -She had died more peacefully than Mr. Brock had dared to hope, -leaving all her little fortune to her son, and committing him -solemnly to the care of her one friend on earth. The rector had -entreated her to let him write and try to reconcile her brothers -with her before it was too late. She had only answered sadly that -it was too late already. But one reference escaped her in her -last illness to those early sorrows which had weighed heavily on -all her after-life, and which had passed thrice already, like -shadows of evil, between the rector and herself. Even on her -deathbed she had shrunk from letting the light fall clearly on -the story of the past. She had looked at Allan kneeling by the -bedside, and had whispered to Mr. Brock: "_Never let his Namesake -come near him! Never let that Woman find him out!_" No word more -fell from her that touched on the misfortunes which had tried her -in the past, or on the dangers which she dreaded in the future. -The secret which she had kept from her son and from her friend -was a secret which she carried with her to the grave. - -When the last offices of affection and respect had been -performed, Mr. Brock felt it his duty, as executor to the -deceased lady, to write to her brothers, and to give them -information of her death. Believing that he had to deal with two -men who would probably misinterpret his motives if he left -Allan's position unexplained, he was careful to remind them that -Mrs. Armadale's son was well provided for, and that the object of -his letter was simply to communicate the news of their sister's -decease. The two letters were dispatched toward the middle of -January, and by return of post the answers were received. The -first which the rector opened was written not by the elder -brother, but by the elder brother's only son. The young man had -succeeded to the estates in Norfolk on his father's death, some -little time since. He wrote in a frank and friendly spirit, -assuring Mr. Brock that, however strongly his father might have -been prejudiced against Mrs. Armadale, the hostile feeling had -never extended to her son. For himself, he had only to add that -he would be sincerely happy to welcome his cousin to Thorpe -Ambrose whenever his cousin came that way. - -The second letter was a far less agreeable reply to receive than -the first. The younger brother was still alive, and still -resolute neither to forget nor forgive. He informed Mr. Brock -that his deceased sister's choice of a husband, and her conduct -to her father at the time of her marriage, had made any relations -of affection or esteem impossible, on his side, from that time -forth. Holding the opinions he did, it would be equally painful -to his nephew and himself if any personal intercourse took place -between them. He had adverted, as generally as possible, to the -nature of the differences which had kept him apart from his late -sister, in order to satisfy Mr. Brock's mind that a personal -acquaintance with young Mr. Armadale was, as a matter of -delicacy, quite out of the question and, having done this, he -would beg leave to close the correspondence. - -Mr. Brock wisely destroyed the second letter on the spot, and, -after showing Allan his cousin's invitation, suggested that he -should go to Thorpe Ambrose as soon as he felt fit to present -himself to strangers. - -Allan listened to the advice patiently enough; but he declined to -profit by it. "I will shake hands with my cousin willingly if I -ever meet him," he said; "but I will visit no family, and be a -guest in no house, in which my mother has - been badly treated." Mr. Brock remonstrated gently, and tried to -put matters in their proper light. Even at that time--even while -he was still ignorant of events which were then -impending--Allan's strangely isolated position in the world was a -subject of serious anxiety to his old friend and tutor. The -proposed visit to Thorpe Ambrose opened the very prospect of his -making friends and connections suited to him in rank and age -which Mr. Brock most desired to see; but Allan was not to be -persuaded; he was obstinate and unreasonable; and the rector had -no alternative but to drop the subject. - -One on another the weeks passed monotonously, and Allan showed -but little of the elasticity of his age and character in bearing -the affliction that had made him motherless. He finished and -launched his yacht; but his own journeymen remarked that the work -seemed to have lost its interest for him. It was not natural to -the young man to brood over his solitude and his grief as he was -brooding now. As the spring advanced, Mr. Brock began to feel -uneasy about the future, if Allan was not roused at once by -change of scene. After much pondering, the rector decided on -trying a trip to Paris, and on extending the journey southward if -his companion showed an interest in Continental traveling. -Allan's reception of the proposal made atonement for his -obstinacy in refusing to cultivate his cousin's acquaintance; he -was willing to go with Mr. Brock wherever Mr. Brock pleased. The -rector took him at his word, and in the middle of March the two -strangely assorted companions left for London on their way to -Paris. - -Arrived in London, Mr. Brock found himself unexpectedly face to -face with a new anxiety. The unwelcome subject of Ozias -Midwinter, which had been buried in peace since the beginning of -December, rose to the surface again, and confronted the rector at -the very outset of his travels, more unmanageably than ever. - -Mr. Brock's position in dealing with this difficult matter had -been hard enough to maintain when he had first meddled with it. -He now found himself with no vantage-ground left to stand on. -Events had so ordered it that the difference of opinion between -Allan and his mother on the subject of the usher was entirely -disassociated with the agitation which had hastened Mrs. -Armadale's death. Allan's resolution to say no irritating words, -and Mr. Brock's reluctance to touch on a disagreeable topic, had -kept them both silent about Midwinter in Mrs. Armadale's presence -during the three days which had intervened between that person's -departure and the appearance of the strange woman in the village. -In the period of suspense and suffering that had followed no -recurrence to the subject of the usher had been possible, and -none had taken place. Free from all mental disquietude on this -score, Allan had stoutly preserved his perverse interest in his -new friend. He had written to tell Midwinter of his affliction, -and he now proposed (unless the rector formally objected to it) -paying a visit to his friend before he started for Paris the next -morning. - -What was Mr. Brock to do? There was no denying that Midwinter's -conduct had pleaded unanswerably against poor Mrs. Armadale's -unfounded distrust of him. If the rector, with no convincing -reason to allege against it, and with no right to interfere but -the right which Allan's courtesy gave him, declined to sanction -the proposed visit, then farewell to all the old sociability and -confidence between tutor and pupil on the contemplated tour. -Environed by difficulties, which might have been possibly worsted -by a less just and a less kind-hearted man, Mr. Brock said a -cautious word or two at parting, and (with more confidence in -Midwinter's discretion and self-denial than he quite liked to -acknowledge, even to himself) left Allan free to take his own -way. - -After whiling away an hour, during the interval of his pupil's -absence, by a walk in the streets, the rector returned to his -hotel, and, finding the newspaper disengaged in the coffee-room, -sat down absently to look over it. His eye, resting idly on the -title-page, was startled into instant attention by the very first -advertisement that it chanced to light on at the head of the -column. There was Allan's mysterious namesake again, figuring in -capital letters, and associated this time (in the character of a -dead man) with the offer of a pecuniary reward. Thus it ran: - - -SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD.--To parish clerks, sextons, and others. -Twenty Pounds reward will be paid to any person who can produce -evidence of the death of ALLAN ARMADALE, only son of the late -Allan Armadale, of Barbadoes, and born in Trinidad in the year -1830. Further particulars on application to Messrs. Hammick and -Ridge, Lincoln's Inn Fields, London. - - -Even Mr. Brock's essentially unimaginative mind began to stagger -superstitiously in the dark as he laid the newspaper down again. -Little by little a vague suspicion took possession of him that -the whole series of events which had followed the first -appearance of Allan's namesake in the newspaper six years since -was held together by some mysterious connection, and was tending -steadily to some unimaginable end. Without knowing why, he began -to feel uneasy at Allan's absence. Without knowing why, he became -impatient to get his pupil away from England before anything else -happened between night and morning. - -In an hour more the rector was relieved of all immediate anxiety -by Allan's return to the hotel. The young man was vexed and out -of spirits. He had discovered Midwinter's lodgings, but he had -failed to find Midwinter himself. The only account his landlady -could give of him was that he had gone out at his customary time -to get his dinner at the nearest eating-house, and that he had -not returned, in accordance with his usual regular habits, at his -usual regular hour. Allan had therefore gone to inquire at the -eating-house, and had found, on describing him, that Midwinter -was well known there. It was his custom, on other days, to take a -frugal dinner, and to sit half an hour afterward reading the -newspaper. On this occasion, after dining, he had taken up the -paper as usual, had suddenly thrown it aside again, and had gone, -nobody knew where, in a violent hurry. No further information -being attainable, Allan had left a note at the lodgings, giving -his address at the hotel, and begging Midwinter to come and say -good-by before his departure for Paris. - -The evening passed, and Allan's invisible friend never appeared. -The morning came, bringing no obstacles with it, and Mr. Brock -and his pupil left London. So far Fortune had declared herself at -last on the rector's side. Ozias Midwinter, after intrusively -rising to the surface, had conveniently dropped out of sight -again. What was to happen next? - - ------------- - -Advancing once more, by three weeks only, from past to present, -Mr. Brock's memory took up the next event on the seventh of -April. To all appearance, the chain was now broken at last. The -new event had no recognizable connection (either to his mind or -to Allan's) with any of the persons who had appeared, or any of -the circumstances that had happened, in the by-gone time. - -The travelers had as yet got no further than Paris. Allan's -spirits had risen with the change; and he had been made all the -readier to enjoy the novelty of the scene around him by receiving -a letter from Midwinter, containing news which Mr. Brock himself -acknowledged promised fairly for the future. The ex-usher had -been away on business when Allan had called at his lodgings, -having been led by an accidental circumstance to open -communications with his relatives on that day. The result had -taken him entirely by surprise: it had unexpectedly secured to -him a little income of his own for the rest of his life. His -future plans, now that this piece of good fortune had fallen to -his share, were still unsettled. But if Allan wished to hear what -he ultimately decided on, his agent in London (whose direction he -inclosed) would receive communications for him, and would furnish -Mr. Armadale at all future times with his address. - -On receipt of this letter, Allan had seized the pen - in his usual headlong way, and had insisted on Midwinter's -immediately joining Mr. Brock and himself on their travels. The -last days of March passed, and no answer to the proposal was -received. The first days of April came, and on the seventh of the -month there was a letter for Allan at last on the -breakfast-table. He snatched it up, looked at the address, and -threw the letter down again impatiently. The handwriting was not -Midwinter's. Allan finished his breakfast before he cared to read -what his correspondent had to say to him. - -The meal over, young Armadale lazily opened the letter. He began -it with an expression of supreme indifference. He finished it -with a sudden leap out of his chair, and a loud shout of -astonishment. Wondering, as he well might, at this extraordinary -outbreak, Mr. Brock took up the letter which Allan had tossed -across the table to him. Before he had come to the end of it, his -hands dropped helplessly on his knees, and the blank bewilderment -of his pupil's expression was accurately reflected on his own -face. - -If ever two men had good cause for being thrown completely off -their balance, Allan and the rector were those two. The letter -which had struck them both with the same shock of astonishment -did, beyond all question, contain an announcement which, on a -first discovery of it, was simply incredible. The news was from -Norfolk, and was to this effect. In little more than one week's -time death had mown down no less than three lives in the family -at Thorpe Ambrose, and Allan Armadale was at that moment heir to -an estate of eight thousand a year! - -A second perusal of the letter enabled the rector and his -companion to master the details which had escaped them on a first -reading - -The writer was the family lawyer at Thorpe Ambrose. After -announcing to Allan the deaths of his cousin Arthur at the age of -twenty-five, of his uncle Henry at the age of forty-eight, and of -his cousin John at the age of twenty-one, the lawyer proceeded to -give a brief abstract of the terms of the elder Mr. Blanchard's -will. The claims of male issue were, as is not unusual in such -cases, preferred to the claims of female issue. Failing Arthur -and his issue male, the estate was left to Henry and his issue -male. Failing them, it went to the issue male of Henry's sister; -and, in default of such issue, to the next heir male. As events -had happened, the two young men, Arthur and John, had died -unmarried, and Henry Blanchard had died, leaving no surviving -child but a daughter. Under these circumstances, Allan was the -next heir male pointed at by the will, and was now legally -successor to the Thorpe Ambrose estate. Having made this -extraordinary announcement, the lawyer requested to be favored -with Mr. Armadale's instructions, and added, in conclusion, that -he would be happy to furnish any further particulars that were -desired. - -It was useless to waste time in wondering at an event which -neither Allan nor his mother had ever thought of as even remotely -possible. The only thing to be done was to go back to England at -once. The next day found the travelers installed once more in -their London hotel, and the day after the affair was placed in -the proper professional hands. The inevitable corresponding and -consulting ensued, and one by one the all-important particulars -flowed in, until the measure of information was pronounced to be -full. - -This was the strange story of the three deaths: - -At the time when Mr. Brock had written to Mrs. Armadale's -relatives to announce the news of her decease (that is to say, in -the middle of the month of January), the family at Thorpe Ambrose -numbered five persons--Arthur Blanchard (in possession of the -estate), living in the great house with his mother; and Henry -Blanchard, the uncle, living in the neighborhood, a widower with -two children, a son and a daughter. To cement the family -connection still more closely, Arthur Blanchard was engaged to be -married to his cousin. The wedding was to be celebrated with -great local rejoicings in the coming summer, when the young lady -had completed her twentieth year. - -The month of February had brought changes with it in the family -position. Observing signs of delicacy in the health of his son, -Mr. Henry Blanchard left Norfolk, taking the young man with him, -under medical advice, to try the climate of Italy. Early in the -ensuing month of March, Arthur Blanchard also left Thorpe -Ambrose, for a few days only, on business which required his -presence in London. The business took him into the City. Annoyed -by the endless impediments in the streets, he returned westward -by one of the river steamers, and, so returning, met his death. - -As the steamer left the wharf, he noticed a woman near him who -had shown a singular hesitation in embarking, and who had been -the last of the passengers to take her place in the vessel. She -was neatly dressed in black silk, with a red Paisley shawl over -her shoulders, and she kept her face hidden behind a thick veil. -Arthur Blanchard was struck by the rare grace and elegance of her -figure, and he felt a young man's passing curiosity to see her -face. She neither lifted her veil nor turned her head his way. -After taking a few steps hesitatingly backward and forward on the -deck, she walked away on a sudden to the stern of the vessel. In -a minute more there was a cry of alarm from the man at the helm, -and the engines were stopped immediately. The woman had thrown -herself overboard. - -The passengers all rushed to the side of the vessel to look. -Arthur Blanchard alone, without an instant's hesitation, jumped -into the river. He was an excellent swimmer, and he reached the -woman as she rose again to the surface, after sinking for the -first time. Help was at hand, and they were both brought safely -ashore. The woman was taken to the nearest police station, and -was soon restored to her senses, her preserver giving his name -and address, as usual in such cases, to the inspector on duty, -who wisely recommended him to get into a warm bath, and to send -to his lodgings for dry clothes. Arthur Blanchard, who had never -known an hour's illness since he was a child, laughed at the -caution, and went back in a cab. The next day he was too ill to -attend the examination before the magistrate. A fortnight -afterward he was a dead man. - -The news of the calamity reached Henry Blanchard and his son at -Milan, and within an hour of the time when they received it they -were on their way back to England. The snow on the Alps had -loosened earlier than usual that year, and the passes were -notoriously dangerous. The father and son, traveling in their own -carriage, were met on the mountain by the mail returning, after -sending the letters on by hand. Warnings which would have -produced their effect under any ordinary circumstances were now -vainly addressed to the two Englishmen. Their impatience to be at -home again, after the catastrophe which had befallen their -family, brooked no delay. Bribes lavishly offered to the -postilions, tempted them to go on. The carriage pursued its way, -and was lost to view in the mist. When it was seen again, it was -disinterred from the bottom of a precipice--the men, the horses, -and the vehicle all crushed together under the wreck and ruin of -an avalanche. - -So the three lives were mown down by death. So, in a clear -sequence of events, a woman's suicide-leap into a river had -opened to Allan Armadale the succession to the Thorpe Ambrose -estates. - -Who was the woman? The man who saved her life never knew. The -magistrate who remanded her, the chaplain who exhorted her, the -reporter who exhibited her in print, never knew. It was recorded -of her with surprise that, though most respectably dressed, she -had nevertheless described herself as being "in distress." She -had expressed the deepest contrition, but had persisted in giving -a name which was on the face of it a false one; in telling a -commonplace story, which was manifestly an invention; and in -refusing to the last to furnish any clew to her friends. A lady -connected with a charitable institution ("interested by her -extreme elegance and beauty") had volunteered to take charge of -her, and to bring her into a better frame of mind . The first -day's experience of the penitent had been far from cheering, and -the second day's experience had been conclusive. She had left the -institution by stealth; and--though the visiting clergyman, -taking a special interest in the case, had caused special efforts -to be made--all search after her, from that time forth, had -proved fruitless. - -While this useless investigation (undertaken at Allan's express -desire) was in progress, the lawyers had settled the preliminary -formalities connected with the succession to the property. All -that remained was for the new master of Thorpe Ambrose to decide -when he would personally establish himself on the estate of which -he was now the legal possessor. - -Left necessarily to his own guidance in this matter, Allan -settled it for himself in his usual hot-headed, generous way. He -positively declined to take possession until Mrs. Blanchard and -her niece (who had been permitted thus far, as a matter of -courtesy, to remain in their old home) had recovered from the -calamity that had befallen them, and were fit to decide for -themselves what their future proceedings should be. A private -correspondence followed this resolution, comprehending, on -Allan's side, unlimited offers of everything he had to give (in a -house which he had not yet seen), and, on the ladies' side, a -discreetly reluctant readiness to profit by the young gentleman's -generosity in the matter of time. To the astonishment of his -legal advisers, Allan entered their office one morning, -accompanied by Mr. Brock, and announced, with perfect composure, -that the ladies had been good enough to take his own arrangements -off his hands, and that, in deference to their convenience, he -meant to defer establishing himself at Thorpe Ambrose till that -day two months. The lawyers stared at Allan, and Allan, returning -the compliment, stared at the lawyers. - -"What on earth are you wondering at, gentlemen?" he inquired, -with a boyish bewilderment in his good-humored blue eyes. "Why -shouldn't I give the ladies their two months, if the ladies want -them? Let the poor things take their own time, and welcome. My -rights? and my position? Oh, pooh! pooh! I'm in no hurry to be -squire of the parish; it's not in my way. What do I mean to do -for the two months? What I should have done anyhow, whether the -ladies had stayed or not; I mean to go cruising at sea. That's -what _I_ like! I've got a new yacht at home in Somersetshire--a -yacht of my own building. And I'll tell you what, sir," continued -Allan, seizing the head partner by the arm in the fervor of his -friendly intentions, "you look sadly in want of a holiday in the -fresh air, and you shall come along with me on the trial trip of -my new vessel. And your partners, too, if they like. And the head -clerk, who is the best fellow I ever met with in my life. Plenty -of room--we'll all shake down together on the floor, and we'll -give Mr. Brock a rug on the cabin table. Thorpe Ambrose be -hanged! Do you mean to say, if you had built a vessel yourself -(as I have), you would go to any estate in the three kingdoms, -while your own little beauty was sitting like a duck on the water -at home, and waiting for you to try her? You legal gentlemen are -great hands at argument. What do you think of that argument? I -think it's unanswerable--and I'm off to Somersetshire to-morrow." - -With those words, the new possessor of eight thousand a year -dashed into the head clerk's office, and invited that functionary -to a cruise on the high seas, with a smack on the shoulder which -was heard distinctly by his masters in the next room. The firm -looked in interrogative wonder at Mr. Brock. A client who could -see a position among the landed gentry of England waiting for -him, without being in a hurry to occupy it at the earliest -possible opportunity, was a client of whom they possessed no -previous experience. - -"He must have been very oddly brought up," said the lawyers to -the rector. - -"Very oddly," said the rector to the lawyers. - -A last leap over one month more brought Mr. Brock to the present -time--to the bedroom at Castletown, in which he was sitting -thinking, and to the anxiety which was obstinately intruding -itself between him and his night's rest. That anxiety was no -unfamiliar enemy to the rector's peace of mind. It had first -found him out in Somersetshire six months since, and it had now -followed him to the Isle of Man under the inveterately obtrusive -form of Ozias Midwinter. - -The change in Allan's future prospects had worked no -corresponding alteration in his perverse fancy for the castaway -at the village inn. In the midst of the consultations with the -lawyers he had found time to visit Midwinter, and on the journey -back with the rector there was Allan's friend in the carriage, -returning with them to Somersetshire by Allan's own invitation. - -The ex-usher's hair had grown again on his shaven skull, and his -dress showed the renovating influence of an accession of -pecuniary means, but in all other respects the man was unchanged. -He met Mr. Brock's distrust with the old uncomplaining -resignation to it; he maintained the same suspicious silence on -the subject of his relatives and his early life; he spoke of -Allan's kindness to him with the same undisciplined fervor of -gratitude and surprise. "I have done what I could, sir," he said -to Mr. Brock, while Allan was asleep in the railway carriage. "I -have kept out of Mr. Armadale's way, and I have not even answered -his last letter to me. More than that is more than I can do. I -don't ask you to consider my own feeling toward the only human -creature who has never suspected and never ill-treated me. I can -resist my own feeling, but I can't resist the young gentleman -himself. There's not another like him in the world. If we are to -be parted again, it must be his doing or yours--not mine. The -dog's master has whistled," said this strange man, with a -momentary outburst of the hidden passion in him, and a sudden -springing of angry tears in his wild brown eyes, "and it is hard, -sir, to blame the dog when the dog comes." - -Once more Mr. Brock's humanity got the better of Mr. Brock's -caution. He determined to wait, and see what the coming days of -social intercourse might bring forth. - -The days passed; the yacht was rigged and fitted for sea; a -cruise was arranged to the Welsh coast--and Midwinter the Secret -was the same Midwinter still. Confinement on board a little -vessel of five-and-thirty tons offered no great attraction to a -man of Mr. Brock's time of life. But he sailed on the trial trip -of the yacht nevertheless, rather than trust Allan alone with his -new friend. - -Would the close companionship of the three on their cruise tempt -the man into talking of his own affairs? No; he was ready enough -on other subjects, especially if Allan led the way to them. But -not a word escaped him about himself. Mr. Brock tried him with -questions about his recent inheritance, and was answered as he -had been answered once already at the Somersetshire inn. It was a -curious coincidence, Midwinter admitted, that Mr. Armadale's -prospects and his own prospects should both have unexpectedly -changed for the better about the same time. But there the -resemblance ended. It was no large fortune that had fallen into -his lap, though it was enough for his wants. It had not -reconciled him with his relations, for the money had not come to -him as a matter of kindness, but as a matter of right. As for the -circumstance which had led to his communicating with his family, -it was not worth mentioning, seeing that the temporary renewal of -intercourse which had followed had produced no friendly results. -Nothing had come of it but the money--and, with the money, an -anxiety which troubled him sometimes, when he woke in the small -hours of the morning. - -At those last words he became suddenly silent, as if for once his -well-guarded tongue had betrayed him. - -Mr. Brock seized the opportunity, and bluntly asked him what the -nature of the anxiety might be. Did it relate to money? No; it -related to a Letter which had been waiting for him for many -years. Had he received the letter? Not yet; it had been left -under charge of one of the partners in the firm which had man -aged the business of his inheritance for him; the partner had -been absent from England; and the letter, locked up among his own -private papers, could not be got at till he returned. He was -expected back toward the latter part of that present May, and, if -Midwinter could be sure where the cruise would take them to at -the close of the month, he thought he would write and have the -letter forwarded. Had he any family reasons to be anxious about -it? None that he knew of; he was curious to see what had been -waiting for him for many years, and that was all. So he answered -the rector's questions, with his tawny face turned away over the -low bulwark of the yacht, and his fishing-line dragging in his -supple brown hands. - -Favored by wind and weather, the little vessel had done wonders -on her trial trip. Before the period fixed for the duration of -the cruise had half expired, the yacht was as high up on the -Welsh coast as Holyhead; and Allan, eager for adventure in -unknown regions, had declared boldly for an extension of the -voyage northward to the Isle of Man. Having ascertained from -reliable authority that the weather really promised well for a -cruise in that quarter, and that, in the event of any unforeseen -necessity for return, the railway was accessible by the steamer -from Douglas to Liverpool, Mr. Brock agreed to his pupil's -proposal. By that night's post he wrote to Allan's lawyers and to -his own rectory, indicating Douglas in the Isle of Man as the -next address to which letters might be forwarded. At the -post-office he met Midwinter, who had just dropped a letter into -the box. Remembering what he had said on board the yacht, Mr. -Brock concluded that they had both taken the same precaution, and -had ordered their correspondence to be forwarded to the same -place. - -Late the next day they set sail for the Isle of Man. - -For a few hours all went well; but sunset brought with it the -signs of a coming change. With the darkness the wind rose to a -gale, and the question whether Allan and his journeymen had or -had not built a stout sea-boat was seriously tested for the first -time. All that night, after trying vainly to bear up for -Holyhead, the little vessel kept the sea, and stood her trial -bravely. The next morning the Isle of Man was in view, and the -yacht was safe at Castletown. A survey by daylight of hull and -rigging showed that all the damage done might be set right again -in a week's time. The cruising party had accordingly remained at -Castletown, Allan being occupied in superintending the repairs, -Mr. Brock in exploring the neighborhood, and Midwinter in making -daily pilgrimages on foot to Douglas and back to inquire for -letters. - -The first of the cruising party who received a letter was Allan. -"More worries from those everlasting lawyers," was all he said, -when he had read the letter, and had crumpled it up in his -pocket. The rector's turn came next, before the week's sojourn at -Castletown had expired. On the fifth day he found a letter from -Somersetshire waiting for him at the hotel. It had been brought -there by Midwinter, and it contained news which entirely -overthrew all Mr. Brock's holiday plans. The clergyman who had -undertaken to do duty for him in his absence had been -unexpectedly summoned home again; and Mr. Brock had no choice -(the day of the week being Friday) but to cross the next morning -from Douglass to Liverpool, and get back by railway on Saturday -night in time for Sunday's service. - -Having read his letter, and resigned himself to his altered -circumstances as patiently as he might, the rector passed next to -a question that pressed for serious consideration in its turn. -Burdened with his heavy responsibility toward Allan, and -conscious of his own undiminished distrust of Allan's new friend, -how was he to act, in the emergency that now beset him, toward -the two young men who had been his companions on the cruise? - -Mr. Brock had first asked himself that awkward question on the -Friday afternoon, and he was still trying vainly to answer it, -alone in his own room, at one o'clock on the Saturday morning. It -was then only the end of May, and the residence of the ladies at -Thorpe Ambrose (unless they chose to shorten it of their own -accord) would not expire till the middle of June. Even if the -repairs of the yacht had been completed (which was not the case), -there was no possible pretense for hurrying Allan back to -Somersetshire. But one other alternative remained--to leave him -where he was. In other words, to leave him, at the turning-point -of his life, under the sole influence of a man whom he had first -met with as a castaway at a village inn, and who was still, to -all practical purposes, a total stranger to him. - -In despair of obtaining any better means of enlightenment to -guide his decision, Mr. Brock reverted to the impression which -Midwinter had produced on his own mind in the familiarity of the -cruise. - -Young as he was, the ex-usher had evidently lived a varied life. -He could speak of books like a man who had really enjoyed them; -he could take his turn at the helm like a sailor who knew his -duty; he could cook, and climb the rigging, and lay the cloth for -dinner, with an odd delight in the exhibition of his own -dexterity. The display of these, and other qualities like them, -as his spirits rose with the cruise, had revealed the secret of -his attraction for Allan plainly enough. But had all disclosures -rested there? Had the man let no chance light in on his character -in the rector's presence? Very little; and that little did not -set him forth in a morally alluring aspect. His way in the world -had lain evidently in doubtful places; familiarity with the small -villainies of vagabonds peeped out of him now and then; and, more -significant still, he habitually slept the light, suspicious -sleep of a man who has been accustomed to close his eyes in doubt -of the company under the same roof with him. Down to the very -latest moment of the rector's experience of him--down to that -present Friday night--his conduct had been persistently secret -and unaccountable to the very last. After bringing Mr. Brock's -letter to the hotel, he had mysterious disappeared from the house -without leaving any message for his companions, and without -letting anybody see whether he had or had not received a letter -himself. At nightfall he had come back stealthily in the -darkness, had been caught on the stairs by Allan, eager to tell -him of the change in the rector's plans, had listened to the news -without a word of remark! and had ended by sulkily locking -himself into his own room. What was there in his favor to set -against such revelations of his character as these--against his -wandering eyes, his obstinate reserve with the rector, his -ominous silence on the subject of family and friends? Little or -nothing: the sum of all his merits began and ended with his -gratitude to Allan. - - -Mr. Brock left his seat on the side of the bed, trimmed his -candle, and, still lost in his own thoughts, looked out absently -at the night. The change of place brought no new ideas with it. -His retrospect over his own past life had amply satisfied him -that his present sense of responsibility rested on no merely -fanciful grounds, and, having brought him to that point, had left -him there, standing at the window, and seeing nothing but the -total darkness in his own mind faithfully reflected by the total -darkness of the night. - -"If I only had a friend to apply to!" thought the rector. "If I -could only find some one to help me in this miserable place!" - -At the moment when the aspiration crossed his mind, it was -suddenly answered by a low knock at the door, and a voice said -softly in the passage outside, "Let me come in." - -After an instant's pause to steady his nerves, Mr. Brock opened -the door, and found himself, at one o'clock in the morning, -standing face to face on the threshold of his own bedroom with -Ozias Midwinter. - -"Are you ill?" asked the rector, as soon as his astonishment -would allow him to speak. - -"I have come here to make a clean breast of it!" was the strange -answer. "Will you let me in?" - -With those words he walked into the room, his eyes on the ground, -his lips ashy pale, and his han d holding something hidden behind -him. - -"I saw the light under your door," he went on, without looking -up, and without moving his hand, "and I know the trouble on your -mind which is keeping you from your rest. You are going away -to-morrow morning, and you don't like leaving Mr. Armadale alone -with a stranger like me." - -Startled as he was, Mr. Brock saw the serious necessity of being -plain with a man who had come at that time, and had said those -words to him. - -"You have guessed right," he answered. "I stand in the place of a -father to Allan Armadale, and I am naturally unwilling to leave -him, at his age, with a man whom I don't know." - -Ozias Midwinter took a step forward to the table. His wandering -eyes rested on the rector's New Testament, which was one of the -objects lying on it. - -"You have read that Book, in the years of a long life, to many -congregations," he said. "Has it taught you mercy to your -miserable fellow-creatures?" - -Without waiting to be answered, he looked Mr. Brock in the face -for the first time, and brought his hidden hand slowly into view. - -"Read that," he said; "and, for Christ's sake, pity me when you -know who I am." - -He laid a letter of many pages on the table. It was the letter -that Mr. Neal had posted at Wildbad nineteen years since. - -CHAPTER II. - -THE. MAN REVEALED. - -THE first cool breathings of the coming dawn fluttered through -the open window as Mr. Brock read the closing lines of the -Confession. He put it from him in silence, without looking up. -The first shock of discovery had struck his mind, and had passed -away again. At his age, and with his habits of thought, his grasp -was not strong enough to hold the whole revelation that had -fallen on him. All his heart. when he closed the manuscript, was -with the memory of the woman who had been the beloved friend of -his later and happier life; all his thoughts were busy with the -miserable secret of her treason to her own father which the -letter had disclosed. - -He was startled out of the narrow limits of his own little grief -by the vibration of the table at which he sat, under a hand that -was laid on it heavily. The instinct of reluctance was strong in -him; but he conquered it, and looked up. There, silently -confronting him in the mixed light of the yellow candle flame and -the faint gray dawn, stood the castaway of the village inn--the -inheritor of the fatal Armadale name. - -Mr. Brock shuddered as the terror of the present time and the -darker terror yet of the future that might be coming rushed back -on him at the sight of the man's face. The man saw it, and spoke -first. - -"Is my father's crime looking at you out of my eyes?" he asked. -"Has the ghost of the drowned man followed me into the room?" - -The suffering and the passion that he was forcing back shook the -hand that he still kept on the table, and stifled the voice in -which he spoke until it sank to a whisper. - -"I have no wish to treat you otherwise than justly and kindly," -answered Mr. Brock. "Do me justice on my side, and believe that I -am incapable of cruelly holding you responsible for your father's -crime." - -The reply seemed to compose him. He bowed his head in silence, -and took up the confession from the table. - -"Have you read this through?" he asked, quietly. - -"Every word of it, from first to last." - -"Have I dealt openly with you so far. Has Ozias Midwinter--" - -"Do you still call yourself by that name," interrupted Mr. Brock, -"now your true name is known to me?" - -"Since I have read my father's confession," was the answer, "I -like my ugly alias better than ever. Allow me to repeat the -question which I was about to put to you a minute since: Has -Ozias Midwinter done his best thus far to enlighten Mr. Brock?" - -The rector evaded a direct reply. "Few men in your position," he -said, "would have had the courage to show me that letter." - -"Don't be too sure, sir, of the vagabond you picked up at the inn -till you know a little more of him than you know now. You have -got the secret of my birth, but you are not in possession yet of -the story of my life. You ought to know it, and you shall know -it, before you leave me alone with Mr. Armadale. Will you wait, -and rest a little while, or shall I tell it you now?" - -"Now," said Mr. Brock, still as far away as ever from knowing the -real character of the man before him. - -Everything Ozias Midwinter said, everything Ozias Midwinter did, -was against him. He had spoken with a sardonic indifference, -almost with an insolence of tone, which would have repelled the -sympathies of any man who heard him. And now, instead of placing -himself at the table, and addressing his story directly to the -rector, he withdrew silently and ungraciously to the window-seat. -There he sat, his face averted, his hands mechanically turning -the leaves of his father's letter till he came to the last. With -his eyes fixed on the closing lines of the manuscript, and with a -strange mixture of recklessness and sadness in his voice, he -began his promised narrative in these words: - - -"The first thing you know of me," he said, "is what my father's -confession has told you already. He mentions here that I was a -child, asleep on his breast, when he spoke his last words in this -world, and when a stranger's hand wrote them down for him at his -deathbed. That stranger's name, as you may have noticed, is -signed on the cover--'Alexander Neal, Writer to the Signet, -Edinburgh.' The first recollection I have is of Alexander Neal -beating me with a horsewhip (I dare say I deserved it), in the -character of my stepfather." - -"Have you no recollection of your mother at the same time?" asked -Mr. Brock. - -"Yes; I remember her having shabby old clothes made up to fit me, -and having fine new frocks bought for her two children by her -second husband. I remember the servants laughing at me in my old -things, and the horsewhip finding its way to my shoulders again -for losing my temper and tearing my shabby clothes. My next -recollection gets on to a year or two later. I remember myself -locked up in a lumber-room, with a bit of bread and a mug of -water, wondering what it was that made my mother and my -stepfather seem to hate the very sight of me. I never settled -that question till yesterday, and then I solved the mystery, when -my father's letter was put into my hands. My mother knew what had -really happened on board the French timber-ship, and my -stepfather knew what had really happened, and they were both well -aware that the shameful secret which they would fain have kept -from every living creature was a secret which would be one day -revealed to _me._ There was no help for it--the confession was in -the executor's hands, and there was I, an ill-conditioned brat, -with my mother's negro blood in my face, and my murdering -father's passions in my heart, inheritor of their secret in spite -of them! I don't wonder at the horsewhip now, or the shabby old -clothes, or the bread and water in the lumber-room. Natural -penalties all of them, sir, which the child was beginning to pay -already for the father's sin." - -Mr. Brock looked at the swarthy, secret face, still obstinately -turned away from him. "Is this the stark insensibility of a -vagabond," he asked himself, "or the despair, in disguise, of a -miserable man?" - -"School is my next recollection," the other went on--"a cheap -place in a lost corner of Scotland. I was left there, with a bad -character to help me at starting. I spare you the story of the -master's cane in the schoolroom, and the boys' kicks in the -playground. I dare say there was ingrained ingratitude in my -nature; at any rate, I ran away. The first person who met me -asked my name. I was too young and too foolish to know the -importance of concealing it, and, as a matter of course, I was -taken back to school the same evening. The result taught me a -lesson which I have not forgotten since. In a day or two more, -like the vagabond I was, I ran away for the second time. The -school watch-dog had had his instructions, I suppose: he stopped -me before I got outside the gate. Here is his mark, among the -rest, on the back of my hand. His master's marks I can't show -you; they are all on my back. Can you believe in my perversity? -There was a devil in me that no dog - could worry out. I ran away again as soon as I left my bed, and -this time I got off. At nightfall I found myself (with a -pocketful of the school oatmeal) lost on a moor. I lay down on -the fine soft heather, under the lee of a great gray rock. Do you -think I felt lonely? Not I! I was away from the master's cane, -away from my schoolfellows' kicks, away from my mother, away from -my stepfather; and I lay down that night under my good friend the -rock, the happiest boy in all Scotland!" - -Through the wretched childhood which that one significant -circumstance disclosed, Mr. Brock began to see dimly how little -was really strange, how little really unaccountable, in the -character of the man who was now speaking to him. - -"I slept soundly," Midwinter continued, "under my friend the -rock. When I woke in the morning, I found a sturdy old man with a -fiddle sitting on one side of me, and two performing dogs on the -other. Experience had made me too sharp to tell the truth when -the man put his first questions. He didn't press them; he gave me -a good breakfast out of his knapsack, and he let me romp with the -dogs. 'I'll tell you what,' he said, when he had got my -confidence in this manner, 'you want three things, my man: you -want a new father, a new family, and a new name. I'll be your -father. I'll let you have the dogs for your brothers; and, if -you'll promise to be very careful of it, I'll give you my own -name into the bargain. Ozias Midwinter, Junior, you have had a -good breakfast; if you want a good dinner, come along with me!' -He got up, the dogs trotted after him, and I trotted after the -dogs. Who was my new father? you will ask. A half-breed gypsy, -sir; a drunkard, a ruffian, and a thief--and the best friend I -ever had! Isn't a man your friend who gives you your food, your -shelter, and your education? Ozias Midwinter taught me to dance -the Highland fling, to throw somersaults, to walk on stilts, and -to sing songs to his fiddle. Sometimes we roamed the country, and -performed at fairs. Sometimes we tried the large towns, and -enlivened bad company over its cups. I was a nice, lively little -boy of eleven years old, and bad company, the women especially, -took a fancy to me and my nimble feet. I was vagabond enough to -like the life. The dogs and I lived together, ate, and drank, and -slept together. I can't think of those poor little four-footed -brothers of mine, even now, without a choking in the throat. Many -is the beating we three took together; many is the hard day's -dancing we did together; many is the night we have slept -together, and whimpered together, on the cold hill-side. I'm not -trying to distress you, sir; I'm only telling you the truth. The -life with all its hardships was a life that fitted me, and the -half-breed gypsy who gave me his name, ruffian as he was, was a -ruffian I liked." - -"A man who beat you!" exclaimed Mr. Brock, in astonishment. - -"Didn't I tell you just now, sir, that I lived with the dogs? and -did you ever hear of a dog who liked his master the worse for -beating him? Hundreds of thousands of miserable men, women, and -children would have liked that man (as I liked him) if he had -always given them what he always gave me--plenty to eat. It was -stolen food mostly, and my new gypsy father was generous with it. -He seldom laid the stick on us when he was sober; but it diverted -him to hear us yelp when he was drunk. He died drunk, and enjoyed -his favorite amusement with his last breath. One day (when I had -been two years in his service), after giving us a good dinner out -on the moor, he sat down with his back against a stone, and -called us up to divert himself with his stick. He made the dogs -yelp first, and then he called to me. I didn't go very willingly; -he had been drinking harder than usual, and the more he drank the -better he liked his after-dinner amusement. He was in high -good-humor that day, and he hit me so hard that he toppled over, -in his drunken state, with the force of his own blow. He fell -with his face in a puddle, and lay there without moving. I and -the dogs stood at a distance, and looked at him: we thought he -was feigning, to get us near and have another stroke at us. He -feigned so long that we ventured up to him at last. It took me -some time to pull him over; he was a heavy man. When I did get -him on his back, he was dead. We made all the outcry we could; -but the dogs were little, and I was little, and the place was -lonely; and no help came to us. I took his fiddle and his stick; -I said to my two brothers, 'Come along, we must get our own -living now;' and we went away heavy-hearted, and left him on the -moor. Unnatural as it may seem to you, I was sorry for him. I -kept his ugly name through all my after-wanderings, and I have -enough of the old leaven left in me to like the sound of it -still. Midwinter or Armadale, never mind my name now, we will -talk of that afterward; you must know the worst of me first." - -"Why not the best of you?" said Mr. Brock, gently. - -"Thank you, sir; but I am here to tell the truth. We will get on, -if you please, to the next chapter in my story. The dogs and I -did badly, after our master's death; our luck was against us. I -lost one of my little brothers--the best performer of the two; he -was stolen, and I never recovered him. My fiddle and my stilts -were taken from me next, by main force, by a tramp who was -stronger than I. These misfortunes drew Tommy and me--I beg your -pardon, sir, I mean the dog--closer together than ever. - -I think we had some kind of dim foreboding on both sides that we -had not done with our misfortunes yet; anyhow, it was not very -long before we were parted forever. We were neither of us thieves -(our master had been satisfied with teaching us to dance); but we -both committed an invasion of the rights of property, for all -that. Young creatures, even when they are half starved, cannot -resist taking a run sometimes on a fine morning. Tommy and I -could not resist taking a run into a gentleman's plantation; the -gentleman preserved his game; and the gentleman's keeper knew his -business. I heard a gun go off; you can guess the rest. God -preserve me from ever feeling such misery again as I felt when I -lay down by Tommy, and took him, dead and bloody, in my arms! The -keeper attempted to part us; I bit him, like the wild animal I -was. He tried the stick on me next; he might as well have tried -it on one of the trees. The noise reached the ears of two young -ladies riding near the place--daughters of the gentleman on whose -property I was a trespasser. They were too well brought up to -lift their voices against the sacred right of preserving game, -but they were kind-hearted girls, and they pitied me, and took me -home with them. I remember the gentlemen of the house (keen -sportsmen all of them) roaring with laughter as I went by the -windows, crying, with my little dead dog in my arms. Don't -suppose I complain of their laughter; it did me good service; it -roused the indignation of the two ladies. One of them took me -into her own garden, and showed me a place where I might bury my -dog under the flowers, and be sure that no other hands should -ever disturb him again. The other went to her father, and -persuaded him to give the forlorn little vagabond a chance in the -house, under one of the upper servants. Yes! you have been -cruising in company with a man who was once a foot-boy. I saw you -look at me, when I amused Mr. Armadale by laying the cloth on -board the yacht. Now you know why I laid it so neatly, and forgot -nothing. It has been my good fortune to see something of society; -I have helped to fill its stomach and black its boots. My -experience of the servants' hall was not a long one. Before I had -worn out my first suit of livery, there was a scandal in the -house. It was the old story; there is no need to tell it over -again for the thousandth time. Loose money left on a table, and -not found there again; all the servants with characters to appeal -to except the foot-boy, who had been rashly taken on trial. Well! -well! I was lucky in that house to the last; I was not prosecuted -for taking what I had not only never touched, but never even -seen: I was only turned out. One morning I went in m y old -clothes to the grave where I had buried Tommy. I gave the place a -kiss; I said good-by to my little dead dog; and there I was, out -in the world again, at the ripe age of thirteen years!" - -"In that friendless state, and at that tender age," said Mr. -Brock, "did no thought cross your mind of going home again?" - -"I went home again, sir, that very night--I slept on the -hill-side. What other home had I? In a day or two's time I -drifted back to the large towns and the bad company, the great -open country was so lonely to me, now I had lost the dogs! Two -sailors picked me up next. I was a handy lad, and I got a -cabin-boy's berth on board a coasting- vessel. A cabin-boy's -berth means dirt to live in, offal to eat, a man's work on a -boy's shoulders, and the rope's-end at regular intervals. The -vessel touched at a port in the Hebrides. I was as ungrateful as -usual to my best benefactors; I ran away again. Some women found -me, half dead of starvation, in the northern wilds of the Isle of -Skye. It was near the coast and I took a turn with the fishermen -next. There was less of the rope's-end among my new masters; but -plenty of exposure to wind and weather, and hard work enough to -have killed a boy who was not a seasoned tramp like me. I fought -through it till the winter came, and then the fishermen turned me -adrift again. I don't blame them; food was scarce, and mouths -were many. With famine staring the whole community in the face, -why should they keep a boy who didn't belong to them? A great -city was my only chance in the winter-time; so I went to Glasgow, -and all but stepped into the lion's mouth as soon as I got there. -I was minding an empty cart on the Broomielaw, when I heard my -stepfather's voice on the pavement side of the horse by which I -was standing. He had met some person whom he knew, and, to my -terror and surprise, they were talking about me. Hidden behind -the horse, I heard enough of their conversation to know that I -had narrowly escaped discovery before I went on board the -coasting-vessel. I had met at that time with another vagabond boy -of my own age; we had quarreled and parted. The day after, my -stepfather's inquiries were made in that very district, and it -became a question with him (a good personal description being -unattainable in either case) which of the two boys he should -follow. One of them, he was informed, was known as "Brown," and -the other as "Midwinter." Brown was just the common name which a -cunning runaway boy would be most likely to assume; Midwinter, -just the remarkable name which he would be most likely to avoid. -The pursuit had accordingly followed Brown, and had allowed me to -escape. I leave you to imagine whether I was not doubly and -trebly determined to keep my gypsy master's name after that. But -my resolution did not stop here. I made up my mind to leave the -country altogether. After a day or two's lurking about the -outward-bound vessels in port, I found out which sailed first, -and hid myself on board. Hunger tried hard to force me out before -the pilot had left; but hunger was not new to me, and I kept my -place. The pilot was out of the vessel when I made my appearance -on deck, and there was nothing for it but to keep me or throw me -overboard. The captain said (I have no doubt quite truly) that he -would have preferred throwing me overboard; but the majesty of -the law does sometimes stand the friend even of a vagabond like -me. In that way I came back to a sea-life. In that way I learned -enough to make me handy and useful (as I saw you noticed) on -board Mr. Armadale's yacht. I sailed more than one voyage, in -more than one vessel, to more than one part of the world, and I -might have followed the sea for life, if I could only have kept -my temper under every provocation that could be laid on it. I had -learned a great deal; but, not having learned that, I made the -last part of my last voyage home to the port of Bristol in irons; -and I saw the inside of a prison for the first time in my life, -on a charge of mutinous conduct to one of my officers. You have -heard me with extraordinary patience, sir, and I am glad to tell -you, in return, that we are not far now from the end of my story. -You found some books, if I remember right, when you searched my -luggage at the Somersetshire inn?" - -Mr. Brock answered in the affirmative. - -"Those books mark the next change in my life--and the last, -before I took the usher's place at the school. My term of -imprisonment was not a long one. Perhaps my youth pleaded for me; -perhaps the Bristol magistrates took into consideration the time -I had passed in irons on board ship. Anyhow, I was just turned -seventeen when I found myself out on the world again. I had no -friends to receive me; I had no place to go to. A sailor's life, -after what had happened, was a life I recoiled from in disgust. I -stood in the crowd on the bridge at Bristol, wondering what I -should do with my freedom now I had got it back. Whether I had -altered in the prison, or whether I was feeling the change in -character that comes with coming manhood, I don't know; but the -old reckless enjoyment of the old vagabond life seemed quite worn -out of my nature. An awful sense of loneliness kept me wandering -about Bristol, in horror of the quiet country, till after -nightfall. I looked at the lights kindling in the parlor windows, -with a miserable envy of the happy people inside. A word of -advice would have been worth something to me at that time. Well! -I got it: a policeman advised me to move on. He was quite right; -what else could I do? I looked up at the sky, and there was my -old friend of many a night's watch at sea, the north star. 'All -points of the compass are alike to me,' I thought to myself; -'I'll go _your_ way.' Not even the star would keep me company -that night. It got behind a cloud, and left me alone in the rain -and darkness. I groped my way to a cart-shed, fell asleep, and -dreamed of old times, when I served my gypsy master and lived -with the dogs. God! what I would have given when I woke to have -felt Tommy's little cold muzzle in my hand! Why am I dwelling on -these things? Why don't I get on to the end? You shouldn't -encourage me, sir, by listening, so patiently. After a week more -of wandering, without hope to help me, or prospects to look to, I -found myself in the streets of Shrewsbury, staring in at the -windows of a book-seller's shop. An old man came to the shop -door, looked about him, and saw me. 'Do you want a job?' he -asked. 'And are you not above doing it cheap?' The prospect of -having something to do, and some human creature to speak a word -to, tempted me, and I did a day's dirty work in the book-seller's -warehouse for a shilling. More work followed at the same rate. In -a week I was promoted to sweep out the shop and put up the -shutters. In no very long time after, I was trusted to carry the -books out; and when quarter-day came, and the shop-man left, I -took his place. Wonderful luck! you will say; here I had found my -way to a friend at last. I had found my way to one of the most -merciless misers in England; and I had risen in the little world -of Shrewsbury by the purely commercial process of underselling -all my competitors. The job in the warehouse had been declined at -the price by every idle man in the town, and I did it. The -regular porter received his weekly pittance under weekly protest. -I took two shillings less, and made no complaint. The shop-man -gave warning on the ground that he was underfed as well as -underpaid . I received half his salary, and lived contentedly on -his reversionary scraps. Never were two men so well suited to -each other as that book-seller and I. _His_ one object in life -was to find somebody who would work for him at starvation wages. -_My_ one object in life was to find somebody who would give me an -asylum over my head. Without a single sympathy in common--without -a vestige of feeling of any sort, hostile or friendly, growing up -between us on either side--without wishing each other good-night -when we parted on the house stairs, or good-morning when we met -at the shop counter, we lived alone in that house, strangers from -first to last, for two whole years. A dismal existence for a lad -of my age, was it not? You are a clergyman and a scholar--surely -you can guess what made the life endurable to me?" - -Mr. Brock remembered the well-worn volumes which had been found -in the usher's bag. "The books made it endurable to you," he -said. - -The eyes of the castaway kindled with a new light. - -"Yes!" he said, "the books--the generous friends who met me -without suspicion--the merciful masters who never used me ill! -The only years of my life that I can look back on with something -like pride are the years I passed in the miser's house. The only -unalloyed pleasure I have ever tasted is the pleasure that I -found for myself on the miser's shelves. Early and late, through -the long winter nights and the quiet summer days, I drank at the -fountain of knowledge, and never wearied of the draught. There -were few customers to serve, for the books were mostly of the -solid and scholarly kind. No responsibilities rested on me, for -the accounts were kept by my master, and only the small sums of -money were suffered to pass through my hands. He soon found out -enough of me to know that my honesty was to be trusted, and that -my patience might be counted on, treat me as he might. The one -insight into _his_ character which I obtained, on my side, -widened the distance between us to its last limits. He was a -confirmed opium-eater in secret--a prodigal in laudanum, though a -miser in all besides. He never confessed his frailty, and I never -told him I had found it out. He had his pleasure apart from me, -and I had my pleasure apart from _him._ Week after week, month -after month, there we sat, without a friendly word ever passing -between us--I, alone with my book at the counter; he, alone with -his ledger in the parlor, dimly visible to me through the dirty -window-pane of the glass door, sometimes poring over his figures, -sometimes lost and motionless for hours in the ecstasy of his -opium trance. Time passed, and made no impression on us; the -seasons of two years came and went, and found us still unchanged. -One morning, at the opening of the third year, my master did not -appear, as usual, to give me my allowance for breakfast. I went -upstairs, and found him helpless in his bed. He refused to trust -me with the keys of the cupboard, or to let me send for a doctor. -I bought a morsel of bread, and went back to my books, with no -more feeling for _him_ (I honestly confess it) than he would have -had for _me_ under the same circumstances. An hour or two later I -was roused from my reading by an occasional customer of ours, a -retired medical man. He went upstairs. I was glad to get rid of -him and return to my books. He came down again, and disturbed me -once more. 'I don't much like you, my lad,' he said; 'but I think -it my duty to say that you will soon have to shift for yourself. -You are no great favorite in the town, and you may have some -difficulty in finding a new place. Provide yourself with a -written character from your master before it is too late.' He -spoke to me coldly. I thanked him coldly on my side, and got my -character the same day. Do you think my master let me have it for -nothing? Not he! He bargained with me on his deathbed. I was his -creditor for a month's salary, and he wouldn't write a line of my -testimonial until I had first promised to forgive him the debt. -Three days afterward he died, enjoying to the last the happiness -of having overreached his shop-man. 'Aha!' he whispered, when the -doctor formally summoned me to take leave of him, 'I got you -cheap!' Was Ozias Midwinter's stick as cruel as that? I think -not. Well! there I was, out on the world again, but surely with -better prospects this time. I had taught myself to read Latin, -Greek, and German; and I had got my written character to speak -for me. All useless! The doctor was quite right; I was not liked -in the town. The lower order of the people despised me for -selling my services to the miser at the miser's price. As for the -better classes, I did with them (God knows how!) what I have -always done with everybody except Mr. Armadale--I produced a -disagreeable impression at first sight; I couldn't mend it -afterward; and there was an end of me in respectable quarters. It -is quite likely I might have spent all my savings, my puny little -golden offspring of two years' miserable growth, but for a school -advertisement which I saw in a local paper. The heartlessly mean -terms that were offered encouraged me to apply; and I got the -place. How I prospered in it, and what became of me next, there -is no need to tell you. The thread of my story is all wound off; -my vagabond life stands stripped of its mystery; and you know the -worst of me at last." - - -A moment of silence followed those closing words. Midwinter rose -from the window-seat, and came back to the table with the letter -from Wildbad in his hand. - -"My father's confession has told you who I am; and my own -confession has told you what my life has been," he said, -addressing Mr. Brock, without taking the chair to which the -rector pointed. "I promised to make a clean breast of it when I -first asked leave to enter this room. Have I kept my word?" - -"It is impossible to doubt it," replied Mr. Brock. "You have -established your claim on my confidence and my sympathy. I should -be insensible, indeed, if I could know what I now know of your -childhood and your youth, and not feel something of Allan's -kindness for Allan's friend." - -"Thank you, sir," said Midwinter, simply and gravely. - -He sat down opposite Mr. Brook at the table for the first time. - -"In a few hours you will have left this place," he proceeded. "If -I can help you to leave it with your mind at ease, I will. There -is more to be said between us than we have said up to this time. -My future relations with Mr. Armadale are still left undecided; -and the serious question raised by my father's letter is a -question which we have neither of us faced yet." - -He paused, and looked with a momentary impatience at the candle -still burning on the table, in the morning light. The struggle to -speak with composure, and to keep his own feelings stoically out -of view, was evidently growing harder and harder to him. - -"It may possibly help your decision," he went on, "if I tell you -how I determined to act toward Mr. Armadale--in the matter of the -similarity of our names--when I first read this letter, and when -I had composed myself sufficiently to be able to think at all." -He stopped, and cast a second impatient look at the lighted -candle. "Will you excuse the odd fancy of an odd man?" he asked, -with a faint smile. "I want to put out the candle: I want to -speak of the new subject, in the new light." - -He extinguished the candle as he spoke, and let the first -tenderness of the daylight flow uninterruptedly into the room. - -"I must once more ask your patience," he resumed, "if I return -for a moment to myself and my circumstances. I have already told -you that my stepfather made an attempt to discover me some years -after I had turned my back on the Scotch school. He took that -step out of no anxiety of his own, but simply as the agent of my -father's trustees. In the exercise of their discretion, they had -sold the estates in Barbadoes (at the time of the emancipation of -the slaves, and the ruin of West Indian property) for what the -estates would fetch. Having invested the proceeds, they were -bound to set aside a sum for my yearly education. This -responsibility obliged them to make the attempt to trace me--a -fruitless attempt, as you already know. A little later (as I have -been since informed) I was publicly addressed by an advertisement -in the newspapers, which I never saw. Later still, when I was -twenty-one, a second advertisement appeared (which I did see) -offering a reward for evidence of my death. If I was alive, I had -a right to my half share of the proceeds of the estates on coming -of age; if dead, the money reverted to my mother. I went to the -lawyers, and heard from them what I have just told you. After -some difficulty in proving my identity--and after an interview -with my stepfather, and a message from my mother, which has -hopelessly widened the old breach between us--my claim was -allowed; and my money is now invested for - me in the funds, under the name that is really my own." - -Mr. Brock drew eagerly nearer to the table. He saw the end now to -which the speaker was tending - -"Twice a year," Midwinter pursued, "I must sign my own name to -get my own income. At all other times, and under all other -circumstances, I may hide my identity under any name I please. As -Ozias Midwinter, Mr. Armadale first knew me; as Ozias Midwinter -he shall know me to the end of my days. Whatever may be the -result of this interview--whether I win your confidence or -whether I lose it--of one thing you may feel sure: your pupil -shall never know the horrible secret which I have trusted to your -keeping. This is no extraordinary resolution; for, as you know -already, it costs me no sacrifice of feeling to keep my assumed -name. There is nothing in my conduct to praise; it comes -naturally out of the gratitude of a thankful man. Review the -circumstances for yourself, sir, and set my own horror of -revealing them to Mr. Armadale out of the question. If the story -of the names is ever told, there can be no limiting it to the -disclosure of my father's crime; it must go back to the story of -Mrs. Armadale's marriage. I have heard her son talk of her; I -know how he loves her memory. As God is my witness, he shall -never love it less dearly through _me!_" - -Simply as the words were spoken, they touched the deepest -sympathies in the rector's nature: they took his thoughts back to -Mrs. Armadale's deathbed. There sat the man against whom she had -ignorantly warned him in her son's interests; and that man, of -his own free-will, had laid on himself the obligation of -respecting her secret for her son's sake! The memory of his own -past efforts to destroy the very friendship out of which this -resolution had sprung rose and reproached Mr. Brock. He held out -his hand to Midwinter for the first time. "In her name, and in -her son's name," he said, warmly, "I thank you." - -Without replying, Midwinter spread the confession open before him -on the table. - -"I think I have said all that it was my duty to say," he began, -"before we could approach the consideration of this letter. -Whatever may have appeared strange in my conduct toward you and -toward Mr. Armadale may be now trusted to explain itself. You can -easily imagine the natural curiosity and surprise that I must -have felt (ignorant as I then was of the truth) when the sound of -Mr. Armadale's name first startled me as the echo of my own. You -will readily understand that I only hesitated to tell him I was -his namesake, because I hesitated to damage my position--in your -estimation, if not in his--by confessing that I had come among -you under an assumed name. And, after all that you have just -heard of my vagabond life and my low associates, you will hardly -wonder at the obstinate silence I maintained about myself, at a -time when I did not feel the sense of responsibility which my -father's confession has laid on me. We can return to these small -personal explanations, if you wish it, at another time; they -cannot be suffered to keep us from the greater interests which we -must settle before you leave this place. We may come now--" His -voice faltered, and he suddenly turned his face toward the -window, so as to hide it from the rector's view. "We may come -now," he repeated, his hand trembling visibly as it held the -page, "to the murder on board the timber-ship, and to the warning -that has followed me from my father's grave." - -Softly--as if he feared they might reach Allan, sleeping in the -neighboring room--he read the last terrible words which the -Scotchman's pen had written at Wildbad, as they fell from his -father's lips: - -"Avoid the widow of the man I killed--if the widow still lives. -Avoid the maid whose wicked hand smoothed the way to the -marriage--if the maid is still in her service. And, more than -all, avoid the man who bears the same name as your own. Offend -your best benefactor, if that benefactor's influence has -connected you one with the other. Desert the woman who loves you, -if that woman is a link between you and him. Hide yourself from -him under an assumed name. Put the mountains and the seas between -you; be ungrateful; be unforgiving; be all that is most repellent -to your own gentler nature, rather than live under the same roof -and breathe the same air with that man. Never let the two Allan -Armadales meet in this world; never, never, never!" - -After reading those sentences, he pushed the manuscript from him, -without looking up. The fatal reserve which he had been in a fair -way of conquering but a few minutes since, possessed itself of -him once more. Again his eyes wandered; again his voice sank in -tone. A stranger who had heard his story, and who saw him now, -would have said, "His look is lurking, his manner is bad; he is, -every inch of him, his father's son." - -"I have a question to ask you," said Mr. Brock, breaking the -silence between them, on his side. "Why have you just read that -passage in your father's letter?" - -"To force me into telling you the truth," was the answer. "You -must know how much there is of my father in me before you trust -me to be Mr. Armadale's friend. I got my letter yesterday, in the -morning. Some inner warning troubled me, and I went down on the -sea-shore by myself before I broke the seal. Do you believe the -dead can come back to the world they once lived in? I believe my -father came back in that bright morning light, through the glare -of that broad sunshine and the roar of that joyful sea, and -watched me while I read. When I got to the words that you have -just heard, and when I knew that the very end which he had died -dreading was the end that had really come, I felt the horror that -had crept over him in his last moments creeping over me. I -struggled against myself, as _he_ would have had me struggle. I -tried to be all that was most repellent to my own gentler nature; -I tried to think pitilessly of putting the mountains and the seas -between me and the man who bore my name. Hours passed before I -could prevail on myself to go back and run the risk of meeting -Allan Armadale in this house. When I did get back, and when he -met me at night on the stairs, I thought I was looking him in the -face as _my_ father looked _his_ father in the face when the -cabin door closed between them. Draw your own conclusions, sir. -Say, if you like, that the inheritance of my father's heathen -belief in fate is one of the inheritances he has left to me. I -won't dispute it; I won't deny that all through yesterday _his_ -superstition was _my_ superstition. The night came before I could -find my way to calmer and brighter thoughts. But I did find my -way. You may set it down in my favor that I lifted myself at last -above the influence of this horrible letter. Do you know what -helped me?" - -"Did you reason with yourself?" - -"I can't reason about what I feel." - -"Did you quiet your mind by prayer?" - -"I was not fit to pray." - -"And yet something guided you to the better feeling and the truer -view?" - -"Something did." - -"What was it?" - -"My love for Allan Armadale." - -He cast a doubting, almost a timid look at Mr. Brock as he gave -that answer, and, suddenly leaving the table, went back to the -window-seat. - -"Have I no right to speak of him in that way?" he asked, keeping -his face hidden from the rector. "Have I not known him long -enough; have I not done enough for him yet? Remember what my -experience of other men had been when I first saw his hand held -out to me--when I first heard his voice speaking to me in my -sick-room. What had I known of strangers' hands all through my -childhood? I had only known them as hands raised to threaten and -to strike me. His hand put my pillow straight, and patted me on -the shoulder, and gave me my food and drink. What had I known of -other men's voices, when I was growing up to be a man myself? I -had only known them as voices that jeered, voices that cursed, -voices that whispered in corners with a vile distrust. _His_ -voice said to me, 'Cheer up, Midwinter! we'll soon bring you -round again. You'll be strong enough in a week to go out for a -drive with me in our Somersetshire lanes.' Think of the gypsy's -stick; think of the devils laughing at me when I we nt by their -windows with my little dead dog in my arms; think of the master -who cheated me of my month's salary on his deathbed--and ask your -own heart if the miserable wretch whom Allan Armadale has treated -as his equal and his friend has said too much in saying that he -loves him? I do love him! It _will_ come out of me; I can't keep -it back. I love the very ground he treads on! I would give my -life--yes, the life that is precious to me now, because his -kindness has made it a happy one--I tell you I would give my -life--" - -The next words died away on his lips; the hysterical passion -rose, and conquered him. He stretched out one of his hands with a -wild gesture of entreaty to Mr. Brock; his head sank on the -window-sill and he burst into tears. - -Even then the hard discipline of the man's life asserted itself. -He expected no sympathy, he counted on no merciful human respect -for human weakness. The cruel necessity of self-suppression was -present to his mind, while the tears were pouring over his -cheeks. "Give me a minute," he said, faintly. "I'll fight it down -in a minute; I won't distress you in this way again." - -True to his resolution, in a minute he had fought it down. In a -minute more he was able to speak calmly. - -"We will get back, sir, to those better thoughts which have -brought me from my room to yours," he resumed. "I can only repeat -that I should never have torn myself from the hold which this -letter fastened on me, if I had not loved Allan Armadale with all -that I have in me of a brother's love. I said to myself, 'If the -thought of leaving him breaks my heart, the thought of leaving -him is wrong!' That was some hours since, and I am in the same -mind still. I can't believe--I won't believe--that a friendship -which has grown out of nothing but kindness on one side, and -nothing but gratitude on the other, is destined to lead to an -evil end. Judge, you who are a clergyman, between the dead -father, whose word is in these pages, and the living son, whose -word is now on his lips! What is it appointed me to do, now that -I am breathing the same air, and living under the same roof with -the son of the man whom my father killed--to perpetuate my -father's crime by mortally injuring him, or to atone for my -father's crime by giving him the devotion of my whole life? The -last of those two faiths is my faith, and shall be my faith, -happen what may. In the strength of that better conviction, I -have come here to trust you with my father's secret, and to -confess the wretched story of my own life. In the strength of -that better conviction, I can face you resolutely with the one -plain question, which marks the one plain end of all that I have -come here to say. Your pupil stands at the starting-point of his -new career, in a position singularly friendless; his one great -need is a companion of his own age on whom he can rely. The time -has come, sir, to decide whether I am to be that companion or -not. After all you have heard of Ozias Midwinter, tell me -plainly, will you trust him to be Allan Armadale's friend?" - -Mr. Brock met that fearlessly frank question by a fearless -frankness on his side. - -"I believe you love Allan," he said, "and I believe you have -spoken the truth. A man who has produced that impression on me is -a man whom I am bound to trust. I trust you." - -Midwinter started to his feet, his dark face flushing deep; his -eyes fixed brightly and steadily, at last, on the rector's face. -"A light! " he exclaimed, tearing the pages of his father's -letter, one by one, from the fastening that held them. "Let us -destroy the last link that holds us to the horrible past! Let us -see this confession a heap of ashes before we part!" - -"Wait!" said Mr. Brock. "Before you burn it, there is a reason -for looking at it once more." - -The parted leaves of the manuscript dropped from Midwinter's -hands. Mr. Brock took them up, and sorted them carefully until he -found the last page. - -"I view your father's superstition as you view it," said the -rector. "But there is a warning given you here, which you will do -well (for Allan's sake and for your own sake) not to neglect. The -last link with the past will not be destroyed when you have -burned these pages. One of the actors in this story of treachery -and murder is not dead yet. Read those words." - -He pushed the page across the table, with his finger on one -sentence. Midwinter's agitation misled him. He mistook the -indication, and read, "Avoid the widow of the man I killed, if -the widow still lives." - -"Not that sentence," said the rector. "The next." - -Midwinter read it: "Avoid the maid whose wicked hand smoothed the -way to the marriage, if the maid is still in her service." - -"The maid and the mistress parted," said Mr. Brock, "at the time -of the mistress's marriage. The maid and the mistress met again -at Mrs. Armadale's residence in Somersetshire last year. I myself -met the woman in the village, and I myself know that her visit -hastened Mrs. Armadale's death. Wait a little, and compose -yourself; I see I have startled you." - -He waited as he was bid, his color fading away to a gray paleness -and the light in his clear brown eyes dying out slowly. What the -rector had said had produced no transient impression on him; -there was more than doubt, there was alarm in his face, as he sat -lost in his own thought. Was the struggle of the past night -renewing itself already? Did he feel the horror of his hereditary -superstition creeping over him again? - -"Can you put me on my guard against her?" he asked, after a long -interval of silence. "Can you tell me her name?" - -"I can only tell you what Mrs. Armadale told me," answered Mr. -Brock. "The woman acknowledged having been married in the long -interval since she and her mistress had last met. But not a word -more escaped her about her past life. She came to Mrs. Armadale -to ask for money, under a plea of distress. She got the money, -and she left the house, positively refusing, when the question -was put to her, to mention her married name." - -"You saw her yourself in the village. What was she like?" - -"She kept her veil down. I can't tell you." - -"You can tell me what you _did_ see?" - -"Certainly. I saw, as she approached me, that she moved very -gracefully, that she had a beautiful figure, and that she was a -little over the middle height. I noticed, when she asked me the -way to Mrs. Armadale's house, that her manner was the manner of a -lady, and that the tone of her voice was remarkably soft and -winning. Lastly, I remembered afterward that she wore a thick -black veil, a black bonnet, a black silk dress, and a red Paisley -shawl. I feel all the importance of your possessing some better -means of identifying her than I can give you. But unhappily--" - -He stopped. Midwinter was leaning eagerly across the table, and -Midwinter's hand was laid suddenly on his arm. - -"Is it possible that you know the woman?" asked Mr. Brock, -surprised at the sudden change in his manner. - -"No." - -"What have I said, then, that has startled you so?" - -"Do you remember the woman who threw herself from the river -steamer?" asked the other--"the woman who caused that succession -of deaths which opened Allan Armadale's way to the Thorpe Ambrose -estate?" - -"I remember the description of her in the police report," -answered the rector. - -"_That_ woman," pursued Midwinter, "moved gracefully, and had a -beautiful figure. _That_ woman wore a black veil, a black bonnet, -a black silk gown, and a red Paisley shawl--" He stopped, -released his hold of Mr. Brock's arm, and abruptly resumed his -chair. "Can it be the same?" he said to himself in a whisper. -"_Is_ there a fatality that follows men in the dark? And is it -following _us_ in that woman's footsteps?" - -If the conjecture was right, the one event in the past which had -appeared to be entirely disconnected with the events that had -preceded it was, on the contrary, the one missing link which made -the chain complete. Mr. Brock's comfortable common sense -instinctively denied that startling conclusion. He looked at -Midwinter with a compassionate smile. - -"My young friend," he said, kindly, "have you cleared your mind -of all superstition as completely as you think? Is what you have -just said worthy of the bet ter resolution at which you arrived -last night?" - -Midwinter's head drooped on his breast; the color rushed back -over his face; he sighed bitterly. - -"You are beginning to doubt my sincerity," he said. "I can't -blame you." - -"I believe in your sincerity as firmly as ever," answered Mr. -Brock. "I only doubt whether you have fortified the weak places -in your nature as strongly as you yourself suppose. Many a man -has lost the battle against himself far oftener than you have -lost it yet, and has nevertheless won his victory in the end. I -don't blame you, I don't distrust you. I only notice what has -happened, to put you on your guard against yourself. Come! come! -Let your own better sense help you; and you will agree with me -that there is really no evidence to justify the suspicion that -the woman whom I met in Somersetshire, and the woman who -attempted suicide in London, are one and the same. Need an old -man like me remind a young man like you that there are thousands -of women in England with beautiful figures--thousands of women -who are quietly dressed in black silk gowns and red Paisley -shawls?" - -Midwinter caught eagerly at the suggestion; too eagerly, as it -might have occurred to a harder critic on humanity than Mr. -Brock. - -"You are quite right, sir," he said, "and I am quite wrong. Tens -of thousands of women answer the description, as you say. I have -been wasting time on my own idle fancies, when I ought to have -been carefully gathering up facts. If this woman ever attempts to -find her way to Allan, I must be prepared to stop her." He began -searching restlessly among the manuscript leaves scattered about -the table, paused over one of the pages, and examined it -attentively. 'This helps me to something positive," he went on; -"this helps me to a knowledge of her age. She was twelve at the -time of Mrs. Armadale's marriage; add a year, and bring her to -thirteen; add Allan's age (twenty-two), and we make her a woman -of five-and-thirty at the present time. I know her age; and I -know that she has her own reasons for being silent about her -married life. This is something gained at the outset, and it may -lead, in time, to something more." He looked up brightly again at -Mr. Brock. "Am I in the right way now, sir? Am I doing my best to -profit by the caution which you have kindly given me?" - -"You are vindicating your own better sense," answered the rector, -encouraging him to trample down his own imagination, with an -Englishman's ready distrust of the noblest of the human -faculties. "You are paving the way for your own happier life." - -"Am I?" said the other, thoughtfully. - -He searched among the papers once more, and stopped at another of -the scattered pages. - -"The ship!" he exclaimed, suddenly, his color changing again, and -his manner altering on the instant. - -"What ship?" asked the rector. - -"The ship in which the deed was done," Midwinter answered, with -the first signs of impatience that he had shown yet. "The ship in -which my father's murderous hand turned the lock of the cabin -door." - -"What of it?" said Mr. Brock. - -He appeared not to hear the question; his eyes remained fixed -intently on the page that he was reading. - -"A French vessel, employed in the timber trade," he said, still -speaking to himself--"a French vessel, named _La Grace de Dieu._ -If my father's belief had been the right belief--if the fatality -had been following me, step by step, from my father's grave, in -one or other of my voyages, I should have fallen in with that -ship." He looked up again at Mr. Brock. "I am quite sure about it -now," he said. "Those women are two, and not one." - -Mr. Brock shook his head. - -"I am glad you have come to that conclusion," he said. "But I -wish you had reached it in some other way." - -Midwinter started passionately to his feet, and, seizing on the -pages of the manuscript with both hands, flung them into the -empty fireplace. - -"For God's sake let me burn it!" he exclaimed. "As long as there -is a page left, I shall read it. And, as long as I read it, my -father gets the better of me, in spite of myself!" - -Mr. Brock pointed to the match-box. In another moment the -confession was in flames. When the fire had consumed the last -morsel of paper, Midwinter drew a deep breath of relief. - -"I may say, like Macbeth: 'Why, so, being gone, I am a man -again!' " he broke out with a feverish gayety. "You look -fatigued, sir; and no wonder," he added, in a lower tone. "I have -kept you too long from your rest--I will keep you no longer. -Depend on my remembering what you have told me; depend on my -standing between Allan and any enemy, man or woman, who comes -near him. Thank you, Mr. Brock; a thousand thousand times, thank -you! I came into this room the most wretched of living men; I can -leave it now as happy as the birds that are singing outside!" - -As he turned to the door, the rays of the rising sun streamed -through the window, and touched the heap of ashes lying black in -the black fireplace. The sensitive imagination of Midwinter -kindled instantly at the sight. - -"Look!" he said, joyously. "The promise of the Future shining -over the ashes of the Past!" - -An inexplicable pity for the man, at the moment of his life when -he needed pity least, stole over the rector's heart when the door -had closed, and he was left by himself again. - -"Poor fellow! " he said, with an uneasy surprise at his own -compassionate impulse. "Poor fellow!" - -CHAPTER III. - -DAY AND NIGHT - -THE morning hours had passed; the noon had come and gone; and Mr. -Brock had started on the first stage of his journey home. - -After parting from the rector in Douglas Harbor, the two young -men had returned to Castletown, and had there separated at the -hotel door, Allan walking down to the waterside to look after his -yacht, and Midwinter entering the house to get the rest that he -needed after a sleepless night. - -He darkened his room; he closed his eyes, but no sleep came to -him. On this first day of the rector's absence, his sensitive -nature extravagantly exaggerated the responsibility which he now -held in trust for Mr. Brock. A nervous dread of leaving Allan by -himself, even for a few hours only, kept him waking and doubting, -until it became a relief rather than a hardship to rise from the -bed again, and, following in Allan's footsteps, to take the way -to the waterside which led to the yacht. - -The repairs of the little vessel were nearly completed. It was a -breezy, cheerful day; the land was bright, the water was blue, -the quick waves leaped crisply in the sunshine, the men were -singing at their work. Descending to the cabin, Midwinter -discovered his friend busily occupied in attempting to set the -place to rights. Habitually the least systematic of mortals, -Allan now and then awoke to an overwhelming sense of the -advantages of order, and on such occasions a perfect frenzy of -tidiness possessed him. He was down on his knees, hotly and -wildly at work, when Midwinter looked in on him; and was fast -reducing the neat little world of the cabin to its original -elements of chaos, with a misdirected energy wonderful to see. - -"Here's a mess!" said Allan, rising composedly on the horizon of -his own accumulated litter. "Do you know, my dear fellow, I begin -to wish I had let well alone!" - -Midwinter smiled, and came to his friend's assistance with the -natural neat-handedness of a sailor. - -The first object that he encountered was Allan's dressing-case, -turned upside down, with half the contents scattered on the -floor, and with a duster and a hearth-broom lying among them. -Replacing the various objects which formed the furniture of the -dressing-case one by one, Midwinter lighted unexpectedly on a -miniature portrait, of the old-fashioned oval form, primly framed -in a setting of small diamonds. - -"You don't seem to set much value on this," he said. "What is -it?" - -Allan bent over him, and looked at the miniature. "It belonged to -my mother," he answered; "and I set the greatest value on it. It -is a portrait of my father." - -Midwinter put the miniature abruptly, into Allan's hands, and -withdrew to the opposite side of the cabin. - -"You know best where the things ought to be put in your own -dressing-case," he said, keeping his back turned on Allan. "I'll -m ake the place tidy on this side of the cabin, and you shall -make the place tidy on the other." - -He began setting in order the litter scattered about him on the -cabin table and on the floor. But it seemed as if fate had -decided that his friend's personal possessions should fall into -his hands that morning, employ them where he might. One among the -first objects which he took up was Allan's tobacco jar, with the -stopper missing, and with a letter (which appeared by the bulk of -it to contain inclosures) crumpled into the mouth of the jar in -the stopper's place. - -"Did you know that you had put this here?" he asked. "Is the -letter of any importance?" - -Allan recognized it instantly. It was the first of the little -series of letters which had followed the cruising party to the -Isle of Man--the letter which young Armadale had briefly referred -to as bringing him "more worries from those everlasting lawyers," -and had then dismissed from further notice as recklessly as -usual. - -"This is what comes of being particularly careful," said Allan; -"here is an instance of my extreme thoughtfulness. You may not -think it but I put the letter there on purpose. Every time I went -to the jar, you know, I was sure to see the letter; and every -time I saw the letter, I was sure to say to myself, 'This must be -answered.' There's nothing to laugh at; it was a perfectly -sensible arrangement, if I could only have remembered where I put -the jar. Suppose I tie a knot in my pocket-handkerchief this -time? You have a wonderful memory, my dear fellow. Perhaps you'll -remind me in the course of the day, in case I forget the knot -next." - -Midwinter saw his first chance, since Mr. Brock's departure, of -usefully filling Mr. Brock's place. - -"Here is your writing-case," he said; "why not answer the letter -at once? If you put it away again, you may forget it again." - -"Very true," returned Allan. "But the worst of it is, I can't -quite make up my mind what answer to write. I want a word of -advice. Come and sit down here, and I'll tell you all about it." - -With his loud boyish laugh--echoed by Midwinter, who caught the -infection of his gayety--he swept a heap of miscellaneous -incumbrances off the cabin sofa, and made room for his friend and -himself to take their places. In the high flow of youthful -spirits, the two sat down to their trifling consultation over a -letter lost in a tobacco jar. It was a memorable moment to both -of them, lightly as they thought of it at the time. Before they -had risen again from their places, they had taken the first -irrevocable step together on the dark and tortuous road of their -future lives. - -Reduced to plain facts, the question on which Allan now required -his friend's advice may be stated as follows: - -While the various arrangements connected with the succession to -Thorpe Ambrose were in progress of settlement, and while the new -possessor of the estate was still in London, a question had -necessarily arisen relating to the person who should be appointed -to manage the property. The steward employed by the Blanchard -family had written, without loss of time, to offer his services. -Although a perfectly competent and trustworthy man, he failed to -find favor in the eyes of the new proprietor. Acting, as usual, -on his first impulses, and resolved, at all hazards, to install -Midwinter as a permanent inmate at Thorpe Ambrose, Allan had -determined that the steward's place was the place exactly fitted -for his friend, for the simple reason that it would necessarily -oblige his friend to live with him on the estate. He had -accordingly written to decline the proposal made to him without -consulting Mr. Brock, whose disapproval he had good reason to -fear; and without telling Midwinter, who would probably (if a -chance were allowed him of choosing) have declined taking a -situation which his previous training had by no means fitted him -to fill. - -Further correspondence had followed this decision, and had raised -two new difficulties which looked a little embarrassing on the -face of them, but which Allan, with the assistance of his lawyer, -easily contrived to solve. The first difficulty, of examining the -outgoing steward's books, was settled by sending a professional -accountant to Thorpe Ambrose; and the second difficulty, of -putting the steward's empty cottage to some profitable use -(Allan's plans for his friend comprehending Midwinter's residence -under his own roof), was met by placing the cottage on the list -of an active house agent in the neighboring county town. In this -state the arrangements had been left when Allan quitted London. -He had heard and thought nothing more of the matter, until a -letter from his lawyers had followed him to the Isle of Man, -inclosing two proposals to occupy the cottage, both received on -the same day, and requesting to hear, at his earliest -convenience, which of the two he was prepared to accept. - -Finding himself, after having conveniently forgotten the subject -for some days past, placed face to face once more with the -necessity for decision, Allan now put the two proposals into his -friend's hands, and, after a rambling explanation of the -circumstances of the case, requested to be favored with a word of -advice. Instead of examining the proposals, Midwinter -unceremoniously put them aside, and asked the two very natural -and very awkward questions of who the new steward was to be, and -why he was to live in Allan's house? - -"I'll tell you who, and I'll tell you why, when we get to Thorpe -Ambrose," said Allan. "In the meantime we'll call the steward X. -Y. Z., and we'll say he lives with me, because I'm devilish -sharp, and I mean to keep him under my own eye. You needn't look -surprised. I know the man thoroughly well; he requires a good -deal of management. If I offered him the steward's place -beforehand, his modesty would get in his way, and he would say -'No.' If I pitch him into it neck and crop, without a word of -warning and with nobody at hand to relieve him of the situation, -he'll have nothing for it but to consult my interests, and say -'Yes.' X. Y. Z. is not at all a bad fellow, I can tell you. -You'll see him when we go to Thorpe Ambrose; and I rather think -you and he will get on uncommonly well together." - -The humorous twinkle in Allan's eye, the sly significance in -Allan's voice, would have betrayed his secret to a prosperous -man. Midwinter was as far from suspecting it as the carpenters -who were at work above them on the deck of the yacht. - -"Is there no steward now on the estate?" he asked, his face -showing plainly that he was far from feeling satisfied with -Allan's answer. "Is the business neglected all this time?" - -"Nothing of the sort!" returned Allan. "The business is going -with 'a wet sheet and a flowing sea, and a wind that follows -free.' I'm not joking; I'm only metaphorical. A regular -accountant has poked his nose into the books, and a steady-going -lawyer's clerk attends at the office once a week. That doesn't -look like neglect, does it? Leave the new steward alone for the -present, and just tell me which of those two tenants you would -take, if you were in my place." - -Midwinter opened the proposals, and read them attentively. - -The first proposal was from no less a person than the solicitor -at Thorpe Ambrose, who had first informed Allan at Paris of the -large fortune that had fallen into his hands. This gentleman -wrote personally to say that he had long admired the cottage, -which was charmingly situated within the limits of the Thorpe -Ambrose grounds. He was a bachelor, of studious habits, desirous -of retiring to a country seclusion after the wear and tear of his -business hours; and he ventured to say that Mr. Armadale, in -accepting him as a tenant, might count on securing an unobtrusive -neighbor, and on putting the cottage into responsible and careful -hands. - -The second proposal came through the house agent, and proceeded -from a total stranger. The tenant who offered for the cottage, in -this case, was a retired officer in the army--one Major Milroy. -His family merely consisted of an invalid wife and an only -child--a young lady. His references were unexceptionable; and he, -too, was especially anxious to secure the cottage, as the perfect -qui et of the situation was exactly what was required by Mrs. -Milroy in her feeble state of health. - -"Well, which profession shall I favor?" asked Allan. "The army or -the law?" - -"There seems to me to be no doubt about it," said Midwinter. "The -lawyer has been already in correspondence with you; and the -lawyer's claim is, therefore, the claim to be preferred." "I knew -you would say that. In all the thousands of times I have asked -other people for advice, I never yet got the advice I wanted. -Here's this business of letting the cottage as an instance. I'm -all on the other side myself. I want to have the major." - -"Why?" - -Young Armadale laid his forefinger on that part of the agent's -letter which enumerated Major Milroy's family, and which -contained the three words--"a young lady." - -"A bachelor of studious habits walking about my grounds," said -Allan, "is not an interesting object; a young lady is. I have not -the least doubt Miss Milroy is a charming girl. Ozias Midwinter -of the serious countenance! think of her pretty muslin dress -flitting about among your trees and committing trespasses on your -property; think of her adorable feet trotting into your -fruit-garden, and her delicious fresh lips kissing your ripe -peaches; think of her dimpled hands among your early violets, and -her little cream-colored nose buried in your blush-roses. What -does the studious bachelor offer me in exchange for the loss of -all this? He offers me a rheumatic brown object in gaiters and a -wig. No! no! Justice is good, my dear friend; but, believe me, -Miss Milroy is better." - -"Can you be serious about any mortal thing, Allan?" - -"I'll try to be, if you like. I know I ought to take the lawyer; -but what can I do if the major's daughter keeps running in my -head?" - -Midwinter returned resolutely to the just and sensible view of -the matter, and pressed it on his friend's attention with all the -persuasion of which he was master. After listening with exemplary -patience until he had done, Allan swept a supplementary -accumulation of litter off the cabin table, and produced from his -waistcoat pocket a half-crown coin. - -"I've got an entirely new idea," he said. "Let's leave it to -chance." - -The absurdity of the proposal--as coming from a landlord--was -irresistible. Midwinter's gravity deserted him. - -"I'll spin," continued Allan, "and you shall call. We must give -precedence to the army, of course; so we'll say Heads, the major; -Tails, the lawyer. One spin to decide. Now, then, look out!" - -He spun the half-crown on the cabin table. - -"Tails!" cried Midwinter, humoring what he believed to be one of -Allan's boyish jokes. - -The coin fell on the table with the Head uppermost. - -"You don't mean to say you are really in earnest!" said -Midwinter, as the other opened his writing-case and dipped his -pen in the ink. - -"Oh, but I am, though!" replied Allan. "Chance is on my side, and -Miss Milroy's; and you're outvoted, two to one. It's no use -arguing. The major has fallen uppermost, and the major shall have -the cottage. I won't leave it to the lawyers; they'll only be -worrying me with more letters. I'll write myself." - -He wrote his answers to the two proposals, literally in two -minutes. One to the house agent: "Dear sir, I accept Major -Milroy's offer; let him come in when he pleases. Yours truly, -Allan Armadale." And one to the lawyer: "Dear sir, I regret that -circumstances prevent me from accepting your proposal. Yours -truly," etc. "People make a fuss about letter-writing," Allan -remarked, when he had done. "_I_ find it easy enough." - -He wrote the addresses on his two notes, and stamped them for the -post, whistling gayly. While he had been writing, he had not -noticed how his friend was occupied. When he had done, it struck -him that a sudden silence had fallen on the cabin; and, looking -up, he observed that Midwinter's whole attention was strangely -concentrated on the half crown as it lay head uppermost on the -table. Allan suspended his whistling in astonishment. - -"What on earth are you doing?" he asked. - -"I was only wondering," replied Midwinter. - -"What about?" persisted Allan. - -"I was wondering," said the other, handing him back the -half-crown, "whether there is such a thing as chance." - -Half an hour later the two notes were posted; and Allan, whose -close superintendence of the repairs of the yacht had hitherto -allowed him but little leisure time on shore, had proposed to -while away the idle hours by taking a walk in Castletown. Even -Midwinter's nervous anxiety to deserve Mr. Brock's confidence in -him could detect nothing objectionable in this harmless proposal, -and the young men set forth together to see what they could make -of the metropolis of the Isle of Man. - -It is doubtful if there is a place on the habitable globe which, -regarded as a sight-seeing investment offering itself to the -spare attention of strangers, yields so small a percentage of -interest in return as Castletown. Beginning with the waterside, -there was an inner harbor to see, with a drawbridge to let -vessels through; an outer harbor, ending in a dwarf lighthouse; a -view of a flat coast to the right, and a view of a flat coast to -the left. In the central solitudes of the city, there was a squat -gray building called "the castle"; also a memorial pillar -dedicated to one Governor Smelt, with a flat top for a statue, -and no statue standing on it; also a barrack, holding the -half-company of soldiers allotted to the island, and exhibiting -one spirit-broken sentry at its lonely door. The prevalent color -of the town was faint gray. The few shops open were parted at -frequent intervals by other shops closed and deserted in despair. -The weary lounging of boatmen on shore was trebly weary here; the -youth of the district smoked together in speechless depression -under the lee of a dead wall; the ragged children said -mechanically: "Give us a penny," and before the charitable hand -could search the merciful pocket, lapsed away again in -misanthropic doubt of the human nature they addressed. The -silence of the grave overflowed the churchyard, and filled this -miserable town. But one edifice, prosperous to look at, rose -consolatory in the desolation of these dreadful streets. -Frequented by the students of the neighboring "College of King -William," this building was naturally dedicated to the uses of a -pastry-cook's shop. Here, at least (viewed through the friendly -medium of the window), there was something going on for a -stranger to see; for here, on high stools, the pupils of the -college sat, with swinging legs and slowly moving jaws, and, -hushed in the horrid stillness of Castletown, gorged their pastry -gravely, in an atmosphere of awful silence. - -"Hang me if I can look any longer at the boys and the tarts!" -said Allan, dragging his friend away from the pastry-cook's shop. -"Let's try if we can't find something else to amuse us in the -next street." - -The first amusing object which the next street presented was a -carver-and-gilder's shop, expiring feebly in the last stage of -commercial decay. The counter inside displayed nothing to view -but the recumbent head of a boy, peacefully asleep in the -unbroken solitude of the place. In the window were exhibited to -the passing stranger three forlorn little fly-spotted frames; a -small posting-bill, dusty with long-continued neglect, announcing -that the premises were to let; and one colored print, the last of -a series illustrating the horrors of drunkenness, on the fiercest -temperance principles. The composition--representing an empty -bottle of gin, an immensely spacious garret, a perpendicular -Scripture reader, and a horizontal expiring family--appealed to -public favor, under the entirely unobjectionable title of "The -Hand of Death." Allan's resolution to extract amusement from -Castletown by main force had resisted a great deal, but it failed -him at this stage of the investigations. He suggested trying an -excursion to some other place. Midwinter readily agreeing, they -went back to the hotel to make inquiries. - -Thanks to the mixed influence of Allan's ready gift of -familiarity, and total want of method in putting his questions, a -perfect deluge of information flowed in on the two strangers, -relating to every subje ct but the subject which had actually -brought them to the hotel. They made various interesting -discoveries in connection with the laws and constitution of the -Isle of Man, and the manners and customs of the natives. To -Allan's delight, the Manxmen spoke of England as of a well-known -adjacent island, situated at a certain distance from the central -empire of the Isle of Man. It was further revealed to the two -Englishmen that this happy little nation rejoiced in laws of its -own, publicly proclaimed once a year by the governor and the two -head judges, grouped together on the top of an ancient mound, in -fancy costumes appropriate to the occasion. Possessing this -enviable institution, the island added to it the inestimable -blessing of a local parliament, called the House of Keys, an -assembly far in advance of the other parliament belonging to the -neighboring island, in this respect--that the members dispensed -with the people, and solemnly elected each other. With these and -many more local particulars, extracted from all sorts and -conditions of men in and about the hotel, Allan whiled away the -weary time in his own essentially desultory manner, until the -gossip died out of itself, and Midwinter (who had been speaking -apart with the landlord) quietly recalled him to the matter in -hand. The finest coast scenery in the island was said to be to -the westward and the southward, and there was a fishing town in -those regions called Port St. Mary, with a hotel at which -travelers could sleep. If Allan's impressions of Castletown still -inclined him to try an excursion to some other place, he had only -to say so, and a carriage would be produced immediately. Allan -jumped at the proposal, and in ten minutes more he and Midwinter -were on their way to the western wilds of the island. - -With trifling incidents, the day of Mr. Brock's departure had -worn on thus far. With trifling incidents, in which not even -Midwinter's nervous watchfulness could see anything to distrust, -it was still to proceed, until the night came--a night which one -at least of the two companions was destined to remember to the -end of his life. - -Before the travelers had advanced two miles on their road, an -accident happened. The horse fell, and the driver reported that -the animal had seriously injured himself. There was no -alternative but to send for another carriage to Castletown, or to -get on to Port St. Mary on foot. - -Deciding to walk, Midwinter and Allan had not gone far before -they were overtaken by a gentleman driving alone in an open -chaise. He civilly introduced himself as a medical man, living -close to Port St. Mary, and offered seats in his carriage. Always -ready to make new acquaintances, Allan at once accepted the -proposal. He and the doctor (whose name was ascertained to be -Hawbury) became friendly and familiar before they had been five -minutes in the chaise together; Midwinter, sitting behind them, -reserved and silent, on the back seat. They separated just -outside Port St. Mary, before Mr. Hawbury's house, Allan -boisterously admiring the doctor's neat French windows and pretty -flower-garden and lawn, and wringing his hand at parting as if -they had known each other from boyhood upward. Arrived in Port -St. Mary, the two friends found themselves in a second Castletown -on a smaller scale. But the country round, wild, open, and hilly, -deserved its reputation. A walk brought them well enough on with -the day--still the harmless, idle day that it had been from the -first--to see the evening near at hand. After waiting a little to -admire the sun, setting grandly over hill, and heath, and crag, -and talking, while they waited, of Mr. Brock and his long journey -home, they returned to the hotel to order their early supper. -Nearer and nearer the night, and the adventure which the night -was to bring with it, came to the two friends; and still the only -incidents that happened were incidents to be laughed at, if they -were noticed at all. The supper was badly cooked; the -waiting-maid was impenetrably stupid; the old-fashioned bell-rope -in the coffee-room had come down in Allan's hands, and, striking -in its descent a painted china shepherdess on the chimney-piece, -had laid the figure in fragments on the floor. Events as trifling -as these were still the only events that had happened, when the -twilight faded, and the lighted candles were brought into the -room. - -Finding Midwinter, after the double fatigue of a sleepless night -and a restless day, but little inclined for conversation, Allan -left him resting on the sofa, and lounged into the passage of the -hotel, on the chance of discovering somebody to talk to. Here -another of the trivial incidents of the day brought Allan and Mr. -Hawbury together again, and helped--whether happily or not, yet -remained to be seen--to strengthen the acquaintance between them -on either side. - -The "bar" of the hotel was situated at one end of the passage, -and the landlady was in attendance there, mixing a glass of -liquor for the doctor, who had just looked in for a little -gossip. On Allan's asking permission to make a third in the -drinking and the gossiping, Mr. Hawbury civilly handed him the -glass which the landlady had just filled. It contained cold -brandy-and-water. A marked change in Allan's face, as he suddenly -drew back and asked for whisky instead, caught the doctor's -medical eye. "A case of nervous antipathy," said Mr. Hawbury, -quietly taking the glass away again. The remark obliged Allan to -acknowledge that he had an insurmountable loathing (which he was -foolish enough to be a little ashamed of mentioning) to the smell -and taste of brandy. No matter with what diluting liquid the -spirit was mixed, the presence of it, instantly detected by his -organs of taste and smell, turned him sick and faint if the drink -touched his lips. Starting from this personal confession, the -talk turned on antipathies in general; and the doctor -acknowledged, on his side, that he took a professional interest -in the subject, and that he possessed a collection of curious -cases at home, which his new acquaintance was welcome to look at, -if Allan had nothing else to do that evening, and if he would -call, when the medical work of the day was over, in an hour's -time. - -Cordially accepting the invitation (which was extended to -Midwinter also, if he cared to profit by it), Allan returned to -the coffee-room to look after his friend. Half asleep and half -awake, Midwinter was still stretched on the sofa, with the local -newspaper just dropping out of his languid hand. - -"I heard your voice in the passage," he said, drowsily. "Whom -were you talking to?" - -"The doctor," replied Allan. "I am going to smoke a cigar with -him, in an hour's time. Will you come too?" - -Midwinter assented with a weary sigh. Always shyly unwilling to -make new acquaintances, fatigue increased the reluctance he now -felt to become Mr. Hawbury's guest. As matters stood, however, -there was no alternative but to go; for, with Allan's -constitutional imprudence, there was no safely trusting him alone -anywhere, and more especially in a stranger's house. Mr. Brock -would certainly not have left his pupil to visit the doctor -alone; and Midwinter was still nervously conscious that he -occupied Mr. Brock's place. - -"What shall we do till it's time to go?" asked Allan, looking -about him. "Anything in this?" he added, observing the fallen -newspaper, and picking it up from the floor. - -"I'm too tired to look. If you find anything interesting, read it -out," said Midwinter, thinking that the reading might help to -keep him awake. - -Part of the newspaper, and no small part of it, was devoted to -extracts from books recently published in London. One of the -works most largely laid under contribution in this manner was of -the sort to interest Allan: it was a highly spiced narrative of -Traveling Adventures in the wilds of Australia. Pouncing on an -extract which described the sufferings of the traveling-party, -lost in a trackless wilderness, and in danger of dying by thirst, -Allan announced that he had found something to make his friend's -flesh creep, and began eagerly to read the passage aloud. - -Resolute not to sleep, Midwinter followed the progress of the -adve nture, sentence by sentence, without missing a word. The -consultation of the lost travelers, with death by thirst staring -them in the face; the resolution to press on while their strength -lasted; the fall of a heavy shower, the vain efforts made to -catch the rainwater, the transient relief experienced by sucking -their wet clothes; the sufferings renewed a few hours after; the -night advance of the strongest of the party, leaving the weakest -behind; the following a flight of birds when morning dawned; the -discovery by the lost men of the broad pool of water that saved -their lives--all this Midwinter's fast-failing attention mastered -painfully, Allan's voice growing fainter and fainter on his ear -with every sentence that was read. Soon the next words seemed to -drop away gently, and nothing but the slowly sinking sound of the -voice was left. Then the light in the room darkened gradually, -the sound dwindled into delicious silence, and the last waking -impressions of the weary Midwinter came peacefully to an end. - -The next event of which he was conscious was a sharp ringing at -the closed door of the hotel. He started to his feet, with the -ready alacrity of a man whose life has accustomed him to wake at -the shortest notice. An instant's look round showed him that the -room was empty, and a glance at his watch told him that it was -close on midnight. The noise made by the sleepy servant in -opening the door, and the tread the next moment of quick -footsteps in the passage, filled him with a sudden foreboding of -something wrong. As he hurriedly stepped forward to go out and -make inquiry, the door of the coffee-room opened, and the doctor -stood before him. - -"I am sorry to disturb you," said Mr. Hawbury. "Don't be alarmed; -there's nothing wrong." - -"Where is my friend?" asked Midwinter. - -"At the pier head," answered the doctor. "I am, to a certain -extent, responsible for what he is doing now; and I think some -careful person, like yourself, ought to be with him." - -The hint was enough for Midwinter. He and the doctor set out for -the pier immediately, Mr. Hawbury mentioning on the way the -circumstances under which he had come to the hotel. - -Punctual to the appointed hour Allan had made his appearance at -the doctor's house, explaining that he had left his weary friend -so fast asleep on the sofa that he had not had the heart to wake -him. The evening had passed pleasantly, and the conversation had -turned on many subjects, until, in an evil hour, Mr. Hawbury had -dropped a hint which showed that he was fond of sailing, and that -he possessed a pleasure-boat of his own in the harbor. Excited on -the instant by his favorite topic, Allan had left his host no -hospitable alternative but to take him to the pier head and show -him the boat. The beauty of the night and the softness of the -breeze had done the rest of the mischief; they had filled Allan -with irresistible longings for a sail by moonlight. Prevented -from accompanying his guest by professional hindrances which -obliged him to remain on shore, the doctor, not knowing what else -to do, had ventured on disturbing Midwinter, rather than take the -responsibility of allowing Mr. Armadale (no matter how well he -might be accustomed to the sea) to set off on a sailing trip at -midnight entirely by himself. - -The time taken to make this explanation brought Midwinter and the -doctor to the pier head. There, sure enough, was young Armadale -in the boat, hoisting the sail, and singing the sailor's -"Yo-heave-ho!" at the top of his voice. - -"Come along, old boy!" cried Allan. "You're just in time for a -frolic by moonlight!" - -Midwinter suggested a frolic by daylight, and an adjournment to -bed in the meantime. - -"Bed!" cried Allan, on whose harum-scarum high spirits Mr. -Hawbury's hospitality had certainly not produced a sedative -effect. "Hear him, doctor! one would think he was ninety! Bed, -you drowsy old dormouse! Look at that, and think of bed if you -can!" - -He pointed to the sea. The moon was shining in the cloudless -heaven; the night-breeze blew soft and steady from the land; the -peaceful waters rippled joyfully in the silence and the glory of -the night. Midwinter turned to the doctor with a wise resignation -to circumstances: he had seen enough to satisfy him that all -words of remonstrance would be words simply thrown away. - -"How is the tide?" he asked. - -Mr. Hawbury told him. - -"Are there oars in the boat?" - -"Yes." - -"I am well used to the sea," said Midwinter, descending the pier -steps. "You may trust me to take care of my friend, and to take -care of the boat." - -"Good-night, doctor!" shouted Allan. "Your whisky-and-water is -delicious--your boat's a little beauty--and you're the best -fellow I ever met in my life!" - -The doctor laughed and waved his hand, and the boat glided out -from the harbor, with Midwinter at the helm. - -As the breeze then blew, they were soon abreast of the westward -headland, bounding the Bay of Poolvash, and the question was -started whether they should run out to sea or keep along the -shore. The wisest proceeding, in the event of the wind failing -them, was to keep by the land. Midwinter altered the course of -the boat, and they sailed on smoothly in a south-westerly -direction, abreast of the coast. - -Little by little the cliffs rose in height, and the rocks, massed -wild and jagged, showed rifted black chasms yawning deep in their -seaward sides. Off the bold promontory called Spanish Head, -Midwinter looked ominously at his watch. But Allan pleaded hard -for half all hour more, and for a glance at the famous channel of -the Sound, which they were now fast nearing, and of which he had -heard some startling stories from the workmen employed on his -yacht. The new change which Midwinter's compliance with this -request rendered it necessary to make in the course of the boat -brought her close to the wind; and revealed, on one side, the -grand view of the southernmost shores of the Isle of Man, and, on -the other, the black precipices of the islet called the Calf, -separated from the mainland by the dark and dangerous channel of -the Sound. - -Once more Midwinter looked at his watch. "We have gone far -enough," he said. "Stand by the sheet!" - -"Stop!" cried Allan, from the bows of the boat. "Good God! here's -a wrecked ship right ahead of us!" - -Midwinter let the boat fall off a little, and looked where the -other pointed. - -There, stranded midway between the rocky boundaries on either -side of the Sound--there, never again to rise on the living -waters from her grave on the sunken rock; lost and lonely in the -quiet night; high, and dark, and ghostly in the yellow moonshine, -lay the Wrecked Ship. - -"I know the vessel," said Allan, in great excitement. "I heard my -workmen talking of her yesterday. She drifted in here, on a -pitch-dark night, when they couldn't see the lights; a poor old -worn-out merchantman, Midwinter, that the ship-brokers have -bought to break up. Let's run in and have a look at her." - -Midwinter hesitated. All the old sympathies of his sea-life -strongly inclined him to follow Allan's suggestion; but the wind -was falling light, and he distrusted the broken water and the -swirling currents of the channel ahead. "This is an ugly place to -take a boat into when you know nothing about it," he said. - -"Nonsense!" returned Allan. "It's as light as day, and we float -in two feet of water." - -Before Midwinter could answer, the current caught the boat, and -swept them onward through the channel straight toward the wreck. - -"Lower the sail," said Midwinter, quietly, "and ship the oars. We -are running down on her fast enough now, whether we like it or -not." - -Both well accustomed to the use of the oar, they brought the -course of the boat under sufficient control to keep her on the -smoothest side of the channel--the side which was nearest to the -Islet of the Calf. As they came swiftly up with the wreck, -Midwinter resigned his oar to Allan; and, watching his -opportunity, caught a hold with the boat-hook on the fore-chains -of the vessel. The next moment they had the boat safely in hand, -under the lee of the wreck. - -The ship's ladder used by the workmen hung over the fore-chains. -Mounting it, with the boat's rope in his teeth, Midwinter secured -one end , and lowered the other to Allan in the boat. "Make that -fast," he said, "and wait till I see if it's all safe on board." -With those words, he disappeared behind the bulwark. - -"Wait?" repeated Allan, in the blankest astonishment at his -friend's excessive caution. "What on earth does he mean? I'll be -hanged if I wait. Where one of us goes, the other goes too!" - -He hitched the loose end of the rope round the forward thwart of -the boat, and, swinging himself up the ladder, stood the next -moment on the deck. "Anything very dreadful on board?" he -inquired sarcastically, as he and his friend met. - -Midwinter smiled. "Nothing whatever," he replied. "But I couldn't -be sure that we were to have the whole ship to ourselves till I -got over the bulwark and looked about me." - -Allan took a turn on the deck, and surveyed the wreck critically -from stem to stern. - -"Not much of a vessel," he said; "the Frenchmen generally build -better ships than this." - -Midwinter crossed the deck, and eyed Allan in a momentary -silence. - -"Frenchmen?" he repeated, after an interval. "Is this vessel -French?" - -"Yes." - -"How do you know?" - -"The men I have got at work on the yacht told me. They know all -about her." - -Midwinter came a little nearer. His swarthy face began to look, -to Allan's eyes, unaccountably pale in the moonlight. - -"Did they mention what trade she was engaged in?" - -"Yes; the timber trade." - -As Allan gave that answer, Midwinter's lean brown hand clutched -him fast by the shoulder, and Midwinter's teeth chattered in his -head like the teeth of a man struck by a sudden chill. - -"Did they tell you her name?" he asked, in a voice that dropped -suddenly to a whisper. - -"They did, I think. But it has slipped my memory.--Gently, old -fellow; these long claws of yours are rather tight on my -shoulder." - -"Was the name--?" He stopped, removed his hand, and dashed away -the great drops that were gathering on his forehead. "Was the -name _La Grace de Dieu?_" - -"How the deuce did you come to know it? That's the name, sure -enough. _La Grace de Dieu._" - -At one bound, Midwinter leaped on the bulwark of the wreck. - -"The boat!" he cried, with a scream of horror that rang far and -wide through the stillness of the night, and brought Allan -instantly to his side. - -The lower end of the carelessly hitched rope was loose on the -water, and ahead, in the track of the moonlight, a small black -object was floating out of view. The boat was adrift. - -CHAPTER IV. - -THE SHADOW OF THE PAST. - -ONE stepping back under the dark shelter of the bulwark, and one -standing out boldly in the yellow light of the moon, the two -friends turned face to face on the deck of the timber-ship, and -looked at each other in silence. The next moment Allan's -inveterate recklessness seized on the grotesque side of the -situation by main force. He seated himself astride on the -bulwark, and burst out boisterously into his loudest and -heartiest laugh. - -"All my fault," he said; "but there's no help for it now. Here we -are, hard and fast in a trap of our own setting; and there goes -the last of the doctor's boat! Come out of the dark, Midwinter; I -can't half see you there, and I want to know what's to be done -next." - -Midwinter neither answered nor moved. Allan left the bulwark, -and, mounting the forecastle, looked down attentively at the -waters of the Sound. - -"One thing is pretty certain," he said. "With the current on that -side, and the sunken rocks on this, we can't find our way out of -the scrape by swimming, at any rate. So much for the prospect at -this end of the wreck. Let's try how things look at the other. -Rouse up, messmate!" he called out, cheerfully, as he passed -Midwinter. "Come and see what the old tub of a timber-ship has -got to show us astern." He sauntered on, with his hands in his -pockets, humming the chorus of a comic song. - -His voice had produced no apparent effect on his friend; but, at -the light touch of his hand in passing, Midwinter started, and -moved out slowly from the shadow of the bulwark. "Come along!" -cried Allan, suspending his singing for a moment, and glancing -back. Still, without a word of answer, the other followed. Thrice -he stopped before he reached the stern end of the wreck: the -first time, to throw aside his hat, and push back his hair from -his forehead and temples; the second time, reeling, giddy, to -hold for a moment by a ring-bolt close at hand; the last time -(though Allan was plainly visible a few yards ahead), to look -stealthily behind him, with the furtive scrutiny of a man who -believes that other footsteps are following him in the dark . -"Not yet!" he whispered to himself, with eyes that searched the -empty air. "I shall see him astern, with his hand on the lock of -the cabin door." - -The stern end of the wreck was clear of the ship-breakers' -lumber, accumulated in the other parts of the vessel. Here, the -one object that rose visible on the smooth surface of the deck -was the low wooden structure which held the cabin door and roofed -in the cabin stairs. The wheel-house had been removed, the -binnacle had been removed, but the cabin entrance, and all that -had belonged to it, had been left untouched. The scuttle was on, -and the door was closed. - -On gaining the after-part of the vessel, Allan walked straight to -the stern, and looked out to sea over the taffrail. No such thing -as a boat was in view anywhere on the quiet, moon-brightened -waters. Knowing Midwinter's sight to be better than his own, he -called out, "Come up here, and see if there's a fisherman within -hail of us." Hearing no reply, he looked back. Midwinter had -followed him as far as the cabin, and had stopped there. He -called again in a louder voice, and beckoned impatiently. -Midwinter had heard the call, for he looked up, but still he -never stirred from his place. There he stood, as if he had -reached the utmost limits of the ship and could go no further. - -Allan went back and joined him. It was not easy to discover what -he was looking at, for he kept his face turned away from the -moonlight; but it seemed as if his eyes were fixed, with a -strange expression of inquiry, on the cabin door. "What is there -to look at there?" Allan asked. "Let's see if it's locked." As he -took a step forward to open the door, Midwinter's hand seized him -suddenly by the coat collar and forced him back. The moment -after, the hand relaxed without losing its grasp, and trembled -violently, like the hand of a man completely unnerved. - -"Am I to consider myself in custody?" asked Allan, half -astonished and half amused. "Why in the name of wonder do you -keep staring at the cabin door? Any suspicious noises below? It's -no use disturbing the rats--if that's what you mean--we haven't -got a dog with us. Men? Living men they can't be; for they would -have heard us and come on deck. Dead men? Quite impossible! No -ship's crew could be drowned in a land-locked place like this, -unless the vessel broke up under them--and here's the vessel as -steady as a church to speak for herself. Man alive, how your hand -trembles! What is there to scare you in that rotten old cabin? -What are you shaking and shivering about? Any company of the -supernatural sort on board? Mercy preserve us! (as the old women -say) do you see a ghost?" - -"_I see two!_" answered the other, driven headlong into speech -and action by a maddening temptation to reveal the truth. "Two!" -he repeated, his breath bursting from him in deep, heavy gasps, -as he tried vainly to force back the horrible words. "The ghost -of a man like you, drowning in the cabin! And the ghost of a man -like me, turning the lock of the door on him!" - -Once more young Armadale's hearty laughter rang out loud and long -through the stillness of the night. - -"Turning the lock of the door, is he?" said Allan, as soon as his -merriment left him breath enough to speak. "That's a devilish -unhandsome action, Master Midwinter, on the part of your ghost. -The least I can do, after that, is to let mine out of the cabin, -and give him the run of the ship." - -With no more than a momentary exertion of his superior strength, -he freed himself easily from Midwinter's hold. "Below there!" he -called out, gayly, as he laid his strong hand on the crazy lock, -and tore open the cabin - door. "Ghost of Allan Armadale, come on deck!" In his terrible -ignorance of the truth, he put his head into the doorway and -looked down, laughing, at the place where his murdered father had -died. "Pah!" he exclaimed, stepping back suddenly, with a shudder -of disgust. "The air is foul already; and the cabin is full of -water." - -It was true. The sunken rocks on which the vessel lay wrecked had -burst their way through her lower timbers astern, and the water -had welled up through the rifted wood. Here, where the deed had -been done, the fatal parallel between past and present was -complete. What the cabin had been in the time of the fathers, -that the cabin was now in the time of the sons. - -Allan pushed the door to again with his foot, a little surprised -at the sudden silence which appeared to have fallen on his friend -from the moment when he had laid his hand on the cabin lock. When -he turned to look, the reason of the silence was instantly -revealed. Midwinter had dropped on the deck. He lay senseless -before the cabin door; his face turned up, white and still, to -the moonlight, like the face of a dead man. - -In a moment Allan was at his side. He looked uselessly round the -lonely limits of the wreck, as he lifted Midwinter's head on his -knee, for a chance of help, where all chance was ruthlessly cut -off. "What am I to do?" he said to himself, in the first impulse -of alarm. "Not a drop of water near, but the foul water in the -cabin." A sudden recollection crossed his memory, the florid -color rushed back over his face, and he drew from his pocket a -wicker-covered flask. "God bless the doctor for giving me this -before we sailed!" he broke out, fervently, as he poured down -Midwinter's throat some drops of the raw whisky which the flask -contained. The stimulant acted instantly on the sensitive system -of the swooning man. He sighed faintly, and slowly opened his -eyes. "Have I been dreaming?" he asked, looking up vacantly in -Allan's face. His eyes wandered higher, and encountered the -dismantled masts of the wreck rising weird and black against the -night sky. He shuddered at the sight of them, and hid his face on -Allan's knee. "No dream!" he murmured to himself, mournfully. "Oh -me, no dream!" - -"You hare been overtired all day," said Allan, "and this infernal -adventure of ours has upset you. Take some more whisky, it's sure -to do you good. Can you sit by yourself, if I put you against the -bulwark, so?" - -"Why by myself? Why do you leave me?" asked Midwinter. - -Allan pointed to the mizzen shrouds of the wreck, which were -still left standing. "You are not well enough to rough it here -till the workmen come off in the morning," he said. "We must find -our way on shore at once, if we can. I am going up to get a good -view all round, and see if there's a house within hail of us." - -Even in the moment that passed while those few words were spoken, -Midwinter's eyes wandered back distrustfully to the fatal cabin -door. "Don't go near it!" he whispered. "Don't try to open it, -for God's sake!" - -"No, no," returned Allan, humoring him. "When I come down from -the rigging, I'll come back here." He said the words a little -constrainedly, noticing, for the first time while he now spoke, -an underlying distress in Midwinter's face, which grieved and -perplexed him. "You're not angry with me?" he said, in his -simple, sweet-tempered way. "All this is my fault, I know; and I -was a brute and a fool to laugh at you, when I ought to have seen -you were ill. I am so sorry, Midwinter. Don't be angry with me!" - -Midwinter slowly raised his head. His eyes rested with a mournful -interest, long and tender, on Allan's anxious face. - -"Angry?" he repeated, in his lowest, gentlest tones. "Angry with -_ you?_--Oh, my poor boy, were you to blame for being kind to me -when I was ill in the old west-country inn? And was I to blame -for feeling your kindness thankfully? Was it our fault that we -never doubted each other, and never knew that we were traveling -together blindfold on the way that was to lead us here? The cruel -time is coming, Allan, when we shall rue the day we ever met. -Shake hands, brother, on the edge of the precipice--shake hands -while we are brothers still!" - -Allan turned away quickly, convinced that his mind had not yet -recovered the shock of the fainting fit. "Don't forget the -whisky!" he said, cheerfully, as he sprang into the rigging, and -mounted to the mizzen-top. - -It was past two, the moon was waning, and the darkness that comes -before dawn was beginning to gather round the wreck. Behind -Allan, as he now stood looking out from the elevation of the -mizzen-top, spread the broad and lonely sea. Before him were the -low, black, lurking rocks, and the broken waters of the channel, -pouring white and angry into the vast calm of the westward ocean -beyond. On the right hand, heaved back grandly from the -water-side, were the rocks and precipices, with their little -table-lands of grass between; the sloping downs, and -upward-rolling heath solitudes of the Isle of Man. On the left -hand rose the craggy sides of the Islet of the Calf, here rent -wildly into deep black chasms, there lying low under long -sweeping acclivities of grass and heath. No sound rose, no light -was visible, on either shore. The black lines of the topmost -masts of the wreck looked shadowy and faint in the darkening -mystery of the sky; the land breeze had dropped; the small -shoreward waves fell noiseless: far or near, no sound was audible -but the cheerless bubbling of the broken water ahead, pouring -through the awful hush of silence in which earth and ocean waited -for the coming day. - -Even Allan's careless nature felt the solemn influence of the -time. The sound of his own voice startled him when he looked down -and hailed his friend on deck - -"I think I see one house," he said. "Here-away, on the mainland -to the right." He looked again, to make sure, at a dim little -patch of white, with faint white lines behind it, nestling low in -a grassy hollow, on the main island. "It looks like a stone house -and inclosure," he resumed. "I'll hail it, on the chance." He -passed his arm round a rope to steady himself, made a -speaking-trumpet of his hands, and suddenly dropped them again -without uttering a sound. "It's so awfully quiet," he whispered -to himself. "I'm half afraid to call out." He looked down again -on deck. "I shan't startle you, Midwinter, shall I?" he said, -with an uneasy laugh. He looked once more at the faint white -object, in the grassy hollow. "It won't do to have come up here -for nothing," he thought, and made a speaking-trumpet of his -hands again. This time he gave the hail with the whole power of -his lungs. "On shore there!" he shouted, turning his face to the -main island. "Ahoy-hoy-hoy!" - -The last echoes of his voice died away and were lost. No sound -answered him but the cheerless bubbling of the broken water -ahead. - -He looked down again at his friend, and saw the dark figure of -Midwinter rise erect, and pace the deck backward and forward, -never disappearing out of sight of the cabin when it retired -toward the bows of the wreck, and never passing beyond the cabin -when it returned toward the stern. "He is impatient to get away," -thought Allan; "I'll try again." He hailed the land once more, -and, taught by previous experience, pitched his voice in its -highest key. - -This time another sound than the sound of the bubbling water -answered him. The lowing of frightened cattle rose from the -building in the grassy hollow, and traveled far and drearily -through the stillness of the morning air. Allan waited and -listened. If the building was a farmhouse the disturbance among -the beasts would rouse the men. If it was only a cattle-stable, -nothing more would happen. The lowing of the frightened brutes -rose and fell drearily, the minutes passed, and nothing happened. - -"Once more!" said Allan, looking down at the restless figure -pacing beneath him. For the third time he hailed the land. For -the third time he waited and listened. - -In a pause of silence among the cattle, he heard behind him, on -the opposite shore of the channel, faint and far among the -solitudes of the Islet of the Calf, a sharp, sudden sound, like -the distant clash of a heavy - door-bolt drawn back. Turning at once in the new direction, he -strained his eyes to look for a house. The last faint rays of the -waning moonlight trembled here and there on the higher rocks, and -on the steeper pinnacles of ground, but great strips of darkness -lay dense and black over all the land between; and in that -darkness the house, if house there were, was lost to view. - -"I have roused somebody at last," Allan called out, -encouragingly, to Midwinter, still walking to and fro on the -deck, strangely indifferent to all that was passing above and -beyond him. "Look out for the answering, hail!" And with his face -set toward the islet, Allan shouted for help. - -The shout was not answered, but mimicked with a shrill, shrieking -derision, with wilder and wilder cries, rising out of the deep -distant darkness, and mingling horribly the expression of a human -voice with the sound of a brute's. A sudden suspicion crossed -Allan's mind, which made his head swim and turned his hand cold -as it held the rigging. In breathless silence he looked toward -the quarter from which the first mimicry of his cry for help had -come. After a moment's pause the shrieks were renewed, and the -sound of them came nearer. Suddenly a figure, which seemed the -figure of a man, leaped up black on a pinnacle of rock, and -capered and shrieked in the waning gleam of the moonlight. The -screams of a terrified woman mingled with the cries of the -capering creature on the rock. A red spark flashed out in the -darkness from a light kindled in an invisible window. The hoarse -shouting of a man's voice in anger was heard through the noise. A -second black figure leaped up on the rock, struggled with the -first figure, and disappeared with it in the darkness. The cries -grew fainter and fainter, the screams of the woman were stilled, -the hoarse voice of the man was heard again for a moment, hailing -the wreck in words made unintelligible by the distance, but in -tones plainly expressive of rage and fear combined. Another -moment, and the clang of the door-bolt was heard again, the red -spark of light was quenched in darkness, and all the islet lay -quiet in the shadows once more. The lowing of the cattle on the -main-land ceased, rose again, stopped. Then, cold and cheerless -as ever, the eternal bubbling of the broken water welled up -through the great gap of silence--the one sound left, as the -mysterious stillness of the hour fell like a mantle from the -heavens, and closed over the wreck. - -Allan descended from his place in the mizzen-top, and joined his -friend again on deck. - -"We must wait till the ship-breakers come off to their work," he -said, meeting Midwinter halfway in the course of his restless -walk. "After what has happened, I don't mind confessing that I've -had enough of hailing the land. Only think of there being a -madman in that house ashore, and of my waking him! Horrible, -wasn't it?" - -Midwinter stood still for a moment, and looked at Allan, with the -perplexed air of a man who hears circumstances familiarly -mentioned to which he is himself a total stranger. He appeared, -if such a thing had been possible, to have passed over entirely -without notice all that had just happened on the Islet of the -Calf. - -"Nothing is horrible _out_ of this ship," he said. "Everything is -horrible _in_ it." - -Answering in those strange words, he turned away again, and went -on with his walk. - -Allan picked up the flask of whisky lying on the deck near him, -and revived his spirits with a dram. "Here's one thing on board -that isn't horrible," he retorted briskly, as he screwed on the -stopper of the flask; "and here's another," he added, as he took -a cigar from his case and lit it. "Three o'clock!" he went on, -looking at his watch, and settling himself comfortably on deck -with his back against the bulwark. "Daybreak isn't far off; we -shall have the piping of the birds to cheer us up before long. I -say, Midwinter, you seem to have quite got over that unlucky -fainting fit. How you do keep walking! Come here and have a -cigar, and make yourself comfortable. What's the good of tramping -backward and forward in that restless way?" - -"I am waiting," said Midwinter. - -"Waiting! What for?" - -"For what is to happen to you or to me--or to both of us--before -we are out of this ship." - -"With submission to your superior judgment, my dear fellow, I -think quite enough has happened already. The adventure will do -very well as it stands now; more of it is more than I want." He -took another dram of whisky, and rambled on, between the puffs of -his cigar, in his usual easy way. "I've not got your fine -imagination, old boy; and I hope the next thing that happens will -be the appearance of the workmen's boat. I suspect that queer -fancy of yours has been running away with you while you were down -here all by yourself. Come, now, what were you thinking of while -I was up in the mizzen-top frightening the cows?" - -Midwinter suddenly stopped. "Suppose I tell you?" he said. - -"Suppose you do?" - -The torturing temptation to reveal the truth, roused once already -by his companion's merciless gayety of spirit, possessed itself -of Midwinter for the second time. He leaned back in the dark -against the high side of the ship, and looked down in silence at -Allan's figure, stretched comfortably on the deck. "Rouse him," -the fiend whispered, subtly, "from that ignorant self-possession -and that pitiless repose. Show him the place where the deed was -done; let him know it with your knowledge, and fear it with your -dread. Tell him of the letter you burned, and of the words no -fire can destroy which are living in your memory now. Let him see -your mind as it was yesterday, when it roused your sinking faith -in your own convictions, to look back on your life at sea, and to -cherish the comforting remembrance that, in all your voyages, you -had never fallen in with this ship. Let him see your mind as it -is now, when the ship has got you at the turning-point of your -new life, at the outset of your friendship with the one man of -all men whom your father warned you to avoid. Think of those -death-bed words, and whisper them in his ear, that he may think -of them, too: 'Hide yourself from him under an assumed name. Put -the mountains and the seas between you; be ungrateful, be -unforgiving; be all that is most repellent to your own gentler -nature, rather than live under the same roof and breathe the same -air with that man.' " So the tempter counseled. So, like a -noisome exhalation from the father's grave, the father's -influence rose and poisoned the mind of the son. - -The sudden silence surprised Allan; he looked back drowsily over -his shoulder. "Thinking again!" he exclaimed, with a weary yawn. - -Midwinter stepped out from the shadow, and came nearer to Allan -than he had come yet. "Yes," he said, "thinking of the past and -the future." - -"The past and the future?" repeated Allan, shifting himself -comfortably into a new position. "For my part, I'm dumb about the -past. It's a sore subject with me: the past means the loss of the -doctor's boat. Let's talk about the future. Have you been taking -a practical view? as dear old Brock calls it. Have you been -considering the next serious question that concerns us both when -we get back to the hotel--the question of breakfast?" - -After an instant's hesitation, Midwinter took a step nearer. "I -have been thinking of your future and mine," he said; "I have -been thinking of the time when your way in life and my way in -life will be two ways instead of one." - -"Here's the daybreak!" cried Allan. "Look up at the masts; -they're beginning to get clear again already. I beg your pardon. -What were you saying?" - -Midwinter made no reply. The struggle between the hereditary -superstition that was driving him on, and the unconquerable -affection for Allan that was holding him back, suspended the next -words on his lips. He turned aside his face in speechless -suffering. "Oh, my father!" he thought, "better have killed me on -that day when I lay on your bosom, than have let me live for -this." - -"What's that about the future?" persisted Allan. "I was looking -for the daylight; I didn't hear." - -Midwinter controlled himself, and answered: "You have treated me -with your usual kin dness," he said, "in planning to take me with -you to Thorpe Ambrose. I think, on reflection, I had better not -intrude myself where I am not known and not expected." His voice -faltered, and he stopped again. The more he shrank from it, the -clearer the picture of the happy life that he was resigning rose -on his mind. - -Allan's thoughts instantly reverted to the mystification about -the new steward which he had practiced on his friend when they -were consulting together in the cabin of the yacht. "Has he been -turning it over in his mind?" wondered Allan; "and is he -beginning at last to suspect the truth? I'll try him.--Talk as -much nonsense, my dear fellow, as you like," he rejoined, "but -don't forget that you are engaged to see me established at Thorpe -Ambrose, and to give me your opinion of the new steward." - -Midwinter suddenly stepped forward again, close to Allan. - -"I am not talking about your steward or your estate," he burst -out passionately; "I am talking about myself. Do you hear? -Myself! I am not a fit companion for you. You don't know who I -am." He drew back into the shadowy shelter of the bulwark as -suddenly as he had come out from it. "O God! I can't tell him," -he said to himself, in a whisper. - -For a moment, and for a moment only, Allan was surprised. "Not -know who you are?" Even as he repeated the words, his easy -goodhumor got the upper-hand again. He took up the whisky flask, -and shook it significantly. "I say," he resumed, "how much of the -doctor's medicine did you take while I was up in the mizzen-top?" - -The light tone which he persisted in adopting stung Midwinter to -the last pitch of exasperation. He came out again into the light, -and stamped his foot angrily on the deck. "Listen to me!" he -said. "You don't know half the low things I have done in my -lifetime. I have been a tradesman's drudge; I have swept out the -shop and put up the shutters; I have carried parcels through the -street, and waited for my master's money at his customers' -doors." - -"I have never done anything half as useful," returned Allan, -composedly. "Dear old boy, what an industrious fellow you have -been in your time!" - -"I've been a vagabond and a blackguard in my time," returned the -other, fiercely; "I've been a street tumbler, a tramp, a gypsy's -boy! I've sung for half-pence with dancing dogs on the high-road! -I've worn a foot-boy's livery, and waited at table! I've been a -common sailors' cook, and a starving fisherman's -Jack-of-all-trades! What has a gentleman in your position in -common with a man in mine? Can you take _me_ into the society at -Thorpe Ambrose? Why, my very name would be a reproach to you. -Fancy the faces of your new neighbors when their footmen announce -Ozias Midwinter and Allan Armadale in the same breath!" He burst -into a harsh laugh, and repeated the two names again, with a -scornful bitterness of emphasis which insisted pitilessly on the -marked contrast between them. - -Something in the sound of his laughter jarred painfully even on -Allan's easy nature. He raised himself on the deck and spoke -seriously for the first time. "A joke's a joke, Midwinter," he -said, "as long as you don't carry it too far. I remember your -saying something of the same sort to me once before when I was -nursing you in Somersetshire. You forced me to ask you if I -deserved to be kept at arms-length by _you_ of all the people in -the world. Don't force me to say so again. Make as much fun of me -as you please, old fellow, in any other way. _That_ way hurts -me." - -Simple as the words were, and simply as they had been spoken, -they appeared to work an instant revolution in Midwinter's mind. -His impressible nature recoiled as from some sudden shock. -Without a word of reply, he walked away by himself to the forward -part of the ship. He sat down on some piled planks between the -masts, and passed his hand over his head in a vacant, bewildered -way. Though his father's belief in fatality was his own belief -once more--though there was no longer the shadow of a doubt in -his mind that the woman whom Mr. Brock had met in Somersetshire, -and the woman who had tried to destroy herself in London, were -one and the same--though all the horror that mastered him when he -first read the letter from Wildbad had now mastered him again, -Allan's appeal to their past experience of each other had come -home to his heart, with a force more irresistible than the force -of his superstition itself. In the strength of that very -superstition, he now sought the pretext which might encourage him -to sacrifice every less generous feeling to the one predominant -dread of wounding the sympathies of his friend. "Why distress -him?" he whispered to himself. "We are not the end here: there is -the Woman behind us in the dark. Why resist him when the -mischief's done , and the caution comes too late? What _ is_ to -be _will_ be. What have I to do with the future? and what has -he?" - -He went back to Allan, sat down by his side, and took his hand. -"Forgive me," he said, gently; "I have hurt you for the last -time." Before it was possible to reply, he snatched up the whisky -flask from the deck. "Come!" he exclaimed, with a sudden effort -to match his friend's cheerfulness, "you have been trying the -doctor's medicine, why shouldn't I?" - -Allan was delighted. "This is something like a change for the -better," he said; "Midwinter is himself again. Hark! there are -the birds. Hail, smiling morn! smiling morn!" He sang the words -of the glee in his old, cheerful voice, and clapped Midwinter on -the shoulder in his old, hearty way. "How did you manage to clear -your head of those confounded megrims? Do you know you were quite -alarming about something happening to one or other of us before -we were out of this ship?" - -"Sheer nonsense!" returned Midwinter, contemptuously. "I don't -think my head has ever been quite right since that fever; I've -got a bee in my bonnet, as they say in the North. Let's talk of -something else. About those people you have let the cottage to? I -wonder whether the agent's account of Major Milroy's family is to -be depended on? There might be another lady in the household -besides his wife and his daughter." - -"Oho!" cried Allan, "_you're_ beginning to think of nymphs among -the trees, and flirtations in the fruit-garden, are you? Another -lady, eh? Suppose the major's family circle won't supply another? -We shall have to spin that half-crown again, and toss up for -which is to have the first chance with Miss Milroy." - -For once Midwinter spoke as lightly and carelessly as Allan -himself. "No, no," he said, "the major's landlord has the first -claim to the notice of the major's daughter. I'll retire into the -background, and wait for the next lady who makes her appearance -at Thorpe Ambrose." - -"Very good. I'll have an address to the women of Norfolk posted -in the park to that effect," said Allan. "Are you particular to a -shade about size or complexion? What's your favorite age?" - -Midwinter trifled with his own superstition, as a man trifles -with the loaded gun that may kill him, or with the savage animal -that may maim him for life. He mentioned the age (as he had -reckoned it himself) of the woman in the black gown and the red -Paisley shawl. - -"Five-and-thirty, " he said. - -As the words passed his lips, his factitious spirits deserted -him. He left his seat, impenetrably deaf to all Allan's efforts -at rallying him on his extraordinary answer, and resumed his -restless pacing of the deck in dead silence. Once more the -haunting thought which had gone to and fro with him in the hour -of darkness went to and fro with him now in the hour of daylight. - -Once more the conviction possessed itself of his mind that -something was to happen to Allan or to himself before they left -the wreck. - -Minute by minute the light strengthened in the eastern sky; and -the shadowy places on the deck of the timber-ship revealed their -barren emptiness under the eye of day. As the breeze rose again, -the sea began to murmur wakefully in the morning light. Even the -cold bubbling of the broken water changed its cheerless note, and -softened on the ear as the mellowing flood of daylight poured -warm over it from the rising sun. Midwinter paused near the -forward part of the - ship, and recalled his wandering attention to the passing time. -The cheering influences of the hour were round him, look where he -might. The happy morning smile of the summer sky, so brightly -merciful to the old and weary earth, lavished its all-embracing -beauty even on the wreck. The dew that lay glittering on the -inland fields lay glittering on the deck, and the worn and rusted -rigging was gemmed as brightly as the fresh green leaves on -shore. Insensibly, as he looked round, Midwinter's thoughts -reverted to the comrade who had shared with him the adventure of -the night. He returned to the after-part of the ship, spoke to -Allan as he advanced. Receiving no answer, he approached the -recumbent figure and looked closer at it. Left to his own -resources, Allan had let the fatigues of the night take their own -way with him. His head had sunk back; his hat had fallen off; he -lay stretched at full length on the deck of the timber-ship, -deeply and peacefully asleep. - -Midwinter resumed his walk; his mind lost in doubt; his own past -thoughts seeming suddenly to have grown strange to him. How -darkly his forebodings had distrusted the coming time, and how -harmlessly that time had come! The sun was mounting in the -heavens, the hour of release was drawing nearer and nearer, and -of the two Armadales imprisoned in the fatal ship, one was -sleeping away the weary time, and the other was quietly watching -the growth of the new day. - -The sun climbed higher; the hour wore on. With the latent -distrust of the wreck which still clung to him, Midwinter looked -inquiringly on either shore for signs of awakening human life. -The land was still lonely. The smoke wreaths that were soon to -rise from cottage chimneys had not risen yet. - -After a moment's thought he went back again to the after-part of -the vessel, to see if there might be a fisherman's boat within -hail astern of them. Absorbed for the moment by the new idea, he -passed Allan hastily, after barely noticing that he still lay -asleep. One step more would have brought him to the taffrail, -when that step was suspended by a sound behind him, a sound like -a faint groan. He turned, and looked at the sleeper on the deck. -He knelt softly, and looked closer. - -"It has come!" he whispered to himself. "Not to _me_--but to -_him._ " - -It had come, in the bright freshness of the morning; it had come, -in the mystery and terror of a Dream. The face which Midwinter -had last seen in perfect repose was now the distorted face of a -suffering man. The perspiration stood thick on Allan's forehead, -and matted his curling hair. His partially opened eyes showed -nothing but the white of the eyeball gleaming blindly. His -outstretched hands scratched and struggled on the deck. From -moment to moment he moaned and muttered helplessly; but the words -that escaped him were lost in the grinding and gnashing of his -teeth. There he lay--so near in the body to the friend who bent -over him; so far away in the spirit, that the two might have been -in different worlds--there he lay, with the morning sunshine on -his face, in the torture of his dream. - -One question, and one only, rose in the mind of the man who was -looking at him. What had the fatality which had imprisoned him in -the wreck decreed that he should see? - -Had the treachery of Sleep opened the gates of the grave to that -one of the two Armadales whom the other had kept in ignorance of -the truth? Was the murder of the father revealing itself to the -son--there, on the very spot where the crime had been -committed--in the vision of a dream? - -With that question overshadowing all else in his mind, the son of -the homicide knelt on the deck, and looked at the son of the man -whom his father's hand had slain. - -The conflict between the sleeping body and the waking mind was -strengthening every moment. The dreamer's helpless groaning for -deliverance grew louder; his hands raised themselves, and -clutched at the empty air. Struggling with the all-mastering -dread that still held him, Midwinter laid his hand gently on -Allan's forehead. Light as the touch was, there were mysterious -sympathies in the dreaming man that answered it. His groaning -ceased, and his hands dropped slowly. There was an instant of -suspense and Midwinter looked closer. His breath just fluttered -over the sleeper's face. Before the next breath had risen to his -lips, Allan suddenly sprang up on his knees--sprang up, as if the -call of a trumpet had rung on his ear, awake in an instant. - -"You have been dreaming," said Midwinter, as the other looked at -him wildly, in the first bewilderment of waking. - -Allan's eyes began to wander about the wreck, at first vacantly, -then with a look of angry surprise. "Are we here still?" he said, -as Midwinter helped him to his feet. "Whatever else I do on board -this infernal ship," he added, after a moment, "I won't go to -sleep again!" - -As he said those words, his friend's eyes searched his face in -silent inquiry. They took a turn together on the deck. - -"Tell me your dream," said Midwinter, with a strange tone of -suspicion in his voice, and a strange appearance of abruptness in -his manner. - -"I can't tell it yet," returned Allan. "Wait a little till I'm my -own man again." - -They took another turn on the deck. Midwinter stopped, and spoke -once more. - -"Look at me for a moment, Allan," he said. - -There was something of the trouble left by the dream, and -something of natural surprise at the strange request just -addressed to him, in Allan's face, as he turned it full on the -speaker; but no shadow of ill-will, no lurking lines of distrust -anywhere. Midwinter turned aside quickly, and hid, as he best -might, an irrepressible outburst of relief. - -"Do I look a little upset?" asked Allan, taking his arm, and -leading him on again. "Don't make yourself nervous about me if I -do. My head feels wild and giddy, but I shall soon get over it." - -For the next few minutes they walked backward and forward in -silence, the one bent on dismissing the terror of the dream from -his thoughts, the other bent on discovering what the terror of -the dream might be. Relieved of the dread that had oppressed it, -the superstitious nature of Midwinter had leaped to its next -conclusion at a bound. What if the sleeper had been visited by -another revelation than the revelation of the Past? What if the -dream had opened those unturned pages in the book of the Future -which told the story of his life to come? The bare doubt that it -might be so strengthened tenfold Midwinter's longing to penetrate -the mystery which Allan's silence still kept a secret from him. - -"Is your head more composed?" he asked. "Can you tell me your -dream now?" - -While he put the question, a last memorable moment in the -Adventure of the Wreck was at hand. - -They had reached the stern, and were just turning again when -Midwinter spoke. As Allan opened his lips to answer, he looked -out mechanically to sea. Instead of replying, he suddenly ran to -the taffrail, and waved his hat over his head, with a shout of -exultation. - -Midwinter joined him, and saw a large six-oared boat pulling -straight for the channel of the Sound. A figure, which they both -thought they recognized, rose eagerly in the stern-sheets and -returned the waving of Allan's hat. The boat came nearer, the -steersman called to them cheerfully, and they recognized the -doctor's voice. - -"Thank God you're both above water!" said Mr. Hawbury, as they -met him on the deck of the timber-ship. "Of all the winds of -heaven, which wind blew you here?" - -He looked at Midwinter as he made the inquiry, but it was Allan -who told him the story of the night, and Allan who asked the -doctor for information in return. The one absorbing interest in -Midwinter's mind--the interest of penetrating the mystery of the -dream--kept him silent throughout. Heedless of all that was said -or done about him, he watched Allan, and followed Allan, like a -dog, until the time came for getting down into the boat. Mr. -Hawbury's professional eye rested on him curiously, noting his -varying color, and the incessant restlessness of his hands. "I -wouldn't change nervous systems with that man for the largest -fortune that could be offered me," thought the doctor as he took -the boat's t iller, and gave the oarsmen their order to push off -from the wreck. - -Having reserved all explanations on his side until they were on -their way back to Port St. Mary, Mr. Hawbury next addressed -himself to the gratification of Allan's curiosity. The -circumstances which had brought him to the rescue of his two -guests of the previous evening were simple enough. The lost boat -had been met with at sea by some fishermen of Port Erin, on the -western side of the island, who at once recognized it as the -doctor's property, and at once sent a messenger to make inquiry, -at the doctor's house. The man's statement of what had happened -had naturally alarmed Mr. Hawbury for the safety of Allan and his -friend. He had immediately secured assistance, and, guided by the -boatman's advice, had made first for the most dangerous place on -the coast--the only place, in that calm weather, in which an -accident could have happened to a boat sailed by experienced -men--the channel of the Sound. After thus accounting for his -welcome appearance on the scene, the doctor hospitably insisted -that his guests of the evening should be his guests of the -morning as well. It would still be too early when they got back -for the people at the hotel to receive them, and they would find -bed and breakfast at Mr. Hawbury's house. - -At the first pause in the conversation between Allan and the -doctor, Midwinter, who had neither joined in the talk nor -listened to the talk, touched his friend on the arm. "Are you -better?" he asked, in a whisper. "Shall you soon be composed -enough to tell me what I want to know?" - -Allan's eyebrows contracted impatiently; the subject of the -dream, and Midwinter's obstinacy in returning to it, seemed to be -alike distasteful to him. He hardly answered with his usual good -humor. "I suppose I shall have no peace till I tell you," he -said, "so I may as well get it over at once." - -"No!" returned Midwinter, with a look at the doctor and his -oarsmen. "Not where other people can hear it--not till you and I -are alone." - -"If you wish to see the last, gentlemen, of your quarters for the -night," interposed the doctor, "now is your time! The coast will -shut the vessel out in a minute more." - -In silence on the one side and on the other, the two Armadales -looked their last at the fatal ship. Lonely and lost they had -found the wreck in the mystery of the summer night; lonely and -lost they left the wreck in the radiant beauty of the summer -morning. - -An hour later the doctor had seen his guests established in their -bedrooms, and had left them to take their rest until the -breakfast hour arrived. - -Almost as soon as his back was turned, the doors of both rooms -opened softly, and Allan and Midwinter met in the passage. - -"Can you sleep after what has happened?" asked Allan. - -Midwinter shook his head. "You were coming to my room, were you -not?" he said. "What for?" - -"To ask you to keep me company. What were you coming to _my_ room -for?" - -"To ask you to tell me your dream." - -"Damn the dream! I want to forget all about it." - -"And _I_ want to know all about it." - -Both paused; both refrained instinctively from saying more. For -the first time since the beginning of their friendship they were -on the verge of a disagreement, and that on the subject of the -dream. Allan's good temper just stopped them on the brink. - -"You are the most obstinate fellow alive," he said; "but if you -will know all about it, you must know all about it, I suppose. -Come into my room, and I'll tell you." - -He led the way, and Midwinter followed. The door closed and shut -them in together. - -CHAPTER V. - -THE SHADOW OF THE FUTURE. - -WHEN Mr. Hawbury joined his guests in the breakfast-room, the -strange contrast of character between them which he had noticed -already was impressed on his mind more strongly than ever. One of -them sat at the well-spread table, hungry and happy, ranging from -dish to dish, and declaring that he had never made such a -breakfast in his life. The other sat apart at the window; his cup -thanklessly deserted before it was empty, his meat left -ungraciously half-eaten on his plate. The doctor's morning -greeting to the two accurately expressed the differing -impressions which they had produced on his mind. - -He clapped Allan on the shoulder, and saluted him with a joke. He -bowed constrainedly to Midwinter, and said, "I am afraid you have -not recovered the fatigues of the night." - -"It's not the night, doctor, that has damped his spirits," said -Allan. "It's something I have been telling him. It is not my -fault, mind. If I had only known beforehand that he believed in -dreams, I wouldn't have opened my lips." - -"Dreams?" repeated the doctor, looking at Midwinter directly, and -addressing him under a mistaken impression of the meaning of -Allan's words. "With your constitution, you ought to be well used -to dreaming by this time." - -"This way, doctor; you have taken the wrong turning!" cried -Allan. "I'm the dreamer, not he. Don't look astonished; it wasn't -in this comfortable house; it was on board that confounded -timber-ship. The fact is, I fell asleep just before you took us -off the wreck; and it's not to be denied that I had a very ugly -dream. Well, when we got back here--" - -"Why do you trouble Mr. Hawbury about a matter that cannot -possibly interest him?" asked Midwinter, speaking for the first -time, and speaking very impatiently. - -"I beg your pardon," returned the doctor, rather sharply; "so far -as I have heard, the matter does interest me." - -"That's right, doctor!" said Allan. "Be interested, I beg and -pray; I want you to clear his head of the nonsense he has got in -it now. What do you think? He will have it that my dream is a -warning to me to avoid certain people; and he actually persists -in saying that one of those people is--himself! Did you ever hear -the like of it? I took great pains; I explained the whole thing -to him. I said, warning be hanged; it's all indigestion! You -don't know what I ate and drank at the doctor's supper-table; I -do. Do you think he would listen to me? Not he. You try him next; -you're a professional man, and he must listen to you. Be a good -fellow, doctor, and give me a certificate of indigestion; I'll -show you my tongue with pleasure." - -"The sight of your face is quite enough," said Mr. Hawbury. "I -certify, on the spot, that you never had such a thing as an -indigestion in your life. Let's hear about the dream, and see -what we can make of it, if you have no objection, that is to -say." - -Allan pointed at Midwinter with his fork. - -"Apply to my friend, there," he said; "he has got a much better -account of it than I can give you. If you'll believe me, he took -it all down in writing from my own lips; and he made me sign it -at the end, as if it was my 'last dying speech and confession' -before I went to the gallows. Out with it, old boy--I saw you put -it in your pocket-book--out with it!" - -"Are you really in earnest?" asked Midwinter, producing his -pocketbook with a reluctance which was almost offensive under the -circumstances, for it implied distrust of the doctor in the -doctor's own house. - -Mr. Hawbury's color rose. "Pray don't show it to me, if you feel -the least unwillingness," he said, with the elaborate politeness -of an offended man. - -"Stuff and nonsense!" cried Allan. "Throw it over here!" - -Instead of complying with that characteristic request, Midwinter -took the paper from the pocket-book, and, leaving his place, -approached Mr. Hawbury. "I beg your pardon," he said, as he -offered the doctor the manuscript with his own hand. His eyes -dropped to the ground, and his face darkened, while he made the -apology. "A secret, sullen fellow," thought the doctor, thanking -him with formal civility; "his friend is worth ten thousand of -him." Midwinter went back to the window, and sat down again in -silence, with the old impenetrable resignation which had once -puzzled Mr. Brock. - -"Read that, doctor," said Allan, as Mr. Hawbury opened the -written paper. "It's not told in my roundabout way; but there's -nothing added to it, and nothing taken away. It's exactly what I -dreamed, and exactly what I should have written myself, if I had -thought the thing worth putting down on paper, and if I had had -the knack of writing--which," concluded Allan, composedly -stirring his coffee, "I haven't, except it's letters; and I -rattle _them_ off in no time." - -Mr. Hawbury spread the manuscript before him on the -breakfast-table, and read these lines: - - "ALLAN ARMADALE'S DREAM. - -"Early on the morning of June the first, eighteen hundred and -fifty-one, I found myself (through circumstances which it is not -important to mention in this place) left alone with a friend of -mine--a young man about my own age--on board the French -timber-ship named _La Grace de Dieu,_ which ship then lay wrecked -in the channel of the Sound between the main-land of the Isle of -Man and the islet called the Calf. Having not been in bed the -previous night, and feeling overcome by fatigue, I fell asleep on -the deck of the vessel. I was in my usual good health at the -time, and the morning was far enough advanced for the sun to have -risen. Under these circumstances, and at that period of the day, -I passed from sleeping to dreaming. As clearly as I can recollect -it, after the lapse of a few hours, this was the succession of -events presented to me by the dream: - -"1. The first event of which I was conscious was the appearance -of my father. He took me silently by the hand; and we found -ourselves in the cabin of a ship. - -"2. Water rose slowly over us in the cabin; and I and my father -sank through the water together. - -"3. An interval of oblivion followed; and then the sense came to -me of being left alone in the darkness. - -"4. I waited. - -"5. The darkness opened, and showed me the vision--as in a -picture--of a broad, lonely pool, surrounded by open ground. -Above the farther margin of the pool I saw the cloudless western -sky, red with the light of sunset. - -"6. On the near margin of the pool there stood the Shadow of a -Woman. - -"7. It was the shadow only. No indication was visible to me by -which I could identify it, or compare it with any living -creature. The long robe showed me that it was the shadow of a -woman, and showed me nothing more. - -"8. The darkness closed again--remained with me for an -interval--and opened for the second time. - -"9. I found myself in a room, standing before. a long window. The -only object of furniture or of ornament that I saw (or that I can -now remember having seen) was a little statue placed near me. The -window opened on a lawn and flower-garden; and the rain was -pattering heavily against the glass. - -"10. I was not alone in the room. Standing opposite to me at the -window was the Shadow of a Man. - -"11. I saw no more of it; I knew no more of it than I saw and -knew of the shadow of the woman. But the shadow of the man moved. -It stretched out its arm toward the statue; and the statue fell -in fragments on the floor. - -"12. With a confused sensation in me, which was partly anger and -partly distress, I stooped to look at the fragments. When I rose -again, the Shadow had vanished, and I saw no more. - -"13. The darkness opened for the third time, and showed me the -Shadow of the Woman and the Shadow of the Man together. - -"14. No surrounding scene (or none that I can now call to mind) -was visible to me. - -"15. The Man-Shadow was the nearest; the Woman-Shadow stood back. -From where she stood, there came a sound as of the pouring of a -liquid softly. I saw her touch the shadow of the man with one -hand, and with the other give him a glass. He took the glass, and -gave it to me. In the moment when I put it to my lips, a deadly -faintness mastered me from head to foot. When I came to my senses -again, the Shadows had vanished, and the third vision was at an -end. - -"16. The darkness closed over me again; and the interval of -oblivion followed. - -"17. I was conscious of nothing more, till I felt the morning sun -shine on my face, and heard my friend tell me that I had awakened -from a dream." . . . . - - -After reading the narrative attentively to the last line (under -which appeared Allan's signature), the doctor looked across the -breakfast-table at Midwinter, and tapped his fingers on the -manuscript with a satirical smile. - -"Many men, many opinions," he said. "I don't agree with either of -you about this dream. Your theory," he added, looking at Allan, -with a smile, "we have disposed of already: the supper that _you_ -can't digest is a supper which has yet to be discovered. My -theory we will come to presently; your friend's theory claims -attention first." He turned again to Midwinter, with his -anticipated triumph over a man whom he disliked a little too -plainly visible in his face and manner. "If I understand -rightly," he went on, "you believe that this dream is a warning! -supernaturally addressed to Mr. Armadale, of dangerous events -that are threatening him, and of dangerous people connected with -those events whom he would do wisely to avoid. May I inquire -whether you have arrived at this conclusion as an habitual -believer in dreams, or as having reasons of your own for -attaching especial importance to this one dream in particular?" - -"You have stated what my conviction is quite accurately," -returned Midwinter, chafing under the doctor's looks and tones. -"Excuse me if I ask you to be satisfied with that admission, and -to let me keep my reasons to myself." - -"That's exactly what he said to me," interposed Allan. "I don't -believe he has got any reasons at all." - -"Gently! gently!" said Mr. Hawbury. "We can discuss the subject -without intruding ourselves into anybody's secrets. Let us come -to my own method of dealing with the dream next. Mr. Midwinter -will probably not be surprised to hear that I look at this matter -from an essentially practical point of view." - -"I shall not be at all surprised," retorted Midwinter. "The view -of a medical man, when he has a problem in humanity to solve, -seldom ranges beyond the point of his dissecting-knife." - -The doctor was a little nettled on his side. "Our limits are not -quite so narrow as that," he said; "but I willingly grant you -that there are some articles of your faith in which we doctors -don't believe. For example, we don't believe that a reasonable -man is justified in attaching a supernatural interpretation to -any phenomenon which comes within the range of his senses, until -he has certainly ascertained that there is no such thing as a -natural explanation of it to be found in the first instance." - -"Come; that's fair enough, I'm sure," exclaimed Allan. "He hit -you hard with the 'dissecting-knife,' doctor; and now you have -hit him back again with your 'natural explanation.' Let's have -it." - -"By all means," said Mr. Hawbury. "Here it is. There is nothing -at all extraordinary in my theory of dreams: it is the theory -accepted by the great mass of my profession. A dream is the -reproduction, in the sleeping state of the brain, of images and -impressions produced on it in the waking state; and this -reproduction is more or less involved, imperfect, or -contradictory, as the action of certain faculties in the dreamer -is controlled more or less completely by the influence of sleep. -Without inquiring further into this latter part of the subject--a -very curious and interesting part of it--let us take the theory, -roughly and generally, as I have just stated it, and apply it at -once to the dream now under consideration." He took up the -written paper from the table, and dropped the formal tone (as of -a lecturer addressing an audience) into which he had insensibly -fallen. "I see one event already in this dream," he resumed, -"which I know to be the reproduction of a waking impression -produced on Mr. Armadale in my own presence. If he will only help -me by exerting his memory, I don't despair of tracing back the -whole succession of events set down here to something that he has -said or thought, or seen or done, in the four-and-twenty hours, -or less, which preceded his falling asleep on the deck of the -timber-ship." - -"I'll exert my memory with the greatest pleasure," said Allan. -"Where shall we start from?" - -"Start by telling me what you did yesterday, before I met you and -your friend on the road to this place," replied Mr. Hawbury. "We -will say, you got up and had your breakfast. What next?" - -"We took a carriage next," said Allan, "and drove from Castletown -to Douglas to see - my old friend, Mr. Brock, off by the steamer to Liverpool. We -came back to Castletown. and separated at the hotel door. -Midwinter went into the house, and I went on to my yacht in the -harbor.--By-the-bye, doctor; remember you have promised to go -cruising with us before we leave the Isle of Man." - -"Many thanks; but suppose we keep to the matter in hand. What -next?" - -Allan hesitated. In both senses of the word his mind was at sea -already. - -"What did you do on board the yacht?" - -"Oh, I know! I put the cabin to rights--thoroughly to rights. I -give you my word of honor, I turned every blessed thing -topsy-turvy. And my friend there came off in a shore-boat and -helped me.--Talking of boats, I have never asked you yet whether -your boat came to any harm last night. If there's any damage -done, I insist on being allowed to repair it." - -The doctor abandoned all further attempts at the cultivation of -Allan's memory in despair. - -"I doubt if we shall be able to reach our object conveniently in -this way," he said. "It will be better to take the events of the -dream in their regular order, and to ask the questions that -naturally suggest themselves as we go on. Here are the first two -events to begin with. You dream that your father appears to -you--that you and he find yourselves in the cabin of a ship--that -the water rises over you, and that you sink in it together. Were -you down in the cabin of the wreck, may I ask?" - -"I couldn't be down there," replied Allan, "as the cabin was full -of water. I looked in and saw it, and shut the door again." - -"Very good," said Mr. Hawbury. "Here are the waking impressions -clear enough, so far. You have had the cabin in your mind; and -you have had the water in your mind; and the sound of the channel -current (as I well know without asking) was the last sound in -your ears when you went to sleep. The idea of drowning comes too -naturally out of such impressions as these to need dwelling on. -Is there anything else before we go on? Yes; there is one more -circumstance left to account for." - -"The most important circumstance of all," remarked Midwinter, -joining in the conversation, without stirring from his place at -the window. - -"You mean the appearance of Mr. Armadale's father? I was just -coming to that," answered Mr. Hawbury. "Is your father alive?" he -added, addressing himself to Allan once more. - -"My father died before I was born." - -The doctor started. "This complicates it a little," he said. "How -did you know that the figure appearing to you in the dream was -the figure of your father?" - -Allan hesitated again. Midwinter drew his chair a little away -from the window, and looked at the doctor attentively for the -first time. - -"Was your father in your thoughts before you went to sleep?" -pursued Mr. Hawbury. "Was there any description of him--any -portrait of him at home--in your mind?" - -"Of course there was!" cried Allan, suddenly seizing the lost -recollection. "Midwinter! you remember the miniature you found on -the floor of the cabin when we were putting the yacht to rights? -You said I didn't seem to value it; and I told you I did, because -it was a portrait of my father--" - -"And was the face in the dream like the face in the miniature?" -asked Mr. Hawbury. - -"Exactly like! I say, doctor, this is beginning to get -interesting!" - -"What do you say now?" asked Mr. Hawbury, turning toward the -window again. - -Midwinter hurriedly left his chair, and placed himself at the -table with Allan. Just as he had once already taken refuge from -the tyranny of his own superstition in the comfortable common -sense of Mr. Brock, so, with the same headlong eagerness, with -the same straightforward sincerity of purpose, he now took refuge -in the doctor's theory of dreams. "I say what my friend says," he -answered, flushing with a sudden enthusiasm; "this is beginning -to get interesting. Go on; pray go on." - -The doctor looked at his strange guest more indulgently than he -had looked yet. "You are the only mystic I have met with," he -said, "who is willing to give fair evidence fair play. I don't -despair of converting you before our inquiry comes to an end. Let -us get on to the next set of events," he resumed, after referring -for a moment to the manuscript. "The interval of oblivion which -is described as succeeding the first of the appearances in the -dream may be easily disposed of. It means, in plain English, the -momentary cessation of the brain's intellectual action, while a -deeper wave of sleep flows over it, just as the sense of being -alone in the darkness, which follows, indicates the renewal of -that action, previous to the reproduction of another set of -impressions. Let us see what they are. A lonely pool, surrounded -by an open country; a sunset sky on the further side of the pool; -and the shadow of a woman on the near side. Very good; now for -it, Mr. Armadale! How did that pool get into your head? The open -country you saw on your way from Castletown to this place But we -have no pools or lakes hereabouts; and you can have seen none -recently elsewhere, for you came here after a cruise at sea. Must -we fall back on a picture, or a book, or a conversation with your -friend?" - -Allan looked at Midwinter. "I don't remember talking about pools -or lakes," he said. "Do you?" - -Instead of answering the question, Midwinter suddenly appealed to -the doctor. - -"Have you got the last number of the Manx newspaper?" he asked. - -The doctor produced it from the sideboard. Midwinter turned to -the page containing those extracts from the recently published -"Travels in Australia," which had roused Allan's, interest on the -previous evening, and the reading of which had ended by sending -his friend to sleep. There--in the passage describing the -sufferings of the travelers from thirst, and the subsequent -discovery which saved their lives--there, appearing at the climax -of the narrative, was the broad pool of water which had figured -in Allan's dream! - -"Don't put away the paper," said the doctor, when Midwinter had -shown it to him, with the necessary explanation. "Before we are -at the end of the inquiry, it is quite possible we may want that -extract again. We have got at the pool. How about the sunset? -Nothing of that sort is referred to in the newspaper extract. -Search your memory again, Mr. Armadale; we want your waking -impression of a sunset, if you please." - -Once more, Allan was at a loss for an answer; and, once more, -Midwinter's ready memory helped him through the difficulty. - -"I think I can trace our way back to this impression, as I traced -our way back to the other," he said, addressing the doctor. -"After we got here yesterday afternoon, my friend and I took a -long walk over the hills--" - -"That's it!" interposed Allan. "I remember. The sun was setting -as we came back to the hotel for supper, and it was such a -splendid red sky, we both stopped to look at it. And then we -talked about Mr. Brock, and wondered how far he had got on his -journey home. My memory may be a slow one at starting, doctor; -but when it's once set going, stop it if you can! I haven't half -done yet." - -"Wait one minute, in mercy to Mr. Midwinter's memory and mine," -said the doctor. "We have traced back to your waking impressions -the vision of the open country, the pool, and the sunset. But the -Shadow of the Woman has not been accounted for yet. Can you find -us the original of this mysterious figure in the dream -landscape?" - -Allan relapsed into his former perplexity, and Midwinter waited -for what was to come, with his eyes fixed in breathless interest -on the doctor's face. For the first time there was unbroken -silence in the room. Mr. Hawbury looked interrogatively from -Allan to Allan's friend. Neither of them answered him. Between -the shadow and the shadow's substance there was a great gulf of -mystery, impenetrable alike to all three of them. - -"Patience," said the doctor, composedly. "Let us leave the figure -by the pool for the present and try if we can't pick her up again -as we go on. Allow me to observe, Mr. Midwinter, that it is not -very easy to identify a shadow; but we won't despair. This -impalpable lady of the lake may take some consistency when we -next meet with her." - -Midwinter made no reply. From that moment his interest in the -inquiry began to flag. - -"What is the next scene in the dream?" pursued Mr. Hawbury, -referring to the manuscript. "Mr. Armadale finds himself in a -room. He is standing before a long window opening on a lawn and -flower-garden, and the rain is pattering against the glass. The -only thing he sees in the room is a little statue; and the only -company he has is the Shadow of a Man standing opposite to him. -The Shadow stretches out its arm, and the statue falls in -fragments on the floor; and the dreamer, in anger and distress at -the catastrophe (observe, gentlemen, that here the sleeper's -reasoning faculty wakes up a little, and the dream passes -rationally, for a moment, from cause to effect), stoops to look -at the broken pieces. When he looks up again, the scene has -vanished. That is to say, in the ebb and flow of sleep, it is the -turn of the flow now, and the brain rests a little. What's the -matter, Mr. Armadale? Has that restive memory of yours run away -with you again?" - -"Yes," said Allan. "I'm off at full gallop. I've run the broken -statue to earth; it's nothing more nor less than a china -shepherdess I knocked off the mantel-piece in the hotel -coffee-room, when I rang the bell for supper last night. I say, -how well we get on; don't we? It's like guessing a riddle. Now, -then, Midwinter! your turn next." - -"No!" said the doctor. "My turn, if you please. I claim the long -window, the garden, and the lawn, as my property. You will find -the long window, Mr. Armadale, in the next room. If you look out, -you'll see the garden and lawn in front of it; and, if you'll -exert that wonderful memory of yours, you will recollect that you -were good enough to take special and complimentary notice of my -smart French window and my neat garden, when I drove you and your -friend to Port St. Mary yesterday." - -"Quite right," rejoined Allan; "so I did. But what about the rain -that fell in the dream? I haven't seen a drop of rain for the -last week." - -Mr. Hawbury hesitated. The Manx newspaper which had been left on -the table caught his eye. "If we can think of nothing else," he -said, "let us try if we can't find the idea of the rain where we -found the idea of the pool." He looked through the extract -carefully. "I have got it!" he exclaimed. "Here is rain described -as having fallen on these thirsty Australian travelers, before -they discovered the pool. Behold the shower, Mr. Armadale, which -got into your mind when you read the extract to your friend last -night! And behold the dream, Mr. Midwinter, mixing up separate -waking impressions just as usual!" - -"Can you find the waking impression which accounts for the human -figure at the window?" asked Midwinter; "or are we to pass over -the Shadow of the Man as we have passed over the Shadow of the -Woman already?" - -He put the question with scrupulous courtesy of manner, but with -a tone of sarcasm in his voice which caught the doctor's ear, and -set up the doctor's controversial bristles on the instant. - -"When you are picking up shells on the beach, Mr. Midwinter, you -usually begin with the shells that lie nearest at hand," he -rejoined. "We are picking up facts now; and those that are -easiest to get at are the facts we will take first. Let the -Shadow of the Man and the Shadow of the Woman pair off together -for the present; we won't lose sight of them, I promise you. All -in good time, my dear sir; all in good time!" - -He, too, was polite, and he, too, was sarcastic. The short truce -between the opponents was at an end already. Midwinter returned -significantly to his former place by the window. The doctor -instantly turned his back on the window more significantly still. -Allan, who never quarreled with anybody's opinion, and never -looked below the surface of anybody's conduct, drummed cheerfully -on the table with the handle of his knife. "Go on, doctor!" he -called out; "my wonderful memory is as fresh as ever." - -"Is it?" said Mr. Hawbury, referring again to the narrative of -the dream. "Do you remember what happened when you and I were -gossiping with the landlady at the bar of the hotel last night?" - -"Of course I do! You were kind enough to hand me a glass of -brandy-and-water, which the landlady had just mixed for your own -drinking. And I was obliged to refuse it because, as I told you, -the taste of brandy always turns me sick and faint, mix it how -you please." - -"Exactly so," returned the doctor. "And here is the incident -reproduced in the dream. You see the man's shadow and the woman's -shadow together this time. You hear the pouring out of liquid -(brandy from the hotel bottle, and water from the hotel jug); the -glass is handed by the woman-shadow (the landlady) to the -man-shadow (myself); the man-shadow hands it to you (exactly what -I did); and the faintness (which you had previously described to -me) follows in due course. I am shocked to identify these -mysterious appearances, Mr. Midwinter, with such miserably -unromantic originals as a woman who keeps a hotel, and a man who -physics a country district. But your friend himself will tell you -that the glass of brandy-and-water was prepared by the landlady, -and that it reached him by passing from her hand to mine. We have -picked up the shadows, exactly as I anticipated; and we have only -to account now--which may be done in two words--for the manner of -their appearance in the dream. After having tried to introduce -the waking impression of the doctor and the landlady separately, -in connection with the wrong set of circumstances, the dreaming -mind comes right at the third trial, and introduces the doctor -and the landlady together, in connection with the right set of -circumstances. There it is in a nutshell!--Permit me to hand you -back the manuscript, with my best thanks for your very complete -and striking confirmation of the rational theory of dreams." -Saying those words, Mr. Hawbury returned the written paper to -Midwinter, with the pitiless politeness of a conquering man. - -"Wonderful! not a point missed anywhere from beginning to end! By -Jupiter!" cried Allan, with the ready reverence of intense -ignorance. "What a thing science is!" - -"Not a point missed, as you say," remarked the doctor, -complacently. "And yet I doubt if we have succeeded in convincing -your friend." - -"You have _not_ convinced me," said Midwinter. "But I don't -presume on that account to say that you are wrong." - -He spoke quietly, almost sadly. The terrible conviction of the -supernatural origin of the dream, from which he had tried to -escape, had possessed itself of him again. All his interest in -the argument was at an end; all his sensitiveness to its -irritating influences was gone. In the case of any other man, Mr. -Hawbury would have been mollified by such a concession as his -adversary had now made to him; but he disliked Midwinter too -cordially to leave him in the peaceable enjoyment of an opinion -of his own. - -"Do you admit," asked the doctor, more pugnaciously than ever, -"that I have traced back every event of the dream to a waking -impression which preceded it in Mr. Armadale's mind?" - -"I have no wish to deny that you have done so," said Midwinter, -resignedly. - -"Have I identified the shadows with their living originals?" - -"You have identified them to your own satisfaction, and to my -friend's satisfaction. Not to mine." - -"Not to yours? Can _you_ identify them?" - -"No. I can only wait till the living originals stand revealed in -the future." - -"Spoken like an oracle, Mr. Midwinter! Have you any idea at -present of who those living originals may be?" - -"I have. I believe that coming events will identify the Shadow of -the Woman with a person whom my friend has not met with yet; and -the Shadow of the Man with myself." - -Allan attempted to speak. The doctor stopped him. "Let us clearly -understand this," he said to Midwinter. "Leaving your own case -out of the question for the moment, may I ask how a shadow, which -has no distinguishing mark about it, is to be identified with a -living woman whom your friend doesn't know?" - -Midwinter's color rose a little. He began to feel the lash of the -doctor's logic. - -"The landscape picture of the dream has its distinguishing -marks," he replied; "and in that landscape the living woma n will -appear when the living woman is first seen." - -"The same thing will happen, I suppose," pursued the doctor, -"with the man-shadow which you persist in identifying with -yourself. You will be associated in the future with a statue -broken in your friend's presence, with a long window looking out -on a garden, and with a shower of rain pattering against the -glass? Do you say that?" - -"I say that." - -"And so again, I presume, with the next vision? You and the -mysterious woman will be brought together in some place now -unknown, and will present to Mr. Armadale some liquid yet -unnamed, which will turn him faint?--Do you seriously tell me you -believe this?" - -"I seriously tell you I believe it." - -"And, according to your view, these fulfillments of the dream -will mark the progress of certain coming events, in which Mr. -Armadale's happiness, or Mr. Armadale's safety, will be -dangerously involved?" - -"That is my firm conviction." - -The doctor rose, laid aside his moral dissecting-knife, -considered for a moment, and took it up again. - -"One last question," he said. "Have you any reason to give for -going out of your way to adopt such a mystical view as this, when -an unanswerably rational explanation of the dream lies straight -before you?" - -"No reason," replied Midwinter, "that I can give, either to you -or to my friend." - -The doctor looked at his watch with the air of a man who is -suddenly reminded that he has been wasting his time. - -"We have no common ground to start from," he said; "and if we -talk till doomsday, we should not agree. Excuse my leaving you -rather abruptly. It is later than I thought; and my morning's -batch of sick people are waiting for me in the surgery. I have -convinced _your_ mind, Mr. Armadale, at any rate; so the time we -have given to this discussion has not been altogether lost. Pray -stop here, and smoke your cigar. I shall be at your service again -in less than an hour." He nodded cordially to Allan, bowed -formally to Midwinter, and quitted the room. - -As soon as the doctor's back was turned, Allan left his place at -the table, and appealed to his friend, with that irresistible -heartiness of manner which had always found its way to -Midwinter's sympathies, from the first day when they met at the -Somersetshire inn. - -"Now the sparring-match between you and the doctor is over," said -Allan, "I have got two words to say on my side. Will you do -something for my sake which you won't do for your own?" - -Midwinter's face brightened instantly. "I will do anything you -ask me," he said. - -"Very well. Will you let the subject of the dream drop out of our -talk altogether from this time forth?" - -"Yes, if you wish it." - -"Will you go a step further? Will you leave off thinking about -the dream?" - -"It's hard to leave off thinking about it, Allan. But I will -try." - -"That's a good fellow! Now give me that trumpery bit of paper, -and let's tear it up, and have done with it." - -He tried to snatch the manuscript out of his friend's hand; but -Midwinter was too quick for him, and kept it beyond his reach. - -"Come! come!" pleaded Allan. "I've set my heart on lighting my -cigar with it." - -Midwinter hesitated painfully. It was hard to resist Allan; but -he did resist him. "I'll wait a little," he said, "before you -light your cigar with it." - -"How long? Till to-morrow?" - -"Longer." - -"Till we leave the Isle of Man?" - -"Longer." - -"Hang it--give me a plain answer to a plain question! How long -_will_ you wait?" - -Midwinter carefully restored the paper to its place in his -pocketbook. - -"I'll wait," he said, "till we get to Thorpe Ambrose." - - -THE END OF THE FIRST BOOK. - - --------- - -BOOK THE SECOND - -CHAPTER I. - -LURKING MISCHIEF. - -1. _From Ozias Midwinter to Mr. Brock._ - -"Thorpe Ambrose, June 15, 1851. - -"DEAR MR. BROCK--Only an hour since we reached this house, just -as the servants were locking up for the night. Allan has gone to -bed, worn out by our long day's journey, and has left me in the -room they call the library, to tell you the story of our journey -to Norfolk. Being better seasoned than he is to fatigues of all -kinds, my eyes are quite wakeful enough for writing a letter, -though the clock on the chimney-piece points to midnight, and we -have been traveling since ten in the morning. - -"The last news you had of us was news sent by Allan from the Isle -of Man. If I am not mistaken, he wrote to tell you of the night -we passed on board the wrecked ship. Forgive me, dear Mr. Brock, -if I say nothing on that subject until time has helped me to -think of it with a quieter mind. The hard fight against myself -must all be fought over again; but I will win it yet, please God; -I will, indeed. - -"There is no need to trouble you with any account of our -journeyings about the northern and western districts of the -island, or of the short cruises we took when the repairs of the -yacht were at last complete. It will be better if I get on at -once to the morning of yesterday, the fourteenth. We had come in -with the night-tide to Douglas Harbor, and, as soon as the -post-office was open; Allan, by my advice, sent on shore for -letters. The messenger returned with one letter only, and the -writer of it proved to be the former mistress of Thorpe -Ambrose--Mrs. Blanchard. - -"You ought to be informed, I think, of the contents of this -letter, for it has seriously influenced Allan's plans. He loses -everything, sooner or later, as you know, and he has lost the -letter already. So I must give you the substance of what Mrs. -Blanchard wrote to him, as plainly as I can. - -"The first page announced the departure of the ladies from Thorpe -Ambrose. They left on the day before yesterday, the thirteenth, -having, after much hesitation, finally decided on going abroad, -to visit some old friends settled in Italy, in the neighborhood -of Florence. It appears to be quite possible that Mrs. Blanchard -and her niece may settle there, too, if they can find a suitable -house and grounds to let. They both like the Italian country and -the Italian people, and they are well enough off to please -themselves. The elder lady has her jointure, and the younger is -in possession of all her father's fortune. - -"The next page of the letter was, in Allan's opinion, far from a -pleasant page to read. - -"After referring, in the most grateful terms, to the kindness -which had left her niece and herself free to leave their old home -at their own time, Mrs. Blanchard added that Allan's considerate -conduct had produced such a strongly favorable impression among -the friends and dependents of the family that they were desirous -of giving him a public reception on his arrival among them. A -preliminary meeting of the tenants on the estate and the -principal persons in the neighboring town had already been held -to discuss the arrangements, and a letter might be expected -shortly from the clergyman inquiring when it would suit Mr. -Armadale's convenience to take possession personally and publicly -of his estates in Norfolk. - -"You will now be able to guess the cause of our sudden departure -from the Isle of Man. The first and foremost idea in your old -pupil's mind, as soon as he had read Mrs. Blanchard's account of -the proceedings at the meeting, was the idea of escaping the -public reception, and the one certain way he could see of -avoiding it was to start for Thorpe Ambrose before the -clergyman's letter could reach him. - -"I tried hard to make him think a little before he acted an his -first impulse in this matter; but he only went on packing his -portmanteau in his own impenetrably good-humored way. In ten -minutes his luggage was ready, and in five minutes more he had -given the crew their directions for taking the yacht back to -Somersetshire. The steamer to Liverpool was alongside of us in -the harbor, and I had really no choice but to go on board with -him or to let him go by himself. I spare you the account of our -stormy voyage, of our detention at Liverpool, and of the trains -we missed on our journey across the country. You know that we -have got here safely, and that is enough. What the servants think -of the new squire's sudden appearance among them, without a word -of warning, is of no great consequence. What the committee for -arranging the publi c reception may think of it when the news -flies abroad to-morrow is, I am afraid, a more serious matter. - -"Having already mentioned the servants, I may proceed to tell you -that the latter part of Mrs. BlanchardÕs letter was entirely -devoted to instructing Allan on the subject of the domestic -establishment which she has left behind her. It seems that all -the servants, indoors and out (with three exceptions), are -waiting here, on the chance that Allan will continue them in -their places. Two of these exceptions are readily accounted for: -Mrs. Blanchard's maid and Miss Blanchard's maid go abroad with -their mistresses. The third exceptional case is the case of the -upper housemaid; and here there is a little hitch. In plain -words, the housemaid has been sent away at a moment's notice, for -what Mrs. Blanchard rather mysteriously describes as 'levity of -conduct with a stranger.' - -"I am afraid you will laugh at me, but I must confess the truth. -I have been made so distrustful (after what happened to us in the -Isle of Man) of even the most trifling misadventures which -connect themselves in any way with Allan's introduction to his -new life and prospects, that I have already questioned one of the -men-servants here about this apparently unimportant matter of the -housemaid's going away in disgrace. - -"All I can learn is that a strange man had been noticed hanging -suspiciously about the grounds; that the housemaid was so ugly a -woman as to render it next to a certainty that he had some -underhand purpose to serve in making himself agreeable to her; -and that he has not as yet been seen again in the neighborhood -since the day of her dismissal. So much for the one servant who -has been turned out at Thorpe Ambrose. I can only hope there is -no trouble for Allan brewing in that quarter. As for the other -servants who remain, Mrs. Blanchard describes them, both men and -women, as perfectly trustworthy, and they will all, no doubt, -continue to occupy their present places. - -"Having now done with Mrs. Blanchard's letter, my next duty is to -beg you, in Allan's name and with Allan's love, to come here and -stay with him at the earliest moment when you can leave -Somersetshire. Although I cannot presume to think that my own -wishes will have any special influence in determining you to -accept this invitation, I must nevertheless acknowledge that I -have a reason of my own for earnestly desiring to see you here. -Allan has innocently caused me a new anxiety about my future -relations with him, and I sorely need your advice to show me the -right way of setting that anxiety at rest. - -"The difficulty which now perplexes me relates to the steward's -place at Thorpe Ambrose. Before to-day I only knew that Allan had -hit on some plan of his own for dealing with this matter, rather -strangely involving, among other results, the letting of the -cottage which was the old steward's place of abode, in -consequence of the new steward's contemplated residence in the -great house. A chance word in our conversation on the journey -here led Allan into speaking out more plainly than he had spoken -yet, and I heard to my unutterable astonishment that the person -who was at the bottom of the whole arrangement about the steward -was no other than myself! - -"It is needless to tell you how I felt this new instance of -Allan's kindness. The first pleasure of hearing from his own lips -that I had deserved the strongest proof he could give of his -confidence in me was soon dashed by the pain which mixes itself -with all pleasure--at least, with all that I have ever known. -Never has my past life seemed so dreary to look back on as it -seems now, when I feel how entirely it has unfitted me to take -the place of all others that I should have liked to occupy in my -friend's service. I mustered courage to tell him that I had none -of the business knowledge and business experience which his -steward ought to possess. He generously met the objection by -telling me that I could learn; and he has promised to send to -London for the person who has already been employed for the time -being in the steward's office, and who will, therefore, be -perfectly competent to teach me. - -"Do you, too, think I can learn? If you do, I will work day and -night to instruct myself. But if (as I am afraid) the steward's -duties are of far too serious a kind to be learned off-hand by a -man so young and so inexperienced as I am, then pray hasten your -journey to Thorpe Ambrose, and exert your influence over Allan -personally. Nothing less will induce him to pass me over, and to -employ a steward who is really fit to take the place. Pray, pray -act in this matter as you think best for Allan's interests. -Whatever disappointment I may feel, _he_ shall not see it. - -"Believe me, dear Mr. Brock, - -"Gratefuly yours, - -"OZIAS MIDWINTER. - -"P.S.--I open the envelope again to add one word more. If you -have heard or seen anything since your return to Somersetshire of -the woman in the black dress and the red shawl, I hope you will -not forget, when you write, to let me know it. - -O. M." - -2. _From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt._ - -"Ladies' Toilet Repository, Diana Street, Pimlico, - -Wednesday. - -"MY DEAR LYDIA--To save the post, I write to you, after a long -day's worry at my place of business, on the business -letter-paper, having news since we last met which it seems -advisable to send you at the earliest opportunity. - -"To begin at the beginning. After carefully considering the -thing, I am quite sure you will do wisely with young Armadale if -you hold your tongue about Madeira and all that happened there. -Your position was, no doubt, a very strong one with his mother. -You had privately helped her in playing a trick on her own -father; you had been ungratefully dismissed, at a pitiably tender -age, as soon as you had served her purpose; and, when you came -upon her suddenly, after a separation of more than twenty years, -you found her in failing health, with a grown-up son, whom she -had kept in total ignorance of the true story of her marriage. - -"Have you any such advantages as these with the young gentleman -who has survived her? If he is not a born idiot he will decline -to believe your shocking aspersions on the memory of his mother; -and--seeing that you have no proofs at this distance of time to -meet him with--there is an end of your money-grubbing in the -golden Armadale diggings. Mind, I don't dispute that the old -lady's heavy debt of obligation, after what you did for her in -Madeira, is not paid yet; and that the son is the next person to -settle with you, now the mother has slipped through your fingers. -Only squeeze him the right way, my dear, that's what I venture to -suggest--squeeze him the right way. - -"And which is the right way? That question brings me to my news. - -"Have you thought again of that other notion of yours of trying -your hand on this lucky young gentleman, with nothing but your -own good looks and your own quick wits to help you? The idea hung -on my mind so strangely after you were gone that it ended in my -sending a little note to my lawyer, to have the will under which -young Armadale has got his fortune examined at Doctor's Commons. -The result turns out to be something infinitely more encouraging -than either you or I could possibly have hoped for. After the -lawyer's report to me, there cannot be a moment's doubt of what -you ought to do. In two words, Lydia, take the bull by the -horns--and marry him! - -"I am quite serious. He is much better worth the venture than you -suppose. Only persuade him to make you Mrs. Armadale, and you may -set all after-discoveries at flat defiance. As long as he lives, -you can make your own terms with him; and, if he dies, the will -entitles you, in spite of anything he can say or do--with -children or without them--to an income chargeable on his estate -of _twelve hundred a year for life._ There is no doubt about -this; the lawyer himself has looked at the will. Of course, Mr. -Blanchard had his son and his son's widow in his eye when he made -the provision. But, as it is not limited to any one heir by name, -and not revoked anywhere, it now holds as good with young -Armadale as it would have held under other circumstances with Mr. -Blanchard's son. W hat a chance for you, after all the miseries -and the dangers you have gone through, to be mistress of Thorpe -Ambrose, if he lives; to have an income for life, if he dies! -Hook him, my poor dear; hook him at any sacrifice. - -"I dare say you will make the same objection when you read this -which you made when we were talking about it the other day; I -mean the objection of your age. - -"Now, my good creature, just listen to me. The question is--not -whether you were five-and-thirty last birthday; we will own the -dreadful truth, and say you were--but whether you do look, or -don't look, your real age. My opinion on this matter ought to be, -and is, one of the best opinions in London. I have had twenty -years experience among our charming sex in making up battered old -faces and wornout old figures to look like new, and I say -positively you don't look a day over thirty, if as much. If you -will follow my advice about dressing, and use one or two of my -applications privately, I guarantee to put you back three years -more. I will forfeit all the money I shall have to advance for -you in this matter, if, when I have ground you young again in my -wonderful mill, you look more than seven-and-twenty in any man's -eyes living--except, of course, when you wake anxious in the -small hours of the morning; and then, my dear, you will be old -and ugly in the retirement of your own room, and it won't matter. - -" 'But,' you may say, 'supposing all this, here I am, even with -your art to help me, looking a good six years older than he is; -and that is against me at starting.' Is it? Just think again. -Surely, your own experience must have shown you that the -commonest of all common weaknesses, in young fellows of this -Armadale's age, is to fall in love with women older than -themselves. Who are the men who really appreciate us in the bloom -of our youth (I'm sure I have cause to speak well of the bloom of -youth; I made fifty guineas to-day by putting it on the spotted -shoulders of a woman old enough to be your mother)--who are the -men, I say, who are ready to worship us when we are mere babies -of seventeen? The gay young gentlemen in the bloom of their own -youth? No! The cunning old wretches who are on the wrong side of -forty. - -"And what is the moral of this, as the story-books say? - -"The moral is that the chances, with such a head as you have got -on your shoulders, are all in your favor. If you feel your -present forlorn position, as I believe you do; if you know what a -charming woman (in the men's eyes) you can still be when you -please; and if all your resolution has really come back, after -that shocking outbreak of desperation on board the steamer -(natural enough, I own, under the dreadful provocation laid on -you), you will want no further persuasion from me to try this -experiment. Only to think of how things turn out! If the other -young booby had not jumped into the river after you, _this_ young -booby would never have had the estate. It really looks as if fate -had determined that you were to be Mrs. Armadale, of Thorpe -Ambrose; and who can control his fate, as the poet says? - -"Send me one line to say Yes or No; and believe me your attached -old friend, - -"MARIA OLDERSHAW." - -3. _From Miss Gwilt to Mrs. Oldershaw._ - -Richmond, Thursday. - -'YOU OLD WRETCH--I won't say Yes or No till I have had a long, -long look at my glass first. If you had any real regard for -anybody but your wicked old self, you would know that the bare -idea of marrying again (after what I have gone through) is an -idea that makes my flesh creep. - -"But there can be no harm in your sending me a little more -information while I am making up my mind. You have got twenty -pounds of mine still left out of those things you sold for me; -send ten pounds here for my expenses, in a post-office order, and -use the other ten for making private inquiries at Thorpe Ambrose. -I want to know when the two Blanchard women go away, and when -young Armadale stirs up the dead ashes in the family fire-place. -Are you quite sure he will turn out as easy to manage as you -think? If he takes after his hypocrite of a mother, I can tell -you this--Judas Iscariot has come to life again. - -"I am very comfortable in this lodging. There are lovely flowers -in the garden, and the birds wake me in the morning delightfully. -I have hired a reasonably good piano. The only man I care two -straws about--don't be alarmed; he was laid in his grave many a -long year ago, under the name of BEETHOVEN--keeps me company, in -my lonely hours. The landlady would keep me company, too, if I -would only let her. I hate women. The new curate paid a visit to -the other lodger yesterday, and passed me on the lawn as he came -out. My eyes have lost nothing yet, at any rate, though I _am_ -five-and-thirty; the poor man actually blushed when I looked at -him! What sort of color do you think he would have turned, if one -of the little birds in the garden had whispered in his ear, and -told him the true story of the charming Miss Gwilt? - -"Good-by, Mother Oldershaw. I rather doubt whether I am yours, or -anybody's, affectionately; but we all tell lies at the bottoms of -our letters, don't we? If you are my attached old friend, I must, -of course, be yours affectionately. - -"LYDIA GWILT. - -"P.S.--Keep your odious powders and paints and washes for the -spotted shoulders of your customers; not one of them shall touch -my skin, I promise you. If you really want to be useful, try and -find out some quieting draught to keep me from grinding my teeth -in my sleep. I shall break them one of these nights; and then -what will become of my beauty, I wonder?" - -4. _From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt._ - -"Ladies' Toilet Repository, Tuesday. - -"MY DEAR LYDIA--It is a thousand pities your letter was not -addressed to Mr. Armadale; your graceful audacity would have -charmed him. It doesn't affect me; I am so well used to audacity -in my way of life, you know. Why waste your sparkling wit, my -love, on your own impenetrable Oldershaw? It only splutters and -goes out. Will you try and be serious this next time? I have news -for you from Thorpe Ambrose, which is beyond a joke, and which -must not be trifled with. - -"An hour after I got your letter I set the inquiries on foot. Not -knowing what consequences they might lead to, I thought it safest -to begin in the dark. Instead of employing any of the people whom -I have at my own disposal (who know you and know me), I went to -the Private Inquiry Office in Shadyside Place, and put the matter -in the inspector's hands, in the character of a perfect stranger, -and without mentioning you at all. This was not the cheapest way -of going to work, I own; but it was the safest way, which is of -much greater consequence. - -"The inspector and I understood each other in ten minutes; and -the right person for the purpose--the most harmless looking young -man you ever saw in your life--was produced immediately. He left -for Thorpe Ambrose an hour after I saw him. I arranged to call at -the office on the afternoons of Saturday, Monday, and to-day for -news. There was no news till to-day; and there I found our -confidential agent just returned to town, and waiting to favor me -with a full account of his trip to Norfolk. - -"First of all, let me quiet your mind about those two questions -of yours; I have got answers to both the one and the other. The -Blanchard women go away to foreign parts on the thirteenth, and -young Armadale is at this moment cruising somewhere at sea in his -yacht. There is talk at Thorpe Ambrose of giving him a public -reception, and of calling a meeting of the local grandees to -settle it all. The speechifying and fuss on these occasions -generally wastes plenty of time, and the public reception is not -thought likely to meet the new squire much before the end of the -month. - -"If our messenger had done no more for us than this, I think he -would have earned his money. But the harmless young man is a -regular Jesuit at a private inquiry, with this great advantage -over all the Popish priests I have ever seen, that he has not got -his slyness written in his face. - -"Having to get his information through the female servants in the -usual way, he addressed himself, with admirable discretion, to -the ugliest woma n in the house. 'When they are nice-looking, and -can pick and choose,' as he neatly expressed it to me, 'they -waste a great deal of valuable time in deciding on a sweetheart. -When they are ugly, and haven't got the ghost of a chance of -choosing, they snap at a sweetheart, if he comes their way, like -a starved dog at a bone.' Acting on these excellent principles, -our confidential agent succeeded, after certain unavoidable -delays, in addressing himself to the upper housemaid at Thorpe -Ambrose, and took full possession of her confidence at the first -interview. Bearing his instructions carefully in mind, he -encouraged the woman to chatter, and was favored, of course, with -all the gossip of the servants' hall. The greater part of it (as -repeated to me) was of no earthly importance. But I listened -patiently, and was rewarded by a valuable discovery at last. Here -it is. - -"It seems there is an ornamental cottage in the grounds at Thorpe -Ambrose. For some reason unknown, young Armadale has chosen to -let it, and a tenant has come in already. He is a poor half-pay -major in the army, named Milroy, a meek sort of man, by all -accounts, with a turn for occupying himself in mechanical -pursuits, and with a domestic incumbrance in the shape of a -bedridden wife, who has not been seen by anybody. Well, and what -of all this? you will ask, with that sparkling impatience which -becomes you so well. My dear Lydia, don't sparkle! The man's -family affairs seriously concern us both, for, as ill luck will -have it, the man has got a daughter! - -"You may imagine how I questioned our agent, and how our agent -ransacked his memory, when I stumbled, in due course, on such a -discovery as this. If Heaven is responsible for women's -chattering tongues, Heaven be praised! From Miss Blanchard to -Miss Blanchard's maid; from Miss Blanchard's maid to Miss -Blanchard's aunt's maid; from Miss Blanchard's aunt's maid, to -the ugly housemaid; from the ugly housemaid to the -harmless-looking young man--so the stream of gossip trickled into -the right reservoir at last, and thirsty Mother Oldershaw has -drunk it all up. - -"In plain English, my dear, this is how it stands. The major's -daughter is a minx just turned sixteen; lively and nice-looking -(hateful little wretch!), dowdy in her dress (thank Heaven!) and -deficient in her manners (thank Heaven again!). She has been -brought up at home. The governess who last had charge of her left -before her father moved to Thorpe Ambrose. Her education stands -woefully in want of a finishing touch, and the major doesn't -quite know what to do next. None of his friends can recommend him -a new governess and he doesn't like the notion of sending the -girl to school. So matters rest at present, on the major's own -showing; for so the major expressed himself at a morning call -which the father and daughter paid to the ladies at the great -house. - -"You have now got my promised news, and you will have little -difficulty, I think, in agreeing with me that the Armadale -business must be settled at once, one way or the other. If, with -your hopeless prospects, and with what I may call your family -claim on this young fellow, you decide on giving him up, I shall -have the pleasure of sending you the balance of your account with -me (seven-and-twenty shillings), and shall then be free to devote -myself entirely to my own proper business. If, on the contrary, -you decide to try your luck at Thorpe Ambrose, then (there being -no kind of doubt that the major's minx will set her cap at the -young squire) I should be glad to hear how you mean to meet the -double difficulty of inflaming Mr. Armadale and extinguishing -Miss Milroy. - -"Affectionately yours, - -"MARIA OLDERSHAW. - -5. _From Miss Gwilt to Mrs. Oldershaw. - -(First Answer.)_ - -"Richmond, Wednesday Morning. - -"MRS. OLDERSHAW--Send me my seven-and-twenty shillings, and -devote yourself to your own proper business. Yours, L. G." - -6. _From Miss Gwilt to Mrs. Oldershaw. - -(Second Answer.)_ - -"Richmond, Wednesday Night. - -"DEAR OLD LOVE--Keep the seven-and-twenty shillings, and burn my -other letter. I have changed my mind. - -"I wrote the first time after a horrible night. I write this time -after a ride on horseback, a tumbler of claret, and the breast of -a chicken. Is that explanation enough? Please say Yes, for I want -to go back to my piano. - -"No; I can't go back yet; I must answer your question first. But -are you really so very simple as to suppose that I don't see -straight through you and your letter? You know that the major's -difficulty is our opportunity as well as I do; but you want me to -take the responsibility of making the first proposal, don't you? -Suppose I take it in your own roundabout way? Suppose I say, -'Pray don't ask me how I propose inflaming Mr. Armadale and -extinguishing Miss Milroy; the question is so shockingly abrupt I -really can't answer it. Ask me, instead, if it is the modest -ambition of my life to become Miss Milroy's governess?' Yes, if -you please, Mrs. Oldershaw, and if you will assist me by becoming -my reference. - -"There it is for you! If some serious disaster happens (which is -quite possible), what a comfort it will be to remember that it -was all my fault! - -"Now I have done this for you, will you do something for me. I -want to dream away the little time I am likely to have left here -in my own way. Be a merciful Mother Oldershaw, and spare me the -worry of looking at the Ins and Outs, and adding up the chances -For and Against, in this new venture of mine. Think for me, in -short, until I am obliged to think for myself. - -"I had better not write any more, or I shall say something savage -that you won't like. I am in one of my tempers to-night. I want a -husband to vex, or a child to beat, or something of that sort. Do -you ever like to see the summer insects kill themselves in the -candle? I do, sometimes. Good-night, Mrs. Jezebel The longer you -can leave me here the better. The air agrees with me, and I am -looking charmingly. - -"L. G." - -7. _From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt._ - -"Thursday. - -"MY DEAR LYDIA--Some persons in my situation might be a little -offended at the tone of your last letter. But I am so fondly -attached to you! And when I love a person, it is so very hard, my -dear, for that person to offend me! Don't ride quite so far, and -only drink half a tumblerful of claret next time. I say no more. - -"Shall we leave off our fencing-match and come to serious matters -now? How curiously hard it always seems to be for women to -understand each other, especially when they have got their pens -in their hands! But suppose we try. - -"Well, then, to begin with: I gather from your letter that you -have wisely decided to try the Thorpe Ambrose experiment, and to -secure, if you can, an excellent position at starting by becoming -a member of Major Milroy's household. If the circumstances turn -against you, and some other woman gets the governess's place -(about which I shall have something more to say presently), you -will then have no choice but to make Mr. Armadale's acquaintance -in some other character. In any case, you will want my -assistance; and the first question, therefore, to set at rest -between us is the question of what I am willing to do, and what I -can do, to help you. - -"A woman, my dear Lydia, with your appearance, your manners, your -abilities, and your education, can make almost any excursions -into society that she pleases if she only has money in her pocket -and a respectable reference to appeal to in cases of emergency. -As to the money, in the first place. I will engage to find it, on -condition of your remembering my assistance with adequate -pecuniary gratitude if you win the Armadale prize. Your promise -so to remember me, embodying the terms in plain figures, shall be -drawn out on paper by my own lawyer, so that we can sign and -settle at once when I see you in London. - -"Next, as to the reference. - -"Here, again, my services are at your disposal, on another -condition. It is this: that you present yourself at Thorpe -Ambrose, under the name to which you have returned ever since -that dreadful business of your marriage; I mean your own maiden -name of Gwilt. I have only one motive in insisting on this; I -wish to run no needless risks . My experience, as confidential -adviser of my customers, in various romantic cases of private -embarrassment, has shown me that an assumed name is, nine times -out of ten, a very unnecessary and a very dangerous form of -deception. Nothing could justify your assuming a name but the -fear of young Armadale's detecting you--a fear from which we are -fortunately relieved by his mother's own conduct in keeping your -early connection with her a profound secret from her son and from -everybody. - -"The next, and last, perplexity to settle relates, my dear, to -the chances for and against your finding your way, in the -capacity of governess, into Major Milroy's house. Once inside the -door, with your knowledge of music and languages, if you can keep -your temper, you may be sure of keeping the place. The only -doubt, as things are now, is whether you can get it. - -"In the major's present difficulty about his daughter's -education, the chances are, I think, in favor of his advertising -for a governess. Say he does advertise, what address will he give -for applicants to write to? - -"If he gives an address in London, good-by to all chances in your -favor at once; for this plain reason, that we shall not be able -to pick out his advertisement from the advertisements of other -people who want governesses, and who will give them addresses in -London as well. If, on the other hand, our luck helps us, and he -refers his correspondents to a shop, post-office, or what not _at -Thorpe Ambrose,_ there we have our advertiser as plainly picked -out for us as we can wish. In this last case, I have little or no -doubt--with me for your reference--of your finding your way into -the major's family circle. We have one great advantage over the -other women who will answer the advertisement. Thanks to my -inquiries on the spot, I know Major Milroy to be a poor man; and -we will fix the salary you ask at a figure that is sure to tempt -him. As for the style of the letter, if you and I together can't -write a modest and interesting application for the vacant place, -I should like to know who can? - -"All this, however, is still in the future. For the present my -advice is, stay where you are, and dream to your heart's content, -till you hear from me again. I take in _The Times_ regularly, and -you may trust my wary eye not to miss the right advertisement. We -can luckily give the major time, without doing any injury to our -own interests; for there is no fear just yet of the girl's -getting the start of you. The public reception, as we know, won't -be ready till near the end of the month; and we may safely trust -young Armadale's vanity to keep him out of his new house until -his flatterers are all assembled to welcome him. - -"It's odd, isn't it, to think how much depends on this half-pay -officer's decision? For my part, I shall wake every morning now -with the same question in my mind: If the major's advertisment -appears, which will the major say--Thorpe Ambrose, or London? - -"Ever, my dear Lydia, affectionately yours, - -"MARIA OLDERSHAW." - - -CHAPTER II. - -ALLAN AS A LANDED GENTLEMAN. - -EARLY on the morning after his first night's rest at Thorpe -Ambrose, Allan rose and surveyed the prospect from his bedroom -window, lost in the dense mental bewilderment of feeling himself -to be a stranger in his own house. - -The bedroom looked out over the great front door, with its -portico, its terrace and flight of steps beyond, and, further -still, the broad sweep of the well-timbered park to close the -view. The morning mist nestled lightly about the distant trees; -and the cows were feeding sociably, close to the iron fence which -railed off the park from the drive in front of the house. "All -mine!" thought Allan, staring in blank amazement at the prospect -of his own possessions. "Hang me if I can beat it into my head -yet. All mine!" - -He dressed, left his room, and walked along the corridor which -led to the staircase and hall, opening the doors in succession as -he passed them. - -The rooms in this part of the house were bedrooms and -dressing-rooms, light, spacious, perfectly furnished; and all -empty, except the one bed-chamber next to Allan's, which had been -appropriated to Midwinter. He was still sleeping when his friend -looked in on him, having sat late into the night writing his -letter to Mr. Brock. Allan went on to the end of the first -corridor, turned at right angles into a second, and, that passed, -gained the head of the great staircase. "No romance here," he -said to himself, looking down the handsomely carpeted stone -stairs into the bright modern hall. "Nothing to startle -Midwinter's fidgety nerves in this house." There was nothing, -indeed; Allan's essentially superficial observation had not -misled him for once. The mansion of Thorpe Ambrose (built after -the pulling down of the dilapidated old manor-house) was barely -fifty years old. Nothing picturesque, nothing in the slightest -degree suggestive of mystery and romance, appeared in any part of -it. It was a purely conventional country house--the product of -the classical idea filtered judiciously through the commercial -English mind. Viewed on the outer side, it presented the -spectacle of a modern manufactory trying to look like an ancient -temple. Viewed on the inner side, it was a marvel of luxurious -comfort in every part of it, from basement to roof. "And quite -right, too," thought Allan, sauntering contentedly down the -broad, gently graduated stairs. "Deuce take all mystery and -romance! Let's be clean and comfortable, that's what I say." - -Arrived in the hall, the new master of Thorpe Ambrose hesitated, -and looked about him, uncertain which way to turn next. - -The four reception-rooms on the ground-floor opened into the -hall, two on either side. Allan tried the nearest door on his -right hand at a venture, and found himself in the drawing-room. -Here the first sign of life appeared, under life's most -attractive form. A young girl was in solitary possession of the -drawing-room. The duster in her hand appeared to associate her -with the domestic duties of the house; but at that particular -moment she was occupied in asserting the rights of nature over -the obligations of service. In other words, she was attentively -contemplating her own face in the glass over the mantelpiece. - -"There! there! don't let me frighten you," said Allan, as the -girl started away from the glass, and stared at him in -unutterable confusion. "I quite agree with you, my dear; your -face is well worth looking at. Who are you? Oh, the housemaid. -And what's your name? Susan, eh? Come! I like your name, to begin -with. Do you know who I am, Susan? I'm your master, though you -may not think it. Your character? Oh, yes! Mrs. Blanchard gave -you a capital character. You shall stop here; don't be afraid. -And you'll be a good girl, Susan, and wear smart little caps and -aprons and bright ribbons, and you'll look nice and pretty, and -dust the furniture, won't you?" With this summary of a -housemaid's duties, Allan sauntered back into the hall, and found -more signs of life in that quarter. A man-servant appeared on -this occasion, and bowed, as became a vassal in a linen jacket, -before his liege lord in a wide-awake hat. - -"And who may you be?" asked Allan. "Not the man who let us in -last night? Ah, I thought not. The second footman, eh? Character? -Oh, yes; capital character. Stop here, of course. You can valet -me, can you? Bother valeting me! I like to put on my own clothes, -and brush them, too, when they _are_ on; and, if I only knew how -to black my own boots, by George, I should like to do it! What -room's this? Morning-room, eh? And here's the dining-room, of -course. Good heavens, what a table! it's as long as my yacht, and -longer. I say, by-the-by, what's your name? Richard, is it? Well, -Richard, the vessel I sail in is a vessel of my own building? -What do you think of that? You look to me just the right sort of -man to be my steward on board. If you're not sick at sea--oh, you -_are_ sick at sea? Well, then, we'll say nothing more about it. -And what room is this? Ah, yes; the library, of course--more in -Mr. Midwinter's way than mine. Mr. Midwinter is the gentleman who -came here with me last night; and mind this, Richard, you're al l -to show him as much attention as you show me. Where are we now? -What's this door at the back? Billiard-room and smoking-room, eh? -Jolly. Another door! and more stairs! Where do they go to? and -who's this coming up? Take your time, ma'am; you're not quite so -young as you were once--take your time." - -The object of Allan's humane caution was a corpulent elderly -woman of the type called "motherly." Fourteen stairs were all -that separated her from the master of the house; she ascended -them with fourteen stoppages and fourteen sighs. Nature, various -in all things, is infinitely various in the female sex. There are -some women whose personal qualities reveal the Loves and the -Graces; and there are other women whose personal qualities -suggest the Perquisites and the Grease Pot. This was one of the -other women. - -"Glad to see you looking so well, ma'am," said Allan, when the -cook, in the majesty of her office, stood proclaimed before him. -"Your name is Gripper, is it? I consider you, Mrs. Gripper, the -most valuable person in the house. For this reason, that nobody -in the house eats a heartier dinner every day than I do. -Directions? Oh, no; I've no directions to give. I leave all that -to you. Lots of strong soup, and joints done with the gravy in -them--there's my notion of good feeding, in two words. Steady! -Here's somebody else. Oh, to be sure--the butler! Another -valuable person. We'll go right through all the wine in the -cellar, Mr. Butler; and if I can't give you a sound opinion after -that, we'll persevere boldly, and go right through it again. -Talking of wine--halloo! here are more of them coming up stairs. -There! there! don't trouble yourselves. You've all got capital -characters, and you shall all stop here along with me. What was I -saying just now? Something about wine; so it was. I'll tell you -what, Mr. Butler, it isn't every day that a new master comes to -Thorpe Ambrose; and it's my wish that we should all start -together on the best possible terms. Let the servants have a -grand jollification downstairs to celebrate my arrival, and give -them what they like to drink my health in. It's a poor heart, -Mrs. Gripper, that never rejoices, isn't it? No; I won't look at -the cellar now: I want to go out, and get a breath of fresh air -before breakfast. Where's Richard? I say, have I got a garden -here? Which side of the house is it! That side, eh? You needn't -show me round. I'll go alone, Richard, and lose myself, if I can, -in my own property." - -With those words Allan descended the terrace steps in front of -the house, whistling cheerfully. He had met the serious -responsibility of settling his domestic establishment to his own -entire satisfaction. "People talk of the difficulty of managing -their servants," thought Allan. "What on earth do they mean? I -don't see any difficulty at all." He opened an ornamental gate -leading out of the drive at the side of the house, and, following -the footman's directions, entered the shrubbery that sheltered -the Thorpe Ambrose gardens. "Nice shady sort of place for a -cigar," said Allan, as he sauntered along with his hands in his -pockets "I wish I could beat it into my head that it really -belongs to _me._" - -The shrubbery opened on the broad expanse of a flower garden, -flooded bright in its summer glory by the light of the morning -sun. - -On one side, an archway, broken through, a wall, led into the -fruit garden. On the other, a terrace of turf led to ground on a -lower level, laid out as an Italian garden. Wandering past the -fountains and statues, Allan reached another shrubbery, winding -its way apparently to some remote part of the grounds. Thus far, -not a human creature had been visible or audible anywhere; but, -as he approached the end of the second shrubbery, it struck him -that he heard something on the other side of the foliage. He -stopped and listened. There were two voices speaking -distinctly--an old voice that sounded very obstinate, and a young -voice that sounded very angry. - -"It's no use, miss," said the old voice. "I mustn't allow it, and -I won't allow it. What would Mr. Armadale say?" - -"If Mr. Armadale is the gentleman I take him for, you old brute!" -replied the young voice, "he would say, 'Come into my garden, -Miss Milroy, as often as you like, and take as many nosegays as -you please.' " Allan's bright blue eyes twinkled mischievously. -Inspired by a sudden idea, he stole softly to the end of the -shrubbery, darted round the corner of it, and, vaulting over a -low ring fence, found himself in a trim little paddock, crossed -by a gravel walk. At a short distance down the wall stood a young -lady, with her back toward him, trying to force her way past an -impenetrable old man, with a rake in his hand, who stood -obstinately in front of her, shaking his head. - -"Come into my garden, Miss Milroy, as often as you like, and take -as many nosegays as you please," cried Allan, remorselessly -repeating her own words. - -The young lady turned round, with a scream; her muslin dress, -which she was holding up in front, dropped from her hand, and a -prodigious lapful of flowers rolled out on the gravel walk. - -Before another word could be said, the impenetrable old man -stepped forward, with the utmost composure, and entered on the -question of his own personal interests, as if nothing whatever -had happened, and nobody was present but his new master and -himself. - -"I bid you humbly welcome to Thorpe Ambrose, sir," said this -ancient of the gardens. "My name is Abraham Sage. I've been -employed in the grounds for more than forty years; and I hope -you'll be pleased to continue me in my place." - -So, with vision inexorably limited to the horizon of his own -prospects, spoke the gardener, and spoke in vain. Allan was down -on his knees on the gravel walk, collecting the fallen flowers, -and forming his first impressions of Miss Milroy from the feet -upward. - -She was pretty; she was not pretty; she charmed, she -disappointed, she charmed again. Tried by recognized line and -rule, she was too short and too well developed for her age. And -yet few men's eyes would have wished her figure other than it -was. Her hands were so prettily plump and dimpled that it was -hard to see how red they were with the blessed exuberance of -youth and health. Her feet apologized gracefully for her old and -ill fitting shoes; and her shoulders made ample amends for the -misdemeanor in muslin which covered them in the shape of a dress. -Her dark-gray eyes were lovely in their clear softness of color, -in their spirit, tenderness, and sweet good humor of expression; -and her hair (where a shabby old garden hat allowed it to be -seen) was of just that lighter shade of brown which gave value by -contrast to the darker beauty of her eyes. But these attractions -passed, the little attendant blemishes and imperfections of this -self-contradictory girl began again. Her nose was too short, her -mouth was too large, her face was too round and too rosy. The -dreadful justice of photography would have had no mercy on her; -and the sculptors of classical Greece would have bowed her -regretfully out of their studios. Admitting all this, and more, -the girdle round Miss Milroy's waist was the girdle of Venus -nevertheless; and the passkey that opens the general heart was -the key she carried, if ever a girl possessed it yet. Before -Allan had picked up his second handful of flowers, Allan was in -love with her. - -"Don't! pray don't, Mr. Armadale!" she said, receiving the -flowers under protest, as Allan vigorously showered them back -into the lap of her dress. "I am so ashamed! I didn't mean to -invite myself in that bold way into your garden; my tongue ran -away with me--it did, indeed! What can I say to excuse myself? -Oh, Mr. Armadale, what must you think of me?" - -Allan suddenly saw his way to a compliment, and tossed it up to -her forthwith, with the third handful of flowers. - -"I'll tell you what I think, Miss Milroy," he said, in his blunt, -boyish way. "I think the luckiest walk I ever took in my life was -the walk this morning that brought me here." - -He looked eager and handsome. He was not addressing a woman worn -out with admiration, but a girl just beginning a woman's life; -and it did him no harm, at any rate, to speak in the character of -master of Thorpe Ambrose. The penitential expression on Miss -Milroy's face gently melted away; she looked down, demure and -smiling, at the flowers in her lap. - -"I deserve a good scolding," she said. "I don't deserve -compliments, Mr. Armadale--least of all from _you._" - -"Oh, yes, you do!" cried the headlong Allan, getting briskly on -his legs. "Besides, it isn't a compliment; it's true. You are the -prettiest--I beg your pardon, Miss Milroy! _my_ tongue ran away -with me that time." - -Among the heavy burdens that are laid on female human nature, -perhaps the heaviest, at the age of sixteen, is the burden of -gravity. Miss Milroy struggled, tittered, struggled again, and -composed herself for the time being. - -The gardener, who still stood where he had stood from the first, -immovably waiting for his next opportunity, saw it now, and -gently pushed his personal interests into the first gap of -silence that had opened within his reach since Allan's appearance -on the scene. - -"I humbly bid you welcome to Thorpe Ambrose, sir," said Abraham -Sage, beginning obstinately with his little introductory speech -for the second time. "My name--" - -Before he could deliver himself of his name, Miss Milroy looked -accidentally in the horticulturist's pertinacious face, and -instantly lost her hold on her gravity beyond recall. Allan, -never backward in following a boisterous example of any sort, -joined in her laughter with right goodwill. The wise man of the -gardens showed no surprise, and took no offense. He waited for -another gap of silence, and walked in again gently with his -personal interests the moment the two young people stopped to -take breath. - -"I have been employed in the grounds," proceeded Abraham Sage, -irrepressibly, "for more than forty years--" - -"You shall be employed in the grounds for forty more, if you'll -only hold your tongue and take yourself off!" cried Allan, as -soon as he could speak. - -"Thank you kindly, sir," said the gardener, with the utmost -politeness, but with no present signs either of holding his -tongue or of taking himself off. - -"Well?" said Allan. - -Abraham Sage carefully cleared his throat, and shifted his rake -from one hand to the other. He looked down the length of his own -invaluable implement, with a grave interest and attention, -seeing, apparently, not the long handle of a rake, but the long -perspective of a vista, with a supplementary personal interest -established at the end of it. "When more convenient, sir," -resumed this immovable man, "I should wish respectfully to speak -to you about my son. Perhaps it may be more convenient in the -course of the day? My humble duty, sir, and my best thanks. My -son is strictly sober. He is accustomed to the stables, and he -belongs to the Church of England--without incumbrances." Having -thus planted his offspring provisionally in his master's -estimation, Abraham Sage shouldered his invaluable rake, and -hobbled slowly out of view. - -"If that's a specimen of a trustworthy old servant," said Allan, -"I think I'd rather take my chance of being cheated by a new one. -_You_ shall not be troubled with him again, Miss Milroy, at any -rate. All the flower-beds in the garden are at your disposal, and -all the fruit in the fruit season, if you'll only come here and -eat it." - -"Oh, Mr. Armadale, how very, very kind you are. How can I thank -you?" - -Allan saw his way to another compliment--an elaborate compliment, -in the shape of a trap, this time. - -"You can do me the greatest possible favor," he said. "You can -assist me in forming an agreeable impression of my own grounds." - -"Dear me! how?" asked Miss Milroy, innocently. - -Allan judiciously closed the trap on the spot in these words: "By -taking me with you, Miss Milroy, on your morning walk." He spoke, -smiled, and offered his arm. - -She saw the way, on her side, to a little flirtation. She rested -her hand on his arm, blushed, hesitated, and suddenly took it -away again. - -"I don't think it's quite right, Mr. Armadale," she said, -devoting herself with the deepest attention to her collection of -flowers. "Oughtn't we to have some old lady here? Isn't it -improper to take your arm until I know you a little better than I -do now? I am obliged to ask; I have had so little instruction; I -have seen so little of society, and one of papa's friends once -said my manners were too bold for my age. What do _you_ think?" - -"I think it's a very good thing your papa's friend is not here -now," answered the outspoken Allan; "I should quarrel with him to -a dead certainty. As for society, Miss Milroy, nobody knows less -about it than I do; but if we _had_ an old lady here, I must say -myself I think she would be uncommonly in the way. Won't you?" -concluded Allan, imploringly offering his arm for the second -time. "Do!" - -Miss Milroy looked up at him sidelong from her flowers "You are -as bad as the gardener, Mr. Armadale!" She looked down again in a -flutter of indecision. "I'm sure it's wrong," she said, and took -his arm the instant afterward without the slightest hesitation. - -They moved away together over the daisied turf of the paddock, -young and bright and happy, with the sunlight of the summer -morning shining cloudless over their flowery path. - -"And where are we going to, now?" asked Allan. "Into another -garden?" - -She laughed gayly. "How very odd of you, Mr. Armadale, not to -know, when it all belongs to you! Are you really seeing Thorpe -Ambrose this morning for the first time? How indescribably -strange it must feel! No, no; don't say any more complimentary -things to me just yet. You may turn my head if you do. We haven't -got the old lady with us; and I really must take care of myself. -Let me be useful; let me tell you all about your own grounds. We -are going out at that little gate, across one of the drives in -the park, and then over the rustic bridge, and then round the -corner of the plantation--where do you think? To where I live, -Mr. Armadale; to the lovely little cottage that you have let to -papa. Oh, if you only knew how lucky we thought ourselves to get -it!' - -She paused, looked up at her companion, and stopped another -compliment on the incorrigible Allan's lips. - -"I'll drop your arm," she said coquettishly, "if you do! We -_were_ lucky to get the cottage, Mr. Armadale. Papa said he felt -under an obligation to you for letting it, the day we got in. And -_I_ said I felt under an obligation, no longer ago than last -week." - -"You, Miss Milroy!" exclaimed Allan. - -"Yes. It may surprise you to hear it; but if you hadn't let the -cottage to papa, I believe I should have suffered the indignity -and misery of being sent to school." - -Allan's memory reverted to the half-crown that he had spun on the -cabin-table of the yacht, at Castletown. "If she only knew that I -had tossed up for it!" he thought, guiltily. - -"I dare say you don't understand why I should feel such a horror -of going to school," pursued Miss Milroy, misinterpreting the -momentary silence on her companion's side. "If I had gone to -school in early life--I mean at the age when other girls go--I -shouldn't have minded it now. But I had no such chance at the -time. It was the time of mamma's illness and of papa's -unfortunate speculation; and as papa had nobody to comfort him -but me, of course I stayed at home. You needn't laugh; I was of -some use, I can tell you. I helped papa over his trouble, by -sitting on his knee after dinner, and asking him to tell me -stories of all the remarkable people he had known when he was -about in the great world, at home and abroad. Without me to amuse -him in the evening, and his clock to occupy him in the daytime--" - -"His clock?" repeated Allan. - -"Oh, yes! I ought to have told you. Papa is an extraordinary -mechanical genius. You will say so, too, when you see his clock. -It's nothing like so large, of course, but it's on the model of -the famous clock at Strasbourg. Only think, he began it when I -was eight years old; and (though I was sixteen last birthday) it -isn't finished yet! Some of our friends were quite surprised he -should take to such a thing when his troubles began. But papa -himself set that right in no time; he reminded them that Louis -the Sixteenth took to lock-making when _his_ troubl es began, and -then everybody was perfectly satisfied." She stopped, and changed -color confusedly. "Oh, Mr. Armadale," she said, in genuine -embarrassment this time, "here is my unlucky tongue running away -with me again! I am talking to you already as if I had known you -for years! This is what papa's friend meant when he said my -manners were too bold. It's quite true; I have a dreadful way of -getting familiar with people, if--" She checked herself suddenly, -on the brink of ending the sentence by saying, "if I like them." - -"No, no; do go on!" pleaded Allan. "It's a fault of mine to be -familiar, too. Besides, we _must_ be familiar; we are such near -neighbors. I'm rather an uncultivated sort of fellow, and I don't -know quite how to say it; but I want your cottage to be jolly and -friendly with my house, and my house to be jolly and friendly -with your cottage. There's my meaning, all in the wrong words. Do -go on, Miss Milroy; pray go on!" - -She smiled and hesitated. "I don't exactly remember where I was," -she replied, "I only remember I had something I wanted to tell -you. This comes, Mr. Armadale, of my taking your arm. I should -get on so much better, if you would only consent to walk -separately. You won't? Well, then, will you tell me what it was I -wanted to say? Where was I before I went wandering off to papa's -troubles and papa's clock?" - -"At school!" replied Allan, with a prodigious effort of memory. - -"_Not_ at school, you mean," said Miss Milroy; "and all through -_you._ Now I can go on again, which is a great comfort. I am -quite serious, Mr. Armadale, in saying that I should have been -sent to school, if you had said No when papa proposed for the -cottage. This is how it happened. When we began moving in, Mrs. -Blanchard sent us a most kind message from the great house to say -that her servants were at our disposal, if we wanted any -assistance. The least papa and I could do, after that, was to -call and thank her. We saw Mrs. Blanchard and Miss Blanchard. -Mistress was charming, and miss looked perfectly lovely in her -mourning. I'm sure you admire her? She's tall and pale and -graceful--quite your idea of beauty, I should think?" - -"Nothing like it," began Allan. "My idea of beauty at the present -moment--" - -Miss Milroy felt it coming, and instantly took her hand off his -arm. - -"I mean I have never seen either Mrs. Blanchard or her niece," -added Allan, precipitately correcting himself. - -Miss Milroy tempered justice with mercy, and put her hand back -again. - -"How extraordinary that you should never have seen them!" she -went on. "Why, you are a perfect stranger to everything and -everybody at Thorpe Ambrose! Well, after Miss Blanchard and I had -sat and talked a little while, I heard my name on Mrs. -Blanchard's lips and instantly held my breath. She was asking -papa if I had finished my education. Out came papa's great -grievance directly. My old governess, you must know, left us to -be married just before we came here, and none of our friends -could produce a new one whose terms were reasonable. 'I'm told, -Mrs. Blanchard, by people who understand it better than I do,' -says papa, 'that advertising is a risk. It all falls on me, in -Mrs. Milroy's state of health, and I suppose I must end in -sending my little girl to school. Do you happen to know of a -school within the means of a poor man?' Mrs. Blanchard shook her -head; I could have kissed her on the spot for doing it. 'All my -experience, Major Milroy,' says this perfect angel of a woman, -'is in favor of advertising. My niece's governess was originally -obtained by an advertisement, and you may imagine her value to us -when I tell you she lived in our family for more than ten years.' -I could have gone down on both my knees and worshipped Mrs. -Blanchard then and there; and I only wonder I didn't! Papa was -struck at the time--I could see that--and he referred to it again -on the way home. 'Though I have been long out of the world, my -dear,' says papa, 'I know a highly-bred woman and a sensible -woman when I see her. Mrs. Blanchard's experience puts -advertising in a new light; I must think about it.' He has -thought about it, and (though he hasn't openly confessed it to -me) I know that he decided to advertise, no later than last -night. So, if papa thanks you for letting the cottage, Mr. -Armadale, I thank you, too. But for you, we should never have -known darling Mrs. Blanchard; and but for darling Mrs. Blanchard, -I should have been sent to school." - -Before Allan could reply, they turned the corner of the -plantation, and came in sight of the cottage. Description of it -is needless; the civilized universe knows it already. It was the -typical cottage of the drawing-master's early lessons in neat -shading and the broad pencil touch--with the trim thatch, the -luxuriant creepers, the modest lattice-windows, the rustic porch, -and the wicker bird-cage, all complete. - -"Isn't it lovely?" said Miss Milroy. "Do come in!" - -"May I?" asked Allan. "Won't the major think it too early?" - -"Early or late, I am sure papa will be only too glad to see you." - -She led the way briskly up the garden path, and opened the parlor -door. As Allan followed her into the little room, he saw, at the -further end of it, a gentleman sitting alone at an old-fashioned -writing-table, with his back turned to his visitor. - -"Papa! a surprise for you!" said Miss Milroy, rousing him from -his occupation. "Mr. Armadale has come to Thorpe Ambrose; and I -have brought him here to see you." - -The major started; rose, bewildered for the moment; recovered -himself immediately, and advanced to welcome his young landlord, -with hospitable, outstretched hand. - -A man with a larger experience of the world and a finer -observation of humanity than Allan possessed would have seen the -story of Major Milroy's life written in Major Milroy's face. The -home troubles that had struck him were plainly betrayed in his -stooping figure and his wan, deeply wrinkled cheeks, when he -first showed himself on rising from his chair. The changeless -influence of one monotonous pursuit and one monotonous habit of -thought was next expressed in the dull, dreamy self-absorption of -his manner and his look while his daughter was speaking to him. -The moment after, when he had roused himself to welcome his -guest, was the moment which made the self-revelation complete. -Then there flickered in the major's weary eyes a faint reflection -of the spirit of his happier youth. Then there passed over the -major's dull and dreamy manner a change which told unmistakably -of social graces and accomplishments, learned at some past time -in no ignoble social school; a man who had long since taken his -patient refuge from trouble in his own mechanical pursuit; a man -only roused at intervals to know himself again for what he once -had been. So revealed to all eyes that could read him aright, -Major Milroy now stood before Allan, on the first morning of an -acquaintance which was destined to be an event in Allan's life. - -"I am heartily glad to see you, Mr. Armadale," he said, speaking -in the changeless quiet, subdued tone peculiar to most men whose -occupations are of the solitary and monotonous kind. "You have -done me one favor already by taking me as your tenant, and you -now do me another by paying this friendly visit. If you have not -breakfasted already, let me waive all ceremony on my side, and -ask you to take your place at our little table." - -"With the greatest pleasure, Major Milroy, if I am not in the -way," replied Allan, delighted at his reception. "I was sorry to -hear from Miss Milroy that Mrs. Milroy is an invalid. Perhaps my -being here unexpectedly; perhaps the sight of a strange face--" - -"I understand your hesitation, Mr. Armadale," said the major; -"but it is quite unnecessary. Mrs. Milroy's illness keeps her -entirely confined to her own room.--Have we got everything we -want on the table, my love?" he went on, changing the subject so -abruptly that a closer observer than Allan might have suspected -it was distasteful to him. "Will you come and make tea?" - -Miss Milroy's attention appeared to be already pre-engaged; she -made no reply. While her father and Allan had been exchanging -civilities, she had been putting the writing-table - in order, and examining the various objects scattered on it with -the unrestrained curiosity of a spoiled child. The moment after -the major had spoken to her, she discovered a morsel of paper -hidden between the leaves of the blotting-book, snatched it up, -looked at it, and turned round instantly, with an exclamation of -surprise. - -"Do my eyes deceive me, papa?" she asked. "Or were you really and -truly writing the advertisement when I came in?" - -"I had just finished it," replied her father. "But, my dear, Mr. -Armadale is here--we are waiting for breakfast." - -"Mr. Armadale knows all about it," rejoined Miss Milroy. "I told -him in the garden." - -"Oh, yes!" said Allan. "Pray, don't make a stranger of me, major! -If it's about the governess, I've got something (in an indirect -sort of way) to do with it too." - -Major Milroy smiled. Before he could answer, his daughter, who -had been reading the advertisement, appealed to him eagerly, for -the second time. - -"Oh, papa," she said, "there's one thing here I don't like at -all! Why do you put grandmamma's initials at the end? Why do you -tell them to write to grandmamma's house in London?" - -"My dear! your mother can do nothing in this matter, as you know. -And as for me (even if I went to London), questioning strange -ladies about their characters and accomplishments is the last -thing in the world that I am fit to do. Your grandmamma is on the -spot; and your grandmamma is the proper person to receive the -letters, and to make all the necessary inquires." - -"But I want to see the letters myself," persisted the spoiled -child. "Some of them are sure to be amusing--" - -"I don't apologize for this very unceremonious reception of you, -Mr. Armadale," said the major, turning to Allan, with a quaint -and quiet humor. "It may be useful as a warning, if you ever -chance to marry and have a daughter, not to begin, as I have -done, by letting her have her own way." - -Allan laughed, and Miss Milroy persisted. - -"Besides," she went on, "I should like to help in choosing which -letters we answer, and which we don't. I think I ought to have -some voice in the selection of my own governess. Why not tell -them, papa, to send their letters down here--to the post-office -or the stationer's, or anywhere you like? When you and I have -read them, we can send up the letters we prefer to grandmamma; -and she can ask all the questions, and pick out the best -governess, just as you have arranged already, without leaving ME -entirely in the dark, which I consider (don't you, Mr. Armadale?) -to be quite inhuman. Let me alter the address, papa; do, there's -a darling!" - -"We shall get no breakfast, Mr. Armadale, if I don't say Yes," -said the major good-humoredly. "Do as you like, my dear," he -added, turning to his daughter. "As long as it ends in your -grandmamma's managing the matter for us, the rest is of very -little consequence." - -Miss Milroy took up her father's pen, drew it through the last -line of the advertisement, and wrote the altered address with her -own hand as follows: - -"_Apply, by letter, to M., Post-office, Thorpe Ambrose, -Norfolk._" - -"There!" she said, bustling to her place at the breakfast-table. -"The advertisement may go to London now; and, if a governess -_does_ come of it, oh, papa, who in the name of wonder will she -be?--Tea or coffee, Mr. Armadale? I'm really ashamed of having -kept you waiting. But it is such a comfort," she added, saucily, -"to get all one's business off one's mind before breakfast!" - -Father, daughter, and guest sat down together sociably at the -little round table, the best of good neighbors and good friends -already. - - -Three days later, one of the London newsboys got _his_ business -off his mind before breakfast. His district was Diana Street, -Pimlico; and the last of the morning's newspapers which he -disposed of was the newspaper he left at Mrs. Oldershaw's door. - -CHAPTER III. - -THE CLAIMS OF SOCIETY. - -MORE than an hour after Allan had set forth on his exploring -expedition through his own grounds, Midwinter rose, and enjoyed, -in his turn, a full view by daylight of the magnificence of the -new house. - -Refreshed by his long night's rest, he descended the great -staircase as cheerfully as Allan himself One after another, he, -too, looked into the spacious rooms on the ground floor in -breathless astonishment at the beauty and the luxury which -surrounded him. "The house where I lived in service when I was a -boy, was a fine one," he thought, gayly; "but it was nothing to -this! I wonder if Allan is as surprised and delighted as I am?" -The beauty of the summer morning drew him out through the open -hall door, as it had drawn his friend out before him. He ran -briskly down the steps, humming the burden of one of the old -vagabond tunes which he had danced to long since in the old -vagabond time. Even the memories of his wretched childhood took -their color, on that happy morning. from the bright medium -through which he looked back at them. "If I was not out of -practice," he thought to himself, as he leaned on the fence and -looked over at the park, "I could try some of my old tumbling -tricks on that delicious grass." He turned, noticed two of the -servants talking together near the shrubbery, and asked for news -of the master of the house. - -The men pointed with a smile in the direction of the gardens; Mr. -Armadale had gone that way more than an hour since, and had met -(as had been reported) with Miss Milroy in the grounds. Midwinter -followed the path through the shrubbery, but, on reaching the -flower garden, stopped, considered a little, and retraced his -steps. "If Allan has met with the young lady," he said to -himself, "Allan doesn't want me." He laughed as he drew that -inevitable inference, and turned considerately to explore the -beauties of Thorpe Ambrose on the other side of the house. - -Passing the angle of the front wall of the building, he descended -some steps, advanced along a paved walk, turned another angle, -and found himself in a strip of garden ground at the back of the -house. - -Behind him was a row of small rooms situated on the level of the -servants' offices. In front of him, on the further side of the -little garden, rose a wall, screened by a laurel hedge, and -having a door at one end of it, leading past the stables to a -gate that opened on the high-road. Perceiving that he had only -discovered thus far the shorter way to the house, used by the -servants and trades-people, Midwinter turned back again, and -looked in at the window of one of the rooms on the basement story -as he passed it. Were these the servants' offices? No; the -offices were apparently in some other part of the ground-floor; -the window he had looked in at was the window of a lumber-room. -The next two rooms in the row were both empty. The fourth window, -when he approached it, presented a little variety. It served also -as a door; and it stood open to the garden at that moment. - -Attracted by the book-shelves which he noticed on one of the -walls, Midwinter stepped into the room. - -The books, few in number, did not detain him long; a glance at -their backs was enough without taking them down. The Waverley -Novels, Tales by Miss Edgeworth, and by Miss Edgeworth's many -followers, the Poems of Mrs. Hemans, with a few odd volumes of -the illustrated gift-books of the period, composed the bulk of -the little library. Midwinter turned to leave the room, when an -object on one side of the window, which he had not previously -noticed, caught his attention and stopped him. It was a statuette -standing on a bracket--a reduced copy of the famous Niobe of the -Florence Museum. He glanced from the statuette to the window, -with a sudden doubt which set his heart throbbing fast. It was a -French window. He looked out with a suspicion which he had not -felt yet. The view before him was the view of a lawn and garden. -For a moment his mind struggled blindly to escape the conclusion -which had seized it, and struggled in vain. Here, close round him -and close before him--here, forcing him mercilessly back from the -happy present to the horrible past, was the room that Allan had -seen in the Second Vision of the Dream. - -He waited, thinking and looking round him while he thought. There -was wonderfully li ttle disturbance in his face and manner; he -looked steadily from one to the other of the few objects in the -room, as if the discovery of it had saddened rather than -surprised him. Matting of some foreign sort covered the floor. -Two cane chairs and a plain table comprised the whole of the -furniture. The walls were plainly papered, and bare--broken to -the eye in one place by a door leading into the interior of the -house; in another, by a small stove; in a third, by the -book-shelves which Midwinter had already noticed. He returned to -the books, and this time he took some of them down from the -shelves. - -The first that he opened contained lines in a woman's -handwriting, traced in ink that had faded with time. He read the -inscription--"Jane Armadale, from her beloved father. Thorpe -Ambrose, October, 1828." In the second, third, and fourth volumes -that he opened, the same inscription re-appeared. His previous -knowledge of dates and persons helped him to draw the true -inference from what he saw. The books must have belonged to -Allan's mother; and she must have inscribed them with her name, -in the interval of time between her return to Thorpe Ambrose from -Madeira and the birth of her son. Midwinter passed on to a volume -on another shelf--one of a series containing the writings of Mrs. -Hemans. In this case, the blank leaf at the beginning of the book -was filled on both sides with a copy of verses, the writing being -still in Mrs. Armadale's hand. The verses were headed "Farewell -to Thorpe Ambrose," and were dated "March, 1829"--two months only -after Allan had been born. - -Entirely without merit in itself, the only interest of the little -poem was in the domestic story that it told. - -The very room in which Midwinter then stood was described--with -the view on the garden, the window made to open on it, the -bookshelves, the Niobe, and other more perishable ornaments which -Time had destroyed. Here, at variance with her brothers, -shrinking from her friends, the widow of the murdered man had, on -her own acknowledgment, secluded herself, without other comfort -than the love and forgiveness of her father, until her child was -born. The father's mercy and the father's recent death filled -many verses, happily too vague in their commonplace expression of -penitence and despair to give any hint of the marriage story in -Madeira to any reader who looked at them ignorant of the truth. A -passing reference to the writer's estrangement from her surviving -relatives, and to her approaching departure from Thorpe Ambrose, -followed. Last came the assertion of the mother's resolution to -separate herself from all her old associations; to leave behind -her every possession, even to the most trifling thing she had, -that could remind her of the miserable past; and to date her new -life in the future from the birthday of the child who had been -spared to console her--who was now the one earthly object that -could still speak to her of love and hope. So the old story of -passionate feeling that finds comfort in phrases rather than not -find comfort at all was told once again. So the poem in the faded -ink faded away to its end. - -Midwinter put the book back with a heavy sigh, and opened no -other volume on the shelves. "Here in the country house, or there -on board the wreck," he said, bitterly, "the traces of my -father's crime follow me, go where I may." He advanced toward the -window, stopped, and looked back into the lonely, neglected -little room. "Is _this_ chance?" he asked himself. "The place -where his mother suffered is the place he sees in the Dream; and -the first morning in the new house is the morning that reveals -it, not to _him,_ but to me. Oh, Allan! Allan! how will it end?" - - -The thought had barely passed through his mind before he heard -Allan's voice, from the paved walk at the side of the house, -calling to him by his name. He hastily stepped out into the -garden. At the same moment Allan came running round the corner, -full of voluble apologies for having forgotten, in the society of -his new neighbors, what was due to the laws of hospitality and -the claims of his friend. - -"I really haven't missed you," said Midwinter; "and I am very, -very glad to hear that the new neighbors have produced such a -pleasant impression on you already." - -He tried, as he spoke, to lead the way back by the outside of the -house; but Allan's flighty attention had been caught by the open -window and the lonely little room. He stepped in immediately. -Midwinter followed, and watched him in breathless anxiety as he -looked round. Not the slightest recollection of the Dream -troubled Allan's easy mind. Not the slightest reference to it -fell from the silent lips of his friend. - -"Exactly the sort of place I should have expected you to hit on!" -exclaimed Allan, gayly. "Small and snug and unpretending. I know -you, Master Midwinter! You'll be slipping off here when the -county families come visiting, and I rather think on those -dreadful occasions you won't find me far behind you. What's the -matter? You look ill and out of spirits. Hungry? Of course you -are! unpardonable of me to have kept you waiting. This door leads -somewhere, I suppose; let's try a short cut into the house. Don't -be afraid of my not keeping you company at breakfast. I didn't -eat much at the cottage; I feasted my eyes on Miss Milroy, as the -poets say. Oh, the darling! the darling! she turns you -topsy-turvy the moment you look at her. As for her father, wait -till you see his wonderful clock! It's twice the size of the -famous clock at Strasbourg, and the most tremendous striker ever -heard yet in the memory of man!" - -Singing the praises of his new friends in this strain at the top -of his voice, Allan hurried Midwinter along the stone passages on -the basement floor, which led, as he had rightly guessed, to a -staircase communicating with the hall. They passed the servants' -offices on the way. At the sight of the cook and the roaring -fire, disclosed through the open kitchen door, Allan's mind went -off at a tangent, and Allan's dignity scattered itself to the -four winds of heaven, as usual. - -"Aha, Mrs. Gripper, there you are with your pots and pans, and -your burning fiery furnace! One had need be Shadrach, Meshach, -and the other fellow to stand over that. Breakfast as soon as -ever you like. Eggs, sausages, bacon, kidneys, marmalade, -water-cresses, coffee, and so forth. My friend and I belong to -the select few whom it's a perfect privilege to cook for. -Voluptuaries, Mrs. Gripper, voluptuaries, both of us. You'll -see," continued Allan, as they went on toward the stairs, "I -shall make that worthy creature young again; I'm better than a -doctor for Mrs. Gripper. When she laughs, she shakes her fat -sides, and when she shakes her fat sides, she exerts her muscular -system; and when she exerts her muscular system-- Ha! here's -Susan again. Don't squeeze yourself flat against the banisters, -my dear; if you don't mind hustling _me_ on the stairs, I rather -like hustling _you._ She looks like a full-blown rose when she -blushes, doesn't she? Stop, Susan! I've orders to give. Be very -particular with Mr. Midwinter's room: shake up his bed like mad, -and dust his furniture till those nice round arms of yours ache -again. Nonsense, my dear fellow! I'm not too familiar with them; -I'm only keeping them up to their work. Now, then, Richard! where -do we breakfast? Oh, here. Between ourselves, Midwinter, these -splendid rooms of mine are a size too large for me; I don't feel -as if I should ever be on intimate terms with my own furniture. -My views in life are of the snug and slovenly sort--a kitchen -chair, you know, and a low ceiling. Man wants but little here -below, and wants that little long. That's not exactly the right -quotation; but it expresses my meaning, and we'll let alone -correcting it till the next opportunity." - -"I beg your pardon," interposed Midwinter, "here is something -waiting for you which you have not noticed yet." - -As he spoke, he pointed a little impatiently to a letter lying on -the breakfast-table. He could conceal the ominous discovery which -he had made that morning, from Allan's knowledge; but he could -not conquer the latent distrust of circumstances which was now - raised again in his superstitious nature--the instinctive -suspicion of everything that happened, no matter how common or -how trifling the event, on the first memorable day when the new -life began in the new house. - -Allan ran his eye over the letter, and tossed it across the table -to his friend. "I can't make head or tail of it," he said, "can -you?" - -Midwinter read the letter, slowly, aloud. "Sir--I trust you will -pardon the liberty I take in sending these few lines to wait your -arrival at Thorpe Ambrose. In the event of circumstances not -disposing you to place your law business in the hands of Mr. -Darch--" He suddenly stopped at that point, and considered a -little. - -"Darch is our friend the lawyer," said Allan, supposing Midwinter -had forgotten the name. "Don't you remember our spinning the -half-crown on the cabin table, when I got the two offers for the -cottage? Heads, the major; tails, the lawyer. This is the -lawyer." - -Without making any reply, Midwinter resumed reading the letter. -"In the event of circumstances not disposing you to place your -law business in the hands of Mr. Darch, I beg to say that I shall -be happy to take charge of your interests, if you feel willing to -honor me with your confidence. Inclosing a reference (should you -desire it) to my agents in London, and again apologizing for this -intrusion, I beg to remain, sir, respectfully yours, A. PEDGIFT, -Sen." - -"Circumstances?" repeated Midwinter, as he laid the letter down. -"What circumstances can possibly indispose you to give your law -business to Mr. Darch?" - -"Nothing can indispose me," said Allan. "Besides being the family -lawyer here, Darch was the first to write me word at Paris of my -coming in for my fortune; and, if I have got any business to -give, of course he ought to have it." - -Midwinter still looked distrustfully at the open letter on the -table. "I am sadly afraid, Allan, there is something wrong -already," he said. "This man would never have ventured on the -application he has made to you, unless he had some good reason -for believing he would succeed. If you wish to put yourself right -at starting, you will send to Mr. Darch this morning to tell him -you are here, and you will take no notice for the present of Mr. -Pedgift's letter." - -Before more could be said on either side, the footman made his -appearance with the breakfast tray. He was followed, after an -interval, by the butler, a man of the essentially confidential -kind, with a modulated voice, a courtly manner, and a bulbous -nose. Anybody but Allan would have seen in his face that he had -come into the room having a special communication to make to his -master. Allan, who saw nothing under the surface, and whose head -was running on the lawyer's letter, stopped him bluntly with the -point-blank question: "Who's Mr. Pedgift?" - -The butler's sources of local knowledge opened confidentially on -the instant. Mr. Pedgift was the second of the two lawyers in the -town. Not so long established, not so wealthy, not so universally -looked up to as old Mr. Darch. Not doing the business of the -highest people in the county, and not mixing freely with the best -society, like old Mr. Darch. A very sufficient man, in his way, -nevertheless. Known as a perfectly competent and respectable -practitioner all round the neighborhood. In short, professionally -next best to Mr. Darch; and personally superior to him (if the -expression might be permitted) in this respect--that Darch was a -Crusty One, and Pedgift wasn't. - -Having imparted this information, the butler, taking a wise -advantage of his position, glided, without a moment's stoppage, -from Mr. Pedgift's character to the business that had brought him -into the breakfast-room. The Midsummer Audit was near at hand; -and the tenants were accustomed to have a week's notice of the -rent-day dinner. With this necessity pressing, and with no orders -given as yet, and no steward in office at Thorpe Ambrose, it -appeared desirable that some confidential person should bring the -matter forward. The butler was that confidential person; and he -now ventured accordingly to trouble his master on the subject. - -At this point Allan opened his lips to interrupt, and was himself -interrupted before he could utter a word. - -"Wait!" interposed Midwinter, seeing in Allan's face that he was -in danger of being publicly announced in the capacity of steward. -"Wait!" he repeated, eagerly, "till I can speak to you first." - -The butler's courtly manner remained alike unruffled by -Midwinter's sudden interference and by his own dismissal from the -scene. Nothing but the mounting color in his bulbous nose -betrayed the sense of injury that animated him as he withdrew. -Mr. Armadale's chance of regaling his friend and himself that day -with the best wine in the cellar trembled in the balance, as the -butler took his way back to the basement story. - -"This is beyond a joke, Allan," said Midwinter, when they were -alone. "Somebody must meet your tenants on the rent-day who is -really fit to take the steward's place. With the best will in the -world to learn, it is impossible for _me_ to master the business -at a week's notice. Don't, pray don't let your anxiety for my -welfare put you in a false position with other people! I should -never forgive myself if I was the unlucky cause--" - -"Gently gently!' cried Allan, amazed at his friend's -extraordinary earnestness. "If I write to London by to-night's -post for the man who came down here before, will that satisfy -you?" - -Midwinter shook his head. "Our time is short," he said; "and the -man may not be at liberty. Why not try in the neighborhood first? -You were going to write to Mr. Darch. Send at once, and see if he -can't help us between this and post-time." - -Allan withdrew to a side-table on which writing materials were -placed. "You shall breakfast in peace, you old fidget," he -replied, and addressed himself forthwith to Mr. Darch, with his -usual Spartan brevity of epistolary expression. "Dear Sir--Here I -am, bag and baggage. Will you kindly oblige me by being my -lawyer? I ask this, because I want to consult you at once. Please -look in in the course of the day, and stop to dinner if you -possibly can. Yours truly. ALLAN ARMADALE." Having read this -composition aloud with unconcealed admiration of his own rapidity -of literary execution, Allan addressed the letter to Mr. Darch, -and rang the bell. "Here, Richard, take this at once, and wait -for an answer. And, I say, if there's any news stirring in the -town, pick it up and bring it back with you. See how I manage my -servants!" continued Allan, joining his friend at the -breakfast-table. "See how I adapt myself to my new duties! I -haven't been down here one clear day yet, and I'm taking an -interest in the neighborhood already." - -Breakfast over, the two friends went out to idle away the morning -under the shade of a tree in the park. Noon came, and Richard -never appeared. One o'clock struck, and still there were no signs -of an answer from Mr. Darch. Midwinter's patience was not proof -against the delay. He left Allan dozing on the grass, and went to -the house to make inquiries. The town was described as little -more than two miles distant; but the day of the week happened to -be market day, and Richard was being detained no doubt by some of -the many acquaintances whom he would be sure to meet with on that -occasion. - -Half an hour later the truant messenger returned, and was sent -out to report himself to his master under the tree in the park. - -"Any answer from Mr. Darch?" asked Midwinter, seeing that Allan -was too lazy to put the question for himself. - -"Mr. Darch was engaged, sir. I was desired to say that he would -send an answer." - -"Any news in the town?" inquired Allan, drowsily, without -troubling himself to open his eyes. - -"No, sir; nothing in particular." - -Observing the man suspiciously as he made that reply, Midwinter -detected in his face that he was not speaking the truth. He was -plainly embarrassed, and plainly relieved when his master's -silence allowed him to withdraw. After a little consideration, -Midwinter followed, and overtook the retreating servant on the -drive before the house. - -"Richard," he said, quietly, "if I was to guess that there _is_ -some news in the town, and that you don't like telling it to your -master, should I be guessing the truth?" - -The man started and changed color. "I don't know how you have -found it out," he said; "but I can't deny you have guessed -right." - -"If you let me hear what the news is, I will take the -responsibility on myself of telling Mr. Armadale." - -After some little hesitation, and some distrustful consideration, -on his side, of Midwinter's face, Richard at last prevailed on -himself to repeat what he had heard that day in the town. - -The news of Allan's sudden appearance at Thorpe Ambrose had -preceded the servant's arrival at his destination by some hours. -Wherever he went, he found his master the subject of public -discussion. The opinion of Allan's conduct among the leading -townspeople, the resident gentry of the neighborhood, and the -principal tenants on the estate was unanimously unfavorable. Only -the day before, the committee for managing the pubic reception of -the new squire had sketched the progress of the procession; had -settled the serious question of the triumphal arches; and had -appointed a competent person to solicit subscriptions for the -flags, the flowers, the feasting, the fireworks, and the band. In -less than a week more the money could have been collected, and -the rector would have written to Mr. Armadale to fix the day. And -now, by Allan's own act, the public welcome waiting to honor him -had been cast back contemptuously in the public teeth! Everybody -took for granted (what was unfortunately true) that he had -received private information of the contemplated proceedings. -Everybody declared that he had purposely stolen into his own -house like a thief in the night (so the phrase ran) to escape -accepting the offered civilities of his neighbors. In brief, the -sensitive self-importance of the little town was wounded to the -quick, and of Allan's once enviable position in the estimation of -the neighborhood not a vestige remained. - -For a moment, Midwinter faced the messenger of evil tidings in -silent distress. That moment past, the sense of Allan's critical -position roused him, now the evil was known, to seek the remedy. - -"Has the little you have seen of your master, Richard, inclined -you to like him?" he asked. - -This time the man answered without hesitation, "A pleasanter and -kinder gentleman than Mr. Armadale no one could wish to serve." - -"If you think that," pursued Midwinter, "you won't object to give -me some information which will help your master to set himself -right with his neighbors. Come into the house." - -He led the way into the library, and, after asking the necessary -questions, took down in writing a list of the names and addresses -of the most influential persons living in the town and its -neighborhood. This done, he rang the bell for the head footman, -having previously sent Richard with a message to the stables -directing an open carriage to be ready in an hour's time. - -"When the late Mr. Blanchard went out to make calls in the -neighborhood, it was your place to go with him, was it not?" he -asked, when the upper servant appeared. "Very well. Be ready in -an hour's time, if you please, to go out with Mr. Armadale." -Having given that order, he left the house again on his way back -to Allan, with the visiting list in his hand. He smiled a little -sadly as he descended the steps. "Who would have imagined," he -thought, "that my foot-boy's experience of the ways of -gentlefolks would be worth looking back at one day for Allan's -sake?" - -The object of the popular odium lay innocently slumbering on the -grass, with his garden hat over his nose, his waistcoat -unbuttoned, and his trousers wrinkled half way up his -outstretched legs. Midwinter roused him without hesitation, and -remorselessly repeated the servant's news. - -Allan accepted the disclosure thus forced on him without the -slightest disturbance of temper. "Oh, hang 'em!" was all he said. -"Let's have another cigar." Midwinter took the cigar out of his -hand, and, insisting on his treating the matter seriously, told -him in plain words that he must set himself right with his -offended neighbors by calling on them personally to make his -apologies. Allan sat up on the grass in astonishment; his eyes -opened wide in incredulous dismay. Did Midwinter positively -meditate forcing him into a "chimney-pot hat," a nicely brushed -frock-coat, and a clean pair of gloves? Was it actually in -contemplation to shut him up in a carriage, with his footman on -the box and his card-case in his hand, and send him round from -house to house, to tell a pack of fools that he begged their -pardon for not letting them make a public show of him? If -anything so outrageously absurd as this was really to be done, it -could not be done that day, at any rate. He had promised to go -back to the charming Milroy at the cottage and to take Midwinter -with him. What earthly need had he of the good opinion of the -resident gentry? The only friends he wanted were the friends he -had got already. Let the whole neighborhood turn its back on him -if it liked; back or face, the Squire of Thorpe Ambrose didn't -care two straws about it. - -After allowing him to run on in this way until his whole stock of -objections was exhausted, Midwinter wisely tried his personal -influence next. He took Allan affectionately by the hand. "I am -going to ask a great favor," he said. "If you won't call on these -people for your own sake, will you call on them to please _me?_" - -Allan delivered himself of a groan of despair, stared in mute -surprise at the anxious face of his friend, and good-humoredly -gave way. As Midwinter took his arm, and led him back to the -house, he looked round with rueful eyes at the cattle hard by, -placidly whisking their tails in the pleasant shade. "Don't -mention it in the neighborhood," he said; "I should like to -change places with one of my own cows." - -Midwinter left him to dress, engaging to return when the carriage -was at the door. Allan's toilet did not promise to be a speedy -one. He began it by reading his own visiting cards; and he -advanced it a second stage by looking into his wardrobe, and -devoting the resident gentry to the infernal regions. Before he -could discover any third means of delaying his own proceedings, -the necessary pretext was unexpectedly supplied by Richard's -appearance with a note in his hand. The messenger had just called -with Mr. Darch's answer. Allan briskly shut up the wardrobe, and -gave his whole attention to the lawyer's letter. The lawyer's -letter rewarded him by the following lines: - - -"SIR--I beg to acknowledge the receipt of your favor of to-day's -date, honoring me with two proposals; namely, ONE inviting me to -act as your legal adviser, and ONE inviting me to pay you a visit -at your house. In reference to the first proposal, I beg -permission to decline it with thanks. With regard to the second -proposal, I have to inform you that circumstances have come to my -knowledge relating to the letting of the cottage at Thorpe -Ambrose which render it impossible for me (in justice to myself) -to accept your invitation. I have ascertained, sir, that my offer -reached you at the same time as Major Milroy's; and that, with -both proposals thus before you, you gave the preference to a -total stranger, who addressed you through a house agent, over a -man who had faithfully served your relatives for two generations, -and who had been the first person to inform you of the most -important event in your life. After this specimen of your -estimate of what is due to the claims of common courtesy and -common justice, I cannot flatter myself that I possess any of the -qualities which would fit me to take my place on the list of your -friends. - -"I remain, sir, your obedient servant, - -"JAMES DARCH." - - -"Stop the messenger!" cried Allan, leaping to his feet, his ruddy -face aflame with indignation. "Give me pen, ink, and paper! By -the Lord Harry, they're a nice set of people in these parts; the -whole neighborhood is in a conspiracy to bully me!" He snatched -up the pen in a fine frenzy of epistolary inspiration. "Sir--I -despise you and your letter.--" At that point the pen made a -blot, and the writer was seized with a momentary hesitation. "Too -strong," h e thought; "I'll give it to the lawyer in his own cool -and cutting style." He began again on a clean sheet of paper. -"Sir--You remind me of an Irish bull. I mean that story in 'Joe -Miller' where Pat remarked, in the hearing of a wag hard by, that -'the reciprocity was all on one side.' _Your_ reciprocity is all -on one side. You take the privilege of refusing to be my lawyer, -and then you complain of my taking the privilege of refusing to -be your landlord." He paused fondly over those last words. -"Neat!" he thought. "Argument and hard hitting both in one. I -wonder where my knack of writing comes from?" He went on, and -finished the letter in two more sentences. "As for your casting -my invitation back in my teeth, I beg to inform you my teeth are -none the worse for it. I am equally glad to have nothing to say -to you, either in the capacity of a friend or a tenant.--ALLAN -ARMADALE." He nodded exultantly at his own composition, as he -addressed it and sent it down to the messenger. "Darch's hide -must be a thick one," he said, "if he doesn't feel _that!_" - -The sound of the wheels outside suddenly recalled him to the -business of the day. There was the carriage waiting to take him -on his round of visits; and there was Midwinter at his post, -pacing to and fro on the drive. - -"Read that," cried Allan, throwing out the lawyer's letter; "I've -written him back a smasher." - -He bustled away to the wardrobe to get his coat. There was a -wonderful change in him; he felt little or no reluctance to pay -the visits now. The pleasurable excitement of answering Mr. Darth -had put him in a fine aggressive frame of mind for asserting -himself in the neighborhood. "Whatever else they may say of me, -they shan't say I was afraid to face them." Heated red-hot with -that idea, he seized his hat and gloves, and hurrying out of the -room, met Midwinter in the corridor with the lawyer's letter in -his hand. - -"Keep up your spirits!" cried Allan, seeing the anxiety in his -friend's face, and misinterpreting the motive of it immediately. -"If Darch can't be counted on to send us a helping hand into the -steward's office, Pedgift can." - -"My dear Allan, I was not thinking of that; I was thinking of Mr. -Darch's letter. I don't defend this sour-tempered man; but I am -afraid we must admit he has some cause for complaint. Pray don't -give him another chance of putting you in the wrong. Where is -your answer to his letter?" - -"Gone!" replied Allan. "I always strike while the iron's hot--a -word and a blow, and the blow first, that's my way. Don't, -there's a good fellow, don't fidget about the steward's books and -the rent-day. Here! here's a bunch of keys they gave me last -night: one of them opens the room where the steward's books are; -go in and read them till I come back. I give you my sacred word -of honor I'll settle it all with Pedgift before you see me -again." - -"One moment," interposed Midwinter, stopping him resolutely on -his way out to the carriage. "I say nothing against Mr. Pedgift's -fitness to possess your confidence, for I know nothing to justify -me in distrusting him. But he has not introduced himself to your -notice in a very delicate way; and he has not acknowledged (what -is quite clear to my mind) that he knew of Mr. Darch's unfriendly -feeling toward you when he wrote. Wait a little before you go to -this stranger; wait till we can talk it over together to-night." - -"Wait!" replied Allan. "Haven't I told you that I always strike -while the iron's hot? Trust my eye for character, old boy, I'll -look Pedgift through and through, and act accordingly. Don't keep -me any longer, for Heaven's sake. I'm in a fine humor for -tackling the resident gentry; and if I don't go at once, I'm -afraid it may wear off." - -With that excellent reason for being in a hurry, Allan -boisterously broke away. Before it was possible to stop him -again, he had jumped into the carriage and had left the house. - -CHAPTER IV. - -THE MARCH OF EVENTS. - -MIDWINTER'S face darkened when the last trace of the carriage had -disappeared from view. "I have done my best," he said, as he -turned back gloomily into the house "If Mr. Brock himself were -here, Mr. Brock could do no more!" - -He looked at the bunch of keys which Allan had thrust into his -hand, and a sudden longing to put himself to the test over the -steward's books took possession of his sensitive self-tormenting -nature. Inquiring his way to the room in which the various -movables of the steward's office had been provisionally placed -after the letting of the cottage, he sat down at the desk, and -tried how his own unaided capacity would guide him through the -business records of the Thorpe Ambrose estate. The result exposed -his own ignorance unanswerably before his own eyes. The ledgers -bewildered him; the leases, the plans, and even the -correspondence itself, might have been written, for all he could -understand of them, in an unknown tongue. His memory reverted -bitterly as he left the room again to his two years' solitary -self-instruction in the Shrewsbury book-seller's shop. "If I -could only have worked at a business!" he thought. "If I could -only have known that the company of poets and philosophers was -company too high for a vagabond like me!" - -He sat down alone in the great hall; the silence of it fell -heavier and heavier on his sinking spirits; the beauty of it -exasperated him, like an insult from a purse-proud man. "Curse -the place!" he said, snatching up his hat and stick. "I like the -bleakest hillside I ever slept on better than I like this house!" - -He impatiently descended the door-steps, and stopped on the -drive, considering, by which direction he should leave the park -for the country beyond. If he followed the road taken by the -carriage, he might risk unsettling Allan by accidentally meeting -him in the town. If he went out by the back gate, he knew his own -nature well enough to doubt his ability to pass the room of the -dream without entering it again. But one other way remained: the -way which he had taken, and then abandoned again, in the morning. -There was no fear of disturbing Allan and the major's daughter -now. Without further hesitation, Midwinter set forth through the -gardens to explore the open country on that side of the estate. - -Thrown off its balance by the events of the day, his mind was -full of that sourly savage resistance to the inevitable -self-assertion of wealth, so amiably deplored by the prosperous -and the rich; so bitterly familiar to the unfortunate and the -poor. "The heather-bell costs nothing!" he thought, looking -contemptuously at the masses of rare and beautiful flowers that -surrounded him; "and the buttercups and daisies are as bright as -the best of you!" He followed the artfully contrived ovals and -squares of the Italian garden with a vagabond indifference to the -symmetry of their construction and the ingenuity of their design. -"How many pounds a foot did _you_ cost?" he said, looking back -with scornful eyes at the last path as he left it. "Wind away -over high and low like the sheep-walk on the mountain side, if -you can!" - -He entered the shrubbery which Allan had entered before him; -crossed the paddock and the rustic bridge beyond; and reached the -major's cottage. His ready mind seized the right conclusion at -the first sight of it; and he stopped before the garden gate, to -look at the trim little residence which would never have been -empty, and would never have been let, but for Allan's ill-advised -resolution to force the steward's situation on his friend. - -The summer afternoon was warm; the summer air was faint and -still. On the upper and the lower floor of the cottage the -windows were all open. From one of them, on the upper story, the -sound of voices was startlingly audible in the quiet of the park -as Midwinter paused on the outer side of the garden inclosure. -The voice of a woman, harsh, high, and angrily complaining--a -voice with all the freshness and the melody gone, and with -nothing but the hard power of it left--was the discordantly -predominant sound. With it, from moment to moment, there mingled -the deeper and quieter tones, soothing and compassionate, of the -voice of a man. Although the distance was too great to allow -Midwinter to disti nguish the words that were spoken, he felt the -impropriety of remaining within hearing of the voices, and at -once stepped forward to continue his walk. - -At the same moment, the face of a young girl (easily recognizable -as the face of Miss Milroy, from Allan's description of her) -appeared at the open window of the room. In spite of himself, -Midwinter paused to look at her. The expression of the bright -young face, which had smiled so prettily on Allan, was weary and -disheartened. After looking out absently over the park, she -suddenly turned her head back into the room, her attention having -been apparently struck by something that had just been said in -it. "Oh, mamma, mamma," she exclaimed, indignantly, "how _can_ -you say such things!" The words were spoken close to the window; -they reached Midwinter's ears, and hurried him away before he -heard more. But the self-disclosure of Major Milroy's domestic -position had not reached its end yet. As Midwinter turned the -corner of the garden fence, a tradesman's boy was handing a -parcel in at the wicket gate to the woman servant. "Well," said -the boy, with the irrepressible impudence of his class, "how is -the missus?" The woman lifted her hand to box his ears. "How is -the missus?" she repeated, with an angry toss of her head, as the -boy ran off. "If it would only please God to take the missus, it -would be a blessing to everybody in the house." - -No such ill-omened shadow as this had passed over the bright -domestic picture of the inhabitants of the cottage, which Allan's -enthusiasm had painted for the contemplation of his friend. It -was plain that the secret of the tenants had been kept from the -landlord so far. Five minutes more of walking brought Midwinter -to the park gates. "Am I fated to see nothing and hear nothing -to-day, which can give me heart and hope for the future?" he -thought, as he angrily swung back the lodge gate. "Even the -people Allan has let the cottage to are people whose lives are -imbittered by a household misery which it is _my_ misfortune to -have found out!" - -He took the first road that lay before him, and walked on, -noticing little, immersed in his own thoughts. - -More than an hour passed before the necessity of turning back -entered his mind. As soon as the idea occurred to him, he -consulted his watch, and determined to retrace his steps, so as -to be at the house in good time to meet Allan on his return. Ten -minutes of walking brought him back to a point at which three -roads met, and one moment's observation of the place satisfied -him that he had entirely failed to notice at the time by which of -the three roads he had advanced. No sign-post was to be seen; the -country on either side was lonely and flat, intersected by broad -drains and ditches. Cattle were grazing here and there, and a -windmill rose in the distance above the pollard willows that -fringed the low horizon. But not a house was to be seen, and not -a human creature appeared on the visible perspective of any one -of the three roads. Midwinter glanced back in the only direction -left to look at--the direction of the road along which he had -just been walking. There, to his relief, was the figure of a man, -rapidly advancing toward him, of whom he could ask his way. - -The figure came on, clad from head to foot in dreary black--a -moving blot on the brilliant white surface of the sun-brightened -road. He was a lean, elderly, miserably respectable man. He wore -a poor old black dress-coat, and a cheap brown wig, which made no -pretense of being his own natural hair. Short black trousers -clung like attached old servants round his wizen legs; and rusty -black gaiters hid all they could of his knobbed, ungainly feet. -Black crape added its mite to the decayed and dingy wretchedness -of his old beaver hat; black mohair in the obsolete form of a -stock drearily encircled his neck and rose as high as his haggard -jaws. The one morsel of color he carried about him was a lawyer's -bag of blue serge, as lean and limp as himself. The one -attractive feature in his clean-shaven, weary old face was a neat -set of teeth--teeth (as honest as his wig) which said plainly to -all inquiring eyes, "We pass our nights on his looking-glass, and -our days in his mouth." - -All the little blood in the man's body faintly reddened his -fleshless cheeks as Midwinter advanced to meet him, and asked the -way to Thorpe Ambrose. His weak, watery eyes looked hither and -thither in a bewilderment painful to see. If he had met with a -lion instead of a man, and if the few words addressed to him had -been words expressing a threat instead of a question, he could -hardly have looked more confused and alarmed than he looked now. -For the first time in his life, Midwinter saw his own shy -uneasiness in the presence of strangers reflected, with tenfold -intensity of nervous suffering, in the face of another man--and -that man old enough to be his father. - -"Which do you please to mean, sir--the town or the house? I beg -your pardon for asking, but they both go by the same name in -these parts." - -He spoke with a timid gentleness of tone, an ingratiatory smile, -and an anxious courtesy of manner, all distressingly suggestive -of his being accustomed to receive rough answers in exchange for -his own politeness from the persons whom he habitually addressed. - -"I was not aware that both the house and the town went by the -same name," said Midwinter; "I meant the house." He instinctively -conquered his own shyness as he answered in those words, speaking -with a cordiality of manner which was very rare with him in his -intercourse with strangers. - -The man of miserable respectability seemed to feel the warm -return of his own politeness gratefully; he brightened and took a -little courage. His lean forefinger pointed eagerly to the right -road. "That way, sir," he said, "and when you come to two roads -next, please take the left one of the two. I am sorry I have -business the other way, I mean in the town. I should have been -happy to go with you and show you. Fine summer weather, sir, for -walking? You can't miss your way if you keep to the left. Oh, -don't mention it! I'm afraid I have detained you, sir. I wish you -a pleasant walk back, and--good-morning." - -By the time he had made an end of speaking (under an impression -apparently that the more he talked the more polite he would be) -he had lost his courage again. He darted away down his own road, -as if Midwinter's attempt to thank him involved a series of -trials too terrible to confront. In two minutes more, his black -retreating figure had lessened in the distance till it looked -again, what it had once looked already, a moving blot on the -brilliant white surface of the sun-brightened road. - -The man ran strangely in Midwinter's thoughts while he took his -way back to the house. He was at a loss to account for it. It -never occurred to him that he might have been insensibly reminded -of himself, when he saw the plain traces of past misfortune and -present nervous suffering in the poor wretch's face. He blindly -resented his own perverse interest in this chance foot passenger -on the high-road, as he had resented all else that had happened -to him since the beginning of the day. "Have I made another -unlucky discovery?" he asked himself, impatiently. "Shall I see -this man again, I wonder? Who can he be?" - -Time was to answer both those questions before many days more had -passed over the inquirer's head. - - -Allan had not returned when Midwinter reached the house. Nothing -had happened but the arrival of a message of apology from the -cottage. "Major Milroy's compliments, and he was sorry that Mrs. -Milroy's illness would prevent his receiving Mr. Armadale that -day." It was plain that Mrs. Milroy's occasional fits of -suffering (or of ill temper) created no mere transitory -disturbance of the tranquillity of the household. Drawing this -natural inference, after what he had himself heard at the cottage -nearly three hours since, Midwinter withdrew into the library to -wait patiently among the books until his friend came back. - -It was past six o'clock when the well-known hearty voice was -heard again in the hall. Allan burst into the library, in a state -of irrepressible excitement, and pushed - Midwinter back unceremoniously into the chair from which he was -just rising, before he could utter a word - -"Here's a riddle for you, old boy!" cried Allan. "Why am I like -the resident manager of the Augean stable, before Hercules was -called in to sweep the litter out? Because I have had my place to -keep up, and I've gone and made an infernal mess of it! Why don't -you laugh? By George, he doesn't see the point! Let's try again. -Why am I like the resident manager--" - -"For God's sake, Allan, be serious for a moment!" interposed -Midwinter. "You don't know how anxious I am to hear if you have -recovered the good opinion of your neighbors." - -"That's just what the riddle was intended to tell you!" rejoined -Allan. "But if you will have it in so many words, my own -impression is that you would have done better not to disturb me -under that tree in the park. I've been calculating it to a -nicety, and I beg to inform you that I have sunk exactly three -degrees lower in the estimation of the resident gentry since I -had the pleasure of seeing you last." - -"You _will_ have your joke out," said Midwinter, bitterly. "Well, -if I can't laugh, I can wait." - -"My dear fellow, I'm not joking; I really mean what I say. You -shall hear what happened; you shall have a report in full of my -first visit. It will do, I can promise you, as a sample for all -the rest. Mind this, in the first place, I've gone wrong with the -best possible intentions. When I started for these visits, I own -I was angry with that old brute of a lawyer, and I certainly had -a notion of carrying things with a high hand. But it wore off -somehow on the road; and the first family I called on, I went in, -as I tell you, with the best possible intentions. Oh, dear, dear! -there was the same spick-and-span reception-room for me to wait -in, with the neat conservatory beyond, which I saw again and -again and again at every other house I went to afterward. There -was the same choice selection of books for me to look at--a -religious book, a book about the Duke of Wellington, a book about -sporting, and a book about nothing in particular, beautifully -illustrated with pictures. Down came papa with his nice white -hair, and mamma with her nice lace cap; down came young mister -with the pink face and straw-colored whiskers, and young miss -with the plump cheeks and the large petticoats. Don't suppose -there was the least unfriendliness on my side; I always began -with them in the same way--I insisted on shaking hands all round. -That staggered them to begin with. When I came to the sore -subject next--the subject of the public reception--I give you my -word of honor I took the greatest possible pains with my -apologies. It hadn't the slightest effect; they let my apologies -in at one ear and out at the other, and then waited to hear more. -Some men would have been disheartened: I tried another way with -them; I addressed myself to the master of the house, and put it -pleasantly next. 'The fact is,' I said, 'I wanted to escape the -speechifying--my getting up, you know, and telling you to your -face you're the best of men, and I beg to propose your health; -and your getting up and telling me to my face I'm the best of -men, and you beg to thank me; and so on, man after man, praising -each other and pestering each other all round the table.' That's -how I put it, in an easy, light-handed, convincing sort of way. -Do you think any of them took it in the same friendly spirit? Not -one! It's my belief they had got their speeches ready for the -reception, with the flags and the flowers, and that they're -secretly angry with me for stopping their open mouths just as -they were ready to begin. Anyway, whenever we came to the matter -of the speechifying (whether they touched it first or I), down I -fell in their estimation the first of those three steps I told -you of just now. Don't suppose I made no efforts to get up again! -I made desperate efforts. I found they were all anxious to know -what sort of life I had led before I came in for the Thorpe -Ambrose property, and I did my best to satisfy them. And what -came of that, do you think? Hang me, if I didn't disappoint them -for the second time! When they found out that I had actually -never been to Eton or Harrow, or Oxford or Cambridge, they were -quite dumb with astonishment. I fancy they thought me a sort of -outlaw. At any rate, they all froze up again; and down I fell the -second step in their estimation. Never mind! I wasn't to be -beaten; I had promised you to do my best, and I did it. I tried -cheerful small-talk about the neighborhood next. The women said -nothing in particular; the men, to my unutterable astonishment, -all began to condole with me. I shouldn't be able to find a pack -of hounds, they said, within twenty miles of my house; and they -thought it only right to prepare me for the disgracefully -careless manner in which the Thorpe Ambrose covers had been -preserved. I let them go on condoling with me, and then what do -you think I did? I put my foot in it again. 'Oh, don't take that -to heart!' I said; 'I don't care two straws about hunting or -shooting, either. When I meet with a bird in my walk, I can't for -the life of me feel eager to kill it; I rather like to see the -bird flying about and enjoying itself.' You should have seen -their faces! They had thought me a sort of outlaw before; now -they evidently thought me mad. Dead silence fell upon them all; -and down I tumbled the third step in the general estimation. It -was just the same at the next house, and the next and the next. -The devil possessed us all, I think. It _would_ come out, now in -one way, and now in another, that I couldn't make speeches--that -I had been brought up without a university education--and that I -could enjoy a ride on horseback without galloping after a -wretched stinking fox or a poor distracted little hare. These -three unlucky defects of mine are not excused, it seems, in a -country gentleman (especially when he has dodged a public -reception to begin with). I think I got on best, upon the whole, -with the wives and daughters. The women and I always fell, sooner -or later, on the subject of Mrs. Blanchard and her niece. We -invariably agreed that they had done wisely in going to Florence; -and the only reason we had to give for our opinion was that we -thought their minds would be benefited after their sad -bereavement, by the contemplation of the masterpieces of Italian -art. Every one of the ladies--I solemnly declare it--at every -house I went to, came sooner or later to Mrs. and Miss -Blanchard's bereavement and the masterpieces of Italian art. What -we should have done without that bright idea to help us, I really -don't know. The one pleasant thing at any of the visits was when -we all shook our heads together, and declared that the -masterpieces would console them. As for the rest of it, there's -only one thing more to be said. What I might be in other places I -don't know: I'm the wrong man in the wrong place here. Let me -muddle on for the future in my own way, with my own few friends; -and ask me anything else in the world, as long as you don't ask -me to make any more calls on my neighbors." - -With that characteristic request, Allan's report of his exploring -expedition among the resident gentry came to a close. For a -moment Midwinter remained silent. He had allowed Allan to run on -from first to last without uttering a word on his side. The -disastrous result of the visits--coming after what had happened -earlier in the day; and threatening Allan, as it did, with -exclusion from all local sympathies at the very outset of his -local career--had broken down Midwinter's power of resisting the -stealthily depressing influence of his own superstition. It was -with an effort that he now looked up at Allan; it was with an -effort that he roused himself to answer. - -"It shall be as you wish," he said, quietly. "I am sorry for what -has happened; but I am not the less obliged to you, Allan, for -having done what I asked you." - -His head sank on his breast, and the fatalist resignation which -had once already quieted him on board the wreck now quieted him -again. "What _must_ be, _will_ be," he thought once more. "What -have I to do with the future, and what - has he?" - -"Cheer up!" said Allan. "_Your_ affairs are in a thriving -condition, at any rate. I paid one pleasant visit in the town, -which I haven't told you of yet. I've seen Pedgift, and Pedgift's -son, who helps him in the office. They're the two jolliest -lawyers I ever met with in my life; and, what's more, they can -produce the very man you want to teach you the steward's -business." - -Midwinter looked up quickly. Distrust of Allan's discovery was -plainly written in his face already; but he said nothing. - -"I thought of you," Allan proceeded, "as soon as the two Pedgifts -and I had had a glass of wine all round to drink to our friendly -connection. The finest sherry I ever tasted in my life; I've -ordered some of the same--but that's not the question just now. -In two words I told these worthy fellows your difficulty, and in -two seconds old Pedgift understood all about it. 'I have got the -man in my office,' he said, 'and before the audit-day comes, I'll -place him with the greatest pleasure at your friend's disposal.' -" - -At this last announcement, Midwinter's distrust found its -expression in words. He questioned Allan unsparingly. - -The man's name, it appeared was Bashwood. He had been some time -(how long, Allan could not remember) in Mr. Pedgift's service. He -had been previously steward to a Norfolk gentleman (name -forgotten) in the westward district of the county. He had lost -the steward's place, through some domestic trouble, in connection -with his son, the precise nature of which Allan was not able to -specify. Pedgift vouched for him, and Pedgift would send him to -Thorpe Ambrose two or three days before the rent-day dinner. He -could not be spared, for office reasons, before that time. There -was no need to fidget about it; Pedgift laughed at the idea of -there being any difficulty with the tenants. Two or three day's -work over the steward's books with a man to help Midwinter who -practically understood that sort of thing would put him all right -for the audit; and the other business would keep till afterward. - -"Have you seen this Mr. Bashwood yourself, Allan?" asked -Midwinter, still obstinately on his guard. - -"No," replied Allan "he was out--out with the bag, as young -Pedgift called it. They tell me he's a decent elderly man. A -little broken by his troubles, and a little apt to be nervous and -confused in his manner with strangers; but thoroughly competent -and thoroughly to be depended on--those are Pedgift's own words." - -Midwinter paused and considered a little, with a new interest in -the subject. The strange man whom he had just heard described, -and the strange man of whom he had asked his way where the three -roads met, were remarkably like each other. Was this another link -in the fast-lengthening chain of events? Midwinter grew doubly -determined to be careful, as the bare doubt that it might be so -passed through his mind. - -"When Mr. Bashwood comes," he said, "will you let me see him, and -speak to him, before anything definite is done?" - -"Of course I will!" rejoined Allan. He stopped and looked at his -watch. "And I'll tell you what I'll do for you, old boy, in the -meantime," he added; "I'll introduce you to the prettiest girl in -Norfolk! There's just time to run over to the cottage before -dinner. Come along, and be introduced to Miss Milroy." - -"You can't introduce me to Miss Milroy today," replied Midwinter; -and he repeated the message of apology which had been brought -from the major that afternoon. Allan was surprised and -disappointed; but he was not to be foiled in his resolution to -advance himself in the good graces of the inhabitants of the -cottage. After a little consideration he hit on a means of -turning the present adverse circumstances to good account. "I'll -show a proper anxiety for Mrs. Milroy's recovery," he said, -gravely. "I'll send her a basket of strawberries, with my best -respects, to-morrow morning." - -Nothing more happened to mark the end of that first day in the -new house. - - -The one noticeable event of the next day was another disclosure -of Mrs. Milroy's infirmity of temper. Half an hour after Allan's -basket of strawberries had been delivered at the cottage, it was -returned to him intact (by the hands of the invalid lady's -nurse), with a short and sharp message, shortly and sharply -delivered. "Mrs. Milroy's compliments and thanks. Strawberries -invariably disagreed with her." If this curiously petulant -acknowledgment of an act of politeness was intended to irritate -Allan, it failed entirely in accomplishing its object. Instead of -being offended with the mother, he sympathized with the daughter. -"Poor little thing," was all he said, "she must have a hard life -of it with such a mother as that!" - -He called at the cottage himself later in the day, but Miss -Milroy was not to be seen; she was engaged upstairs. The major -received his visitor in his working apron--far more deeply -immersed in his wonderful clock, and far less readily accessible -to outer influences, than Allan had seen him at their first -interview. His manner was as kind as before; but not a word more -could be extracted from him on the subject of his wife than that -Mrs. Milroy "had not improved since yesterday." - -The two next days passed quietly and uneventfully. Allan -persisted in making his inquiries at the cottage; but all he saw -of the major's daughter was a glimpse of her on one occasion at a -window on the bedroom floor. Nothing more was heard from Mr. -Pedgift; and Mr. Bashwood's appearance was still delayed. -Midwinter declined to move in the matter until time enough had -passed to allow of his first hearing from Mr. Brock, in answer to -the letter which he had addressed to the rector on the night of -his arrival at Thorpe Ambrose. He was unusually silent and quiet, -and passed most of his hours in the library among the books. The -time wore on wearily. The resident gentry acknowledged Allan's -visit by formally leaving their cards. Nobody came near the house -afterward; the weather was monotonously fine. Allan grew a little -restless and dissatisfied. He began to resent Mrs. Milroy's -illness; he began to think regretfully of his deserted yacht. - -The next day--the twentieth--brought some news with it from the -outer world. A message was delivered from Mr. Pedgift, announcing -that his clerk, Mr. Bashwood, would personally present himself at -Thorpe Ambrose on the following day; and a letter in answer to -Midwinter was received from Mr. Brock. - -The letter was dated the 18th, and the news which it contained -raised not Allan's spirits only, but Midwinter's as well. - -On the day on which he wrote, Mr. Brock announced that he was -about to journey to London; having been summoned thither on -business connected with the interests of a sick relative, to whom -he stood in the position of trustee. The business completed, he -had good hope of finding one or other of his clerical friends in -the metropolis who would be able and willing to do duty for him -at the rectory; and, in that case, he trusted to travel on from -London to Thorpe Ambrose in a week's' time or less. Under these -circumstances, he would leave the majority of the subjects on -which Midwinter had written to him to be discussed when they met. -But as time might be of importance, in relation to the -stewardship of the Thorpe Ambrose estate, he would say at once -that he saw no reason why Midwinter should not apply his mind to -learning the steward's duties, and should not succeed in -rendering himself invaluably serviceable in that way to the -interests of his friend. - -Leaving Midwinter reading and re-reading the rector's cheering -letter, as if he was bent on getting every sentence in it by -heart, Allan went out rather earlier than usual, to make his -daily inquiry at the cottage--or, in plainer words, to make a -fourth attempt at improving his acquaintance with Miss Milroy. -The day had begun encouragingly, and encouragingly it seemed -destined to go on. When Allan turned the corner of the second -shrubbery, and entered the little paddock where he and the -major's daughter had first met, there was Miss Milroy herself -loitering to and fro on the grass, to all appearance on the watch -for somebody. - -She gave a little start when Allan appeared, an d came forward -without hesitation to meet him. She was not in her best looks. -Her rosy complexion had suffered under confinement to the house, -and a marked expression of embarrassment clouded her pretty face. - -"I hardly know how to confess it, Mr. Armadale," she said, -speaking eagerly, before Allan could utter a word, "but I -certainly ventured here this morning in the hope of meeting with -you. I have been very much distressed; I have only just heard, by -accident, of the manner in which mamma received the present of -fruit you so kindly sent to her. Will you try to excuse her? She -has been miserably ill for years, and she is not always quite -herself. After your being so very, very kind to me (and to papa), -I really could not help stealing out here in the hope of seeing -you, and telling you how sorry I was. Pray forgive and forget, -Mr. Armadale--pray do!" her voice faltered over the last words, -and, in her eagerness to make her mother's peace with him, she -laid her hand on his arm. - -Allan was himself a little confused. Her earnestness took him by -surprise, and her evident conviction that he had been offended -honestly distressed him. Not knowing what else to do, he followed -his instincts, and possessed himself of her hand to begin with. - -"My dear Miss Milroy, if you say a word more you will distress -_me_ next," he rejoined, unconsciously pressing her hand closer -and closer, in the embarrassment of the moment. "I never was in -the least offended; I made allowances--upon my honor I did--for -poor Mrs. Milroy's illness. Offended!" cried Allan, reverting -energetically to the old complimentary strain. "I should like to -have my basket of fruit sent back every day--if I could only be -sure of its bringing you out into the paddock the first thing in -the morning." - -Some of Miss Milroy's missing color began to appear again in her -cheeks. "Oh, Mr. Armadale, there is really no end to your -kindness," she said; "you don't know how you relieve me! She -paused; her spirits rallied with as happy a readiness of recovery -as if they had been the spirits of a child; and her native -brightness of temper sparkled again in her eyes, as she looked -up, shyly smiling in Allan's face. "Don't you think," she asked, -demurely, "that it is almost time now to let go of my hand?" - -Their eyes met. Allan followed his instincts for the second time. -Instead of releasing her hand, he lifted it to his lips and -kissed it. All the missing tints of the rosier sort returned to -Miss Milroy's complexion on the instant. She snatched away her -hand as if Allan had burned it. - -"I'm sure _that's_ wrong, Mr. Armadale," she said, and turned her -head aside quickly, for she was smiling in spite of herself. - -"I meant it as an apology for--for holding your hand too long," -stammered Allan. "An apology can't be wrong--can it?" - -There are occasions, though not many, when the female mind -accurately appreciates an appeal to the force of pure reason. -This was one of the occasions. An abstract proposition had been -presented to Miss Milroy, and Miss Milroy was convinced. If it -was meant as an apology, that, she admitted, made all the -difference. "I only hope," said the little coquet, looking at him -slyly, "you're not misleading me. Not that it matters much now," -she added, with a serious shake of her head. "If we have -committed any improprieties, Mr. Armadale, we are not likely to -have the opportunity of committing many more." - -"You're not going away?" exclaimed Allan, in great alarm. - -"Worse than that, Mr. Armadale. My new governess is coming." - -"Coming?" repeated Allan. "Coming already?" - -"As good as coming, I ought to have said--only I didn't know you -wished me to be so very particular. We got the answers to the -advertisements this morning. Papa and I opened them and read them -together half an hour ago; and we both picked out the same letter -from all the rest. I picked it out, because it was so prettily -expressed; and papa picked it out because the terms were so -reasonable. He is going to send the letter up to grandmamma in -London by today's post, and, if she finds everything satisfactory -on inquiry, the governess is to be engaged You don't know how -dreadfully nervous I am getting about it already; a strange -governess is such an awful prospect. But it is not quite so bad -as going to school; and I have great hopes of this new lady, -because she writes such a nice letter! As I said to papa, it -almost reconciles me to her horrid, unromantic name." - -"What is her name?" asked Allan. "Brown? Grubb? Scraggs? Anything -of that sort?" - -"Hush! hush! Nothing quite so horrible as that. Her name is -Gwilt. Dreadfully unpoetical, isn't it? Her reference must be a -respectable person, though; for she lives in the same part of -London as grandmamma. Stop, Mr. Armadale! we are going the wrong -way. No; I can't wait to look at those lovely flowers of yours -this morning, and, many thanks, I can't accept your arm. I have -stayed here too long already. Papa is waiting for his breakfast; -and I must run back every step of the way. Thank you for making -those kind allowances for mamma; thank you again and again, and -good-by! " - -"Won't you shake hands?" asked Allan. - -She gave him her hand. "No more apologies, if you please, Mr. -Armadale," she said, saucily. Once more their eyes met, and once -more the plump, dimpled little hand found its way to Allan's -lips. "It isn't an apology this time!" cried Allan, precipitately -defending himself. "It's--it's a mark of respect." - -She started back a few steps, and burst out laughing. "You won't -find me in our grounds again, Mr. Armadale," she said, merrily, -"till I have got Miss Gwilt to take care of me!" With that -farewell, she gathered up her skirts, and ran back across the -paddock at the top of her speed. - -Allan stood watching her in speechless admiration till she was -out of sight. His second interview with Miss Milroy had produced -an extraordinary effect on him. For the first time since he had -become the master of Thorpe Ambrose, he was absorbed in serious -consideration of what he owed to his new position in life. "The -question is," pondered Allan, "whether I hadn't better set myself -right with my neighbors by becoming a married man? I'll take the -day to consider; and if I keep in the same mind about it, I'll -consult Midwinter to-morrow morning." - - -When the morning came, and when Allan descended to the -breakfast-room, resolute to consult his friend on the obligations -that he owed to his neighbors in general, and to Miss Milroy in -particular, no Midwinter was to he seen. On making inquiry, it -appeared that he had been observed in the hall; that he had taken -from the table a letter which the morning's post had brought to -him; and that he had gone back immediately to his own room. Allan -at once ascended the stairs again, and knocked at his friend's -door. - -"May I come in?" he asked. - -"Not just now," was the answer. - -"You have got a letter, haven't you?" persisted Allan. "Any bad -news? Anything wrong?" - -"Nothing. I'm not very well this morning. Don't wait breakfast -for me; I'll come down as soon as I can." - -No more was said on either side. Allan returned to the -breakfast-room a little disappointed. He had set his heart on -rushing headlong into his consultation with Midwinter, and here -was the consultation indefinitely delayed. "What an odd fellow he -is!" thought Allan. "What on earth can he be doing, locked in -there by himself?" - -He was doing nothing. He was sitting by the window, with the -letter which had reached him that morning open in his hand. The -handwriting was Mr. Brock's, and the words written were these: - - -"MY DEAR MIDWINTER--I have literally only two minutes before post -time to tell you that I have just met (in Kensington Gardens) -with the woman whom we both only know, thus far, as the woman -with the red Paisley shawl. I have traced her and her companion -(a respectable-looking elderly lady) to their residence--after -having distinctly heard Allan's name mentioned between them. -Depend on my not losing sight of the woman until I am satisfied -that she means no mischief at Thorpe Ambrose; and expect to hear -from me again as soon as I know how this strange discovery is to -end. - -"Very truly yours, D ECIMUS BROCK." - - -After reading the letter for the second time, Midwinter folded it -up thoughtfully, and placed it in his pocket-book, side by side -with the manuscript narrative of Allan's dream. - -"Your discovery will not end with _you,_ Mr. Brock," he said. "Do -what you will with the woman, when the time comes the woman will -be here." - -CHAPTER V. - -MOTHER OLDERSHAW ON HER GUARD. - -1. _From Mrs. Oldershaw (Diana Street, Pimlico) to Miss Gwilt -(West Place, Old Brompton)._ - -"Ladies' Toilet Repository, June 20th, - -Eight in the Evening. - -"MY DEAR LYDIA--About three hours have passed, as well as I can -remember, since I pushed you unceremoniously inside my house in -West Place, and, merely telling you to wait till you saw me -again, banged the door to between us, and left you alone in the -hall. I know your sensitive nature, my dear, and I am afraid you -have made up your mind by this time that never yet was a guest -treated so abominably by her hostess as I have treated you. - -"The delay that has prevented me from explaining my strange -conduct is, believe me, a delay for which I am not to blame. One -of the many delicate little difficulties which beset so -essentially confidential a business as mine occurred here (as I -have since discovered) while we were taking the air this -afternoon in Kensington Gardens. I see no chance of being able to -get back to you for some hours to come, and I have a word of very -urgent caution for your private ear, which has been too long -delayed already. So I must use the spare minutes as they come, -and write. - -"Here is caution the first. On no account venture outside the -door again this evening, and be very careful, while the daylight -lasts, not to show yourself at any of the front windows. I have -reason to fear that a certain charming person now staying with me -may possibly be watched. Don't be alarmed, and don't be -impatient; you shall know why. - -"I can only explain myself by going back to our unlucky meeting -in the Gardens with that reverend gentleman who was so obliging -as to follow us both back to my house. - -"It crossed my mind, just as we were close to the door, that -there might be a motive for the parson's anxiety to trace us -home, far less creditable to his taste, and far more dangerous to -both of us, than the motive you supposed him to have. In plainer -words, Lydia, I rather doubted whether you had met with another -admirer; and I strongly suspected that you had encountered -another enemy instead . There was no time to tell you this. There -was only time to see you safe into the house, and to make sure of -the parson (in case my suspicions were right) by treating him as -he had treated us; I mean, by following him in his turn. - -"I kept some little distance behind him at first, to turn the -thing over in my mind, and to be satisfied that my doubts were -not misleading me. We have no concealments from each other; and -you shall know what my doubts were. - -"I was not surprised at _your_ recognizing _him;_ he is not at -all a common-looking old man; and you had seen him twice in -Somersetshire--once when you asked your way of him to Mrs. -Armadale's house, and once when you saw him again on your way -back to the railroad. But I was a little puzzled (considering -that you had your veil down on both those occasions, and your -veil down also when we were in the Gardens) at his recognizing -_you._ I doubted his remembering your figure in a summer dress -after he had only seen it in a winter dress; and though we were -talking when he met us, and your voice is one among your many -charms, I doubted his remembering your voice, either. And yet I -felt persuaded that he knew you. 'How?' you will ask. My dear, as -ill-luck would have it, we were speaking at the time of young -Armadale. I firmly believe that the name was the first thing that -struck him; and when he heard _that,_, your voice certainly and -your figure perhaps, came back to his memory. 'And what if it -did?' you may say. Think again, Lydia, and tell me whether the -parson of the place where Mrs. Armadale lived was not likely to -be Mrs. Armadale's friend? If he _was_ her friend, the very first -person to whom she would apply for advice after the manner in -which you frightened her, and after what you most injudiciously -said on the subject of appealing to her son, would be the -clergyman of the parish--and the magistrate, too, as the landlord -at the inn himself told you. - -"You will now understand why I left you in that extremely uncivil -manner, and I may go on to what happened next. - -"I followed the old gentleman till he turned into a quiet street, -and then accosted him, with respect for the Church written (I -flatter myself) in every line of my face. - -" 'Will you excuse me,' I said, 'if I venture to inquire, sir, -whether you recognized the lady who was walking with me when you -happened to pass us in the Gardens?' - -" 'Will you excuse my asking, ma'am, why you put that question?' -was all the answer I got. - -" 'I will endeavor to tell you, sir,' I said. 'If my friend is -not an absolute stranger to you, I should wish to request your -attention to a very delicate subject, connected with a lady -deceased, and with her son who survives her.' - -"He was staggered; I could see that. But he was sly enough at the -same time to hold his tongue and wait till I said something more. - -" 'If I am wrong, sir, in thinking that you recognized my -friend,' I went on, 'I beg to apologize. But I could hardly -suppose it possible that a gentleman in your profession would -follow a lady home who was a total stranger to him.' - -"There I had him. He colored up (fancy that, at his age!), and -owned the truth, in defense of his own precious character. - -" 'I have met with the lady once before, and I acknowledge that I -recognized her in the Gardens,' he said. 'You will excuse me if I -decline entering into the question of whether I did or did not -purposely follow her home. If you wish to be assured that your -friend is not an absolute stranger to me, you now have that -assurance; and if you have anything particular to say to me, I -leave you to decide whether the time has come to say it.' - -"He waited, and looked about. I waited, and looked about. He said -the street was hardly a fit place to speak of a delicate subject -in. I said the street was hardly a fit place to speak of a -delicate subject in. He didn't offer to take me to where he -lived. I didn't offer to take him to where I lived. Have you ever -seen two strange cats, my dear, nose to nose on the tiles? If you -have, you have seen the parson and me done to the life. - -" 'Well, ma'am,' he said, at last, 'shall we go on with our -conversation in spite of circumstances?' - -" 'Yes, sir,' I said; 'we are both of us, fortunately, of an age -to set circumstances at defiance' (I had seen the old wretch -looking at my gray hair, and satisfying himself that his -character was safe if he _was_ seen with me). - -"After all this snapping and snarling, we came to the point at -last. I began by telling him that I feared his interest in you -was not of the friendly sort. He admitted that much--of course, -in defense of his own character once more. I next repeated to him -everything you had told me about your proceedings in -Somersetshire, when we first found that he was following us home. -Don't be alarmed my dear--I was acting on principle. If you want -to make a dish of lies digestible, always give it a garnish of -truth. Well, having appealed to the reverend gentleman's -confidence in this matter, I next declared that you had become an -altered woman since he had seen you last. I revived that dead -wretch, your husband (without mentioning names, of course), -established him (the first place I thought of) in business at the -Brazils, and described a letter which he had written, offering to -forgive his erring wife, if she would repent and go back to him. -I assured the parson that your husband's noble conduct had -softened your obdurate nature; and then, thinking I had produced -the right impression, I came boldly to close quarters with him. I -said, 'At the very time when you met us, sir, my unhappy friend -was speaking in terms of touching, self-reproach of her conduct -to the late Mrs. Armadale. She confided to me her anxiety - to make some atonement, if possible, to Mrs. Armadale's son; and -it is at her entreaty (for she cannot prevail on herself to face -you) that I now beg to inquire whether Mr. Armadale is still in -Somersetshire, and whether he would consent to take back in small -installments the sum of money which my friend acknowledges that -she received by practicing on Mrs. Armadale's fears.' Those were -my very words. A neater story (accounting so nicely for -everything) was never told; it was a story to melt a stone. But -this Somersetshire parson is harder than stone itself. I blush -for _him,_ my dear, when I assure you that he was evidently -insensible enough to disbelieve every word I said about your -reformed character, your husband in the Brazils, and your -penitent anxiety to pay the money back. It is really a disgrace -that such a man should be in the Church; such cunning as his is -in the last degree unbecoming in a member of a sacred profession. - -" 'Does your friend propose to join her husband by the next -steamer?' was all he condescended to say, when I had done. - -"I acknowledge I was angry. I snapped at him. I said, 'Yes, she -does.' - -" 'How am I to communicate with her?' he asked. - -"I snapped at him again. 'By letter--through me.' - -" 'At what address, ma'am?' - -"There, I had him once more. 'You have found my address out for -yourself, sir,' I said. 'The directory will tell you my name, if -you wish to find that out for yourself also; otherwise, you are -welcome to my card.' - -" 'Many thanks, ma'am. If your friend wishes to communicate with -Mr. Armadale, I will give you _my_ card in return.' - -" 'Thank you, sir.' - -" 'Thank you, ma'am.' - -" 'Good-afternoon, sir.' - -" 'Good-afternoon, ma'am.' - -"So we parted. I went my way to an appointment at my place of -business, and he went his in a hurry; which is of itself -suspicious. What I can't get over is his heartlessness. Heaven -help the people who send for _him_ to comfort them on their -death-beds! - -"The next consideration is, What are we to do? If we don't find -out the right way to keep this old wretch in the dark, he may be -the ruin of us at Thorpe Ambrose just as we are within easy reach -of our end in view. Wait up till I come to you, with my mind -free, I hope, from the other difficulty which is worrying me -here. Was there ever such ill luck as ours? Only think of that -man deserting his congregation, and coming to London just at the -very time when we have answered Major Milroy's advertisement, and -may expect the inquiries to be made next week! I have no patience -with him; his bishop ought to interfere. - -"Affectionately yours, - -"MARIA OLDERSHAW." - -2. _From Miss Gwilt to Mrs. Oldershaw._ - -"West Place, June 20th. - -"MY POOR OLD DEAR--How very little you know of my sensitive -nature, as you call it! Instead of feeling offended when you left -me, I went to your piano, and forgot all about you till your -messenger came. Your letter is irresistible; I have been laughing -over it till I am quite out of breath. Of all the absurd stories -I ever read, the story you addressed to the Somersetshire -clergyman is the most ridiculous. And as for your interview with -him in the street, it is a perfect sin to keep it to ourselves. -The public ought really to enjoy it in the form of a farce at one -of the theaters. - -"Luckily for both of us (to come to serious matters), your -messenger is a prudent person. He sent upstairs to know if there -was an answer. In the midst of my merriment I had presence of -mind enough to send downstairs and say 'Yes.' - -"Some brute of a man says, in some book which I once read, that -no woman can keep two separate trains of ideas in her mind at the -same time. I declare you have almost satisfied me that the man is -right. What! when you have escaped unnoticed to your place of -business, and when you suspect this house to be watched, you -propose to come back here, and to put it in the parson's power to -recover the lost trace of you! What madness! Stop where you are; -and when you have got over your difficulty at Pimlico (it is some -woman's business, of course; what worries women are!), be so good -as to read what I have got to say about our difficulty at -Brompton. - -"In the first place, the house (as you supposed) is watched. - -"Half an hour after you left me, loud voices in the street -interrupted me at the piano, and I went to the window. There was -a cab at the house opposite, where they let lodgings; and an old -man, who looked like a respectable servant, was wrangling with -the driver about his fare. An elderly gentleman came out of the -house, and stopped them. An elderly gentleman returned into the -house, and appeared cautiously at the front drawing-room window. -You know him, you worthy creature; he had the bad taste, some few -hours since, to doubt whether you were telling him the truth. -Don't be afraid, he didn't see me. When he looked up, after -settling with the cab driver, I was behind the curtain. I have -been behind the curtain once or twice since; and I have seen -enough to satisfy me that he and his servant will relieve each -other at the window, so as never to lose sight of your house -here, night or day. That the parson suspects the real truth is of -course impossible. But that he firmly believes I mean some -mischief to young Armadale, and that you have entirely confirmed -him in that conviction, is as plain as that two and two make -four. And this has happened (as you helplessly remind me) just -when we have answered the advertisement, and when we may expect -the major's inquiries to be made in a few days' time. - -"Surely, here is a terrible situation for two women to find -themselves in? A fiddlestick's end for the situation! We have got -an easy way out of it--thanks, Mother Oldershaw, to what I myself -forced you to do, not three hours before the Somersetshire -clergyman met with us. - -"Has that venomous little quarrel of ours this morning--after we -had pounced on the major's advertisement in the newspaper--quite -slipped out of your memory? Have you forgotten how I persisted in -my opinion that you were a great deal too well known in London to -appear safely as my reference in your own name, or to receive an -inquiring lady or gentleman (as you were rash enough to propose) -in your own house? Don't you remember what a passion you were in -when I brought our dispute to an end by declining to stir a step -in the matter, unless I could conclude my application to Major -Milroy by referring him to an address at which you were totally -unknown, and to a name which might be anything you pleased, as -long as it was not yours? What a look you gave me when you found -there was nothing for it but to drop the whole speculation or to -let me have my own way! How you fumed over the lodging hunting on -the other side of the Park! and how you groaned when you came -back, possessed of furnished apartments in respectable Bayswater, -over the useless expense I had put you to! - -"What do you think of those furnished apartments _now,_ you -obstinate old woman? Here we are, with discovery threatening us -at our very door, and with no hope of escape unless we can -contrive to disappear from the parson in the dark. And there are -the lodgings in Bayswater, to which no inquisitive strangers have -traced either you or me, ready and waiting to swallow us up--the -lodgings in which we can escape all further molestation, and -answer the major's inquiries at our ease. Can you see, at last, a -little further than your poor old nose? Is there anything in the -world to prevent your safe disappearance from Pimlico to-night, -and your safe establishment at the new lodgings, in the character -of my respectable reference, half an hour afterward? Oh, fie, -fie, Mother Oldershaw! Go down on your wicked old knees, and -thank your stars that you had a she-devil like me to deal with -this morning! - -"Suppose we come now to the only difficulty worth mentioning--_ -my_ difficulty. Watched as I am in this house, how am I to join -you without bringing the parson or the parson's servant with me -at my heels? - -"Being to all intents and purposes a prisoner here, it seems to -me that I have no choice but to try the old prison plan of -escape--a change of clothes. I have been looking at your -house-maid. Excep t that we are both light, her face and hair and -my face and hair are as unlike each other as possible. But she is -as nearly as can be my height and size; and (if she only knew how -to dress herself, and had smaller feet) her figure is a very much -better one than it ought to be for a person in her station in -life. - -"My idea is, to dress her in the clothes I wore in the Gardens -to-day; to send her out, with our reverend enemy in full pursuit -of her; and, as soon as the coast is clear, to slip away myself -and join you. The thing would be quite impossible, of course, if -I had been seen with my veil up; but, as events have turned out, -it is one advantage of the horrible exposure which followed my -marriage that I seldom show myself in public, and never, of -course, in such a populous place as London, without wearing a -thick veil and keeping that veil down. If the house-maid wears my -dress, I don't really see why the house-maid may not be counted -on to represent me to the life. - -"The one question is, Can the woman be trusted? If she can, send -me a line, telling her, on your authority, that she is to place -herself at my disposal. I won't say a word till I have heard from -you first. - -"Let me have my answer to-night. As long as we were only talking -about my getting the governess's place, I was careless enough how -it ended. But now that we have actually answered Major Milroy's -advertisement, I am in earnest at last. I mean to be Mrs. -Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose; and woe to the man or woman who tries -to stop me! Yours, - -"LYDIA GWILT. - -"P.S.--I open my letter again to say that you need have no fear -of your messenger being followed on his return to Pimlico. He -will drive to a public-house where he is known, will dismiss the -cab at the door, and will go out again by a back way which is -only used by the landlord and his friends.--L. G." - -3. _From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt._ - -"Diana Street, 10 o'clock. - -"MY DEAR LYDIA--You have written me a heartless letter. If you -had been in my trying position, harassed as I was when I wrote to -you, I should have made allowances for my friend when I found my -friend not so sharp as usual. But the vice of the present age is -a want of consideration for persons in the decline of life. -Morally speaking, you are in a sad state, my dear; and you stand -much in need of a good example. You shall have a good example--I -forgive you. - -"Having now relieved my mind by the performance of a good action, -suppose I show you next (though I protest against the vulgarity -of the expression) that I _can_ see a little further than my poor -old nose? - -"I will answer your question about the house-maid first. You may -trust her implicitly. She has had her troubles, and has learned -discretion. She also looks your age; though it is only her due to -say that, in this particular, she has some years the advantage of -you. I inclose the necessary directions which will place her -entirely at your disposal. - -"And what comes next? - -"Your plan for joining me at Bayswater comes next. It is very -well as far as it goes; but it stands sadly in need of a little -judicious improvement. There is a serious necessity (you shall -know why presently) for deceiving the parson far more completely -than you propose to deceive him. I want him to see the -house-maid's face under circumstances which will persuade him -that it is _your_ face. And then, going a step further, I want -him to see the house-maid leave London, under the impression that -he has seen _you_ start on the first stage of your journey to the -Brazils. He didn't believe in that journey when I announced it to -him this afternoon in the street. He may believe in it yet, if -you follow the directions I am now going to give you. - -"To-morrow is Saturday. Send the housemaid out in your walking -dress of to-day, just as you propose; but don't stir out -yourself, and don't go near the window. Desire the woman to keep -her veil down, to take half an hour's walk (quite unconscious, of -course, of the parson or his servant at her heels), and then to -come back to you. As soon as she appears, send her instantly to -the open window, instructing her to lift her veil carelessly and -look out. Let her go away again after a minute or two, take off -her bonnet and shawl, and then appear once more at the window, -or, better still, in the balcony outside. She may show herself -again occasionally (not too often) later in the day. And -to-morrow--as we have a professional gentleman to deal with--by -all means send her to church. If these proceedings don't persuade -the parson that the house-maid's face is your face, and if they -don't make him readier to believe in your reformed character than -he was when I spoke to him, I have lived sixty years, my love, in -this vale of tears to mighty little purpose. - -"The next day is Monday. I have looked at the shipping -advertisements, and I find that a steamer leaves Liverpool for -the Brazils on Tuesday. Nothing could be more convenient; we will -start you on your voyage under the parson's own eyes. You may -manage it in this way: - -"At one o'clock send out the man who cleans the knives and forks -to get a cab; and when he has brought it up to the door, let him -go back and get a second cab, which he is to wait in himself, -round the corner, in the square. Let the house-maid (still in -your dress) drive off, with the necessary boxes, in the first cab -to the North-western Railway. When she is gone, slip out yourself -to the cab waiting round the corner, and come to me at Bayswater. -They may be prepared to follow the house-maid's cab, because they -have seen it at the door; but they won't be prepared to follow -your cab, because it has been hidden round the corner. When the -house-maid has got to the station, and has done her best to -disappear in the crowd (I have chosen the mixed train at 2:10, so -as to give her every chance), you will be safe with me; and -whether they do or do not find out that she does not really start -for Liverpool won't matter by that time. They will have lost all -trace of you; and they may follow the house-maid half over -London, if they like. She has my instructions (inclosed) to leave -the empty boxes to find their way to the lost luggage office and -to go to her friends in the City, and stay there till I write -word that I want her again. - -"And what is the object of all this? - -"My dear Lydia, the object is your future security (and mine). We -may succeed or we may fail, in persuading the parson that you -have actually gone to the Brazils. If we succeed, we are relieved -of all fear of him. If we fail, he will warn young Armadale to be -careful _of a woman like my house-maid, and not of a woman like -you._ This last gain is a very important one; for we don't know -that Mrs. Armadale may not have told him your maiden name. In -that event, the 'Miss Gwilt' whom he will describe as having -slipped through his fingers here will be so entirely unlike the -'Miss Gwilt' established at Thorpe Ambrose, as to satisfy -everybody that it is not a case of similarity of persons, but -only a case of similarity of names. - -"What do you say now to my improvement on your idea? Are my -brains not quite so addled as you thought them when you wrote? -Don't suppose I'm at all overboastful about my own ingenuity. -Cleverer tricks than this trick of mine are played off on the -public by swindlers, and are recorded in the newspapers every -week. I only want to show you that my assistance is not less -necessary to the success of the Armadale speculation now than it -was when I made our first important discoveries, by means of the -harmless-looking young man and the private inquiry office in -Shadyside Place. - -"There is nothing more to say that I know of, except that I am -just going to start for the new lodging, with a box directed in -my new name. The last expiring moments of Mother Oldershaw, of -the Toilet Repository, are close at hand, and the birth of Miss -Gwilt's respectable reference, Mrs. Mandeville, will take place -in a cab in five minutes' time. I fancy I must be still young at -heart, for I am quite in love already with my romantic name; it -sounds almost as pretty as Mrs. Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose, -doesn't it? - -"Good-night, my dear, and pleasant - dreams. If any accident happens between this and Monday, write -to me instantly by post. If no accident happens you will be with -me in excellent time for the earliest inquiries that the major -can possibly make. My last words are, don't go out, and don't -venture near the front windows till Monday comes. - -"Affectionately yours, - -M. O." - -CHAPTER VI. - -MIDWINTER IN DISGUISE. - -TOWARD noon on the day of the twenty-first, Miss Milroy was -loitering in the cottage garden--released from duty in the -sick-room by an improvement in her mother's health--when her -attention was attracted by the sound of voices in the park. One -of the voices she instantly recognized as Allan's; the other was -strange to her. She put aside the branches of a shrub near the -garden palings, and, peeping through, saw Allan approaching the -cottage gate, in company with a slim, dark, undersized man, who -was talking and laughing excitably at the top of his voice. Miss -Milroy ran indoors to warn her father of Mr. Armadale's arrival, -and to add that he was bringing with him a noisy stranger, who -was, in all probability, the friend generally reported to be -staying with the squire at the great house. - -Had the major's daughter guessed right? Was the squire's -loud-talking, loud-laughing companion the shy, sensitive -Midwinter of other times? It was even so. In Allan's presence, -that morning, an extraordinary change had passed over the -ordinarily quiet demeanor of Allan's friend. - -When Midwinter had first appeared in the breakfast-room, after -putting aside Mr. Brock's startling letter, Allan had been too -much occupied to pay any special attention to him. The undecided -difficulty of choosing the day for the audit dinner had pressed -for a settlement once more, and had been fixed at last (under the -butler's advice) for Saturday, the twenty-eighth of the month. It -was only on turning round to remind Midwinter of the ample space -of time which the new arrangement allowed for mastering the -steward's books, that even Allan's flighty attention had been -arrested by a marked change in the face that confronted him. He -had openly noticed the change in his usual blunt manner, and had -been instantly silenced by a fretful, almost an angry, reply. The -two had sat down together to breakfast without the usual -cordiality, and the meal had proceeded gloomily, till Midwinter -himself broke the silence by bursting into the strange outbreak -of gayety which had revealed in Allan's eyes a new side to the -character of his friend. - -As usual with most of Allan's judgments, here again the -conclusion was wrong. It was no new side to Midwinter's character -that now presented itself--it was only a new aspect of the one -ever-recurring struggle of Midwinter's life. - -Irritated by Allan's discovery of the change in him, and dreading -the next questions that Allan's curiosity might put, Midwinter -had roused himself to efface, by main force, the impression which -his own altered appearance had produced. It was one of those -efforts which no men compass so resolutely as the men of his -quick temper and his sensitive feminine organization. With his -whole mind still possessed by the firm belief that the Fatality -had taken one great step nearer to Allan and himself since the -rector's adventure in Kensington Gardens--with his face still -betraying what he had suffered, under the renewed conviction that -his father's death-bed warning was now, in event after event, -asserting its terrible claim to part him, at any sacrifice, from -the one human creature whom he loved--with the fear still busy at -his heart that the first mysterious vision of Allan's Dream might -be a vision realized, before the new day that now saw the two -Armadales together was a day that had passed over their -heads--with these triple bonds, wrought by his own superstition, -fettering him at that moment as they had never fettered him yet, -he mercilessly spurred his resolution to the desperate effort of -rivaling, in Allan's presence, the gayety and good spirits of -Allan himself. - -He talked and laughed, and heaped his plate indiscriminately from -every dish on the breakfast-table. He made noisily merry with -jests that had no humor, and stories that had no point. He first -astonished Allan, then amused him, then won his easily encouraged -confidence on the subject of Miss Milroy. He shouted with -laughter over the sudden development of Allan's views on -marriage, until the servants downstairs began to think that their -master's strange friend had gone mad. Lastly, he had accepted -Allan's proposal that he should be presented to the major's -daughter, and judge of her for himself, as readily, nay, more -readily than it would have been accepted by the least diffident -man living. There the two now stood at the cottage -gate--Midwinter's voice rising louder and louder over -Allan's--Midwinter's natural manner disguised (how madly and -miserably none but he knew!) in a coarse masquerade of -boldness--the outrageous, the unendurable boldness of a shy man. - -They were received in the parlor by the major's daughter, pending -the arrival of the major himself. - -Allan attempted to present his friend in the usual form. To his -astonishment, Midwinter took the words flippantly out of his -lips, and introduced himself to Miss Milroy with a confident -look, a hard laugh, and a clumsy assumption of ease which -presented him at his worst. His artificial spirits, lashed -continuously into higher and higher effervescence since the -morning, were now mounting hysterically beyond his own control. -He looked and spoke with that terrible freedom of license which -is the necessary consequence, when a diffident man has thrown off -his reserve, of the very effort by which he has broken loose from -his own restraints. He involved himself in a confused medley of -apologies that were not wanted, and of compliments that might -have overflattered the vanity of a savage. He looked backward and -forward from Miss Milroy to Allan, and declared jocosely that he -understood now why his friend's morning walks were always taken -in the same direction. He asked her questions about her mother, -and cut short the answers she gave him by remarks on the weather. -In one breath, he said she must feel the day insufferably hot, -and in another he protested that he quite envied her in her cool -muslin dress. - -The major came in. - -Before he could say two words, Midwinter overwhelmed him with the -same frenzy of familiarity, and the same feverish fluency of -speech. He expressed his interest in Mrs. Milroy's health in -terms which would have been exaggerated on the lips of a friend -of the family. He overflowed into a perfect flood of apologies -for disturbing the major at his mechanical pursuits. He quoted -Allan's extravagant account of the clock, and expressed his own -anxiety to see it in terms more extravagant still. He paraded his -superficial book knowledge of the great clock at Strasbourg, with -far-fetched jests on the extraordinary automaton figures which -that clock puts in motion--on the procession of the Twelve -Apostles, which walks out under the dial at noon, and on the toy -cock, which crows at St. Peter's appearance--and this before a -man who had studied every wheel in that complex machinery, and -who had passed whole years of his life in trying to imitate it. -"I hear you have outnumbered the Strasbourg apostles, and -outcrowed the Strasbourg cock," he exclaimed, with the tone and -manner of a friend habitually privileged to waive all ceremony; -"and I am dying, absolutely dying, major, to see your wonderful -clock!" - -Major Milroy had entered the room with his mind absorbed in his -own mechanical contrivances as usual. But the sudden shock of -Midwinter's familiarity was violent enough to recall him -instantly to himself, and to make him master again, for the time, -of his social resources as a man of the world. - -"Excuse me for interrupting you," he said, stopping Midwinter for -the moment, by a look of steady surprise. "I happen to have seen -the clock at Strasbourg; and it sounds almost absurd in my ears -(if you will pardon me for saying so) to put my little experiment -in any light of comparison with that wonderful achievement. There -is nothing else of the kind like - it in the world!" He paused, to control his own mounting -enthusiasm; the clock at Strasbourg was to Major Milroy what the -name of Michael Angelo was to Sir Joshua Reynolds. "Mr. -Armadale's kindness has led him to exaggerate a little," pursued -the major, smiling at Allan, and passing over another attempt of -Midwinter's to seize on the talk, as if no such attempt had been -made. "But as there does happen to be this one point of -resemblance between the great clock abroad and the little clock -at home, that they both show what they can do on the stroke of -noon, and as it is close on twelve now, if you still wish to -visit my workshop, Mr. Midwinter, the sooner I show you the way -to it the better." He opened the door, and apologized to -Midwinter, with marked ceremony, for preceding him out of the -room. - -"What do you think of my friend?" whispered Allan, as he and Miss -Milroy followed. - -"Must I tell you the truth, Mr. Armadale?" she whispered back. - -"Of course!" - -"Then I don't like him at all!" - -"He's the best and dearest fellow in the world, " rejoined the -outspoken Allan. "You'll like him better when you know him -better--I'm sure you will!" - -Miss Milroy made a little grimace, implying supreme indifference -to Midwinter, and saucy surprise at Allan's earnest advocacy of -the merits of his friend. "Has he got nothing more interesting to -say to me than _that,_" she wondered, privately, "after kissing -my hand twice yesterday morning?" - -They were all in the major's workroom before Allan had the chance -of trying a more attractive subject. There, on the top of a rough -wooden case, which evidently contained the machinery, was the -wonderful clock. The dial was crowned by a glass pedestal placed -on rock-work in carved ebony; and on the top of the pedestal sat -the inevitable figure of Time, with his everlasting scythe in his -hand. Below the dial was a little platform, and at either end of -it rose two miniature sentry-boxes, with closed doors. -Externally, this was all that appeared, until the magic moment -came when the clock struck twelve noon. - -It wanted then about three minutes to twelve; and Major Milroy -seized the opportunity of explaining what the exhibition was to -be, before the exhibition began. - -"At the first words, his mind fell back again into its old -absorption over the one employment of his life. He turned to -Midwinter (who had persisted in talking all the way from the -parlor, and who was talking still) without a trace left in his -manner of the cool and cutting composure with which he had spoken -but a few minutes before. The noisy, familiar man, who had been -an ill-bred intruder in the parlor, became a privileged guest in -the workshop, for _there_ he possessed the all-atoning social -advantage of being new to the performances of the wonderful -clock. - -"At the first stroke of twelve, Mr. Midwinter," said the major, -quite eagerly, "keep your eye on the figure of Time: he will move -his scythe, and point it downward to the glass pedestal. You will -next see a little printed card appear behind the glass, which -will tell you the day of the month and the day of the week. At -the last stroke of the clock, Time will lift his scythe again -into its former position, and the chimes will ring a peal. The -peal will be succeeded by the playing of a tune--the favorite -march of my old regiment--and then the final performance of the -clock will follow. The sentry-boxes, which you may observe at -each side, will both open at the same moment. In one of them you -will see the sentinel appear; and from the other a corporal and -two privates will march across the platform to relieve the guard, -and will then disappear, leaving the new sentinel at his post. I -must ask your kind allowances for this last part of the -performance. The machinery is a little complicated, and there are -defects in it which I am ashamed to say I have not yet succeeded -in remedying as I could wish. Sometimes the figures go all wrong, -and sometimes they go all right. I hope they may do their best on -the occasion of your seeing them for the first time." - -As the major, posted near his clock, said the last words, his -little audience of three, assembled at the opposite end of the -room, saw the hour-hand and the minute-hand on the dial point -together to twelve. The first stroke sounded, and Time, true to -the signal, moved his scythe. The day of the month and the day of -the week announced themselves in print through the glass pedestal -next; Midwinter applauding their appearance with a noisy -exaggeration of surprise, which Miss Milroy mistook for coarse -sarcasm directed at her father's pursuits, and which Allan -(seeing that she was offended) attempted to moderate by touching -the elbow of his friend. Meanwhile, the performances of the clock -went on. At the last stroke of twelve, Time lifted his scythe -again, the chimes rang, the march tune of the major's old -regiment followed; and the crowning exhibition of the relief of -the guard announced itself in a preliminary trembling of the -sentry-boxes, and a sudden disappearance of the major at the back -of the clock. - -The performance began with the opening of the sentry-box on the -right-hand side of the platform, as punctually as could be -desired; the door on the other side, however, was less -tractable--it remained obstinately closed. Unaware of this hitch -in the proceedings, the corporal and his two privates appeared in -their places in a state of perfect discipline, tottered out -across the platform, all three trembling in every limb, dashed -themselves headlong against the closed door on the other side, -and failed in producing the smallest impression on the immovable -sentry presumed to be within. An intermittent clicking, as of the -major's keys and tools at work, was heard in the machinery. The -corporal and his two privates suddenly returned, backward, across -the platform, and shut themselves up with a bang inside their own -door. Exactly at the same moment, the other door opened for the -first time, and the provoking sentry appeared with the utmost -deliberation at his post, waiting to be relieved. He was allowed -to wait. Nothing happened in the other box but an occasional -knocking inside the door, as if the corporal and his privates -were impatient to be let out. The clicking of the major's tools -was heard again among the machinery; the corporal and his party, -suddenly restored to liberty, appeared in a violent hurry, and -spun furiously across the platform. Quick as they were, however, -the hitherto deliberate sentry on the other side now perversely -showed himself to be quicker still. He disappeared like lightning -into his own premises, the door closed smartly after him, the -corporal and his privates dashed themselves headlong against it -for the second time, and the major, appearing again round the -corner of the clock, asked his audience innocently "if they would -be good enough to tell him whether anything had gone wrong?" - -The fantastic absurdity of the exhibition, heightened by Major -Milroy's grave inquiry at the end of it, was so irresistibly -ludicrous that the visitors shouted with laughter; and even Miss -Milroy, with all her consideration for her father's sensitive -pride in his clock, could not restrain herself from joining in -the merriment which the catastrophe of the puppets had provoked. -But there are limits even to the license of laughter; and these -limits were ere long so outrageously overstepped by one of the -little party as to have the effect of almost instantly silencing -the other two. The fever of Midwinter's false spirits flamed out -into sheer delirium as the performance of the puppets came to an -end. His paroxysms of laughter followed each other with such -convulsive violence that Miss Milroy started back from him in -alarm, and even the patient major turned on him with a look which -said plainly, Leave the room! Allan, wisely impulsive for once in -his life, seized Midwinter by the arm, and dragged him out by -main force into the garden, and thence into the park beyond. - -"Good heavens! what has come to you!" he exclaimed, shrinking -back from the tortured face before him, as he stopped and looked -close at it for the first time. - -For the moment, Midwinter was inca pable of answering. The -hysterical paroxysm was passing from one extreme to the other. He -leaned against a tree, sobbing and gasping for breath, and -stretched out his hand in mute entreaty to Allan to give him -time. - -"You had better not have nursed me through my fever," he said, -faintly, as soon as he could speak. "I'm mad and miserable, -Allan; I have never recovered it. Go back and ask them to forgive -me; I am ashamed to go and ask them myself. I can't tell how it -happened; I can only ask your pardon and theirs." He turned aside -his head quickly so as to conceal his face. "Don't stop here," he -said; "don't look at me; I shall soon get over it." Allan still -hesitated, and begged hard to be allowed to take him back to the -house. It was useless. "You break my heart with your kindness," -he burst out, passionately. "For God's sake, leave me by my -self!" - -Allan went back to she cottage, and pleaded there for indulgence -to Midwinter, with an earnestness and simplicity which raised him -immensely in the major's estimation, but which totally failed to -produce the same favorable impression on Miss Milroy. Little as -she herself suspected it, she was fond enough of Allan already to -be jealous of Allan's friend. - -"How excessively absurd!" she thought, pettishly. "As if either -papa or I considered such a person of the slightest consequence!" - -"You will kindly suspend your opinion, won't you, Major Milroy?" -said Allan, in his hearty way, at parting. - -"With the greatest pleasure! " replied the major, cordially -shaking hands. - -"And you, too, Miss Milroy?" added Allan. - -Miss Milroy made a mercilessly formal bow. "_My_ opinion, Mr. -Armadale, is not of the slightest consequence." - -Allan left the cottage, sorely puzzled to account for Miss -Milroy's sudden coolness toward him. His grand idea of -conciliating the whole neighborhood by becoming a married man -underwent some modification as he closed the garden gate behind -him. The virtue called Prudence and the Squire of Thorpe Ambrose -became personally acquainted with each other, on this occasion, -for the first time; and Allan, entering headlong as usual on the -high-road to moral improvement, actually decided on doing nothing -in a hurry! - -A man who is entering on a course of reformation ought, if virtue -is its own reward, to be a man engaged in an essentially -inspiriting pursuit. But virtue is not always its own reward; and -the way that leads to reformation is remarkably ill-lighted for -so respectable a thoroughfare. Allan seemed to have caught the -infection of his friend's despondency. As he walked home, he, -too, began to doubt--in his widely different way, and for his -widely different reasons--whether the life at Thorpe Ambrose was -promising quite as fairly for the future as it had promised at -first. - -CHAPTER VII. - -THE PLOT THICKENS. - -Two messages were waiting for Allan when he returned to the -house. One had been left by Midwinter. "He had gone out for a -long walk, and Mr. Armadale was not to be alarmed if he did not -get back till late in the day." The other message had been left -by "a person from Mr. Pedgift's office," who had called, -according to appointment, while the two gentlemen were away at -the major's. "Mr. Bashwood's respects, and he would have the -honor of waiting on Mr. Armadale again in the course of the -evening." - -Toward five o'clock, Midwinter returned, pale and silent. Allan -hastened to assure him that his peace was made at the cottage; -and then, to change the subject, mentioned Mr. Bashwood's -message. Midwinter's mind was so preoccupied or so languid that -he hardly seemed to remember the name. Allan was obliged to -remind him that Bashwood was the elderly clerk, whom Mr. Pedgift -had sent to be his instructor in the duties of the steward's -office. He listened without making any remark, and withdrew to -his room, to rest till dinner-time. - -Left by himself, Allan went into the library, to try if he could -while away the time over a book. - -He took many volumes off the shelves, and put a few of them back -again; and there he ended. Miss Milroy contrived in some -mysterious manner to get, in this case, between the reader and -the books. Her formal bow and her merciless parting speech dwelt, -try how he might to forget them, on Allan's mind; he began to -grow more and more anxious as the idle hour wore on, to recover -his lost place in her favor. To call again that day at the -cottage, and ask if he had been so unfortunate as to offend her, -was impossible. To put the question in writing with the needful -nicety of expression proved, on trying the experiment, to be a -task beyond his literary reach. After a turn or two up and down -the room, with his pen in his mouth, he decided on the more -diplomatic course (which happened, in this case, to be the -easiest course, too), of writing to Miss Milroy as cordially as -if nothing had happened, and of testing his position in her good -graces by the answer that she sent him back. An invitation of -some kind (including her father, of course, but addressed -directly to herself) was plainly the right thing to oblige her to -send a written reply; but here the difficulty occurred of what -the invitation was to be. A ball was not to be thought of, in his -present position with the resident gentry. A dinner-party, with -no indispensable elderly lady on the premises to receive Miss -Milroy--except Mrs. Gripper, who could only receive her in the -kitchen--was equally out of the question. What was the invitation -to be? Never backward, when he wanted help, in asking for it -right and left in every available direction, Allan, feeling -himself at the end of his own resources, coolly rang the bell, -and astonished the servant who answered it by inquiring how the -late family at Thorpe Ambrose used to amuse themselves, and what -sort of invitations they were in the habit of sending to their -friends. - -"The family did what the rest of the gentry did, sir," said the -man, staring at his master in utter bewilderment. "They gave -dinner-parties and balls. And in fine summer weather, sir, like -this, they sometimes had lawn-parties and picnics--" - -"That'll do!" shouted Allan. "A picnic's just the thing to please -her. Richard, you're an invaluable man; you may go downstairs -again." - -Richard retired wondering, and Richard's master seized his ready -pen. - - -"DEAR MISS MILROY--Since I left you it has suddenly struck me -that we might have a picnic. A little change and amusement (what -I should call a good shaking-up, if I wasn't writing to a young -lady) is just the thing for you, after being so long indoors -lately in Mrs. Milroy's room. A picnic is a change, and (when the -wine is good) amusement, too. Will you ask the major if he will -consent to the picnic, and come? And if you have got any friends -in the neighborhood who like a picnic, pray ask them too, for I -have got none. It shall be your picnic, but I will provide -everything and take everybody. You shall choose the day, and we -will picnic where you like. I have set my heart on this picnic. - -"Believe me, ever yours, - -"ALLAN ARMADALE." - - -On reading over his composition before sealing it up, Allan -frankly acknowledged to himself, this time, that it was not quite -faultless. " 'Picnic' comes in a little too often," he said. -"Never mind; if she likes the idea, she won't quarrel with that." -He sent off the letter on the spot, with strict instructions to -the messenger to wait for a reply. - -In half an hour the answer came back on scented paper, without an -erasure anywhere, fragrant to smell, and beautiful to see. - -The presentation of the naked truth is one of those exhibitions -from which the native delicacy of the female mind seems -instinctively to revolt. Never were the tables turned more -completely than they were now turned on Allan by his fair -correspondent. Machiavelli himself would never have suspected, -from Miss Milroy's letter, how heartily she had repented her -petulance to the young squire as soon as his back was turned, and -how extravagantly delighted she was when his invitation was -placed in her hands. Her letter was the composition of a model -young lady whose emotions are all kept under parental lock and -key, and served out for her judiciously as occasion may re quire. -"Papa," appeared quite as frequently in Miss Milroy's reply as -"picnic" had appeared in Allan's invitation. "Papa" had been as -considerately kind as Mr. Armadale in wishing to procure her a -little change and amusement, and had offered to forego his usual -quiet habits and join the picnic. With "papa's" sanction, -therefore, she accepted, with much pleasure, Mr. Armadale's -proposal; and, at "papa's" suggestion, she would presume on Mr. -Armadale's kindness to add two friends of theirs recently settled -at Thorpe Ambrose, to the picnic party--a widow lady and her son; -the latter in holy orders and in delicate health. If Tuesday next -would suit Mr. Armadale, Tuesday next would suit "papa"--being -the first day he could spare from repairs which were required by -his clock. The rest, by "papa's" advice, she would beg to leave -entirely in Mr. Armadale's hands; and, in the meantime, she would -remain, with "papa's" compliments, Mr. Armadale's truly--ELEANOR -MILROY." - -Who would ever have supposed that the writer of that letter had -jumped for joy when Allan's invitation arrived? Who would ever -have suspected that there was an entry already in Miss Milroy's -diary, under that day's date, to this effect: "The sweetest, -dearest letter from _I-know-who;_ I'll never behave unkindly to -him again as long as I live?" As for Allan, he was charmed with -the sweet success of his maneuver. Miss Milroy had accepted his -invitation; consequently, Miss Milroy was not offended with him. -It was on the tip of his tongue to mention the correspondence to -his friend when they met at dinner. But there was something in -Midwinter's face and manner (even plain enough for Allan to see) -which warned him to wait a little before he said anything to -revive the painful subject of their visit to the cottage. By -common consent they both avoided all topics connected with Thorpe -Ambrose, not even the visit from Mr. Bashwood, which was to come -with the evening, being referred to by either of them. All -through the dinner they drifted further and further back into the -old endless talk of past times about ships and sailing. When the -butler withdrew from his attendance at table, he came downstairs -with a nautical problem on his mind, and asked his -fellow-servants if they any of them knew the relative merits "on -a wind" and "off a wind" of a schooner and a brig. - -The two young men had sat longer at table than usual that day. -When they went out into the garden with their cigars, the summer -twilight fell gray and dim on lawn and flower bed, and narrowed -round them by slow degrees the softly fading circle of the -distant view. The dew was heavy, and, after a few minutes in the -garden, they agreed to go back to the drier ground on the drive -in front of the house. - -They were close to the turning which led into the shrubbery, when -there suddenly glided out on them, from behind the foliage, a -softly stepping black figure--a shadow, moving darkly through the -dim evening light. Midwinter started back at the sight of it, and -even the less finely strung nerves of his friend were shaken for -the moment. - -"Who the devil are you?" cried Allan. - -The figure bared its head in the gray light, and came slowly a -step nearer. Midwinter advanced a step on his side, and looked -closer. It was the man of the timid manners and the mourning -garments, of whom he had asked the way to Thorpe Ambrose where -the three roads met. - -"Who are you?" repeated Allan. - -"I humbly beg your pardon, sir," faltered the stranger, stepping -back again, confusedly. "The servants told me I should find Mr. -Armadale--" - -"What, are you Mr. Bashwood?" - -"Yes, if you please, sir." - -"I beg your pardon for speaking to you so roughly," said Allan; -"but the fact is, you rather startled me. My name is Armadale -(put on your hat, pray), and this is my friend, Mr. Midwinter, -who wants your help in the steward's office." - -"We hardly stand in need of an introduction," said Midwinter. "I -met Mr. Bashwood out walking a few days since, and he was kind -enough to direct me when I had lost my way." - -"Put on your hat," reiterated Allan, as Mr. Bashwood, still -bareheaded, stood bowing speechlessly, now to one of the young -men, and now to the other. "My good sir, put on your hat, and let -me show you the way back to the house. Excuse me for noticing -it," added Allan, as the man, in sheer nervous helplessness, let -his hat fall, instead of putting it back on his head; "but you -seem a little out of sorts; a glass of good wine will do you no -harm before you and my friend come to business. Whereabouts did -you meet with Mr. Bashwood, Midwinter, when you lost your way?" - -"I am too ignorant of the neighborhood to know. I must refer you -to Mr. Bashwood." - -"Come, tell us where it was," said Allan, trying, a little too -abruptly, to set the man at his ease, as they all three walked -back to the house. - -The measure of Mr. Bashwood's constitutional timidity seemed to -be filled to the brim by the loudness of Allan's voice and the -bluntness of Allan's request. He ran over in the same feeble flow -of words with which he had deluged Midwinter on the occasion when -they first met. - -"It was on the road, sir," he began, addressing himself -alternately to Allan, whom he called, "sir," and to Midwinter, -whom he called by his name, "I mean, if you please, on the road -to Little Gill Beck. A singular name, Mr. Midwinter, and a -singular place; I don't mean the village; I mean the -neighborhood--I mean the 'Broads' beyond the neighborhood. -Perhaps you may have heard of the Norfolk Broads, sir? What they -call lakes in other parts of England, they call Broads here. The -Broads are quite numerous; I think they would repay a visit. You -would have seen the first of them, Mr. Midwinter, if you had -walked on a few miles from where I had the honor of meeting you. -Remarkably numerous, the Broads, sir--situated between this and -the sea. About three miles from the sea, Mr. Midwinter--about -three miles. Mostly shallow, sir, with rivers running between -them. Beautiful; solitary. Quite a watery country, Mr. Midwinter; -quite separate, as it were, in itself. Parties sometimes visit -them, sir--pleasure parties in boats. It's quite a little network -of lakes, or, perhaps--yes, perhaps, more correctly, pools. There -is good sport in the cold weather. The wild fowl are quite -numerous. Yes; the Broads would repay a visit, Mr. Midwinter. the -next time you are walking that way. The distance from here to -Little Gill Beck, and then from Little Gill Beck to Girdler -Broad, which is the first you come to, is altogether not more--" -In sheer nervous inability to leave off, he would apparently have -gone on talking of the Norfolk Broads for the rest of the -evening, if one of his two listeners had not unceremoniously cut -him short before he could find his way into a new sentence. - -"Are the Broads within an easy day's drive there and back from -this house?" asked Allan, feeling, if they were, that the place -for the picnic was discovered already. - -"Oh, yes, sir; a nice drive--quite a nice easy drive from this -beautiful place!" - -They were by this time ascending the portico steps, Allan leading -the way up, and calling to Midwinter and Mr. Bashwood to follow -him into the library, where there was a lighted lamp. - -In the interval which elapsed before the wine made its -appearance, Midwinter looked at his chance acquaintance of the -high-road with strangely mingled feelings of compassion and -distrust--of compassion that strengthened in spite of him; of -distrust that persisted in diminishing, try as he might to -encourage it to grow. There, perched comfortless on the edge of -his chair, sat the poor broken-down, nervous wretch, in his worn -black garments, with his watery eyes, his honest old outspoken -wig, his miserable mohair stock, and his false teeth that were -incapable of deceiving anybody--there he sat, politely ill at -ease; now shrinking in the glare of the lamp, now wincing under -the shock of Allan's sturdy voice; a man with the wrinkles of -sixty years in his face, and the manners of a child in the -presence of strangers; an object of pity surely, if ever there -was a pitiable object yet! - -"Whatever else you're afraid of, Mr. Bashwood," cried - Allan, pouring out a glass of wine, "don't be afraid of that! -There isn't a headache in a hogshead of it! Make yourself -comfortable; I'll leave you and Mr. Midwinter to talk your -business over by yourselves. It's all in Mr. Midwinter's hands; -he acts for me, and settles everything at his own discretion." - -He said those words with a cautious choice of expression very -uncharacteristic of him, and, without further explanation, made -abruptly for the door. Midwinter, sitting near it, noticed his -face as he went out. Easy as the way was into Allan's favor, Mr. -Bashwood, beyond all kind of doubt, had in some unaccountable -manner failed to find it! - -The two strangely assorted companions were left together--parted -widely, as it seemed on the surface, from any possible -interchange of sympathy; drawn invisibly one to the other, -nevertheless, by those magnetic similarities of temperament which -overleap all difference of age or station, and defy all apparent -incongruities of mind and character. From the moment when Allan -left the room, the hidden Influence that works in darkness began -slowly to draw the two men together, across the great social -desert which had lain between them up to this day. - -Midwinter was the first to approach the subject of the interview. - -"May I ask," he began, "if you have been made acquainted with my -position here, and if you know why it is that I require your -assistance?" - -Mr. Bashwood--still hesitating and still timid, but manifestly -relieved by Allan's departure--sat further back in his chair, and -ventured on fortifying himself with a modest little sip of wine. - -"Yes, sir," he replied; "Mr. Pedgift informed me of all--at least -I think I may say so--of all the circumstances. I am to instruct, -or perhaps, I ought to say to advise--" - -"No, Mr. Bashwood; the first word was the best word of the two. I -am quite ignorant of the duties which Mr. Armadale's kindness has -induced him to intrust to me. If I understand right, there can be -no question of your capacity to instruct me, for you once filled -a steward's situation yourself. May I inquire where it was?" - -"At Sir John Mellowship's, sir, in West Norfolk. Perhaps you -would like--I have got it with me--to see my testimonial? Sir -John might have dealt more kindly with me; but I have no -complaint to make; it's all done and over now!" His watery eyes -looked more watery still, and the trembling in his hands spread -to his lips as he produced an old dingy letter from his -pocket-book and laid it open on the table. - -The testimonial was very briefly and very coldly expressed, but -it was conclusive as far as it went. Sir John considered it only -right to say that he had no complaint to make of any want of -capacity or integrity in his steward. If Mr. Bashwood's domestic -position had been compatible with the continued performance of -his duties on the estate, Sir John would have been glad to keep -him. As it was, embarrassments caused by the state of Mr. -Bashwood's personal affairs had rendered it undesirable that he -should continue in Sir John's service; and on that ground, and -that only, his employer and he had parted. Such was Sir John's -testimony to Mr. Bashwood's character. As Midwinter read the last -lines, he thought of another testimonial, still in his own -possession--of the written character which they had given him at -the school, when they turned their sick usher adrift in the -world. His superstition (distrusting all new events and all new -faces at Thorpe Ambrose) still doubted the man before him as -obstinately as ever. But when he now tried to put those doubts -into words, his heart upbraided him, and he laid the letter on -the table in silence. - -The sudden pause in the conversation appeared to startle Mr. -Bashwood. He comforted himself with another little sip of wine, -and, leaving the letter untouched, burst irrepressibly into -words, as if the silence was quite unendurable to him. - -"I am ready to answer any question, sir," he began. "Mr. Pedgift -told me that I must answer questions, because I was applying for -a place of trust. Mr. Pedgift said neither you nor Mr. Armadale -was likely to think the testimonial sufficient of itself. Sir -John doesn't say--he might have put it more kindly, but I don't -complain--Sir John doesn't say what the troubles were that lost -me my place. Perhaps you might wish to know--" He stopped -confusedly, looked at the testimonial, and said no more. - -"If no interests but mine were concerned in the matter," rejoined -Midwinter, "the testimonial would, I assure you, be quite enough -to satisfy me. But while I am learning my new duties, the person -who teaches me will be really and truly the steward of my -friend's estate. I am very unwilling to ask you to speak on what -may be a painful subject, and I am sadly inexperienced in putting -such questions as I ought to put; but, perhaps, in Mr. Armadale's -interests, I ought to know something more, either from yourself, -or from Mr. Pedgift, if you prefer it--" He, too, stopped -confusedly, looked at the testimonial, and said no more. - -There was another moment of silence. The night was warm, and Mr. -Bashwood, among his other misfortunes, had the deplorable -infirmity of perspiring in the palms of the hands. He took out a -miserable little cotton pocket-handkerchief, rolled it up into a -ball, and softly dabbed it to and fro, from one hand to the -other, with the regularity of a pendulum. Performed by other men, -under other circumstances, the action might have been ridiculous. -Performed by this man, at the crisis of the interview, the action -was horrible. - -"Mr. Pedgift's time is too valuable, sir, to be wasted on me," he -said. "I will mention what ought to be mentioned myself--if you -will please to allow me. I have been unfortunate in my family. It -is very hard to bear, though it seems not much to tell. My -wife--" One of his hands closed fast on the pocket-handkerchief; -he moistened his dry lips, struggled with himself, and went on. - -"My wife, sir," he resumed, "stood a little in my way; she did me -(I am afraid I must confess) some injury with Sir John. Soon -after I got the steward's situation, she contracted--she -took--she fell into habits (I hardly know how to say it) of -drinking. I couldn't break her of it, and I couldn't always -conceal it from Sir John's knowledge. She broke out, and--and -tried his patience once or twice, when he came to my office on -business. Sir John excused it, not very kindly; but still he -excused it. I don't complain of Sir John! I don't complain now of -my wife." He pointed a trembling finger at his miserable -crape-covered beaver hat on the floor. "I'm in mourning for her," -he said, faintly. "She died nearly a year ago, in the county -asylum here." - -His mouth began to work convulsively. He took up the glass of -wine at his side, and, instead of sipping it this time, drained -it to the bottom. "I'm not much used to wine, sir," he said, -conscious, apparently, of the flush that flew into his face as he -drank, and still observant of the obligations of politeness amid -all the misery of the recollections that he was calling up. - -"I beg, Mr. Bashwood, you will not distress yourself by telling -me any more," said Midwinter, recoiling from any further sanction -on his part of a disclosure which had already bared the sorrows -of the unhappy man before him to the quick. - -"I'm much obliged to you, sir," replied Mr. Bashwood. "But if I -don't detain you too long, and if you will please to remember -that Mr. Pedgift's directions to me were very particular--and, -besides, I only mentioned my late wife because if she hadn't -tried Sir John's patience to begin with, things might have turned -out differently--" He paused, gave up the disjointed sentence in -which he had involved himself, and tried another. "I had only two -children, sir," he went on, advancing to a new point in his -narrative, "a boy and a girl. The girl died when she was a baby. -My son lived to grow up; and it was my son who lost me my place. -I did my best for him; I got him into a respectable office in -London. They wouldn't take him without security. I'm afraid it -was imprudent; but I had no rich friends to help me, and I became -security. My boy turned out badly, sir. He --perhaps you will -kindly understand what I mean, if I say he behaved dishonestly. -His employers consented, at my entreaty, to let him off without -prosecuting. I begged very hard--I was fond of my son James--and -I took him home, and did my best to reform him. He wouldn't stay -with me; he went away again to London; he--I beg your pardon, -sir! I'm afraid I'm confusing things; I'm afraid I'm wandering -from the point." - -"No, no," said Midwinter, kindly. "If you think it right to tell -me this sad story, tell it in your own way. Have you seen your -son since he left you to go to London?" - -"No, sir. He's in London still, for all I know. When I last heard -of him, he was getting his bread--not very creditably. He was -employed, under the inspector, at the Private Inquiry Office in -Shadyside Place." - -He spoke those words--apparently (as events then stood) the most -irrelevant to the matter in hand that had yet escaped him; -actually (as events were soon to be) the most vitally important -that he had uttered yet--he spoke those words absently, looking -about him in confusion, and trying vainly to recover the lost -thread of his narrative. - -Midwinter compassionately helped him. "You were telling me," he -said, "that your son had been the cause of your losing your -place. How did that happen?" - -"In this way, sir," said Mr. Bashwood, getting back again -excitedly into the right train of thought. "His employers -consented to let him off; but they came down on his security; and -I was the man. I suppose they were not to blame; the security -covered their loss. I couldn't pay it all out of my savings; I -had to borrow--on the word of a man, sir, I couldn't help it--I -had to borrow. My creditor pressed me; it seemed cruel, but, if -he wanted the money, I suppose it was only just. I was sold out -of house and home. I dare say other gentlemen would have said -what Sir John said; I dare say most people would have refused to -keep a steward who had had the bailiffs after him, and his -furniture sold in the neighborhood. That was how it ended, Mr. -Midwinter. I needn't detain you any longer--here is Sir John's -address, if you wish to apply to him." Midwinter generously -refused to receive the address. - -"Thank you kindly, sir," said Mr. Bashwood, getting tremulously -on his legs. "There is nothing more, I think, except--except that -Mr. Pedgift will speak for me, if you wish to inquire into my -conduct in his service. I'm very much indebted to Mr. Pedgift; -he's a little rough with me sometimes, but, if he hadn't taken me -into his office, I think I should have gone to the workhouse when -I left Sir John, I was so broken down." He picked up his dingy -old hat from the floor. "I won't intrude any longer, sir. I shall -be happy to call again if you wish to have time to consider -before you decide-" - -"I want no time to consider after what you have told me," replied -Midwinter, warmly, his memory busy, while he spoke, with the time -when _he_ had told _his_ story to Mr. Brock, and was waiting for -a generous word in return, as the man before him was waiting now. -"To-day is Saturday," he went on. "Can you come and give me my -first lesson on Monday morning? I beg your pardon," he added, -interrupting Mr. Bashwood's profuse expressions of -acknowledgment, and stopping him on his way out of the room; -"there is one thing we ought to settle, ought we not? We haven't -spoken yet about your own interest in this matter; I mean, about -the terms." He referred, a little confusedly, to the pecuniary -part of the subject. Mr. Bashwood (getting nearer and nearer to -the door) answered him more confusedly still. - -"Anything, sir--anything you think right. I won't intrude any -longer; I'll leave it to you and Mr. Armadale." - -"I will send for Mr. Armadale, if you like," said Midwinter, -following him into the hall. "But I am afraid he has as little -experience in matters of this kind as I have. Perhaps, if you see -no objection, we might be guided by Mr. Pedgift?" - -Mr. Bashwood caught eagerly at the last suggestion, pushing his -retreat, while he spoke, as far as the front door. "Yes, sir--oh, -yes, yes! nobody better than Mr. Pedgift. Don't--pray don't -disturb Mr. Armadale!" His watery eyes looked quite wild with -nervous alarm as he turned round for a moment in the light of the -hall lamp to make that polite request. If sending for Allan had -been equivalent to unchaining a ferocious watch-dog, Mr. Bashwood -could hardly have been more anxious to stop the proceeding. "I -wish you kindly good-evening, sir," he went on, getting out to -the steps. "I'm much obliged to you. I will be scrupulously -punctual on Monday morning--I hope--I think--I'm sure you will -soon learn everything I can teach you. It's not difficult--oh -dear, no--not difficult at all! I wish you kindly good-evening, -sir. A beautiful night; yes, indeed, a beautiful night for a walk -home." - -With those words, all dropping out of his lips one on the top of -the other, and without noticing, in his agony of embarrassment at -effecting his departure, Midwinter's outstretched hand, he went -noiselessly down the steps, and was lost in the darkness of the -night. - -As Midwinter turned to re-enter the house, the dining-room door -opened and his friend met him in the hall. - -"Has Mr. Bashwood gone?" asked Allan. - -"He has gone," replied Midwinter, "after telling me a very sad -story, and leaving me a little ashamed of myself for having -doubted him without any just cause. I have arranged that he is to -give me my first lesson in the steward's office on Monday -morning." - -"All right," said Allan. "You needn't be afraid, old boy, of my -interrupting you over your studies. I dare say I'm wrong--but I -don't like Mr. Bashwood." - -"I dare say _I'm_ wrong," retorted the other, a little -petulantly. "I do." - - -The Sunday morning found Midwinter in the park, waiting to -intercept the postman, on the chance of his bringing more news -from Mr. Brock. - -At the customary hour the man made his appearance, and placed the -expected letter in Midwinter's hands. He opened it, far away from -all fear of observation this time, and read these lines: - - -"MY DEAR MIDWINTER--I write more for the purpose of quieting your -anxiety than because I have anything definite to say. In my last -hurried letter I had no time to tell you that the elder of the -two women whom I met in the Gardens had followed me, and spoken -to me in the street. I believe I may characterize what she said -(without doing her any injustice) as a tissue of falsehoods from -beginning to end. At any rate, she confirmed me in the suspicion -that some underhand proceeding is on foot, of which Allan is -destined to be the victim, and that the prime mover in the -conspiracy is the vile woman who helped his mother's marriage and -who hastened his mother's death. - -"Feeling this conviction, I have not hesitated to do, for Allan's -sake, what I would have done for no other creature in the world. -I have left my hotel, and have installed myself (with my old -servant Robert) in a house opposite the house to which I traced -the two women. We are alternately on the watch (quite -unsuspected, I am certain, by the people opposite) day and night. -All my feelings, as a gentleman and a clergyman, revolt from such -an occupation as I am now engaged in; but there is no other -choice. I must either do this violence to my own self-respect, or -I must leave Allan, with his easy nature, and in his assailable -position, to defend himself against a wretch who is prepared, I -firmly believe, to take the most unscrupulous advantage of his -weakness and his youth. His mother's dying entreaty has never -left my memory; and, God help me, I am now degrading myself in my -own eyes in consequence. - -'There has been some reward already for the sacrifice. This day -(Saturday) I have gained an immense advantage--I have at last -seen the woman's face. She went out with her veil down as before; -and Robert kept her in view, having my instructions, if she -returned to the house, not to follow her back to the door. She -did return to the house; and the result of my precaution was, as -I had expected, to throw her off her guard. I saw her face -unveiled at the window, and afterward again in the balcony. If -any occasion should ari se for describing her particularly, you -shall have the description. At present I need only say that she -looks the full age (five-and-thirty) at which you estimated her, -and that she is by no means so handsome a woman as I had (I -hardly know why) expected to see. - -"This is all I can now tell you. If nothing more happens by -Monday or Tuesday next, I shall have no choice but to apply to my -lawyers for assistance; though I am most unwilling to trust this -delicate and dangerous matter in other hands than mine. Setting -my own feelings however, out of the question, the business which -has been the cause of my journey to London is too important to be -trifled with much longer as I am trifling with it now. In any and -every case, depend on my keeping you informed of the progress of -events, and believe me yours truly, - -"DECIMUS BROCK." - - -Midwinter secured the letter as he had secured the letter that -preceded it--side by side in his pocket-book with the narrative -of Allan's Dream. - -"How many days more?" he asked himself, as he went back to the -house. "How many days more?" - -Not many. The time he was waiting for was a time close at hand. - - -Monday came, and brought Mr. Bashwood, punctual to the appointed -hour. Monday came, and found Allan immersed in his preparations -for the picnic. He held a series of interviews, at home and -abroad, all through the day. He transacted business with Mrs. -Gripper, with the butler, and with the coachman, in their three -several departments of eating, drinking, and driving. He went to -the town to consult his professional advisers on the subject of -the Broads, and to invite both the lawyers, father and son (in -the absence of anybody else in the neighborhood whom he could -ask), to join the picnic. Pedgift Senior (in his department) -supplied general information, but begged to be excused from -appearing at the picnic, on the score of business engagements. -Pedgift Junior (in his department) added all the details; and, -casting business engagements to the winds, accepted the -invitation with the greatest pleasure. Returning from the -lawyer's office, Allan's next proceeding was to go to the major's -cottage and obtain Miss Milroy's approval of the proposed -locality for the pleasure party. This object accomplished, he -returned to his own house, to meet the last difficulty now left -to encounter--the difficulty of persuading Midwinter to join the -expedition to the Broads. - -On first broaching the subject, Allan found his friend -impenetrably resolute to remain at home. Midwinter's natural -reluctance to meet the major and his daughter after what had -happened at the cottage, might probably have been overcome. But -Midwinter's determination not to allow Mr. Bashwood's course of -instruction to be interrupted was proof against every effort that -could be made to shake it. After exerting his influence to the -utmost, Allan was obliged to remain contented with a compromise. -Midwinter promised, not very willingly, to join the party toward -evening, at the place appointed for a gypsy tea-making, which was -to close the proceedings of the day. To this extent he would -consent to take the opportunity of placing himself on a friendly -footing with the Milroys. More he could not concede, even to -Allan's persuasion, and for more it would he useless to ask. - -The day of the picnic came. The lovely morning, and the cheerful -bustle of preparation for the expedition, failed entirely to -tempt Midwinter into altering his resolution. At the regular hour -he left the breakfast-table to join Mr. Bashwood in the steward's -office. The two were quietly closeted over the books, at the back -of the house, while the packing for the picnic went on in front. -Young Pedgift (short in stature, smart in costume, and -self-reliant in manner) arrived some little time before the hour -for starting, to revise all the arrangements, and to make any -final improvements which his local knowledge might suggest. Allan -and he were still busy in consultation when the first hitch -occurred in the proceedings. The woman-servant from the cottage -was reported to be waiting below for an answer to a note from her -young mistress, which was placed in Allan's hands. - -On this occasion Miss Milroy's emotions had apparently got the -better of her sense of propriety. The tone of the letter was -feverish, and the handwriting wandered crookedly up and down in -deplorable freedom from all proper restraint. - -"Oh, Mr. Armadale" (wrote the major's daughter), "such a -misfortune! What _are_ we to do? Papa has got a letter from -grandmamma this morning about the new governess. Her reference -has answered all the questions, and she's ready to come at the -shortest notice. Grandmamma thinks (how provoking!) the sooner -the better; and she says we may expect her--I mean the -governess--either to-day or to-morrow. Papa says (he _will_ be so -absurdly considerate to everybody!) that we can't allow Miss -Gwilt to come here (if she comes to-day) and find nobody at home -to receive her. What is to be done? I am ready to cry with -vexation. I have got the worst possible impression (though -grandmamma says she is a charming person) of Miss Gwilt. _Can_ -you suggest something, dear Mr. Armadale? I'm sure papa would -give way if you could. Don't stop to write; send me a message -back. I have got a new hat for the picnic; and oh, the agony of -not knowing whether I am to keep it on or take it off. Yours -truly, E. M." - -"The devil take Miss Gwilt!" said Allan, staring at his legal -adviser in a state of helpless consternation. - -"With all my heart, sir--I don't wish to interfere," remarked -Pedgift Junior. "May I ask what's the matter?" - -Allan told him. Mr. Pedgift the younger might have his faults, -but a want of quickness of resource was not among them. - -"There's a way out of the difficulty, Mr. Armadale," he said. "If -the governess comes today, let's have her at the picnic." - -Allan's eyes opened wide in astonishment. - -"All the horses and carriages in the Thorpe Ambrose stables are -not wanted for this small party of ours," proceeded Pedgift -Junior. "Of course not! Very good. If Miss Gwilt comes to-day, -she can't possibly get here before five o'clock. Good again. You -order an open carriage to be waiting at the major's door at that -time, Mr. Armadale, and I'll give the man his directions where to -drive to. When the governess comes to the cottage, let her find a -nice little note of apology (along with the cold fowl, or -whatever else they give her after her journey) begging her to -join us at the picnic, and putting a carriage at her own sole -disposal to take her there. Gad, sir!" said young Pedgift, gayly, -"she _must_ be a Touchy One if she thinks herself neglected after -that!" - -"Capital!" cried Allan. "She shall have every attention. I'll -give her the pony-chaise and the white harness, and she shall -drive herself, if she likes." - -He scribbled a line to relieve Miss Milroy's apprehensions, and -gave the necessary orders for the pony-chaise. Ten minutes later, -the carriages for the pleasure party were at the door. - -"Now we've taken all this trouble about her," said Allan, -reverting to the governess as they left the house, "I wonder, if -she does come today, whether we shall see her at the picnic!" - -"Depends, entirely on her age, sir," remarked young Pedgift, -pronouncing judgment with the happy confidence in himself which -eminently distinguished him. "If she's an old one, she'll be -knocked up with the journey, and she'll stick to the cold fowl -and the cottage. If she's a young one, either I know nothing of -women, or the pony in the white harness will bring her to the -picnic." - -They started for the major's cottage. - -CHAPTER VIII. - -THE NORFOLK BROADS. - -THE little group gathered together in Major Milroy's parlor to -wait for the carriages from Thorpe Ambrose would hardly have -conveyed the idea, to any previously uninstructed person -introduced among them, of a party assembled in expectation of a -picnic. They were almost dull enough, as far as outward -appearances went, to have been a party assembled in expectation -of a marriage. - -Even Miss Milroy herself, though conscious, of looking her best -in her bright muslin dress and her gayly feathered new hat, was -at this inaus picious moment Miss Milroy under a cloud. Although -Allan's note had assured her, in Allan's strongest language, that -the one great object of reconciling the governess's arrival with -the celebration of the picnic was an object achieved, the doubt -still remained whether the plan proposed--whatever it might -be--would meet with her father's approval. In a word, Miss Milroy -declined to feel sure of her day's pleasure until the carriage -made its appearance and took her from the door. The major, on his -side, arrayed for the festive occasion in a tight blue frock-coat -which he had not worn for years, and threatened with a whole long -day of separation from his old friend and comrade the clock, was -a man out of his element, if ever such a man existed yet. As for -the friends who had been asked at Allan's request--the widow lady -(otherwise Mrs. Pentecost) and her son (the Reverend Samuel) in -delicate health--two people less capable, apparently of adding to -the hilarity of the day could hardly have been discovered in the -length and breadth of all England. A young man who plays his part -in society by looking on in green spectacles, and listening with -a sickly smile, may be a prodigy of intellect and a mine of -virtue, but he is hardly, perhaps, the right sort of man to have -at a picnic. An old lady afflicted with deafness, whose one -inexhaustible subject of interest is the subject of her son, and -who (on the happily rare occasions when that son opens his lips) -asks everybody eagerly, "What does my boy say?" is a person to be -pitied in respect of her infirmities, and a person to be admired -in respect of her maternal devotedness, but not a person, if the -thing could possibly be avoided, to take to a picnic. Such a man, -nevertheless, was the Reverend Samuel Pentecost, and such a woman -was the Reverend Samuel's mother; and in the dearth of any other -producible guests, there they were, engaged to eat, drink, and be -merry for the day at Mr. Armadale's pleasure party to the Norfolk -Broads. - -The arrival of Allan, with his faithful follower, Pedgift Junior, -at his heels, roused the flagging spirits of the party at the -cottage. The plan for enabling the governess to join the picnic, -if she arrived that day, satisfied even Major Milroy's anxiety to -show all proper attention to the lady who was coming into his -house. After writing the necessary note of apology and -invitation, and addressing it in her very best handwriting to the -new governess, Miss Milroy ran upstairs to say good-by to her -mother, and returned with a smiling face and a side look of -relief directed at her father, to announce that there was nothing -now to keep any of them a moment longer indoors. The company at -once directed their steps to the garden gate, and were there met -face to face by the second great difficulty of the day. How were -the six persons of the picnic to be divided between the two open -carriages that were in waiting for them? - -Here, again, Pedgift Junior exhibited his invaluable faculty of -contrivance. This highly cultivated young man possessed in an -eminent degree an accomplishment more or less peculiar to all the -young men of the age we live in: he was perfectly capable of -taking his pleasure without forgetting his business. Such a -client as the Master of Thorpe Ambrose fell but seldom in his -father's way, and to pay special but unobtrusive attention to -Allan all through the day was the business of which young -Pedgift, while proving himself to be the life and soul of the -picnic, never once lost sight from the beginning of the -merry-making to the end. He had detected the state of affairs -between Miss Milroy and Allan at glance, and he at once provided -for his client's inclinations in that quarter by offering, in -virtue of his local knowledge, to lead the way in the first -carriage, and by asking Major Milroy and the curate if they would -do him the honor of accompanying him. - -"We shall pass a very interesting place to a military man, sir," -said young Pedgift, addressing the major, with his happy and -unblushing confidence--"the remains of a Roman encampment. And my -father, sir, who is a subscriber," proceeded this rising lawyer, -turning to the curate, "wished me to ask your opinion of the new -Infant School buildings at Little Gill Beck. Would you kindly -give it me as we go along?" He opened the carriage door, and -helped in the major and the curate before they could either of -them start any difficulties. The necessary result followed. Allan -and Miss Milroy rode together in the same carriage, with the -extra convenience of a deaf old lady in attendance to keep the -squire's compliments within the necessary limits. - -Never yet had Allan enjoyed such an interview with Miss Milroy as -the interview he now obtained on the road to the Broads. - -The dear old lady, after a little anecdote or two on the subject -of her son, did the one thing wanting to secure the perfect -felicity of her two youthful companions: she became considerately -blind for the occasion, as well as deaf. A quarter of an hour -after the carriage left the major's cottage, the poor old soul, -reposing on snug cushions, and fanned by a fine summer air, fell -peaceably asleep. Allan made love, and Miss Milroy sanctioned the -manufacture of that occasionally precious article of human -commerce, sublimely indifferent on both sides to a solemn bass -accompaniment on two notes, played by the curate's mother's -unsuspecting nose. The only interruption to the love-making (the -snoring, being a thing more grave and permanent in its nature, -was not interrupted at all) came at intervals from the carriage -ahead. Not satisfied with having the major's Roman encampment and -the curate's Infant Schools on his mind, Pedgift Junior rose -erect from time to time in his place, and, respectfully hailing -the hindmost vehicle, directed Allan's attention, in a shrill -tenor voice, and with an excellent choice of language, to objects -of interest on the road. The only way to quiet him was to answer, -which Allan invariably did by shouting back, "Yes, beautiful," -upon which young Pedgift disappeared again in the recesses of the -leading carriage, and took up the Romans and the Infants where he -had left them last. - -The scene through which the picnic party was now passing merited -far more attention than it received either from Allan or Allan's -friends. - - -An hour's steady driving from the major's cottage had taken young -Armadale and his guests beyond the limits of Midwinter's solitary -walk, and was now bringing them nearer and nearer to one of the -strangest and loveliest aspects of nature which the inland -landscape, not of Norfolk only, but of all England, can show. -Little by little the face of the country began to change as the -carriages approached the remote and lonely district of the -Broads. The wheat fields and turnip fields became perceptibly -fewer, and the fat green grazing grounds on either side grew -wider and wider in their smooth and sweeping range. Heaps of dry -rushes and reeds, laid up for the basket-maker and the thatcher, -began to appear at the road-side. The old gabled cottages of the -early part of the drive dwindled and disappeared, and huts with -mud walls rose in their place. With the ancient church towers and -the wind and water mills, which had hitherto been the only lofty -objects seen over the low marshy flat, there now rose all round -the horizon, gliding slow and distant behind fringes of pollard -willows, the sails of invisible boats moving on invisible waters. -All the strange and startling anomalies presented by an inland -agricultural district, isolated from other districts by its -intricate surrounding network of pools and streams--holding its -communications and carrying its produce by water instead of by -land--began to present themselves in closer and closer -succession. Nets appeared on cottage pailings; little -flat-bottomed boats lay strangely at rest among the flowers in -cottage gardens; farmers' men passed to and fro clad in composite -costume of the coast and the field, in sailors' hats, and -fishermen's boots, and plowmen's smocks; and even yet the -low-lying labyrinth of waters, embosomed in its mystery of -solitude, was a hidden labyrinth still. A m inute more, and the -carriages took a sudden turn from the hard high-road into a -little weedy lane. The wheels ran noiseless on the damp and -spongy ground. A lonely outlying cottage appeared with its litter -of nets and boats. A few yards further on, and the last morsel of -firm earth suddenly ended in a tiny creek and quay. One turn more -to the end of the quay--and there, spreading its great sheet of -water, far and bright and smooth, on the right hand and the -left--there, as pure in its spotless blue, as still in its -heavenly peacefulness, as the summer sky above it, was the first -of the Norfolk Broads. - -The carriages stopped, the love-making broke off, and the -venerable Mrs. Pentecost, recovering the use of her senses at a -moment's notice, fixed her eyes sternly on Allan the instant she -woke. - -"I see in your face, Mr. Armadale," said the old lady, sharply, -"that you think I have been asleep." - -The consciousness of guilt acts differently on the two sexes. In -nine cases out of ten, it is a much more manageable consciousness -with a woman than with a man. All the confusion, on this -occasion, was on the man's side. While Allan reddened and looked -embarrassed, the quick-witted Miss Milroy instantly embraced the -old lady with a burst of innocent laughter. "He is quite -incapable, dear Mrs. Pentecost," said the little hypocrite, "of -anything so ridiculous as thinking you have been asleep!" - -"All I wish Mr. Armadale to know," pursued the old lady, still -suspicious of Allan, "is, that my head being giddy, I am obliged -to close my eyes in a carriage. Closing the eyes, Mr. Armadale, -is one thing, and going to sleep is another. Where is my son?" - -The Reverend Samuel appeared silently at the carriage door, and -assisted his mother to get out ("Did you enjoy the drive, Sammy?" -asked the old lady. "Beautiful scenery, my dear, wasn't it?") -Young Pedgift, on whom the arrangements for exploring the Broads -devolved, hustled about, giving his orders to the boatman. Major -Milroy, placid and patient, sat apart on an overturned punt, and -privately looked at his watch. Was it past noon already? More -than an hour past. For the first time, for many a long year, the -famous clock at home had struck in an empty workshop. Time had -lifted his wonderful scythe, and the corporal and his men had -relieved guard, with no master's eye to watch their performances, -with no master's hand to encourage them to do their best. The -major sighed as he put his watch back in his pocket. "I'm afraid -I'm too old for this sort of thing," thought the good man, -looking about him dreamily. "I don't find I enjoy it as much as I -thought I should. When are we going on the water, I wonder? -Where's Neelie?" - -Neelie--more properly Miss Milroy--was behind one of the -carriages with the promoter of the picnic. They were immersed in -the interesting subject of their own Christian names, and Allan -was as near a pointblank proposal of marriage as it is well -possible for a thoughtless young gentleman of two-and-twenty to -be. - -"Tell me the truth," said Miss Milroy, with her eyes modestly -riveted on the ground. "When you first knew what my name was, you -didn't like it, did you?" - -"I like everything that belongs to you," rejoined Allan, -vigorously. "I think Eleanor is a beautiful name; and yet, I -don't know why, I think the major made an improvement when he -changed it to Neelie." - -"I can tell you why, Mr. Armadale," said the major's daughter, -with great gravity. 'There are some unfortunate people in this -world whose names are--how can I express it?--whose names are -misfits. Mine is a misfit. I don't blame my parents, for of -course it was impossible to know when I was a baby how I should -grow up. But as things are, I and my name don't fit each other. -When you hear a young lady called Eleanor, you think of a tall, -beautiful, interesting creature directly--the very opposite of -_me!_ With my personal appearance, Eleanor sounds ridiculous; and -Neelie, as you yourself remarked, is just the thing. No! no! -don't say any more; I'm tired of the subject. I've got another -name in my head, if we must speak of names, which is much better -worth talking about than mine." - -She stole a glance at her companion which said plainly enough, -"The name is yours." Allan advanced a step nearer to her, and -lowered his voice, without the slightest necessity, to a -mysterious whisper. Miss Milroy instantly resumed her -investigation of the ground. She looked at it with such -extraordinary interest that a geologist might have suspected her -of scientific flirtation with the superficial strata. - -"What name are you thinking of?" asked Allan. - -Miss Milroy addressed her answer, in the form of a remark, to the -superficial strata--and let them do what they liked with it, in -their capacity of conductors of sound. "If I had been a man," she -said, "I should so like to have been called Allan!" - -She felt his eyes on her as she spoke, and, turning her head -aside, became absorbed in the graining of the panel at the back -of the carriage. "How beautiful it is!" she exclaimed, with a -sudden outburst of interest in the vast subject of varnish. "I -wonder how they do it?" - -Man persists, and woman yields. Allan declined to shift the -ground from love-making to coach-making. Miss Milroy dropped the -subject. - -"Call me by my name, if you really like it," he whispered, -persuasively. "Call me 'Allan' for once; just to try." - -She hesitated with a heightened color and a charming smile, and -shook her head. "I couldn't just yet," she answered, softly. - -"May I call you Neelie? Is it too soon?" - -She looked at him again, with a sudden disturbance about the -bosom of her dress, and a sudden flash of tenderness in her -dark-gray eyes. - -"You know best," she said, faintly, in a whisper. - -The inevitable answer was on the tip of Allan's tongue. At the -very instant, however, when he opened his lips, the abhorrent -high tenor of Pedgift Junior, shouting for "Mr. Armadale," rang -cheerfully through the quiet air. At the same moment, from the -other side of the carriage, the lurid spectacles of the Reverend -Samuel showed themselves officiously on the search; and the voice -of the Reverend Samuel's mother (who had, with great dexterity, -put the two ideas of the presence of water and a sudden movement -among the company together) inquired distractedly if anybody was -drowned? Sentiment flies and Love shudders at all demonstrations -of the noisy kind. Allan said: "Damn it," and rejoined young -Pedgift. Miss Milroy sighed, and took refuge with her father. - -"I've done it, Mr. Armadale!" cried young Pedgift, greeting his -patron gayly. "We can all go on the water together; I've got the -biggest boat on the Broads. The little skiffs," he added, in a -lower tone, as he led the way to the quay steps, "besides being -ticklish and easily upset, won't hold more than two, with the -boatman; and the major told me he should feel it his duty to go -with his daughter, if we all separated in different boats. I -thought _that_ would hardly do, sir," pursued Pedgift Junior, -with a respectfully sly emphasis on the words. "And, besides, if -we had put the old lady into a skiff, with her weight (sixteen -stone if she's a pound), we might have had her upside down in the -water half her time, which would have occasioned delay, and -thrown what you call a damp on the proceedings. Here's the boat, -Mr. Armadale. What do you think of it?" - -The boat added one more to the strangely anomalous objects which -appeared at the Broads. It was nothing less than a stout old -lifeboat, passing its last declining years on the smooth fresh -water, after the stormy days of its youth time on the wild salt -sea. A comfortable little cabin for the use of fowlers in the -winter season had been built amidships, and a mast and sail -adapted for inland navigation had been fitted forward. There was -room enough and to spare for the guests, the dinner, and the -three men in charge. Allan clapped his faithful lieutenant -approvingly on the shoulder; and even Mrs. Pentecost, when the -whole party were comfortably established on board, took a -comparatively cheerful view of the prospects of the picnic. "If -anything happens," said the old lady, addressing the company -gener ally, "there's one comfort for all of us. My son can swim." - -The boat floated out from the creek into the placid waters of the -Broad, and the full beauty of the scene opened on the view. - -On the northward and westward, as the boat reached the middle of -the lake, the shore lay clear and low in the sunshine, fringed -darkly at certain points by rows of dwarf trees; and dotted here -and there, in the opener spaces, with windmills and reed-thatched -cottages, of puddled mud. Southward, the great sheet of water -narrowed gradually to a little group of close-nestling islands -which closed the prospect; while to the east a long, gently -undulating line of reeds followed the windings of the Broad, and -shut out all view of the watery wastes beyond. So clear and so -light was the summer air that the one cloud in the eastern -quarter of the heaven was the smoke cloud left by a passing -steamer three miles distant and more on the invisible sea. When -the voices of the pleasure party were still, not a sound rose, -far or near, but the faint ripple at the bows, as the men, with -slow, deliberate strokes of their long poles, pressed the boat -forward softly over the shallow water. The world and the world's -turmoil seemed left behind forever on the land; the silence was -the silence of enchantment--the delicious interflow of the soft -purity of the sky and the bright tranquillity of the lake. - -Established in perfect comfort in the boat--the major and his -daughter on one side, the curate and his mother on the other, and -Allan and young Pedgift between the two--the water party floated -smoothly toward the little nest of islands at the end of the -Broad. Miss Milroy was in raptures; Allan was delighted; and the -major for once forgot his clock. Every one felt pleasurably, in -their different ways, the quiet and beauty of the scene. Mrs. -Pentecost, in her way, felt it like a clairvoyant--with closed -eyes. - -"Look behind you, Mr. Armadale," whispered young Pedgift. "I -think the parson's beginning to enjoy himself." - -An unwonted briskness--portentous apparently of coming -speech--did certainly at that moment enliven the curate's manner. -He jerked his head from side to side like a bird; he cleared his -throat, and clasped his hands, and looked with a gentle interest -at the company. Getting into spirits seemed, in the case of this -excellent person, to be alarmingly like getting into the pulpit. - -"Even in this scene of tranquillity," said the Reverend Samuel, -coming out softly with his first contribution to the society in -the shape of a remark, "the Christian mind--led, so to speak, -from one extreme to another--is forcibly recalled to the unstable -nature of all earthly enjoyments. How if this calm should not -last? How if the winds rose and the waters became agitated?" - -"You needn't alarm yourself about that, sir," said young Pedgift; -"June's the fine season here--and you can swim." - -Mrs. Pentecost (mesmerically affected, in all probability, by the -near neighborhood of her son) opened her eyes suddenly and asked, -with her customary eagerness. "What does my boy say?" - -The Reverend Samuel repeated his words in the key that suited his -mother's infirmity. The old lady nodded in high approval, and -pursued her son's train of thought through the medium of a -quotation. - -"Ah!" sighed Mrs. Pentecost, with infinite relish, "He rides the -whirlwind, Sammy, and directs the storm!" - -"Noble words!" said the Reverend Samuel. "Noble and consoling -words!" - -"I say," whispered Allan, "if he goes on much longer in that way, -what's to be done?" - -"I told you, papa, it was a risk to ask them," added Miss Milroy, -in another whisper. - -"My dear!" remonstrated the major. "We knew nobody else in the -neighborhood, and, as Mr. Armadale kindly suggested our bringing -our friends, what could we do?" - -"We can't upset the boat," remarked young Pedgift, with sardonic -gravity. "It's a lifeboat, unfortunately. May I venture to -suggest putting something into the reverend gentleman's mouth, -Mr. Armadale? It's close on three o'clock. What do you say to -ringing the dinner-bell, sir?" - -Never was the right man more entirely in the right place than -Pedgift Junior at the picnic. In ten minutes more the boat was -brought to a stand-still among the reeds; the Thorpe Ambrose -hampers were unpacked on the roof of the cabin; and the current -of the curate's eloquence was checked for the day. - -How inestimably important in its moral results--and therefore how -praiseworthy in itself--is the act of eating and drinking! The -social virtues center in the stomach. A man who is not a better -husband, father, and brother after dinner than before is, -digestively speaking, an incurably vicious man. What hidden -charms of character disclose themselves, what dormant -amiabilities awaken, when our common humanity gathers together to -pour out the gastric juice! At the opening of the hampers from -Thorpe Ambrose, sweet Sociability (offspring of the happy union -of Civilization and Mrs. Gripper) exhaled among the boating -party, and melted in one friendly fusion the discordant elements -of which that party had hitherto been composed. Now did the -Reverend Samuel Pentecost, whose light had hitherto been hidden -under a bushel, prove at last that he could do something by -proving that he could eat. Now did Pedgift Junior shine brighter -than ever he had shone yet in gems of caustic humor and exquisite -fertilities of resource. Now did the squire, and the squire's -charming guest, prove the triple connection between Champagne -that sparkles, Love that grows bolder, and Eyes whose vocabulary -is without the word No. Now did cheerful old times come back to -the major's memory, and cheerful old stories not told for years -find their way to the major's lips. And now did Mrs. Pentecost, -coming out wakefully in the whole force of her estimable maternal -character, seize on a supplementary fork, and ply that useful -instrument incessantly between the choicest morsels in the whole -round of dishes, and the few vacant places left available on the -Reverend Samuel's plate. "Don't laugh at my son," cried the old -lady, observing the merriment which her proceedings produced -among the company. "It's my fault, poor dear--_I_ make him eat!" -And there are men in this world who, seeing virtues such as these -developed at the table, as they are developed nowhere else, can, -nevertheless, rank the glorious privilege of dining with the -smallest of the diurnal personal worries which necessity imposes -on mankind--with buttoning your waistcoat, for example, or lacing -your stays! Trust no such monster as this with your tender -secrets, your loves and hatreds, your hopes and fears. His heart -is uncorrected by his stomach, and the social virtues are not in -him. - -The last mellow hours of the day and the first cool breezes of -the long summer evening had met before the dishes were all laid -waste, and the bottles as empty as bottles should be. This point -in the proceedings attained, the picnic party looked lazily at -Pedgift Junior to know what was to be done next. That -inexhaustible functionary was equal as ever to all the calls on -him. He had a new amusement ready before the quickest of the -company could so much as ask him what that amusement was to be. - -"Fond of music on the water, Miss Milroy?" he asked, in his -airiest and pleasantest manner. - -Miss Milroy adored music, both on the water and the land--always -excepting the one case when she was practicing the art herself on -the piano at home. - -"We'll get out of the reeds first," said young Pedgift. He gave -his orders to the boatmen, dived briskly into the little cabin, -and reappeared with a concertina in his hand. "Neat, Miss Milroy, -isn't it?" he observed, pointing to his initials, inlaid on the -instrument in mother-of-pearl. "My name's Augustus, like my -father's. Some of my friends knock off the 'A,' and call me -'Gustus Junior.' A small joke goes a long way among friends, -doesn't it, Mr. Armadale? I sing a little to my own -accompaniment, ladies and gentlemen; and, if quite agreeable, I -shall be proud and happy to do my best." - -"Stop!" cried Mrs. Pentecost; "I dote on music." - -With this formidable announcement, the old lady opened a -prodigious leather bag, from - which she never parted night or day, and took out an ear-trumpet -of the old-fashioned kind--something between a key-bugle and a -French horn. "I don't care to use the thing generally," explained -Mrs. Pentecost, "because I'm afraid of its making me deafer than -ever. But I can't and won't miss the music. I dote on music. If -you'll hold the other end, Sammy, I'll stick it in my ear. -Neelie, my dear, tell him to begin." - -Young Pedgift was troubled with no nervous hesitation. He began -at once, not with songs of the light and modern kind, such as -might have been expected from an amateur of his age and -character, but with declamatory and patriotic bursts of poetry, -set to the bold and blatant music which the people of England -loved dearly at the earlier part of the present century, and -which, whenever they can get it, they love dearly still. "The -Death of Marmion," "The Battle of the Baltic," "The Bay of -Biscay," "Nelson," under various vocal aspects, as exhibited by -the late Braham--these were the songs in which the roaring -concertina and strident tenor of Gustus Junior exulted together. -"Tell me when you're tired, ladies and gentlemen," said the -minstrel solicitor. "There's no conceit about _me._ Will you have -a little sentiment by way of variety? Shall I wind up with 'The -Mistletoe Bough' and 'Poor Mary Anne'?" - -Having favored his audience with those two cheerful melodies, -young Pedgift respectfully requested the rest of the company to -follow his vocal example in turn, offering, in every case, to -play "a running accompaniment" impromptu, if the singer would -only be so obliging as to favor him with the key-note. - -"Go on, somebody!" cried Mrs. Pentecost, eagerly. "I tell you -again, I dote on music. We haven't had half enough yet, have we, -Sammy?" - -The Reverend Samuel made no reply. The unhappy man had reasons of -his own--not exactly in his bosom, but a little lower--for -remaining silent, in the midst of the general hilarity and the -general applause. Alas for humanity! Even maternal love is -alloyed with mortal fallibility. Owing much already to his -excellent mother, the Reverend Samuel was now additionally -indebted to her for a smart indigestion. - -Nobody, however, noticed as yet the signs and tokens of internal -revolution in the curate's face. Everybody was occupied in -entreating everybody else to sing. Miss Milroy appealed to the -founder of the feast. "Do sing something, Mr. Armadale," she -said; "I should so like to hear you!" - -"If you once begin, sir," added the cheerful Pedgift, "you'll -find it get uncommonly easy as you go on. Music is a science -which requires to be taken by the throat at starting." - -"With all my heart," said Allan, in his good-humored way. "I know -lots of tunes, but the worst of it is, the words escape me. I -wonder if I can remember one of Moore's Melodies? My poor mother -used to be fond of teaching me Moore's Melodies when I was a -boy." - -"Whose melodies?" asked Mrs. Pentecost. "Moore's? Aha! I know Tom -Moore heart." - -"Perhaps in that case you will he good enough to help me, ma'am, -if my memory breaks down," rejoined Allan. "I'll take the easiest -melody in the whole collection, if you'll allow me. Everybody -knows it--'Eveleen's Bower.' " - -"I'm familiar, in a general sort of way, with the national -melodies of England, Scotland, and Ireland," said Pedgift Junior. -"I'll accompany you, sir, with the greatest pleasure. This is the -sort of thing, I think." He seated himself cross-legged on the -roof of the cabin, and burst into a complicated musical -improvisation wonderful to hear--a mixture of instrumental -flourishes and groans; a jig corrected by a dirge, and a dirge -enlivened by a jig. "That's the sort of thing," said young -Pedgift, with his smile of supreme confidence. "Fire away, sir!" - -Mrs. Pentecost elevated her trumpet, and Allan elevated his -voice. "Oh, weep for the hour when to Eveleen's Bower--" He -stopped; the accompaniment stopped; the audience waited. "It's a -most extraordinary thing," said Allan; "I thought I had the next -line on the tip of my tongue, and it seems to have escaped me. -I'll begin again, if you have no objection. 'Oh, weep for the -hour when to Eveleen's Bower--' " - -" 'The lord of the valley with false vows came,' " said Mrs. -Pentecost. - -"Thank you, ma'am," said Allan. "Now I shall get on smoothly. -'Oh, weep for the hour when to Eveleen's Bower, the lord of the -valley with false vows came. The moon was shining bright--' " - -"No!" said Mrs. Pentecost. - -"I beg your pardon, ma'am," remonstrated Allan. " 'The moon was. -shining bright--' " - -"The moon wasn't doing anything of the kind," said Mrs. -Pentecost. - -Pedgift Junior, foreseeing a dispute, persevered _sotto voce_ -with the accompaniment, in the interests of harmony. - -"Moore's own words, ma'am," said Allan, "in my mother's copy of -the Melodies." - -"Your mother's copy was wrong," retorted Mrs. Pentecost. "Didn't -I tell you just now that I knew Tom Moore by heart?" - -Pedgift Junior's peace-making concertina still flourished and -groaned in the minor key. - -"Well, what _did_ the moon do?" asked Allan, in despair. - -"What the moon _ought_ to have done, sir, or Tom Moore wouldn't -have written it so," rejoined Mrs. Pentecost. " 'The moon hid her -light from the heaven that night, and wept behind her clouds o'er -the maiden's shame!' I wish that young man would leave off -playing," added Mrs. Pentecost, venting her rising irritation on -Gustus Junior. "I've had enough of him--he tickles my ears." - -"Proud, I'm sure, ma'am," said the unblushing Pedgift. "The whole -science of music consists in tickling the ears." - -"We seem to be drifting into a sort of argument," remarked Major -Milroy, placidly. "Wouldn't it be better if Mr. Armadale went on -with his song?" - -"Do go on, Mr. Armadale!" added the major's daughter. "Do go on, -Mr. Pedgift!" - -"One of them doesn't know the words, and the other doesn't know -the music," said Mrs. Pentecost. "Let them go on if they can!" - -"Sorry to disappoint you, ma'am," said Pedgift Junior; "I'm ready -to go on myself to any extent. Now, Mr. Armadale!" - -Allan opened his lips to take up the unfinished melody where he -had last left it. Before he could utter a note, the curate -suddenly rose, with a ghastly face, and a hand pressed -convulsively over the middle region of his waistcoat. - -"What's the matter?" cried the whole boating party in chorus. - -"I am exceedingly unwell," said the Reverend Samuel Pentecost. -The boat was instantly in a state of confusion. "Eveleen's Bower" -expired on Allan's lips, and even the irrepressible concertina of -Pedgift was silenced at last. The alarm proved to be quite -needless. Mrs. Pentecost's son possessed a mother, and that -mother had a bag. In two seconds the art of medicine occupied the -place left vacant in the attention of the company by the art of -music. - -"Rub it gently, Sammy," said Mrs. Pentecost. "I'll get out the -bottles and give you a dose. It's his poor stomach, major. Hold -my trumpet, somebody--and stop the boat. You take that bottle, -Neelie, my dear; and you take this one, Mr. Armadale; and give -them to me as I want them. Ah, poor dear, I know what's the -matter with him! Want of power _here,_ major--cold, acid, and -flabby. Ginger to warm him; soda to correct him; sal volatile to -hold him up. There, Sammy! drink it before it settles; and then -go and lie down, my dear, in that dog-kennel of a place they call -the cabin. No more music!" added Mrs. Pentecost, shaking her -forefinger at the proprietor of the concertina--"unless it's a -hymn, and that I don't object to." - -Nobody appearing to be in a fit frame of mind for singing a hymn, -the all-accomplished Pedgift drew upon his stores of local -knowledge, and produced a new idea. The course of the boat was -immediately changed under his direction. In a few minutes more, -the company found themselves in a little island creek, with a -lonely cottage at the far end of it, and a perfect forest of -reeds closing the view all round them. "What do you say, ladies -and gentlemen, to stepping on shore and seeing what a -reed-cutter's cottage looks like?" suggested young Pedgift. - -"We say yes, to be sure," answered Allan. "I think our spirits -have been a little dashed by Mr. Pentecos t's illness and Mrs. -Pentecost's bag," he added, in a whisper to Miss Milroy. "A -change of this sort is the very thing we want to set us all going -again." - -He and young Pedgift handed Miss Milroy out of the boat. The -major followed. Mrs. Pentecost sat immovable as the Egyptian -Sphinx, with her bag on her knees, mounting guard over "Sammy" in -the cabin. - -"We must keep the fun going, sir," said Allan, as he helped the -major over the side of the boat. "We haven't half done yet with -the enjoyment of the day." - -His voice seconded his hearty belief in his own prediction to -such good purpose that even Mrs. Pentecost heard him, and -ominously shook her head. - -"Ah!" sighed the curate's mother, "if you were as old as I am, -young gentleman, you wouldn't feel quite so sure of the enjoyment -of the day!" - -So, in rebuke of the rashness of youth, spoke the caution of age. -The negative view is notoriously the safe view, all the world -over, and the Pentecost philosophy is, as a necessary -consequence, generally in the right. - -CHAPTER IX. - -FATE OR CHANCE? - -IT was close on six o'clock when Allan and his friends left the -boat, and the evening influence was creeping already, in its -mystery and its stillness, over the watery solitude of the -Broads. - -The shore in these wild regions was not like the shore elsewhere. -Firm as it looked, the garden ground in front of the -reed-cutter's cottage was floating ground, that rose and fell and -oozed into puddles under the pressure of the foot. The boatmen -who guided the visitors warned them to keep to the path, and -pointed through gaps in the reeds and pollards to grassy places, -on which strangers would have walked confidently, where the crust -of earth was not strong enough to bear the weight of a child over -the unfathomed depths of slime and water beneath. The solitary -cottage, built of planks pitched black, stood on ground that had -been steadied and strengthened by resting it on piles. A little -wooden tower rose at one end of the roof, and served as a lookout -post in the fowling season. From this elevation the eye ranged -far and wide over a wilderness of winding water and lonesome -marsh. If the reed-cutter had lost his boat, he would have been -as completely isolated from all communication with town or -village as if his place of abode had been a light-vessel instead -of a cottage. Neither he nor his family complained of their -solitude, or looked in any way the rougher or the worse for it. -His wife received the visitors hospitably, in a snug little room, -with a raftered ceiling, and windows which looked like windows in -a cabin on board ship. His wife's father told stories of the -famous days when the smugglers came up from the sea at night, -rowing through the net-work of rivers with muffled oars till they -gained the lonely Broads, and sank their spirit casks in the -water, far from the coast-guard's reach. His wild little children -played at hide-and-seek with the visitors; and the visitors -ranged in and out of the cottage, and round and round the morsel -of firm earth on which it stood, surprised and delighted by the -novelty of all they saw. The one person who noticed the advance -of the evening--the one person who thought of the flying time and -the stationary Pentecosts in the boat--was young Pedgift. That -experienced pilot of the Broads looked askance at his watch, and -drew Allan aside at the first opportunity. - -"I don't wish to hurry you, Mr. Armadale," said Pedgift Junior; -"but the time is getting on, and there's a lady in the case. " - -"A lady?" repeated Allan. - -"Yes, sir," rejoined young Pedgift. "A lady from London; -connected (if you'll allow me to jog your memory) with a -pony-chaise and white harness." - -"Good heavens, the governess!" cried Allan. "Why, we have -forgotten all about her!" - -"Don't be alarmed, sir; there's plenty of time, if we only get -into the boat again. This is how it stands, Mr. Armadale. We -settled, if you remember, to have the gypsy tea-making at the -next 'Broad' to this--Hurle Mere?" - -"Certainly," said Allan. "Hurle Mere is the place where my friend -Midwinter has promised to come and meet us." - -"Hurle Mere is where the governess will be, sir, if your coachman -follows my directions," pursued young Pedgift. "We have got -nearly an hour's punting to do, along the twists and turns of the -narrow waters (which they call The Sounds here) between this and -Hurle Mere; and according to my calculations we must get on board -again in five minutes, if we are to be in time to meet the -governess and to meet your friend." - -"We mustn't miss my friend on any account," said Allan; "or the -governess, either, of course. I'll tell the major." - -Major Milroy was at that moment preparing to mount the wooden -watch-tower of the cottage to see the view. The ever useful -Pedgift volunteered to go up with him, and rattle off all the -necessary local explanations in half the time which the -reed-cutter would occupy in describing his own neighborhood to a -stranger. - -Allan remained standing in front of the cottage, more quiet and -more thoughtful than usual. His interview with young Pedgift had -brought his absent friend to his memory for the first time since -the picnic party had started. He was surprised that Midwinter, so -much in his thoughts on all other occasions, should have been so -long out of his thoughts now. Something troubled him, like a -sense of self-reproach, as his mind reverted to the faithful -friend at home, toiling hard over the steward's books, in his -interests and for his sake. "Dear old fellow," thought Allan, "I -shall be so glad to see him at the Mere; the day's pleasure won't -be complete till he joins us!" - -"Should I be right or wrong, Mr. Armadale, if I guessed that you -were thinking of somebody?" asked a voice, softly, behind him. - -Allan turned, and found the majorÕs daughter at his side. Miss -Milroy (not unmindful of a certain tender interview which had -taken place behind a carriage) had noticed her admirer standing -thoughtfully by himself, and had determined on giving him another -opportunity, while her father and young Pedgift were at the top -of the watch-tower. - -"You know everything," said Allan, smiling. "I _was_ thinking of -somebody." - -Miss Milroy stole a glance at him--a glance of gentle -encouragement. There could be but one human creature in Mr. -Armadale's mind after what had passed between them that morning! -It would be only an act of mercy to take him back again at once -to the interrupted conversation of a few hours since on the -subject of names. - -"I have bean thinking of somebody, too," she said, half-inviting, -half-repelling the coming avowal. "If I tell you the first letter -of my Somebody's name, will you tell me the first letter of -yours?" - -"I will tell you anything you like," rejoined Allan, with the -utmost enthusiasm. - -She still shrank coquettishly from the very subject that she -wanted to approach. "Tell me your letter first," she said, in low -tones, looking away from him. - -Allan laughed. "M," he said, "is my first letter." - -She started a little. Strange that he should be thinking of her -by her surname instead of her Christian name; but it mattered -little as long as he _was_ thinking of her. - -"What is your letter?" asked Allan. - -She blushed and smiled. "A--if you will have it!" she answered, -in a reluctant little whisper. She stole another look at him, and -luxuriously protracted her enjoyment of the coming avowal once -more. "How many syllables is the name in?" she asked, drawing -patterns shyly on the ground with the end of the parasol. - -No man with the slightest knowledge of the sex would have been -rash enough, in Allan's position, to tell her the truth. Allan, -who knew nothing whatever of woman's natures, and who told the -truth right and left in all mortal emergencies, answered as if he -had been under examination in a court of justice. - -"It's a name in three syllables," he said. - -Miss Milroy's downcast eyes flashed up at him like lightning. -"Three!" she repeated in the blankest astonishment. - -Allan was too inveterately straightforward to take the warning -even now. "I'm not strong at my spelling, I know," he said, with -his lighthearted laugh. "But I don't think I'm wrong, in calling -Midwinter a name in t hree syllables. I was thinking of my -friend; but never mind my thoughts. Tell me who A is--tell me -whom _you_ were thinking of?" - -"Of the first letter of the alphabet, Mr. Armadale, and I beg -positively to inform you of nothing more!" - -With that annihilating answer the major's daughter put up her -parasol and walked back by herself to the boat. - -Allan stood petrified with amazement. If Miss Milroy had actually -boxed his ears (and there is no denying that she had privately -longed to devote her hand to that purpose), he could hardly have -felt more bewildered than he felt now. "What on earth have I -done?" he asked himself, helplessly, as the major and young -Pedgift joined him, and the three walked down together to the -water-side. "I wonder what she'll say to me next?" - -She said absolutely nothing; she never so much as looked at Allan -when he took his place in the boat. There she sat, with her eyes -and her complexion both much brighter than usual, taking the -deepest interest in the curate's progress toward recovery; in the -state of Mrs. Pentecost's spirits; in Pedgift Junior (for whom -she ostentatiously made room enough to let him sit beside her); -in the scenery and the reed-cutter's cottage; in everybody and -everything but Allan--whom she would have married with the -greatest pleasure five minutes since. "I'll never forgive him," -thought the major's daughter. "To be thinking of that ill-bred -wretch when I was thinking of _him;_ and to make me all but -confess it before I found him out! Thank Heaven, Mr. Pedgift is -in the boat!" - -In this frame of mind Miss Neelie applied herself forthwith to -the fascination of Pedgift and the discomfiture of Allan. "Oh, -Mr. Pedgift, how extremely clever and kind of you to think of -showing us that sweet cottage! Lonely, Mr. Armadale? I don't -think it's lonely at all; I should like of all things to live -there. What would this picnic have been without you, Mr. Pedgift; -you can't think how I have enjoyed it since we got into the boat. -Cool, Mr. Armadale? What can you possibly mean by saying it's -cool; it's the warmest evening we've had this summer. And the -music, Mr. Pedgift; how nice it was of you to bring your -concertina! I wonder if I could accompany you on the piano? I -would so like to try. Oh, yes, Mr. Armadale, no doubt you meant -to do something musical, too, and I dare say you sing very well -when you know the words; but, to tell you the truth, I always -did, and always shall, hate Moore's Melodies!" - -Thus, with merciless dexterity of manipulation, did Miss Milroy -work that sharpest female weapon of offense, the tongue; and thus -she would have used it for some time longer, if Allan had only -shown the necessary jealousy, or if Pedgift had only afforded the -necessary encouragement. But adverse fortune had decreed that she -should select for her victims two men essentially unassailable -under existing circumstances. Allan was too innocent of all -knowledge of female subtleties and susceptibilities to understand -anything, except that the charming Neelie was unreasonably out of -temper with him without the slightest cause. The wary Pedgift, as -became one of the quick-witted youth of the present generation, -submitted to female influence, with his eye fixed immovably all -the time on his own interests. Many a young man of the past -generation, who was no fool, has sacrificed everything for love. -Not one young man in ten thousand of the present generation, -_except_ the fools, has sacrificed a half-penny. The daughters of -Eve still inherit their mother's merits and commit their mother's -faults. But the sons of Adam, in these latter days, are men who -would have handed the famous apple back with a bow, and a -"Thanks, no; it might get me into a scrape." When -Allan--surprised and disappointed--moved away out of Miss -Milroy's reach to the forward part of the boat, Pedgift Junior -rose and followed him. "You're a very nice girl," thought this -shrewdly sensible young man; "but a client's a client; and I am -sorry to inform you, miss, it won't do." He set himself at once -to rouse Allan's spirits by diverting his attention to a new -subject. There was to be a regatta that autumn on one of the -Broads, and his client's opinion as a yachtsman might be valuable -to the committee. "Something new, I should think, to you, sir, in -a sailing match on fresh water?" he said, in his most -ingratiatory manner. And Allan, instantly interested, answered, -"Quite new. Do tell me about it!" - -As for the rest of the party at the other end of the boat, they -were in a fair way to confirm Mrs. Pentecost's doubts whether the -hilarity of the picnic would last the day out. Poor Neelie's -natural feeling of irritation under the disappointment which -Allan's awkwardness had inflicted on her was now exasperated into -silent and settled resentment by her own keen sense of -humiliation and defeat. The major had relapsed into his -habitually dreamy, absent manner; his mind was turning -monotonously with the wheels of his clock. The curate still -secluded his indigestion from public view in the innermost -recesses of the cabin; and the curate's mother, with a second -dose ready at a moment's notice, sat on guard at the door. Women -of Mrs. Pentecost's age and character generally enjoy their own -bad spirits. "This," sighed the old lady, wagging her head with a -smile of sour satisfaction "is what you call a day's pleasure, is -it? Ah, what fools we all were to leave our comfortable homes!" - -Meanwhile the boat floated smoothly along the windings of the -watery labyrinth which lay between the two Broads. The view on -either side was now limited to nothing but interminable rows of -reeds. Not a sound was heard, far or near; not so much as a -glimpse of cultivated or inhabited land appeared anywhere. "A -trifle dreary hereabouts, Mr. Armadale," said the ever-cheerful -Pedgift. "But we are just out of it now. Look ahead, sir! Here we -are at Hurle Mere." - -The reeds opened back on the right hand and the left, and the -boat glided suddenly into the wide circle of a pool. Round the -nearer half of the circle, the eternal reeds still fringed the -margin of the water. Round the further half, the land appeared -again, here rolling back from the pool in desolate sand-hills, -there rising above it in a sweep of grassy shore. At one point -the ground was occupied by a plantation, and at another by the -out-buildings of a lonely old red brick house, with a strip of -by-road near, that skirted the garden wall and ended at the pool. -The sun was sinking in the clear heaven, and the water, where the -sun's reflection failed to tinge it, was beginning to look black -and cold. The solitude that had been soothing, the silence that -had felt like an enchantment, on the other Broad, in the day's -vigorous prime, was a solitude that saddened here--a silence that -struck cold, in the stillness and melancholy of the day's -decline. - -The course of the boat was directed across the Mere to a creek in -the grassy shore. One or two of the little flat-bottomed punts -peculiar to the Broads lay in the creek; and the reed cutters to -whom the punts belonged, surprised at the appearance of -strangers, came out, staring silently, from behind an angle of -the old garden wall. Not another sign of life was visible -anywhere. No pony-chaise had been seen by the reed cutters; no -stranger, either man or woman, had approached the shores of Hurle -Mere that day. - -Young Pedgift took another look at his watch, and addressed -himself to Miss Milroy. "You may, or may not, see the governess -when you get back to Thorpe Ambrose," he said; "but, as the time -stands now, you won't see her here. You know best, Mr. Armadale," -he added, turning to Allan, "whether your friend is to be -depended on to keep his appointment?" - -"I am certain he is to be depended on," replied Allan, looking -about him--in unconcealed disappointment at Midwinter's absence. - -"Very good," pursued Pedgift Junior. "If we light the fire for -our gypsy tea-making on the open ground there, your friend may -find us out, sir, by the smoke. That's the Indian dodge for -picking up a lost man on the prairie, Miss Milroy and it's pretty -nearly wild enough (isn't it?) to be a prairie here!" - -There are some tem ptations--principally those of the smaller -kind--which it is not in the defensive capacity of female human -nature to resist. The temptation to direct the whole force of her -influence, as the one young lady of the party, toward the instant -overthrow of Allan's arrangement for meeting his friend, was too -much for the major's daughter. She turned on the smiling Pedgift -with a look which ought to have overwhelmed him. But who ever -overwhelmed a solicitor? - -"I think it's the most lonely, dreary, hideous place I ever saw -in my life!" said Miss Neelie. "If you insist on making tea here, -Mr. Pedgift, don't make any for me. No! I shall stop in the boat; -and, though I am absolutely dying with thirst, I shall touch -nothing till we get back again to the other Broad!" - -The major opened his lips to remonstrate. To his daughter's -infinite delight, Mrs. Pentecost rose from her seat before he -could say a word, and, after surveying the whole landward -prospect, and seeing nothing in the shape of a vehicle anywhere, -asked indignantly whether they were going all the way back again -to the place where they had left the carriages in the middle of -the day. On ascertaining that this was, in fact, the arrangement -proposed, and that, from the nature of the country, the carriages -could not have been ordered round to Hurle Mere without, in the -first instance, sending them the whole of the way back to Thorpe -Ambrose, Mrs. Pentecost (speaking in her son's interests) -instantly declared that no earthly power should induce her to be -out on the water after dark. "Call me a boat!" cried the old -lady, in great agitation. "Wherever there's water, there's a -night mist, and wherever there's a night mist, my son Samuel -catches cold. Don't talk to _me_ about your moonlight and your -tea-making--you're all mad! Hi! you two men there!" cried Mrs. -Pentecost, hailing the silent reed cutters on shore. "Sixpence -apiece for you, if you'll take me and my son back in your boat!" - -Before young Pedgift could interfere, Allan himself settled the -difficulty this time, with perfect patience and good temper. - -"I can't think, Mrs. Pentecost, of your going back in any boat -but the boat you have come out in," he said. "There is not the -least need (as you and Miss Milroy don't like the place) for -anybody to go on shore here but me. I _must_ go on shore. My -friend Midwinter never broke his promise to me yet; and I can't -consent to leave Hurle Mere as long as there is a chance of his -keeping his appointment. But there's not the least reason in the -world why I should stand in the way on that account. You have the -major and Mr. Pedgift to take care of you; and you can get back -to the carriages before dark, if you go at once. I will wait -here, and give my friend half an hour more, and then I can follow -you in one of the reed-cutters' boats." - -"That's the most sensible thing, Mr. Armadale, you've said -to-day," remarked Mrs. Pentecost, seating herself again in a -violent hurry - -"Tell them to be quick! " cried the old lady, shaking her fist at -the boatmen. "Tell them to be quick!" - -Allan gave the necessary directions, and stepped on shore. The -wary Pedgift (sticking fast to his client) tried to follow. - -"We can't leave you here alone, sir," he said, protesting eagerly -in a whisper. "Let the major take care of the ladies, and let me -keep you company at the Mere." - -"No, no!" said Allan, pressing him back. "They're all in low -spirits on board. If you want to be of service to me, stop like a -good fellow where you are, and do your best to keep the thing -going." - -He waved his hand, and the men pushed the boat off from the -shore. The others all waved their hands in return except the -major's daughter, who sat apart from the rest, with her face -hidden under her parasol. The tears stood thick in Neelie's eyes. -Her last angry feeling against Allan died out, and her heart went -back to him penitently the moment he left the boat. "How good he -is to us all!" she thought, "and what a wretch I am!" She got up -with every generous impulse in her nature urging her to make -atonement to him. She got up, reckless of appearances and looked -after him with eager eyes and flushed checks, as he stood alone -on the shore. "Don't be long, Mr. Armadale!" she said, with a -desperate disregard of what the rest of the company thought of -her. - -The boat was already far out in the water, and with all Neelie's -resolution the words were spoken in a faint little voice, which -failed to reach Allan's ears. The one sound he heard, as the boat -gained the opposite extremity of the Mere, and disappeared slowly -among the reeds, was the sound of the concertina. The -indefatigable Pedgift was keeping things going--evidently under -the auspices of Mrs. Pentecost--by performing a sacred melody. - -Left by himself, Allan lit a cigar, and took a turn backward and -forward on the shore. "She might have said a word to me at -parting!" he thought. "I've done everything for the best; I've as -good as told her how fond of her I am, and this is the way she -treats me!" He stopped, and stood looking absently at the sinking -sun, and the fast-darkening waters of the Mere. Some inscrutable -influence in the scene forced its way stealthily into his mind, -and diverted his thoughts from Miss Milroy to his absent friend. -He started, and looked about him. - -The reed-cutters had gone back to their retreat behind the angle -of the wall, not a living creature was visible, not a sound rose -anywhere along the dreary shore. Even Allan's spirits began to -get depressed. It was nearly an hour after the time when -Midwinter had promised to be at Hurle Mere. He had himself -arranged to walk to the pool (with a stable-boy from Thorpe -Ambrose as his guide), by lanes and footpaths which shortened the -distance by the road. The boy knew the country well, and -Midwinter was habitually punctual at all his appointments. Had -anything gone wrong at Thorpe Ambrose? Had some accident happened -on the way? Determined to remain no longer doubting and idling by -himself, Allan made up his mind to walk inland from the Mere, on -the chance of meeting his friend. He went round at once to the -angle in the wall, and asked one of the reedcutters to show him -the footpath to Thorpe Ambrose. - -The man led him away from the road, and pointed to a barely -perceptible break in the outer trees of the plantation. After -pausing for one more useless look around him, Allan turned his -back on the Mere and made for the trees. - -For a few paces, the path ran straight through the plantation. -Thence it took a sudden turn; and the water and the open country -became both lost to view. Allan steadily followed the grassy -track before him, seeing nothing and hearing nothing, until he -came to another winding of the path. Turning in the new -direction, he saw dimly a human figure sitting alone at the foot -of one of the trees. Two steps nearer were enough to make the -figure familiar to him. "Midwinter!" he exclaimed, in -astonishment. "This is not the place where I was to meet you! -What are you waiting for here?" - -Midwinter rose, without answering. The evening dimness among the -trees, which obscured his face, made his silence doubly -perplexing. - -Allan went on eagerly questioning him. "Did you come here by -yourself?" he asked. "I thought the boy was to guide you?" - -This time Midwinter answered. "When we got as far as these -trees," he said, "I sent the boy back. He told me I was close to -the place, and couldn't miss it." - -"What made you stop here when he left you?" reiterated Allan. -"Why didn't you walk on?" - -"Don't despise me," answered the other. "I hadn't the courage!" - -"Not the courage?" repeated Allan. He paused a moment. "Oh, I -know!" he resumed, putting his hand gayly on Midwinter's -shoulder. "You're still shy of the Milroys. What nonsense, when I -told you myself that your peace was made at the cottage!" - -"I wasn't thinking, Allan, of your friends at the cottage. The -truth is, I'm hardly myself to-day. I am ill and unnerved; -trifles startle me." He stopped, and shrank away, under the -anxious scrutiny of Allan's eyes. "If you _will_ have it," he -burst out, abruptly, "the horror of that night on board the Wreck -has got me again; there's a dreadful op pression on my head; -there's a dreadful sinking at my heart. I am afraid of something -happening to us, if we don't part before the day is out. I can't -break my promise to you; for God's sake, release me from it, and -let me go back!" - -Remonstrance, to any one who knew Midwinter, was plainly useless -at that moment. Allan humored him. "Come out of this dark, -airless place," he said, "and we will talk about it. The water -and the open sky are within a stone's throw of us. I hate a wood -in the evening; it even gives _me_ the horrors. You have been -working too hard over the steward's books. Come and breathe -freely in the blessed open air." - -Midwinter stopped, considered for a moment, and suddenly -submitted. - -"You're right," he said, "and I'm wrong, as usual. I'm wasting -time and distressing you to no purpose. What folly to ask you to -let me go back! Suppose you had said yes?" - -"Well?" asked Allan. - -"Well," repeated Midwinter, "something would have happened at the -first step to stop me, that's all. Come on." - -They walked together in silence on the way to the Mere. - -At the last turn in the path Allan's cigar went out. While he -stopped to light it again, Midwinter walked on before him, and -was the first to come in sight of the open ground. - -Allan had just kindled the match, when, to his surprise, his -friend came back to him round the turn in the path. There was -light enough to show objects more clearly in this part of the -plantation. The match, as Midwinter faced him, dropped on the -instant from Allan's hand. - -"Good God!" he cried, starting back, "you look as you looked on -board the Wreck!" - -Midwinter held up his band for silence. He spoke with his wild -eyes riveted on Allan's face, with his white lips close at -Allan's ear. - -"You remember how I _looked,_" he answered, in a whisper. "Do you -remember what I _said_ when you and the doctor were talking of -the Dream?" - -"I have forgotten the Dream," said Allan. - -As he made that answer, Midwinter took his hand, and led him -round the last turn in the path. - -"Do you remember it now?" he asked, and pointed to the Mere. - -The sun was sinking in the cloudless westward heaven. The waters -of the Mere lay beneath, tinged red by the dying light. The open -country stretched away, darkening drearily already on the right -hand and the left. And on the near margin of the pool, where all -had been solitude before, there now stood, fronting the sunset, -the figure of a woman. - -The two Armadales stood together in silence, and looked at the -lonely figure and the dreary view. - -Midwinter was the first to speak. - -"Your own eyes have seen it," he said. "Now look at our own -words." - -He opened the narrative of the Dream, and held it under Allan's -eyes. His finger pointed to the lines which recorded the first -Vision; his voice, sinking lower and lower, repeated the words: - - -"The sense came to me of being left alone in the darkness. - -"I waited. - -"The darkness opened, and showed me the vision--as in a -picture--of a broad, lonely pool, surrounded by open ground. -Above the further margin of the pool I saw the cloudless western -sky, red with the light of sunset. - -"On the near margin of the pool there stood the Shadow of a -Woman." - -He ceased, and let the hand which held the manuscript drop to his -side. The other hand pointed to the lonely figure, standing with -its back turned on them, fronting the setting sun. - -"There," he said, "stands the living Woman, in the Shadow's -place! There speaks the first of the dream warnings to you and to -me! Let the future time find us still together, and the second -figure that stands in the Shadow's place will be Mine." - -Even Allan was silenced by the terrible certainty of conviction -with which he spoke. - -In the pause that followed, the figure at the pool moved, and -walked slowly away round the margin of the shore. Allan stepped -out beyond the last of the trees, and gained a wider view of the -open ground. The first object that met his eyes was the -pony-chaise from Thorpe Ambrose. - -He turned back to Midwinter with a laugh of relief. "What -nonsense have you been talking!" he said. "And what nonsense have -I been listening to! It's the governess at last." - -Midwinter made no reply. Allan took him by the arm, and tried to -lead him on. He released himself suddenly, and seized Allan with -both hands, holding him back from the figure at the pool, as he -had held him back from the cabin door on the deck of the timber -ship. Once again the effort was in vain. Once again Allan broke -away as easily as he had broken away in the past time. - -"One of us must speak to her," he said. "And if you won't, I -will." - -He had only advanced a few steps toward the Mere, when he heard, -or thought he heard, a voice faintly calling after him, once and -once only, the word Farewell. He stopped, with a feeling of -uneasy surprise, and looked round. - -"Was that you, Midwinter?" he asked. - -There was no answer. After hesitating a moment more, Allan -returned to the plantation. Midwinter was gone. - -He looked back at the pool, doubtful in the new emergency what to -do next. The lonely figure had altered its course in the -interval; it had turned, and was advancing toward the trees. -Allan had been evidently either heard or seen. It was impossible -to leave a woman unbefriended, in that helpless position and in -that solitary place. For the second time Allan went out from the -trees to meet her. - -As he came within sight of her face, he stopped in ungovernable -astonishment. The sudden revelation of her beauty, as she smiled -and looked at him inquiringly, suspended the movement in his -limbs and the words on his lips. A vague doubt beset him whether -it was the governess, after all. - -He roused himself, and, advancing a few paces, mentioned his -name. "May I ask," he added, "if I have the pleasure--?" - -The lady met him easily and gracefully half-way. "Major Milroy's -governess," she said. "Miss Gwilt." - -CHAPTER X - -THE HOUSE-MAID'S FACE. - -ALL was quiet at Thorpe Ambrose. The hall was solitary, the rooms -were dark. The servants, waiting for the supper hour in the -garden at the back of the house, looked up at the clear heaven -and the rising moon, and agreed that there was little prospect of -the return of the picnic party until later in the night. The -general opinion, led by the high authority of the cook, predicted -that they might all sit down to supper without the least fear of -being disturbed by the bell. Having arrived at this conclusion, -the servants assembled round the table, and exactly at the moment -when they sat down the bell rang. - -The footman, wondering, went up stairs to open the door, and -found to his astonishment Midwinter waiting alone on the -threshold, and looking (in the servant's opinion) miserably ill. -He asked for a light, and, saying he wanted nothing else, -withdrew at once to his room. The footman went back to his -fellow-servants, and reported that something had certainly -happened to his master's friend. - -On entering his room, Midwinter closed the door, and hurriedly -filled a bag with the necessaries for traveling. This done, he -took from a locked drawer, and placed in the breast pocket of his -coat, some little presents which Allan had given him--a cigar -case, a purse, and a set of studs in plain gold. Having possessed -himself of these memorials, he snatched up the bag and laid his -hand on the door. There, for the first time, he paused. There, -the headlong haste of all his actions thus far suddenly ceased, -and the hard despair in his face began to soften: he waited, with -the door in his hand. - -Up to that moment he had been conscious of but one motive that -animated him, but one purpose that he was resolute to achieve. -"For Allan's sake!" he had said to himself, when he looked back -toward the fatal landscape and saw his friend leaving him to meet -the woman at the pool. "For Allan's sake!" he had said again, -when he crossed the open country beyond the wood, and saw afar, -in the gray twilight, the long line of embankment and the distant -glimmer of the railway lamps beckoning him away already to the -iron road. - -It was only when he now paused before he closed the door behind -him--it was only when his own impetuous rapidity of action came -for the first time to a check, that the nobler nature of the man -rose in protest against the superstitious despair which was -hurrying him from all that he held dear. His conviction of the -terrible necessity of leaving Allan for Allan's good had not been -shaken for an instant since he had seen the first Vision of the -Dream realized on the shores of the Mere. But now, for the first -time, his own heart rose against him in unanswerable rebuke. "Go, -if you must and will! but remember the time when you were ill, -and he sat by your bedside; friendless, and he opened his heart -to you--and write, if you fear to speak; write and ask him to -forgive you, before you leave him forever!" - -The half-opened door closed again softly. Midwinter sat down at -the writing-table and took up the pen. - -He tried again and again, and yet again, to write the farewell -words; he tried, till the floor all round him was littered with -torn sheets of paper. Turn from them which way he would, the old -times still came back and faced him reproachfully. The spacious -bed-chamber in which he sat, narrowed, in spite of him, to the -sick usherÕs garret at the west-country inn. The kind hand that -had once patted him on the shoulder touched him again; the kind -voice that had cheered him spoke unchangeably in the old friendly -tones. He flung his arms on the table and dropped his head on -them in tearless despair. The parting words that his tongue was -powerless to utter his pen was powerless to write. Mercilessly in -earnest, his superstition pointed to him to go while the time was -his own. Mercilessly in earnest, his love for Allan held him back -till the farewell plea for pardon and pity was written. - -He rose with a sudden resolution, and rang for the servant, "When -Mr. Armadale returns," he said, "ask him to excuse my coming -downstairs, and say that I am trying to get to sleep." He locked -the door and put out the light, and sat down alone in the -darkness. "The night will keep us apart," he said; "and time may -help me to write. I may go in the early morning; I may go -while--" The thought died in him uncompleted; and the sharp agony -of the struggle forced to his lips the first cry of suffering -that had escaped him yet. - -He waited in the darkness. - -As the time stole on, his senses remained mechanically awake, but -his mind began to sink slowly under the heavy strain that had now -been laid on it for some hours past. A dull vacancy possessed -him; he made no attempt to kindle the light and write once more. -He never started; he never moved to the open window, when the -first sound of approaching wheels broke in on the silence of the -night. He heard the carriages draw up at the door; he heard the -horses champing their bits; he heard the voices of Allan and -young Pedgift on the steps; and still he sat quiet in the -darkness, and still no interest was aroused in him by the sounds -that reached his ear from outside. - -The voices remained audible after the carriages had been driven -away; the two young men were evidently lingering on the steps -before they took leave of each other. Every word they said -reached Midwinter through the open window. Their one subject of -conversation was the new governess. Allan's voice was loud in her -praise. He had never passed such an hour of delight in his life -as the hour he had spent with Miss Gwilt in the boat, on the way -from Hurle Mere to the picnic party waiting at the other Broad. -Agreeing, on his side, with all that his client said in praise of -the charming stranger, young Pedgift appeared to treat the -subject, when it fell into his hands, from a different point of -view. Miss Gwilt's attractions had not so entirely absorbed his -attention as to prevent him from noticing the impression which -the new governess had produced on her employer and her pupil. - -"There's a screw loose somewhere, sir, in Major Milroy's family," -said the voice of young Pedgift. "Did you notice how the major -and his daughter looked when Miss Gwilt made her excuses for -being late at the Mere? You don't remember? Do you remember what -Miss Gwilt said?" - -"Something about Mrs. Milroy, wasn't it?" Allan rejoined. - -Young Pedgift's voice dropped mysteriously a note lower. - -"Miss Gwilt reached the cottage this afternoon, sir, at the time -when I told you she would reach it, and she would have joined us -at the time I told you she would come, but for Mrs. Milroy. Mrs. -Milroy sent for her upstairs as soon as she entered the house, -and kept her upstairs a good half-hour and more. That was Miss -Gwilt's excuse, Mr. Armadale, for being late at the Mere." - -"Well, and what then?" - -"You seem to forget, sir, what the whole neighborhood has heard -about Mrs. Milroy ever since the major first settled among us. We -have all been told, on the doctor's own authority, that she is -too great a sufferer to see strangers. Isn't it a little odd that -she should have suddenly turned out well enough to see Miss Gwilt -(in her husband's absence) the moment Miss Gwilt entered the -house?" - -"Not a bit of it! Of course she was anxious to make acquaintance -with her daughter's governess." - -"Likely enough, Mr. Armadale. But the major and Miss Neelie don't -see it in that light, at any rate. I had my eye on them both when -the governess told them that Mrs. Milroy had sent for her. If -ever I saw a girl look thoroughly frightened, Miss Milroy was -that girl; and (if I may be allowed, in the strictest confidence, -to libel a gallant soldier) I should say that the major himself -was much in the same condition. Take my word for it, sir, there's -something wrong upstairs in that pretty cottage of yours; and -Miss Gwilt is mixed up in it already!" - -There was a minute of silence. When the voices were next heard by -Midwinter, they were further away from the house--Allan was -probably accompanying young Pedgift a few steps on his way back. - -After a while, Allan's voice was audible once more under the -portico, making inquiries after his friend; answered by the -servant's voice giving Midwinter's message. This brief -interruption over, the silence was not broken again till the time -came for shutting up the house. The servants' footsteps passing -to and fro, the clang of closing doors, the barking of a -disturbed dog in the stable-yard--these sounds warned Midwinter -it was getting late. He rose mechanically to kindle a light. But -his head was giddy, his hand trembled; he laid aside the -match-box, and returned to his chair. The conversation between -Allan and young Pedgift had ceased to occupy his attention the -instant he ceased to hear it; and now again, the sense that the -precious time was failing him became a lost sense as soon as the -house noises which had awakened it had passed away. His energies -of body and mind were both alike worn out; he waited with a -stolid resignation for the trouble that was to come to him with -the coming day. - -An interval passed, and the silence was once more disturbed by -voices outside; the voices of a man and a woman this time. The -first few words exchanged between them indicated plainly enough a -meeting of the clandestine kind; and revealed the man as one of -the servants at Thorpe Ambrose, and the woman as one of the -servants at the cottage. - -Here again, after the first greetings were over, the subject of -the new governess became the all-absorbing subject of -conversation. - -The major's servant was brimful of forebodings (inspired solely -by Miss Gwilt's good looks) which she poured out irrepressibly on -her "sweetheart," try as he might to divert her to other topics. -Sooner or later, let him mark her words, there would be an awful -"upset" at the cottage. Her master, it might be mentioned in -confidence, led a dreadful life with her mistress. The major was -the best of men; he hadn't a thought in his heart beyond his -daughter and his everlasting clock. But only let a nice-looking -woman come near the place, and Mrs. Milroy was jealous of -her--raging jealous, like a woman possessed, on that miserable -sick-bed of hers. If Miss Gwilt (who was certainly good-looking, -in spite of her hideous hair) didn't blow the fire into a flame -before many days more were over their heads, the mistress was the -mistress no longer, but somebody else. Whatever happened, the fau -lt, this time, would lie at the door of the major's mother. The -old lady and the mistress had had a dreadful quarrel two years -since; and the old lady had gone away in a fury, telling her son, -before all the servants, that, if he had a spark of spirit in -him, he would never submit to his wife's temper as he did. It -would be too much, perhaps, to accuse the major's mother of -purposely picking out a handsome governess to spite the major's -wife. But it might be safely said that the old lady was the last -person in the world to humor the mistress's jealousy, by -declining to engage a capable and respectable governess for her -granddaughter because that governess happened to be blessed with -good looks. How it was all to end (except that it was certain to -end badly) no human creature could say. Things were looking as -black already as things well could. Miss Neelie was crying, after -the day's pleasure (which was one bad sign); the mistress had -found fault with nobody (which was another); the master had -wished her good-night through the door (which was a third); and -the governess had locked herself up in her room (which was the -worst sign of all, for it looked as if she distrusted the -servants). Thus the stream of the woman's gossip ran on, and thus -it reached Midwinter's ears through the window, till the clock in -the stable-yard struck, and stopped the talking. When the last -vibrations of the bell had died away, the voices were not audible -again, and the silence was broken no more. - -Another interval passed, and Midwinter made a new effort to rouse -himself. This time he kindled the light without hesitation, and -took the pen in hand. - -He wrote at the first trial with a sudden facility of expression, -which, surprising him as he went on, ended in rousing in him some -vague suspicion of himself. He left the table, and bathed his -head and face in water, and came back to read what he had -written. The language was barely intelligible; sentences were -left unfinished; words were misplaced one for the other. every -line recorded the protest of the weary brain against the -merciless will that had forced it into action. Midwinter tore up -the sheet of paper as he had torn up the other sheets before it, -and, sinking under the struggle at last, laid his weary head on -the pillow. Almost on the instant, exhaustion overcame him, and -before he could put the light out he fell asleep. - -He was roused by a noise at the door. The sunlight was pouring -into the room, the candle had burned down into the socket, and -the servant was waiting outside with a letter which had come for -him by the morning's post. - -"I ventured to disturb you, sir," said the man, when Midwinter -opened the door, "because the letter is marked 'Immediate,' and I -didn't know but it might be of some consequence." - -Midwinter thanked him, and looked at the letter. It _was_ of some -consequence--the handwriting was Mr. Brock's. - -He paused to collect his faculties. The torn sheets of paper on -the floor recalled to him in a moment the position in which he -stood. He locked the door again, in the fear that Allan might -rise earlier than usual and come in to make inquiries. -Then--feeling strangely little interest in anything that the -rector could write to him now--he opened Mr. Brock's letter, and -read these lines: - -"Tuesday. - -"MY DEAR MIDWINTER--It is sometimes best to tell bad news -plainly, in few words. Let me tell mine at once, in one sentence. -My precautions have all been defeated: the woman has escaped me. - -"This misfortune--for it is nothing less--happened yesterday -(Monday). Between eleven and twelve in the forenoon of that day, -the business which originally brought me to London obliged me to -go to Doctors' Commons, and to leave my servant Robert to watch -the house opposite our lodging until my return. About an hour and -a half after my departure he observed an empty cab drawn up at -the door of the house. Boxes and bags made their appearance -first; they were followed by the woman herself, in the dress I -had first seen her in. Having previously secured a cab, Robert -traced her to the terminus of the North-Western Railway, saw her -pass through the ticket office, kept her in view till she reached -the platform, and there, in the crowd and confusion caused by the -starting of a large mixed train, lost her. I must do him the -justice to say that he at once took the right course in this -emergency. Instead of wasting time in searching for her on the -platform, he looked along the line of carriages; and he -positively declares that he failed to see her in any one of them. -He admits, at the same time, that his search (conducted between -two o'clock, when he lost sight of her, and ten minutes past, -when the train started) was, in the confusion of the moment, -necessarily an imperfect one. But this latter circumstance, in my -opinion, matters little. I as firmly disbelieve in the woman's -actual departure by that train as if I had searched every one of -the carriages myself; and you, I have no doubt, will entirely -agree with me. - -"You now know how the disaster happened. Let us not waste time -and words in lamenting it. The evil is done, and you and I -together must find the way to remedy it. - -"What I have accomplished already, on my side, may be told in two -words. Any hesitation I might have previously felt at trusting -this delicate business in strangers' hands was at an end the -moment I heard Robert's news. I went back at once to the city, -and placed the whole matter confidentially before my lawyers. The -conference was a long one, and when I left the office it was past -the post hour, or I should have written to you on Monday instead -of writing today. My interview with the lawyers was not very -encouraging. They warn me plainly that serious difficulties stand -in the way of our recovering the lost trace. But they have -promised to do their best, and we have decided on the course to -be taken, excepting one point on which we totally differ. I must -tell you what this difference is; for, while business keeps me -away from Thorpe Ambrose, you are the only person whom I can -trust to put my convictions to the test. - -"The lawyers are of opinion, then, that the woman has been aware -from the first that I was watching her; that there is, -consequently, no present hope of her being rash enough to appear -personally at Thorpe Ambrose; that any mischief she may have it -in contemplation to do will be done in the first instance by -deputy; and that the only wise course for Allan's friends and -guardians to take is to wait passively till events enlighten -them. My own idea is diametrically opposed to this. After what -has happened at the railway, I cannot deny that the woman must -have discovered that I was watching her. But she has no reason to -suppose that she has not succeeded in deceiving me; and I firmly -believe she is bold enough to take us by surprise, and to win or -force her way into Allan's confidence before we are prepared to -prevent her. - -"You and you only (while I am detained in London) can decide -whether I am right or wrong--and you can do it in this way. -Ascertain at once whether any woman who is a stranger in the -neighborhood has appeared since Monday last at or near Thorpe -Ambrose. If any such person has been observed (and nobody escapes -observation in the country), take the first opportunity you can -get of seeing her, and ask yourself if her face does or does not -answer certain plain questions which I am now about to write down -for you. You may depend on my accuracy. I saw the woman unveiled -on more than one occasion, and the last time through an excellent -glass. - -"1. Is her hair light brown, and (apparently) not very plentiful? -2. Is her forehead high, narrow, and sloping backward from the -brow? 3. Are her eyebrows very faintly marked, and are her eyes -small, and nearer dark than light--either gray or hazel (I have -not seen her close enough to he certain which)? 4. Is her nose -aquiline? 5 Are her lips thin, and is the upper lip long? 6. Does -her complexion look like an originally fair complexion, which has -deteriorated into a dull, sickly paleness? 7 (and lastly). Has -she a retreating chin, and is there on the left side of it a mark -of some k ind--a mole or a scar, I can't say which? - -"I add nothing about her expression, for you may see her under -circumstances which may partially alter it as seen by me. Test -her by her features, which no circumstances can change. If there -is a stranger in the neighborhood, and if her face answers my -seven questions, _you have found the woman!_ Go instantly, in -that case, to the nearest lawyer, and pledge my name and credit -for whatever expenses may be incurred in keeping her under -inspection night and day. Having done this, take the speediest -means of communicating with me; and whether my business is -finished or not, I will start for Norfolk by the first train. - -"Always your friend, DECIMUS BROCK." - - -Hardened by the fatalist conviction that now possessed him, -Midwinter read the rector's confession of defeat, from the first -line to the last, without the slightest betrayal either of -interest or surprise. The one part of the letter at which he -looked back was the closing part of it. "I owe much to Mr. -Brock's kindness," he thought; "and I shall never see Mr. Brock -again. It is useless and hopeless; but he asks me to do it, and -it shall be done. A moment's look at her will be enough--a -moment's look at her with his letter in my hand--and a line to -tell him that the woman is here!" - -Again he stood hesitating at the half-opened door; again the -cruel necessity of writing his farewell to Allan stopped him, and -stared him in the face. - -He looked aside doubtingly at the rector's letter. "I will write -the two together," he said. "One may help the other." His face -flushed deep as the words escaped him. He was conscious of doing -what he had not done yet--of voluntarily putting off the evil -hour; of making Mr. Brock the pretext for gaining the last -respite left, the respite of time. - -The only sound that reached him through the open door was the -sound of Allan stirring noisily in the next room. He stepped at -once into the empty corridor, and meeting no one on the stairs, -made his way out of the house. The dread that his resolution to -leave Allan might fail him if he saw Allan again was as vividly -present to his mind in the morning as it had been all through the -night. He drew a deep breath of relief as he descended the house -steps--relief at having escaped the friendly greeting of the -morning, from the one human creature whom he loved! - -He entered the shrubbery with Mr. Brock's letter in his hand, and -took the nearest way that led to the major's cottage. Not the -slightest recollection was in his mind of the talk which had -found its way to his ears during the night. His one reason for -determining to see the woman was the reason which the rector had -put in his mind. The one remembrance that now guided him to the -place in which she lived was the remembrance of Allan's -exclamation when he first identified the governess with the -figure at the pool. - -Arrived at the gate of the cottage, he stopped. The thought -struck him that he might defeat his own object if he looked at -the rector's questions in the woman's presence. Her suspicions -would be probably roused, in the first instance, by his asking to -see her (as he had determined to ask, with or without an excuse), -and the appearance of the letter in his hand might confirm them. - -She might defeat him by instantly leaving the room. Determined to -fix the description in his mind first, and then to confront her, -he opened the letter; and, turning away slowly by the side of the -house, read the seven questions which he felt absolutely assured -beforehand the woman's face would answer. - -In the morning quiet of the park slight noises traveled far. A -slight noise disturbed Midwinter over the letter. - -He looked up and found himself on the brink of a broad grassy -trench, having the park on one side and the high laurel hedge of -an inclosure on the other. The inclosure evidently surrounded the -back garden of the cottage, and the trench was intended to -protect it from being damaged by the cattle grazing in the park. - -Listening carefully as the slight sound which had disturbed him -grew fainter, he recognized in it the rustling of women's -dresses. A few paces ahead, the trench was crossed by a bridge -(closed by a wicket gate) which connected the garden with the -park. He passed through the gate, crossed the bridge, and, -opening a door at the other end, found himself in a summer-house -thickly covered with creepers, and commanding a full view of the -garden from end to end. - -He looked, and saw the figures of two ladies walking slowly away -from him toward the cottage. The shorter of the two failed to -occupy his attention for an instant; he never stopped to think -whether she was or was not the major's daughter. His eyes were -riveted on the other figure--the figure that moved over the -garden walk with the long, lightly falling dress and the easy, -seductive grace. There, presented exactly as be had seen her once -already--there, with her back again turned on him, was the Woman -at the pool! - -There was a chance that they might take another turn in the -garden--a turn back toward the summer-house. On that chance -Midwinter waited. No consciousness of the intrusion that he was -committing had stopped him at the door of the summer-house, and -no consciousness of it troubled him even now. Every finer -sensibility in his nature, sinking under the cruel laceration of -the past night, had ceased to feel. The dogged resolution to do -what he had come to do was the one animating influence left alive -in him. He acted, he even looked, as the most stolid man living -might have acted and looked in his place. He was self-possessed -enough, in the interval of expectation before governess and pupil -reached the end of the walk, to open Mr. Brock's letter, and to -fortify his memory by a last look at the paragraph which -described her face. - -He was still absorbed over the description when he heard the -smooth rustle of the dresses traveling toward him again. Standing -in the shadow of the summer-house, he waited while she lessened -the distance between them. With her written portrait vividly -impressed on his mind, and with the clear light of the morning to -help him, his eyes questioned her as she came on; and these were -the answers that her face gave him back. - -The hair in the rector's description was light brown and not -plentiful. This woman's hair, superbly luxuriant in its growth, -was of the one unpardonably remarkable shade of color which the -prejudice of the Northern nations never entirely forgives--it was -_red!_ The forehead in the rector's description was high, narrow, -and sloping backward from the brow; the eyebrows were faintly -marked; and the eyes small, and in color either gray or hazel. -This woman's forehead was low, upright, and broad toward the -temples; her eyebrows, at once strongly and delicately marked, -were a shade darker than her hair; her eyes, large, bright, and -well opened, were of that purely blue color, without a tinge in -it of gray or green, so often presented to our admiration in -pictures and books, so rarely met with in the living face. The -nose in the rector's description was aquiline. The line of this -woman's nose bent neither outward nor inward: it was the -straight, delicately molded nose (with the short upper lip -beneath) of the ancient statues and busts. The lips in the -rector's description were thin and the upper lip long; the -complexion was of a dull, sickly paleness; the chin retreating -and the mark of a mole or a scar on the left side of it. This -woman's lips were full, rich, and sensual. Her complexion was the -lovely complexion which accompanies such hair as hers--so -delicately bright in its rosier tints, so warmly and softly white -in its gentler gradations of color on the forehead and the neck. -Her chin, round and dimpled, was pure of the slightest blemish in -every part of it, and perfectly in line with her forehead to the -end. Nearer and nearer, and fairer and fairer she came, in the -glow of the morning light--the most startling, the most -unanswerable contradiction that eye could see or mind conceive to -the description in the rector's letter. - -Both governess and pupil were close to the summer-house before -they looked that way, and noti ced Midwinter standing inside. The -governess saw him first. - -"A friend of yours, Miss Milroy?" she asked, quietly, without -starting or betraying any sign of surprise. - -Neelie recognized him instantly. Prejudiced against Midwinter by -his conduct when his friend had introduced him at the cottage, -she now fairly detested him as the unlucky first cause of her -misunderstanding with Allan at the picnic. Her face flushed and -she drew back from the summerhouse with an expression of -merciless surprise. - -"He is a friend of Mr. Armadale's," she replied sharply. "I don't -know what he wants, or why he is here." - -"A friend of Mr. Armadale's!" The governess's face lighted up -with a suddenly roused interest as she repeated the words, She -returned Midwinter's look, still steadily fixed on her, with -equal steadiness on her side. - -"For my part," pursued Neelie, resenting Midwinter's -insensibility to her presence on the scene, "I think it a great -liberty to treat papa's garden as if it were the open park!" - -The governess turned round, and gently interposed. - -"My dear Miss Milroy," she remonstrated, "there are certain -distinctions to be observed. This gentleman is a friend of Mr. -Armadale's. You could hardly express yourself more strongly if he -was a perfect stranger." - -"I express my opinion," retorted Neelie, chafing under the -satirically indulgent tone in which the governess addressed her. -"It's a matter of taste, Miss Gwilt; and tastes differ." She -turned away petulantly, and walked back by herself to the -cottage. - -"She is very young," said Miss Gwilt, appealing with a smile to -Midwinter's forbearance; "and, as you must see for yourself, sir, -she is a spoiled child." She paused--showed, for an instant only, -her surprise at Midwinter's strange silence and strange -persistency in keeping his eyes still fixed on her--then set -herself, with a charming grace and readiness, to help him out of -the false position in which he stood. "As you have extended your -walk thus far," she resumed, "perhaps you will kindly favor me, -on your return, by taking a message to your friend? Mr. Armadale -has been so good as to invite me to see the Thorpe Ambrose -gardens this morning. Will you say that Major Milroy permits me -to accept the invitation (in company with Miss Milroy) between -ten and eleven o'clock?" For a moment her eyes rested, with a -renewed look of interest, on Midwinter's face. She waited, still -in vain, for an answering word from him--smiled, as if his -extraordinary silence amused rather than angered her--and -followed her pupil back to the cottage. - - -It was only when the last trace of her had disappeared that -Midwinter roused himself, and attempted to realize the position -in which he stood. The revelation of her beauty was in no respect -answerable for the breathless astonishment which had held him -spell-bound up to this moment. The one clear impression she had -produce on him thus far began and ended with his discovery of the -astounding contradiction that her face offered, in one feature -after another, to the description in Mr. Brock's letter. All -beyond this was vague and misty--a dim consciousness of a tall, -elegant woman, and of kind words, modestly and gracefully spoken -to him, and nothing more. - -He advanced a few steps into the garden without knowing -why--stopped, glancing hither and thither like a man -lost--recognized the summer-house by an effort, as if years had -elapsed since he had seen it--and made his way out again, at -last, into the park. Even here, he wandered first in one -direction, then in another. His mind was still reeling under the -shock that had fallen on it; his perceptions were all confused. -Something kept him mechanically in action, walking eagerly -without a motive, walking he knew not where. - -A far less sensitively organized man might have been overwhelmed, -as he was overwhelmed now, by the immense, the instantaneous -revulsion of feeling which the event of the last few minutes had -wrought in his mind. - -At the memorable instant when he had opened the door of the -summer-house, no confusing influence troubled his faculties. In -all that related to his position toward his friend, he had -reached an absolutely definite conclusion by an absolutely -definite process of thought. The whole strength of the motive -which had driven him into the resolution to part from Allan -rooted itself in the belief that he had seen at Hurle Mere the -fatal fulfillment of the first Vision of the Dream. And this -belief, in its turn, rested, necessarily, on the conviction that -the woman who was the one survivor of the tragedy in Madeira must -be also inevitably the woman whom he had seen standing in the -Shadow's place at the pool. Firm in that persuasion, he had -himself compared the object of his distrust and of the rector's -distrust with the description written by the rector himself--a -description, carefully minute, by a man entirely trustworthy--and -his own eyes had informed him that the woman whom he had seen at -the Mere, and the woman whom Mr. Brock had identified in London, -were not one, but Two. In the place of the Dream Shadow, there -had stood, on the evidence of the rector's letter, not the -instrument of the Fatality--but a stranger! - -No such doubts as might have troubled a less superstitious man, -were started in _his_ mind by the discovery that had now opened -on him. - -It never occurred to him to ask himself whether a stranger might -not be the appointed instrument of the Fatality, now when the -letter had persuaded him that a stranger had been revealed as the -figure in the dream landscape. No such idea entered or could -enter his mind. The one woman whom _his_ superstition dreaded was -the woman who had entwined herself with the lives of the two -Armadales in the first generation, and with the fortunes of the -two Armadales in the second--who was at once the marked object of -his father's death-bed warning, and the first cause of the family -calamities which had opened Allan's way to the Thorpe Ambrose -estate--the woman, in a word, whom he would have known -instinctively, but for Mr. Brock's letter, to be the woman whom -he had now actually seen. - -Looking at events as they had just happened, under the influence -of the misapprehension into which the rector had innocently -misled him, his mind saw and seized its new conclusion -instantaneously, acting precisely as it had acted in the past -time of his interview with Mr. Brock at the Isle of Man. - -Exactly as he had once declared it to be an all-sufficient -refutation of the idea of the Fatality, that he had never met -with the timber-ship in any of his voyages at sea, so he now -seized on the similarly derived conclusion, that the whole claim -of the Dream to a supernatural origin stood self-refuted by the -disclosure of a stranger in the Shadow's place. Once started from -this point--once encouraged to let his love for Allan influence -him undividedly again, his mind hurried along the whole resulting -chain of thought at lightning speed. If the Dream was proved to -be no longer a warning from the other world, it followed -inevitably that accident and not fate had led the way to the -night on the Wreck, and that all the events which had happened -since Allan and he had parted from Mr. Brock were events in -themselves harmless, which his superstition had distorted from -their proper shape. In less than a moment his mobile imagination -had taken him back to the morning at Castletown when he had -revealed to the rector the secret of his name; when he had -declared to the rector, with his father's letter before his eyes, -the better faith that was in him. Now once more he felt his heart -holding firmly by the bond of brotherhood between Allan and -himself; now once more he could say with the eager sincerity of -the old time, "If the thought of leaving him breaks my heart, the -thought of leaving him is wrong!" As that nobler conviction -possessed itself again of his mind--quieting the tumult, clearing -the confusion within him--the house at Thorpe Ambrose, with Allan -on the steps, waiting, looking for him, opened on his eyes -through the trees. A sense of illimitable relief lifted his eager -spirit high above the cares, and doubts, and fears that had -oppressed it so long, and showed him once more the better and -brighter future of his early dreams. His eyes filled with tears, -and he pressed the rector's letter, in his wild, passionate way, -to his lips, as he looked at Allan through the vista of the -trees. "But for this morsel of paper," he thought, "my life might -have been one long sorrow to me, and my father's crime might have -parted us forever!" - - -Such was the result of the stratagem which had shown the -housemaid's face to Mr. Brock as the face of Miss Gwilt. And -so--by shaking Midwinter's trust in his own superstition, in the -one case in which that superstition pointed to the truth--did -Mother Oldershaw's cunning triumph over difficulties and dangers -which had never been contemplated by Mother Oldershaw herself. - -CHAPTER XI. - -MISS GWILT AMONG THE QUICKSANDS. - -1. _From the Rev. Decimus Brock to Ozias Midwinter._ - -"Thursday. - -"MY DEAR MIDWINTER--No words can tell what a relief it was to me -to get your letter this morning, and what a happiness I honestly -feel in having been thus far proved to be in the wrong. The -precautions you have taken in case the woman should still confirm -my apprehensions by venturing herself at Thorpe Ambrose seem to -me to be all that can be desired. You are no doubt sure to hear -of her from one or other of the people in the lawyer's office, -whom you have asked to inform you of the appearance of a stranger -in the town. - -"I am the more pleased at finding how entirely I can trust you in -this matter; for I am likely to be obliged to leave Allan's -interests longer than I supposed solely in your hands. My visit -to Thorpe Ambrose must, I regret to say, be deferred for two -months. The only one of my brother-clergymen in London who is -able to take my duty for me cannot make it convenient to remove -with his family to Somersetshire before that time. I have no -alternative but to finish my business here, and be back at my -rectory on Saturday next. If anything happens, you will, of -course, instantly communicate with me; and, in that case, be the -inconvenience what it may, I must leave home for Thorpe Ambrose. -If, on the other hand, all goes more smoothly than my own -obstinate apprehensions will allow me to suppose, then Allan (to -whom I have written) must not expect to see me till this day two -months. - -"No result has, up to this time, rewarded our exertions to -recover the trace lost at the railway. I will keep my letter -open, however, until post time, in case the next few hours bring -any news. - -"Always truly yours, - -DECIMUS BROCK. - -"P. S.--I have just heard from the lawyers. They have found out -the name the woman passed by in London. If this discovery (not a -very important one, I am afraid) suggests any new course of -proceeding to you, pray act on it at once. The name is--Miss -Gwilt." - -2. _From Miss Gwilt to Mrs. Oldershaw._ - -The Cottage, Thorpe Ambrose, Saturday, June 28. - -"IF you will promise not to be alarmed, Mamma Oldershaw, I will -begin this letter in a very odd way, by copying a page of a -letter written by somebody else. You have an excellent memory, -and you may not have forgotten that I received a note from Major -Milroy's mother (after she had engaged me as governess) on Monday -last. It was dated and signed; and here it is, as far as the -first page: 'June 23d, 1851. Dear Madam--Pray excuse my troubling -you, before you go to Thorpe Ambrose, with a word more about the -habits observed in my son's household. When I had the pleasure of -seeing you at two o'clock to-day, in Kingsdown Crescent, I had -another appointment in a distant part of London at three; and, in -the hurry of the moment, one or two little matters escaped me -which I think I ought to impress on your attention.' The rest of -the letter is not of the slightest importance, but the lines that -I have just copied are well worthy of all the attention you can -bestow on them. They have saved me from discovery, my dear, -before I have been a week in Major Milroy's service! - -"It happened no later than yesterday evening, and it began and -ended in this manner: - -"There is a gentleman here, (of whom I shall have more to say -presently) who is an intimate friend of young Armadale's, and who -bears the strange name of Midwinter. He contrived yesterday to -speak to me alone in the park. Almost as soon as he opened his -lips, I found that my name had been discovered in London (no -doubt by the Somersetshire clergyman); and that Mr. Midwinter had -been chosen (evidently by the same person) to identify the Miss -Gwilt who had vanished from Brompton with the Miss Gwilt who had -appeared at Thorpe Ambrose. You foresaw this danger, I remember; -but you could scarcely have imagined that the exposure would -threaten me so soon. - -"I spare you the details of our conversation to come to the end. -Mr. Midwinter put the matter very delicately, declaring, to my -great surprise, that he felt quite certain himself that I was not -the Miss Gwilt of whom his friend was in search; and that he only -acted as he did out of regard to the anxiety of a person whose -wishes he was bound to respect. Would I assist him in setting -that anxiety completely at rest, as far as I was concerned, by -kindly answering one plain question--which he had no other right -to ask me than the right my indulgence might give him? The lost -'Miss Gwilt' had been missed on Monday last, at two o'clock, in -the crowd on the platform of the North-western Railway, in Euston -Square. Would I authorize him to say that on that day, and at -that hour, the Miss Gwilt who was Major Milroy's governess had -never been near the place? - -"I need hardly tell you that I seized the fine opportunity he had -given me of disarming all future suspicion. I took a high tone on -the spot, and met him with the old lady's letter. He politely -refused to look at it. I insisted on his looking at it. 'I don't -choose to be mistaken,' I said, 'for a woman who may be a bad -character, because she happens to bear, or to have assumed, the -same name as mine. I insist on your reading the first part of -this letter for my satisfaction, if not for your own.' He was -obliged to comply; and there was the proof, in the old lady's -handwriting, that, at two o'clock on Monday last, she and I were -together in Kingsdown Crescent, which any directory would tell -him is a 'crescent' in Bayswater! I leave you to imagine his -apologies, and the perfect sweetness with which I received them. - -"I might, of course, if I had not preserved the letter, have -referred him to you, or to the major's mother, with similar -results. As it is, the object has been gained without trouble or -delay. _I have been proved not to be myself;_ and one of the many -dangers that threatened me at Thorpe Ambrose is a danger blown -over from this moment. Your house-maid's face may not be a very -handsome one; but there is no denying that it has done us -excellent service. - - -"So much for the past; now for the future. You shall hear how I -get on with the people about me; and you shall judge for yourself -what the chances are for and against my becoming mistress of -Thorpe Ambrose. - -"Let me begin with young Armadale--because it is beginning with -good news. I have produced the right impression on him already, -and Heaven knows _that_ is nothing to boast of! Any moderately -good-looking woman who chose to take the trouble could make him -fall in love with her. He is a rattle-pated young fool--one of -those noisy, rosy, light-haired, good-tempered men whom I -particularly detest. I had a whole hour alone with him in a boat, -the first day I came here, and I have made good use of my time, I -can tell you, from that day to this. The only difficulty with him -is the difficulty of concealing my own feelings, especially when -he turns my dislike of him into downright hatred by sometimes -reminding me of his mother. I really never saw a man whom I could -use so ill, if I had the opportunity. He will give me the -opportunity, I believe, if no accident happens, sooner than we -calculated on. I have just returned from a party at the great -house, in celebration of the rent-day dinner, and the squire's -attentions to me, and my modest reluctance to receive them, have -already excited general remark. - -"My pupil, Miss Milroy, comes ne xt. She, too, is rosy and -foolish; and, what is more, awkward and squat and freckled, and -ill-tempered and ill-dressed. No fear of _her,_ though she hates -me like poison, which is a great comfort, for I get rid of her -out of lesson time and walking time. It is perfectly easy to see -that she has made the most of her opportunities with young -Armadale (opportunities, by-the-by, which we never calculated -on), and that she has been stupid enough to let him slip through -her fingers. When I tell you that she is obliged, for the sake of -appearances, to go with her father and me to the little -entertainments at Thorpe Ambrose, and to see how young Armadale -admires me, you will understand the kind of place I hold in her -affections. She would try me past all endurance if I didn't see -that I aggravate her by keeping my temper, so, of course, I keep -it. If I do break out, it will be over our lessons--not over our -French, our grammar, history, and globes--but over our music. No -words can say how I feel for her poor piano. Half the musical -girls in England ought to have their fingers chopped off in the -interests of society, and, if I had my way, Miss Milroy's fingers -should be executed first. - -"As for the major, I can hardly stand higher in his estimation -than I stand already. I am always ready to make his breakfast, -and his daughter is not. I can always find things for him when he -loses them, and his daughter can't. I never yawn when he proses, -and his daughter does. I like the poor dear harmless old -gentleman, so I won't say a word more about him. - -"Well, here is a fair prospect for the future surely? My good -Oldershaw, there never was a prospect yet without an ugly place -in it. _My_ prospect has two ugly places in it. The name of one -of them is Mrs. Milroy, and the name of the other is Mr. -Midwinter. - -"Mrs. Milroy first. Before I had been five minutes in the -cottage, on the day of my arrival, what do you think she did? She -sent downstairs and asked to see me. The message startled me a -little, after hearing from the old lady, in London, that her -daughter-in-law was too great a sufferer to see anybody; but, of -course, when I got her message, I had no choice but to go up -stairs to the sick-room. I found her bedridden with an incurable -spinal complaint, and a really horrible object to look at, but -with all her wits about her; and, if I am not greatly mistaken, -as deceitful a woman, with as vile a temper, as you could find -anywhere in all your long experience. Her excessive politeness, -and her keeping her own face in the shade of the bed-curtains -while she contrived to keep mine in the light, put me on my guard -the moment I entered the room. We were more than half an hour -together, without my stepping into any one of the many clever -little traps she laid for me. The only mystery in her behavior, -which I failed to see through at the time, was her perpetually -asking me to bring her things (things she evidently did not want) -from different parts of the room. - -"Since then events have enlightened me. My first suspicions were -raised by overhearing some of the servants' gossip; and I have -been confirmed in my opinion by the conduct of Mrs. Milroy's -nurse. - -"On the few occasions when I have happened to be alone with the -major, the nurse has also happened to want something of her -master, and has invariably forgotten to announce her appearance -by knocking, at the door. Do you understand now why Mrs. Milroy -sent for me the moment I got into the house, and what she wanted -when she kept me going backward and forward, first for one thing -and then for another? There is hardly an attractive light in -which my face and figure can be seen, in which that woman's -jealous eyes have not studied them already. I am no longer -puzzled to know why the father and daughter started, and looked -at each other, when I was first presented to them; or why the -servants still stare at me with a mischievous expectation in -their eyes when I ring the bell and ask them to do anything. It -is useless to disguise the truth, Mother Oldershaw, between you -and me. When I went upstairs into that sickroom, I marched -blindfold into the clutches of a jealous woman. If Mrs. Milroy -_can_ turn me out of the house, Mrs. Milroy _will;_ and, morning -and night, she has nothing else to do in that bed prison of hers -but to find out the way. - -"In this awkward position, my own cautious conduct is admirably -seconded by the dear old major's perfect insensibility. His -wife's jealousy of him is as monstrous a delusion as any that -could be found in a mad-house; it is the growth of her own vile -temper, under the aggravation of an incurable illness. The poor -man hasn't a thought beyond his mechanical pursuits; and I don't -believe he knows at this moment whether I am a handsome woman or -not. With this chance to help me, I may hope to set the nurse's -intrusions and the mistress's contrivances at defiance--for a -time, at any rate. But you know what a jealous woman is, and I -think I know what Mrs. Milroy is; and I own I shall breathe more -freely on the day when young Armadale opens his foolish lips to -some purpose, and sets the major advertising for a new governess. - -"Armadale's name reminds me of Armadale's friend. There is more -danger threatening in that quarter; and, what is worse, I don't -feel half as well armed beforehand against Mr. Midwinter as I do -against Mrs. Milroy. - -"Everything about this man is more or less mysterious, which I -don't like, to begin with. How does he come to be in the -confidence of the Somersetshire clergyman? How much has that -clergyman told him? How is it that he was so firmly persuaded, -when he spoke to me in the park, that I was not the Miss Gwilt of -whom his friend was in search? I haven't the ghost of an answer -to give to any of those three questions. I can't even discover -who he is, or how he and young Armadale first became acquainted. -I hate him. No, I don't; I only want to find out about him. He is -very young, little and lean, and active and dark, with bright -black eyes which say to me plainly, 'We belong to a man with -brains in his head and a will of his own; a man who hasn't always -been hanging about a country house, in attendance on a fool.' -Yes; I am positively certain Mr. Midwinter has done something or -suffered something in his past life, young as he is; and I would -give I don't know what to get at it. Don't resent my taking up so -much space in my writing about him. He has influence enough over -young Armadale to be a very awkward obstacle in my way, unless I -can secure his good opinion at starting. - -"Well, you may ask, and what is to prevent your securing his good -opinion? I am sadly afraid, Mother Oldershaw, I have got it on -terms I never bargained for. I am sadly afraid the man is in love -with me already. - -"Don't toss your head and say, 'Just like her vanity!' After the -horrors I have gone through, I have no vanity left; and a man who -admires me is a man who makes me shudder. There was a time, I -own--Pooh! what am I writing? Sentiment, I declare! Sentiment to -_you!_ Laugh away, my dear. As for me, I neither laugh nor cry; I -mend my pen, and get on with my--what do the men call it?--my -report. - -"The only thing worth inquiring is, whether I am right or wrong -in my idea of the impression I have made on him. - -"Let me see; I have been four times in his company. The first -time was in the major's garden, where we met unexpectedly, face -to face. He stood looking at me, like a man petrified, without -speaking a word. The effect of my horrid red hair, perhaps? Quite -likely; let us lay it on my hair. The second time was in going -over the Thorpe Ambrose grounds, with young Armadale on one side -of me, and my pupil (in the sulks) on the other. Out comes Mr. -Midwinter to join us, though he had work to do in the steward's -office, which he had never been known to neglect on any other -occasion. Laziness, possibly? or an attachment to Miss Milroy? I -can't say; we will lay it on Miss Milroy, if you like; I only -know he did nothing but look at _me._ The third time was at the -private interview in the park, which I have told you of already. -I never saw a man so agitated at putting a delicate question to a -woman in my life. But _that_ might have been only awkwardness; -and his perpetually looking back after me when we had parted -might have been only looking back at the view. Lay it on the -view; by all means, lay it on the view! The fourth time was this -very evening, at the little party. They made me play; and, as the -piano was a good one, I did my best. All the company crowded -round me, and paid me their compliments (my charming pupil paid -hers, with a face like a cat's just before she spits), except Mr. -Midwinter. _He_ waited till it was time to go, and then he caught -me alone for a moment in the hall. There was just time for him to -take my hand, and say two words. Shall I tell you _how_ he took -my hand, and what his voice sounded like when he spoke? Quite -needless! You have always told me that the late Mr. Oldershaw -doted on you. Just recall the first time he took your hand, and -whispered a word or two addressed to your private ear. To what -did you attribute his behavior that occasion? I have no doubt, if -you had been playing on the piano in the course of the evening, -you would have attributed it entirely to the music! - -"No! you may take my word for it, the harm is done. _This_ man is -no rattle-pated fool, who changes his fancies as readily as he -changes his clothes. The fire that lights those big black eyes of -his is not an easy fire, when a woman has once kindled it, for -that woman to put out. I don't wish to discourage you; I don't -say the changes are against us. But with Mrs. Milroy threatening -me on one side, and Mr. Midwinter on the other, the worst of all -risks to run is the risk of losing time. Young Armadale has -hinted already, as well as such a lout can hint, at a private -interview! Miss Milroy's eyes are sharp, and the nurse's eyes are -sharper; and I shall lose my place if either of them find me out. -No matter! I must take my chance, and give him the interview. -Only let me get him alone, only let me escape the prying eyes of -the women, and--if his friend doesn't come between us--I answer -for the result! - -"In the meantime, have I anything more to tell you? Are there any -other people in our way at Thorpe Ambrose? Not another creature! -None of the resident families call here, young Armadale being, -most fortunately, in bad odor in the neighborhood. There are no -handsome highly-bred women to come to the house, and no persons -of consequence to protest against his attentions to a governess. -The only guests he could collect at his party to-night were the -lawyer and his family (a wife, a son, and two daughters), and a -deaf old woman and _her_ son--all perfectly unimportant people, -and all obedient humble servants of the stupid young squire. - -"Talking of obedient humble servants, there is one other person -established here, who is employed in the steward's office--a -miserable, shabby, dilapidated old man, named Bashwood. He is a -perfect stranger to me, and I am evidently a perfect stranger to -him, for he has been asking the house-maid at the cottage who I -am. It is paying no great compliment to myself to confess it, but -it is not the less true that I produced the most extraordinary -impression on this feeble old creature the first time he saw me. -He turned all manner of colors, and stood trembling and staring -at me, as if there was something perfectly frightful in my face. -I felt quite startled for the moment, for, of all the ways in -which men have looked at me, no man ever looked at me in that way -before. Did you ever see the boa constrictor fed at the -Zoological Gardens? They put a live rabbit into his cage, and -there is a moment when the two creatures look at each other. I -declare Mr. Bashwood reminded me of the rabbit. - -"Why do I mention this? I don't know why. Perhaps I have been -writing too long, and my head is beginning to fail me. Perhaps -Mr. Bashwood's manner of admiring me strikes my fancy by its -novelty. Absurd! I am exciting myself, and troubling you about -nothing. Oh, what a weary, long letter I have written! and how -brightly the stars look at me through the window, and how awfully -quiet the night is! Send me some more of those sleeping drops, -and write me one of your nice, wicked, amusing letters. You shall -hear from me again as soon as I know a little better how it is -all likely to end. Good-night, and keep a corner in your stony -old heart for - -L. G." - -3. _From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt._ - -"Diana Street, Pimlico, Monday. - -"MY DEAR LYDIA--I am in no state of mind to write you an amusing -letter. Your news is very discouraging, and the recklessness of -your tone quite alarms me. Consider the money I have already -advanced, and the interests we both have at stake. Whatever else -you are, don't be reckless, for Heaven's sake! - -"What can I do? I ask myself, as a woman of business, what can I -do to help you? I can't give you advice, for I am not on the -spot, and I don't know how circumstances may alter from one day -to another. Situated as we are now, I can only be useful in one -way. I can discover a new obstacle that threatens you, and I -think I can remove it. - -"You say, with great truth, that there never was a prospect yet -without an ugly place in it, and that there are two ugly places -in your prospect. My dear, there may be _three_ ugly places, if I -don't bestir myself to prevent it; and the name of the third -place will be--Brock! Is it possible you can refer, as you have -done, to the Somersetshire clergyman, and not see that the -progress you make with young Armadale will be, sooner or later, -reported to him by young Armadale's friend? Why, now I think of -it, you are doubly at the parson's mercy! You are at the mercy of -any fresh suspicion which may bring him into the neighborhood -himself at a day's notice; and you are at the mercy of his -interference the moment he hears that the squire is committing -himself with a neighbor's governess. If I can do nothing else, I -can keep this additional difficulty out of your way. And oh, -Lydia, with what alacrity I shall exert myself, after the manner -in which the old wretch insulted me when I told him that pitiable -story in the street! I declare I tingle with pleasure at this new -prospect of making a fool of Mr. Brock. - -"And how is it to be done? Just as we have done it already, to be -sure. He has lost 'Miss Gwilt' (otherwise my house-maid), hasn't -he? Very well. He shall find her again, wherever he is now, -suddenly settled within easy reach of him. As long as _she_ stops -in the place, _he_ will stop in it; and as we know he is not at -Thorpe Ambrose, there you are free of him! The old gentleman's -suspicions have given us a great deal of trouble so far. Let us -turn them to some profitable account at last; let us tie him, by -his suspicions, to my house-maid's apron-string. Most refreshing. -Quite a moral retribution, isn't it? - -"The only help I need trouble you for is help you can easily -give. Find out from Mr. Midwinter where the parson is now, and -let me know by return of post. If he is in London, I will -personally assist my housemaid in the necessary mystification of -him. If he is anywhere else, I will send her after him, -accompanied by a person on whose discretion I can implicitly -rely. - -"You shall have the sleeping drops to-morrow. In the meantime, I -say at the end what I said at the beginning--no recklessness. -Don't encourage poetical feelings by looking at the stars; and -don't talk about the night being awfully quiet. There are people -(in observatories) paid to look at the stars for you; leave it to -them. And as for the night, do what Providence intended you to do -with the night when Providence provided you with eyelids--go to -sleep in it. Affectionately yours, - -"MARIA OLDERSHAW." - -4. _From the Reverend Decimus Brock to Ozias Midwinter._ - -"Bascombe Rectory, West Somerset, Thursday, July 8. - -"MY DEAR MIDWINTER--One line before the post goes out, to relieve -you of all sense of responsibility at Thorpe Ambrose, and to make -my apologies to the lady who lives as governess in Major Milroy's -family. - -"_The_ Miss Gwilt--or perhaps I ought to say, the woman calling -herself by that name--has, to my unspeakable astonishment, openly -made her appearance here, in my own parish! She is staying at the -i nn, accompanied by a plausible-looking man, who passes as her -brother. What this audacious proceeding really means--unless it -marks a new step in the conspiracy against Allan, taken under new -advice--is, of course, more than I can yet find out. - -"My own idea is, that they have recognized the impossibility of -getting at Allan, without finding me (or you) as an obstacle in -their way; and that they are going to make a virtue of necessity -by boldly trying to open their communications through me. The man -looks capable of any stretch of audacity; and both he and the -woman had the impudence to bow when I met them in the village -half an hour since. They have been making inquiries already about -Allan's mother here, where her exemplary life may set their -closest scrutiny at defiance. If they will only attempt to extort -money, as the price of the woman's silence on the subject of poor -Mrs. Armadale's conduct in Madeira at the time of her marriage, -they will find me well prepared for them beforehand. I have -written by this post to my lawyers to send a competent man to -assist me, and he will stay at the rectory, in any character -which he thinks it safest to assume under present circumstances. - -"You shall hear what happens in the next day or two. - -"Always truly yours, DECIMUS BROCK." - -CHAPTER XII. - -THE CLOUDING OF THE SKY. - -NINE days had passed, and the tenth day was nearly at an end, -since Miss Gwilt and her pupil had taken their morning walk in -the cottage garden. - -The night was overcast. Since sunset, there had been signs in the -sky from which the popular forecast had predicted rain. The -reception-rooms at the great house were all empty and dark. Allan -was away, passing the evening with the Milroys; and Midwinter was -waiting his return--not where Midwinter usually waited, among the -books in the library, but in the little back room which Allan's -mother had inhabited in the last days of her residence at Thorpe -Ambrose. - -Nothing had been taken away, but much had been added to the room, -since Midwinter had first seen it. The books which Mrs. Armadale -had left behind her, the furniture, the old matting on the floor, -the old paper on the walls, were all undisturbed. The statuette -of Niobe still stood on its bracket, and the French window still -opened on the garden. But now, to the relics left by the mother, -were added the personal possessions belonging to the son. The -wall, bare hitherto, was decorated with water-color -drawings--with a portrait of Mrs. Armadale supported on one side -by a view of the old house in Somersetshire, and on the other by -a picture of the yacht. Among the books which bore in faded ink -Mrs. Armadale's inscriptions, "From my father," were other books -inscribed in the same handwriting, in brighter ink, "To my son." -Hanging to the wall, ranged on the chimney-piece, scattered over -the table, were a host of little objects, some associated with -Allan's past life, others necessary to his daily pleasures and -pursuits, and all plainly testifying that the room which he -habitually occupied at Thorpe Ambrose was the very room which had -once recalled to Midwinter the second vision of the dream. Here, -strangely unmoved by the scene around him, so lately the object -of his superstitious distrust, Allan's friend now waited -composedly for Allan's return; and here, more strangely still, he -looked on a change in the household arrangements, due in the -first instance entirely to himself. His own lips had revealed the -discovery which he had made on the first morning in the new -house; his own voluntary act had induced the son to establish -himself in the mother's room. - -Under what motives had he spoken the words? Under no motives -which were not the natural growth of the new interests and the -new hopes that now animated him. - -The entire change wrought in his convictions by the memorable -event that had brought him face to face with Miss Gwilt was a -change which it was not in his nature to hide from Allan's -knowledge. He had spoken openly, and had spoken as it was in his -character to speak. The merit of conquering his superstition was -a merit which he shrank from claiming, until he had first -unsparingly exposed that superstition in its worst and weakest -aspects to view. - -It was only after he had unreservedly acknowledged the impulse -under which he had left Allan at the Mere, that he had taken -credit to himself for the new point of view from which he could -now look at the Dream. Then, and not till then, he had spoken of -the fulfillment of the first Vision as the doctor at the Isle of -Man might have spoken of it. He had asked, as the doctor might -have asked, Where was the wonder of their seeing a pool at -sunset, when they had a whole network of pools within a few -hours' drive of them? and what was there extraordinary in -discovering a woman at the Mere, when there were roads that led -to it, and villages in its neighborhood, and boats employed on -it, and pleasure parties visiting it? So again, he had waited to -vindicate the firmer resolution with which he looked to the -future, until he had first revealed all that he now saw himself -of the errors of the past. The abandonment of his friend's -interests, the unworthiness of the confidence that had given him -the steward's place, the forgetfulness of the trust that Mr. -Brock had reposed in him all implied in the one idea of leaving -Allan--were all pointed out. The glaring self-contradictions -betrayed in accepting the Dream as the revelation of a fatality, -and in attempting to escape that fatality by an exertion of -free-will--in toiling to store up knowledge of the steward's -duties for the future, and in shrinking from letting the future -find him in Allan's house--were, in their turn, unsparingly -exposed. To every error, to every inconsistency, he resolutely -confessed, before he ventured on the last simple appeal which -closed all, "Will you trust me in the future? Will you forgive -and forget the past?" - -A man who could thus open his whole heart, without one lurking -reserve inspired by consideration for himself, was not a man to -forget any minor act of concealment of which his weakness might -have led him to be guilty toward his friend. It lay heavy on -Midwinter's conscience that he had kept secret from Allan a -discovery which he ought in Allan's dearest interests to have -revealed--the discovery of his mother's room. - -But one doubt still closed his lips--the doubt whether Mrs. -Armadale's conduct in Madeira had been kept secret on her return -to England. - -Careful inquiry, first among the servants, then among the -tenantry, careful consideration of the few reports current at the -time, as repeated to him by the few persons left who remembered -them, convinced him at last that the family secret had been -successfully kept within the family limits. Once satisfied that -whatever inquiries the son might make would lead to no disclosure -which could shake his respect for his mother's memory, Midwinter -had hesitated no longer. He had taken Allan into the room, and -had shown him the books on the shelves, and all that the writing -in the books disclosed. He had said plainly, "My one motive for -not telling you this before sprang from my dread of interesting -you in the room which I looked at with horror as the second of -the scenes pointed at in the Dream. Forgive me this also, and you -will have forgiven me all." - -With Allan's love for his mother's memory, but one result could -follow such an avowal as this. He had liked the little room from -the first, as a pleasant contrast to the oppressive grandeur of -the other rooms at Thorpe Ambrose, and, now that he knew what -associations were connected with it, his resolution was at once -taken to make it especially his own. The same day, all his -personal possessions were collected and arranged in his mother's -room--in Midwinter's presence, and with Midwinter's assistance -given to the work. - -Under those circumstances had the change now wrought in the -household arrangements been produced; and in this way had -Midwinter's victory over his own fatalism--by making Allan the -daily occupant of a room which he might otherwise hardly ever -have entered--actually favored the fulfillment of the Second -Vision of th e Dream. - - -The hour wore on quietly as Allan's friend sat waiting for -Allan's return. Sometimes reading, sometimes thinking placidly, -he whiled away the time. No vexing cares, no boding doubts, -troubled him now. The rent-day, which he had once dreaded, had -come and gone harmlessly. A friendlier understanding had been -established between Allan and his tenants; Mr. Bashwood had -proved himself to be worthy of the confidence reposed in him; the -Pedgifts, father and son, had amply justified their client's good -opinion of them. Wherever Midwinter looked, the prospect was -bright, the future was without a cloud. - -He trimmed the lamp on the table beside him and looked out at the -night. The stable clock was chiming the half-hour past eleven as -he walked to the window, and the first rain-drops were beginning -to fall. He had his hand on the bell to summon the servant, and -send him over to the cottage with an umbrella, when he was -stopped by hearing the familiar footstep on the walk outside. - -"How late you are!" said Midwinter, as Allan entered through the -open French window. "Was there a party at the cottage?" - -"No! only ourselves. The time slipped away somehow." He answered -in lower tones than usual, and sighed as he took his chair. - -"You seem to be out of spirits?" pursued Midwinter. "What's the -matter?" - -Allan hesitated. "I may as well tell you," he said, after a -moment. "It's nothing to be ashamed of; I only wonder you haven't -noticed it before! There's a woman in it, as usual--I'm in love." - -Midwinter laughed. "Has Miss Milroy been more charming to-night -than ever?" he asked, gayly. - -"Miss Milroy!" repeated Allan. "What are you thinking of! I'm not -in love with Miss Milroy." - -"Who is it, then?" - -"Who is it! What a question to ask! Who can it be but Miss -Gwilt?" - -There was a sudden silence. Allan sat listlessly, with his hands -in his pockets, looking out through the open window at the -falling rain. If he had turned toward his friend when he -mentioned Miss Gwilt's name he might possibly have been a little -startled by the change he would have seen in Midwinter's face. - -"I suppose you don't approve of it?" he said, after waiting a -little. - -There was no answer. - -"It's too late to make objections," proceeded Allan. "I really -mean it when I tell you I'm in love with her." - -"A fortnight since you were in love with Miss Milroy," said the -other, in quiet, measured tones. - -"Pooh! a mere flirtation. It's different this time. I'm in -earnest about Miss Gwilt." - -He looked round as he spoke. Midwinter turned his face aside on -the instant, and bent it over a book. - -"I see you don't approve of the thing," Allan went on. "Do you -object to her being only a governess? You can't do that, I'm -sure. If you were in my place, her being only a governess -wouldn't stand in the way with _you?_" - -"No," said Midwinter; "I can't honestly say it would stand in the -way with me." He gave the answer reluctantly, and pushed his -chair back out of the light of the lamp. - -"A governess is a lady who is not rich," said Allan, in an -oracular manner; "and a duchess is a lady who is not poor. And -that's all the difference I acknowledge between them. Miss Gwilt -is older than I am--I don't deny that. What age do you guess her -at, Midwinter? I say, seven or eight and twenty. What do you -say?" - -"Nothing. I agree with you." - -"Do you think seven or eight and twenty is too old for me? If you -were in love with a woman yourself, you wouldn't think seven or -eight and twenty too old--would you?" - -"I can't say I should think it too old, if--" - -"If you were really fond of her?" - -Once more there was no answer. - -"Well," resumed Allan, "if there's no harm in her being only a -governess, and no harm in her being a little older than I am, -what's the objection to Miss Gwilt?" - -"I have made no objection." - -"I don't say you have. But you don't seem to like the notion of -it, for all that." - -There was another pause. Midwinter was the first to break the -silence this time. - -"Are you sure of yourself, Allan?" he asked, with his face bent -once more over the book. "Are you really attached to this lady? -Have you thought seriously already of asking her to be your -wife?" - -"I am thinking seriously of it at this moment," said Allan. "I -can't be happy--I can't live without her. Upon my soul, I worship -the very ground she treads on!" - -"How long--" His voice faltered, and he stopped. "How long," he -reiterated, "have you worshipped the very ground she treads on?" - -"Longer than you think for. I know I can trust you with all my -secrets--" - -"Don't trust me!" - -"Nonsense! I _will_ trust you. There is a little difficulty in -the way which I haven't mentioned yet. It's a matter of some -delicacy, and I want to consult you about it. Between ourselves, -I have had private opportunities with Miss Gwilt--" - -Midwinter suddenly started to his feet, and opened the door. - -"We'll talk of this to-morrow," he said. "Good-night." - -Allan looked round in astonishment. The door was closed again, -and he was alone in the room. - -"He has never shaken hands with me!" exclaimed Allan, looking -bewildered at the empty chair. - -As the words passed his lips the door opened, and Midwinter -appeared again. - -"We haven't shaken hands," he said, abruptly. "God bless you, -Allan! We'll talk of it to-morrow. Good-night." - -Allan stood alone at the window, looking out at the pouring rain. -He felt ill at ease, without knowing why. "Midwinter's ways get -stranger and stranger," he thought. "What can he mean by putting -me off till to-morrow, when I wanted to speak to him to-night?" -He took up his bedroom candle a little impatiently, put it down -again, and, walking back to the open window, stood looking out in -the direction of the cottage. "I wonder if she's thinking of me?" -he said to himself softly. - -She _was_ thinking of him. She had just opened her desk to write -to Mrs. Oldershaw; and her pen had that moment traced the opening -line: "Make your mind easy. I have got him!" - -CHAPTER XIII. - -EXIT. - -IT rained all through the night, and when the morning came it was -raining still. - -Contrary to his ordinary habit, Midwinter was waiting in the -breakfast-room when Allan entered it. He looked worn and weary, -but his smile was gentler and his manner more composed than -usual. To Allan's surprise he approached the subject of the -previous night's conversation of his own accord as soon as the -servant was out of the room. - -"I am afraid you thought me very impatient and very abrupt with -you last night," he said. "I will try to make amends for it this -morning. I will hear everything you wish to say to me on the -subject of Miss Gwilt." - -"I hardly like to worry you," said Allan. "You look as if you had -had a bad night's rest." - -"I have not slept well for some time past," replied Midwinter, -quietly. "Something has been wrong with me. But I believe I have -found out the way to put myself right again without troubling the -doctors. Late in the morning I shall have something to say to you -about this. Let us get back first to what you were talking of -last night. You were speaking of some difficulty--" He hesitated, -and finished the sentence in a tone so low that Allan failed to -hear him. "Perhaps it would be better," he went on, "if, instead -of speaking to me, you spoke to Mr. Brock?" - -"I would rather speak to _you,_" said Allan. "But tell me first, -was I right or wrong last night in thinking you disapproved of my -falling in love with Miss Gwilt?" - -Midwinter's lean, nervous fingers began to crumble the bread in -his plate. His eyes looked away from Allan for the first time. - -"If you have any objection," persisted Allan, "I should like to -hear it." - -Midwinter suddenly looked up again, his cheeks turning ashy pale, -and his glittering black eyes fixed full on Allan's face. - -"You love her," he said. "Does _she_ love _you?_" - -"You won't think me vain?" returned Allan. "I told you yesterday -I had had private opportunities with her--" - -Midwinter's eyes dropped again to the crumbs on his plate. "I -understand," he interposed, quickly. "You were wrong last night. -I had no objections to make." - -"Don't you congratulate me?" asked Allan, a little uneasily. -"Such a beautiful woman! such a clever woman!" - -Midwinter h eld out his hand. "I owe you more than mere -congratulations," he said. "In anything which is for your -happiness I owe you help." He took Allan's hand, and wrung it -hard. "Can I help you?" he asked, growing paler and paler as he -spoke. - -"My dear fellow," exclaimed Allan, "what is the matter with you? -Your hand is as cold as ice." - -Midwinter smiled faintly. "I am always in extremes," he said; "my -hand was as hot as fire the first time you took it at the old -west-country inn. Come to that difficulty which you have not come -to yet. You are young, rich, your own master--and she loves you. -What difficulty can there be?" - -Allan hesitated. "I hardly know how to put it," he replied. "As -you said just now, I love her, and she loves me; and yet there is -a sort of strangeness between us. One talks a good deal about -one's self when one is in love, at least I do. I've told her all -about myself and my mother, and how I came in for this place, and -the rest of it. Well--though it doesn't strike me when we are -together--it comes across me now and then, when I'm away from -her, that she doesn't say much on her side. In fact, I know no -more about her than you do." - -"Do you mean that you know nothing about Miss Gwilt's family and -friends?" - -"That's it, exactly." - -"Have you never asked her about them?" - -"I said something of the sort the other day," returned Allan: -"and I'm afraid, as usual, I said it in the wrong way. She -looked--I can't quite tell you how; not exactly displeased, -but--oh, what things words are! I'd give the world, Midwinter, if -I could only find the right word when I want it as well as you -do." - -"Did Miss Gwilt say anything to you in the way of a reply?" - -"That's just what I was coming to. She said, 'I shall have a -melancholy story to tell you one of these days, Mr. Armadale, -about myself and my family; but you look so happy, and the -circumstances are so distressing, that I have hardly the heart to -speak of it now.' Ah, _she_ can express herself--with the tears -in her eyes, my dear fellow, with the tears in her eyes! Of -course, I changed the subject directly. And now the difficulty is -how to get back to it, delicately, without making her cry again. -We _must_ get back to it, you know. Not on my account; I am quite -content to marry her first and hear of her family misfortunes, -poor thing, afterward. But I know Mr. Brock. If I can't satisfy -him about her family when I write to tell him of this (which, of -course, I must do), he will be dead against the whole thing. I'm -my own master, of course, and I can do as I like about it. But -dear old Brock was such a good friend to my poor mother, and he -has been such a good friend to me--you see what I mean, don't -you?" - -"Certainly, Allan; Mr. Brock has been your second father. Any -disagreement between you about such a serious matter as this -would be the saddest thing that could happen. You ought to -satisfy him that Miss Gwilt is (what I am sure Miss Gwilt will -prove to be) worthy, in every way worthy--" His voice sank in -spite of him, and he left the sentence unfinished. - -"Just my feeling in the matter!" Allan struck in, glibly. "Now we -can come to what I particularly wanted to consult you about. If -this was your case, Midwinter, you would be able to say the right -words to her--you would put it delicately, even though you were -putting it quite in the dark. I can't do that. I 'm a blundering -sort of fellow; and I'm horribly afraid, if I can't get some hint -at the truth to help me at starting, of saying something to -distress her. Family misfortunes are such tender subjects to -touch on, especially with such a refined woman, such a -tender-hearted woman, as Miss Gwilt. There may have been some -dreadful death in the family--some relation who has disgraced -himself--some infernal cruelty which has forced the poor thing -out on the world as a governess. Well, turning it over in my -mind, it struck me that the major might be able to put me on the -right tack. It is quite possible that he might have been informed -of Miss Gwilt's family circumstances before he engaged her, isn't -it?" - -"It is possible, Allan, certainly." - -"Just my feeling again! My notion is to speak to the major. If I -could only get the story from him first, I should know so much -better how to speak to Miss Gwilt about it afterward. You advise -me to try the major, don't you?" - -There was a pause before Midwinter replied. When he did answer, -it was a little reluctantly. - -"I hardly know how to advise you, Allan," he said. "This is a -very delicate matter." - -"I believe you would try the major, if you were in my place," -returned Allan, reverting to his inveterately personal way of -putting the question. - -"Perhaps I might," said Midwinter, more and more unwillingly. -"But if I did speak to the major, I should be very careful, in -your place, not to put myself in a false position. I should be -very careful to let no one suspect me of the meanness of prying -into a woman's secrets behind her back." - -Allan's face flushed. "Good heavens, Midwinter," he exclaimed, -"who could suspect me of that?" - -"Nobody, Allan, who really knows you." - -"The major knows me. The major is the last man in the world to -misunderstand me. All I want him to do is to help me (if he can) -to speak about a delicate subject to Miss Gwilt, without hurting -her feelings. Can anything be simpler between two gentlemen?" - -Instead of replying, Midwinter, still speaking as constrainedly -as ever, asked a question on his side. "Do you mean to tell Major -Milroy," he said, "what your intentions really are toward Miss -Gwilt?" - -Allan's manner altered. He hesitated, and looked confused. - -"I have been thinking of that," he replied; "and I mean to feel -my way first, and then tell him or not afterward, as matters turn -out?" - -A proceeding so cautious as this was too strikingly inconsistent -with Allan's character not to surprise any one who knew him. -Midwinter showed his surprise plainly. - -"You forget that foolish flirtation of mine with Miss Milroy," -Allan went on, more and more confusedly. "The major may have -noticed it, and may have thought I meant--well, what I didn't -mean. It might be rather awkward, mightn't it, to propose to his -face for his governess instead of his daughter?" - -He waited for a word of answer, but none came. Midwinter opened -his lips to speak, and suddenly checked himself. Allan, uneasy at -his silence, doubly uneasy under certain recollections of the -major's daughter which the conversation had called up, rose from -the table and shortened the interview a little impatiently. - -"Come! come!" he said, "don't sit there looking unutterable -things; don't make mountains out of mole-hills. You have such an -old, old head, Midwinter, on those young shoulders of yours! -Let's have done with all these _pros_ and _cons._. Do you mean to -tell me in plain words that it won't do to speak to the major?" - -"I can't take the responsibility, Allan, of telling you that. To -be plainer still, I can't feel confident of the soundness of any -advice I may give you in--in our present position toward each -other. All I am sure of is that I cannot possibly be wrong in -entreating you to do two things." - -"What are they?" - -"If you speak to Major Milroy, pray remember the caution I have -given you! Pray think of what you say before you say it!" - -"I'll think, never fear! What next?" - -"Before you take any serious step in this matter, write and tell -Mr. Brock. Will you promise me to do that?" - -"With all my heart. Anything more?" - -"Nothing more. I have said my last words." - -Allan led the way to the door. "Come into my room," he said, "and -I'll give you a cigar. The servants will be in here directly to -clear away, and I want to go on talking about Miss Gwilt." - -"Don't wait for me," said Midwinter; "I'll follow you in a minute -or two." - -He remained seated until Allan had closed the door, then rose, -and took from a corner of the room, where it lay hidden behind -one of the curtains, a knapsack ready packed for traveling. As he -stood at the window thinking, with the knapsack in his hand, a -strangely old, care-worn look stole over his face: he seemed to -lose the last of his youth in an instant. - - -What the woman's quicker insight had discovered days since, the -man's slower perception had only realized in the past night. The -pang that had wrung him when he heard Allan's avowal had set the -truth self-revealed before Midwinter for the first time. He had -been conscious of looking at Miss Gwilt with new eyes and a new -mind, on the next occasion when they met after the memorable -interview in Major Milroy's garden; but he had never until now -known the passion that she had roused in him for what it really -was. Knowing it at last, feeling it consciously in full -possession of him, he had the courage which no man with a happier -experience of life would have possessed--the courage to recall -what Allan had confided to him, and to look resolutely at the -future through his own grateful remembrances of the past. - -Steadfastly, through the sleepless hours of the night, he had -bent his mind to the conviction that he must conquer the passion -which had taken possession of him, for Allan's sake; and that the -one way to conquer it was--to go. No after-doubt as to the -sacrifice had troubled him when morning came; and no after-doubt -troubled him now. The one question that kept him hesitating was -the question of leaving Thorpe Ambrose. Though Mr. Brock's letter -relieved him from all necessity of keeping watch in Norfolk for a -woman who was known to be in Somersetshire; though the duties of -the steward's office were duties which might be safely left in -Mr. Bashwood's tried and trustworthy hands--still, admitting -these considerations, his mind was not easy at the thought of -leaving Allan, at a time when a crisis was approaching in Allan's -life. - -He slung the knapsack loosely over his shoulder and put the -question to his conscience for the last time. "Can you trust -yourself to see her, day by day as you must see her--can you -trust yourself to hear him talk of her, hour by hour, as you must -hear him--if you stay in this house?" Again the answer came, as -it had come all through the night. Again his heart warned him, in -the very interests of the friendship that he held sacred, to go -while the time was his own; to go before the woman who had -possessed herself of his love had possessed herself of his power -of self-sacrifice and his sense of gratitude as well. - -He looked round the room mechanically before he turned to leave -it. Every remembrance of the conversation that had just taken -place between Allan and himself pointed to the same conclusion, -and warned him, as his own conscience had warned him, to go. - -Had he honestly mentioned any one of the objections which he, or -any man, must have seen to Allan's attachment? Had he--as his -knowledge of his friend's facile character bound him to -do--warned Allan to distrust his own hasty impulses, and to test -himself by time and absence, before he made sure that the -happiness of his whole life was bound up in Miss Gwilt? No. The -bare doubt whether, in speaking of these things, he could feel -that he was speaking disinterestedly, had closed his lips, and -would close his lips for the future, till the time for speaking -had gone by. Was the right man to restrain Allan the man who -would have given the world, if he had it, to stand in Allan's -place? There was but one plain course of action that an honest -man and a grateful man could follow in the position in which he -stood. Far removed from all chance of seeing her, and from all -chance of hearing of her--alone with his own faithful -recollection of what he owed to his friend--he might hope to -fight it down, as he had fought down the tears in his childhood -under his gypsy master's stick; as he had fought down the misery -of his lonely youth time in the country bookseller's shop. "I -must go," he said, as he turned wearily from the window, "before -she comes to the house again. I must go before another hour is -over my head." - -With that resolution he left the room; and, in leaving it, took -the irrevocable step from Present to Future. - - -The rain was still falling. The sullen sky, all round the -horizon, still lowered watery and dark, when Midwinter, equipped -for traveling, appeared in Allan's room. - -"Good heavens!" cried Allan, pointing to the knapsack, "what does -_that_ mean?" - -"Nothing very extraordinary," said Midwinter. "It only -means--good-by." - -"Good-by!" repeated Allan, starting to his feet in astonishment. - -Midwinter put him back gently into his chair, and drew a seat -near to it for himself. - -"When you noticed that I looked ill this morning," he said, "I -told you that I had been thinking of a way to recover my health, -and that I meant to speak to you about it later in the day. That -latter time has come. I have been out of sorts, as the phrase is, -for some time past. You have remarked it yourself, Allan, more -than once; and, with your usual kindness, you have allowed it to -excuse many things in my conduct which would have been otherwise -unpardonable, even in your friendly eyes." - -"My dear fellow," interposed Allan, "you don't mean to say you -are going out on a walking tour in this pouring rain!" - -"Never mind the rain," rejoined Midwinter. "The rain and I are -old friends. You know something, Allan, of the life I led before -you met with me. From the time when I was a child, I have been -used to hardship and exposure. Night and day, sometimes for -months together, I never had my head under a roof. For years and -years, the life of a wild animal--perhaps I ought to say, the -life of a savage--was the life I led, while you were at home and -happy. I have the leaven of the vagabond--the vagabond animal, or -the vagabond man, I hardly know which--in me still. Does it -distress you to hear me talk of myself in this way? I won't -distress you. I will only say that the comfort and the luxury of -our life here are, at times, I think, a little too much for a man -to whom comforts and luxuries come as strange things. I want -nothing to put me right again but more air and exercise; fewer -good breakfasts and dinners, my dear friend, than I get here. Let -me go back to some of the hardships which this comfortable house -is expressly made to shut out. Let me meet the wind and weather -as I used to meet them when I was a boy; let me feel weary again -for a little while, without a carriage near to pick me up; and -hungry when the night falls, with miles of walking between my -supper and me. Give me a week or two away, Allan--up northward, -on foot, to the Yorkshire moors--and I promise to return to -Thorpe Ambrose, better company for you and for your friends. I -shall be back before you have time to miss me. Mr. Bashwood will -take care of the business in the office; it is only for a -fortnight, and it is for my own good--let me go!" - -"I don't like it," said Allan. "I don't like your leaving me in -this sudden manner. There's something so strange and dreary about -it. Why not try riding, if you want more exercise; all the horses -in the stables are at your disposal. At all events, you can't -possibly go to-day. Look at the rain!" - -Midwinter looked toward the window, and gently shook his head. - -"I thought nothing of the rain," he said, "when I was a mere -child, getting my living with the dancing dogs--why should I -think anything of it now? _My_ getting wet, and _your_ getting -wet, Allan, are two very different things. When I was a -fisherman's boy in the Hebrides, I hadn't a dry thread on me for -weeks together. " - -"But you're not in the Hebrides now," persisted Allan; "and I -expect our friends from the cottage to-morrow evening. You can't -start till after to-morrow. Miss Gwilt is going to give us some -more music, and you know you like Miss Gwilt's playing." - -Midwinter turned aside to buckle the straps of his knapsack. -"Give me another chance of hearing Miss Gwilt when I come back," -he said, with his head down, and his fingers busy at the straps. - -"You have one fault, my dear fellow, and it grows on you," -remonstrated Allan; "when you have once taken a thing into our -head, you're the most obstinate man alive. There's no persuading -you to listen to reason. If you _will_ go," added Allan, suddenly -rising, as Midwinter took up his hat and stick in silence, "I -have half a mind to go with you, and try a little roughing it -too!" - -"Go with _me!_" repeated Midwinter, with a momentar y bitterness -in his tone, "and leave Miss Gwilt!" - -Allan sat down again, and admitted the force of the objection in -significant silence. Without a word more on his side, Midwinter -held out his hand to take leave. They were both deeply moved, and -each was anxious to hide his agitation from the other. Allan took -the last refuge which his friend's firmness left to him: he tried -to lighten the farewell moment by a joke. - -"I'll tell you what," he said, "I begin to doubt if you're quite -cured yet of your belief in the Dream. I suspect you're running -away from me, after all!" - -Midwinter looked at him, uncertain whether he was in jest or -earnest. "What do you mean?" he asked. - -"What did you tell me," retorted Allan, "when you took me in here -the other day, and made a clean breast of it? What did you say -about this room, and the second vision of the dream? By Jupiter!" -he exclaimed, starting to his feet once more, "now I look again, -here _is_ the Second Vision! There's the rain pattering against -the window-there's the lawn and the garden outside--here am I -where I stood in the Dream--and there are you where the Shadow -stood. The whole scene complete, out-of-doors and in; and _I've_ -discovered it this time!" - -A moment's life stirred again in the dead remains of Midwinter's -superstition. His color changed, and he eagerly, almost fiercely, -disputed Allan's conclusion. - -"No!" he said, pointing to the little marble figure on the -bracket, "the scene is _not_ complete--you have forgotten -something, as usual. The Dream is wrong this time, thank -God--utterly wrong! In the vision you saw, the statue was lying -in fragments on the floor, and you were stooping over them with a -troubled and an angry mind. There stands the statue safe and -sound! and you haven't the vestige of an angry feeling in your -mind, have you?" He seized Allan impulsively by the hand. At the -same moment the consciousness came to him that he was speaking -and acting as earnestly as if he still believed in the Dream. The -color rushed back over his face, and he turned away in confused -silence. - -"What did I tell you?" said Allan, laughing, a little uneasily. -"That night on the Wreck is hanging on your mind as heavily as -ever." - -"Nothing hangs heavy on me," retorted Midwinter, with a sudden -outburst of impatience, "but the knapsack on my back, and the -time I'm wasting here. I'll go out, and see if it's likely to -clear up." - -"You'll come back?" interposed Allan. - -Midwinter opened the French window, and stepped out into the -garden. - -"Yes," he said, answering with all his former gentleness of -manner; "I'll come back in a fortnight. Good-by, Allan; and good -luck with Miss Gwilt!" - -He pushed the window to, and was away across the garden before -his friend could open it again and follow him. - -Allan rose, and took one step into the garden; then checked -himself at the window, and returned to his chair. He knew -Midwinter well enough to feel the total uselessness of attempting -to follow him or to call him back. He was gone, and for two weeks -to come there was no hope of seeing him again. An hour or more -passed, the rain still fell, and the sky still threatened. A -heavier and heavier sense of loneliness and despondency--the -sense of all others which his previous life had least fitted him -to understand and endure--possessed itself of Allan's mind. In -sheer horror of his own uninhabitably solitary house, he rang for -his hat and umbrella, and resolved to take refuge in the major's -cottage. - -"I might have gone a little way with him," thought Allan, his -mind still running on Midwinter as he put on his hat. "I should -like to have seen the dear old fellow fairly started on his -journey." - -He took his umbrella. If he had noticed the face of the servant -who gave it to him, he might possibly have asked some questions, -and might have heard some news to interest him in his present -frame of mind. As it was, he went out without looking at the man, -and without suspecting that his servants knew more of Midwinter's -last moments at Thorpe Ambrose than he knew himself. Not ten -minutes since, the grocer and butcher had called in to receive -payment of their bills, and the grocer and the butcher had seen -how Midwinter started on his journey. - -The grocer had met him first, not far from the house, stopping on -his way, in the pouring rain, to speak to a little ragged imp of -a boy, the pest of the neighborhood. The boy's customary -impudence had broken out even more unrestrainedly than usual at -the sight of the gentleman's knapsack. And what had the gentleman -done in return? He had stopped and looked distressed, and had put -his two hands gently on the boy's shoulders. The grocer's own -eyes had seen that; and the grocer's own ears had heard him say, -"Poor little chap! I know how the wind gnaws and the rain wets -through a ragged jacket, better than most people who have got a -good coat on their backs." And with those words he had put his -hand in his pocket, and had rewarded the boy's impudence with a -present of a shilling. "Wrong here-abouts," said the grocer, -touching his forehead. "That's my opinion of Mr. Armadale's -friend!" - -The butcher had seen him further on in the journey, at the other -end of the town. He had stopped--again in the pouring rain--and -this time to look at nothing more remarkable than a half-starved -cur, shivering on a doorstep. "I had my eye on him," said the -butcher; "and what do you think he did? He crossed the road over -to my shop, and bought a bit of meat fit for a Christian. Very -well. He says good-morning, and crosses back again; and, on the -word of a man, down he goes on his knees on the wet doorstep, and -out he takes his knife, and cuts up the meat, and gives it to the -dog. Meat, I tell you again, fit for a Christian! I'm not a hard -man, ma'am," concluded the butcher, addressing the cook, "but -meat's meat; and it will serve your master's friend right if he -lives to want it." - -With those old unforgotten sympathies of the old unforgotten time -to keep him company on his lonely road, he had left the town -behind him, and had been lost to view in the misty rain. The -grocer and the butcher had seen the last of him, and had judged a -great nature, as all natures _are_ judged from the grocer and the -butcher point of view. - -THE END OF THE SECOND BOOK. - -BOOK THE THIRD. - -CHAPTER I. - -MRS. MILROY. - -Two days after Midwinter's departure from Thorpe Ambrose, Mrs. -Milroy, having completed her morning toilet, and having dismissed -her nurse, rang the bell again five minutes afterward, and on the -woman's re-appearance asked impatiently if the post had come in - -"Post?" echoed the nurse. "Haven't you got your watch? Don't you -know that it's a good half-hour too soon to ask for your -letters?" She spoke with the confident insolence of a servant -long accustomed to presume on her mistress's weakness and her -mistress's necessities. Mrs. Milroy, on her side, appeared to be -well used to her nurses manner; she gave her orders composedly, -without noticing it. - -"When the postman does come," she said, "see him yourself. I am -expecting a letter which I ought to have had two days since. I -don't understand it. I'm beginning to suspect the servants." - -The nurse smiled contemptuously. "Whom will you suspect next?" -she asked. "There! don't put yourself out. I'll answer the -gate-bell this morning; and we'll see if I can't bring you a -letter when the postman comes." Saying those words, with the tone -and manner of a woman who is quieting a fractious child, the -nurse, without waiting to be dismissed, left the room. - -Mrs. Milroy turned slowly and wearily on her bed, when she was -left by herself again, and let the light from the window fall on -her face. It was the face of a woman who had once been handsome, -and who was still, so far as years went, in the prime of her -life. Long-continued suffering of body and long-continued -irritation of mind had worn her away--in the roughly expressive -popular phrase--to skin and bone. The utter wreck of her beauty -was made a wreck horrible to behold, by her desperate efforts to -conceal the sight of it from her own eyes, from the eyes of her -husband and her child, from the eyes even of the doctor who -attended her, and whose business it was to penetrate to the -truth. Her head, from which the greater part of the hair had -fallen off; would have been less shocking to see than the -hideously youthful wig by which she tried to hide the loss. No -deterioration of her complexion, no wrinkling of her skin, could -have been so dreadful to look at as the rouge that lay thick on -her cheeks, and the white enamel plastered on her forehead. The -delicate lace, and the bright trimming on her dressing-gown, the -ribbons in her cap, and the rings on her bony fingers, all -intended to draw the eye away from the change that had passed -over her, directed the eye to it, on the contrary; emphasized it; -made it by sheer force of contrast more hopeless and more -horrible than it really was. An illustrated book of the fashions, -in which women were represented exhibiting their finery by means -of the free use of their limbs, lay on the bed, from which she -had not moved for years without being lifted by her nurse. A -hand-glass was placed with the book so that she could reach it -easily. She took up the glass after her attendant had left the -room, and looked at her face with an unblushing interest and -attention which she would have been ashamed of herself at the age -of eighteen. - -"Older and older, and thinner and thinner!" she said. "The major -will soon be a free man; but I'll have that red-haired hussy out -of the house first!" - -She dropped the looking-glass on the counterpane, and clinched -the hand that held it. Her eyes suddenly riveted themselves on a -little crayon portrait of her husband hanging on the opposite -wall; they looked at the likeness with the hard and cruel -brightness of the eyes of a bird of prey. "Red is your taste in -your old age is it?" she said to the portrait. "Red hair, and a -scrofulous complexion, and a padded figure, a ballet-girl's walk, -and a pickpocket's light fingers. _Miss_ Gwilt! _Miss,_ with -those eyes, and that walk!" She turned her head suddenly on the -pillow, and burst into a harsh, jeering laugh. "_Miss!_" she -repeated over and over again, with the venomously pointed -emphasis of the most merciless of all human forms of -contempt--the contempt of one woman for another. - -The age we live in is an age which finds no human creature -inexcusable. Is there an excuse for Mrs. Milroy? Let the story of -her life answer the question. - -She had married the major at an unusually early age; and, in -marrying him, had taken a man for her husband who was old enough -to be her father--a man who, at that time, had the reputation, -and not unjustly, of having made the freest use of his social -gifts and his advantages of personal appearance in the society of -women. Indifferently educated, and below her husband in station, -she had begun by accepting his addresses under the influence of -her own flattered vanity, and had ended by feeling the -fascination which Major Milroy had exercised over women -infinitely her mental superiors in his earlier life. He had been -touched, on his side, by her devotion, and had felt, in his turn, -the attraction of her beauty, her freshness, and her youth. Up to -the time when their little daughter and only child had reached -the age of eight years, their married life had been an unusually -happy one. At that period the double misfortune fell on the -household, of the failure of the wife's health, and the almost -total loss of the husband's fortune; and from that moment the -domestic happiness of the married pair was virtually at an end. - -Having reached the age when men in general are readier, under the -pressure of calamity, to resign themselves than to resist, the -major had secured the little relics of his property, had retired -into the country, and had patiently taken refuge in his -mechanical pursuits. A woman nearer to him in age, or a woman -with a better training and more patience of disposition than his -wife possessed, would have understood the major's conduct, and -have found consolation in the major's submission. Mrs. Milroy -found consolation in nothing. Neither nature nor training helped -her to meet resignedly the cruel calamity which had struck at her -in the bloom of womanhood and the prime of beauty. The curse of -incurable sickness blighted her at once and for life. - -Suffering can, and does, develop the latent evil that there is in -humanity, as well as the latent good. The good that was in Mrs. -Milroy's nature shrank up, under that subtly deteriorating -influence in which the evil grew and flourished. Month by month, -as she became the weaker woman physically, she became the worse -woman morally. All that was mean, cruel, and false in her -expanded in steady proportion to the contraction of all that had -once been generous, gentle, and true. Old suspicions of her -husband's readiness to relapse into the irregularities of his -bachelor life, which, in her healthier days of mind and body, she -had openly confessed to him--which she had always sooner or later -seen to be suspicions that he had not deserved--came back, now -that sickness had divorced her from him, in the form of that -baser conjugal distrust which keeps itself cunningly secret; -which gathers together its inflammatory particles atom by atom -into a heap, and sets the slowly burning frenzy of jealousy -alight in the mind. No proof of her husband's blameless and -patient life that could now be shown to Mrs. Milroy; no appeal -that could be made to her respect for herself, or for her child -growing up to womanhood, availed to dissipate the terrible -delusion born of her hopeless illness, and growing steadily with -its growth. Like all other madness, it had its ebb and flow, its -time of spasmodic outburst, and its time of deceitful repose; -but, active or passive, it was always in her. It had injured -innocent servants, and insulted blameless strangers. It had -brought the first tears of shame and sorrow into her daughter's -eyes, and had set the deepest lines that scored it in her -husband's face. It had made the secret misery of the little -household for years; and it was now to pass beyond the family -limits, and to influence coming events at Thorpe Ambrose, in -which the future interests of Allan and Allan's friend were -vitally concerned. - -A moment's glance at the posture of domestic affairs in the -cottage, prior to the engagement of the new governess, is -necessary to the due appreciation of the serious consequences -that followed Miss Gwilt's appearance on the scene. - -On the marriage of the governess who had lived in his service for -many years (a woman of an age and an appearance to set even Mrs. -Milroy's jealousy at defiance), the major had considered the -question of sending his daughter away from home far more -seriously than his wife supposed. He was conscious that scenes -took place in the house at which no young girl should be present; -but he felt an invincible reluctance to apply the one efficient -remedy--the keeping his daughter away from home in school time -and holiday time alike. The struggle thus raised in his mind once -set at rest, by the resolution to advertise for a new governess, -Major Milroy's natural tendency to avoid trouble rather than to -meet it had declared itself in its customary manner. He had -closed his eyes again on his home anxieties as quietly as usual, -and had gone back, as he had gone back on hundreds of previous -occasions, to the consoling society of his old friend the clock. - -It was far otherwise with the major's wife. The chance which her -husband had entirely overlooked, that the new governess who was -to come might be a younger and a more attractive woman than the -old governess who had gone, was the first chance that presented -itself as possible to Mrs. Milroy's mind. She had said nothing. -Secretly waiting, and secretly nursing her inveterate distrust, -she had encouraged her husband and her daughter to leave her on -the occasion of the picnic, with the express purpose of making an -opportunity for seeing the new governess alone. The governess had -shown herself; and the smoldering fire of Mrs. Milroy's jealousy -had burst into flame in the moment when she and the handsome -stranger first set eyes on each other. - -The interview over, Mrs. Milroy's suspicions fastened at once and -immovably on he r husband's mother. - -She was well aware that there was no one else in London on whom -the major could depend to make the necessary inquiries; she was -well aware that Miss Gwilt had applied for the situation, in the -first instance, as a stranger answering an advertisement -published in a newspaper. Yet knowing this, she had obstinately -closed her eyes, with the blind frenzy of the blindest of all the -passions, to the facts straight before her; and, looking back to -the last of many quarrels between them which had ended in -separating the elder lady and herself, had seized on the -conclusion that Miss Gwilt's engagement was due to her -mother-in-law's vindictive enjoyment of making mischief in her -household. The inference which the very servants themselves, -witnesses of the family scandal, had correctly drawn--that the -major's mother, in securing the services of a well-recommended -governess for her son, had thought it no part of her duty to -consider that governess's looks in the purely fanciful interests -of the major's wife--was an inference which it was simply -impossible to convey into Mrs. Milroy's mind. Miss Gwilt had -barely closed the sick-room door when the whispered words hissed -out of Mrs. Milroy's lips, "Before another week is over your -head, my lady, you go!" - -From that moment, through the wakeful night and the weary day, -the one object of the bedridden woman's life was to procure the -new governess's dismissal from the house. - -The assistance of the nurse, in the capacity of spy, was -secured--as Mrs. Milroy had been accustomed to secure other extra -services which her attendant was not bound to render her--by a -present of a dress from the mistress's wardrobe. One after -another articles of wearing apparel which were now useless to -Mrs. Milroy had ministered in this way to feed the nurse's -greed--the insatiable greed of an ugly woman for fine clothes. -Bribed with the smartest dress she had secured yet, the household -spy took her secret orders, and applied herself with a vile -enjoyment of it to her secret work. - -The days passed, the work went on; but nothing had come of it. -Mistress and servant had a woman to deal with who was a match for -both of them. - -Repeated intrusions on the major, when the governess happened to -be in the same room with him, failed to discover the slightest -impropriety of word, look, or action, on either side. Stealthy -watching and listening at the governess's bedroom door detected -that she kept a light in her room at late hours of the night, and -that she groaned and ground her teeth in her sleep--and detected -nothing more. Careful superintendence in the day-time proved that -she regularly posted her own letters, instead of giving them to -the servant; and that on certain occasions, when the occupation -of her hours out of lesson time and walking time was left at her -own disposal, she had been suddenly missed from the garden, and -then caught coming back alone to it from the park. Once and once -only, the nurse had found an opportunity of following her out of -the garden, had been detected immediately in the park, and had -been asked with the most exasperating politeness if she wished to -join Miss Gwilt in a walk. Small circumstances of this kind, -which were sufficiently suspicious to the mind of a jealous -woman, were discovered in abundance. But circumstances, on which -to found a valid ground of complaint that might be laid before -the major, proved to be utterly wanting. Day followed day, and -Miss Gwilt remained persistently correct in her conduct, and -persistently irreproachable in her relations toward her employer -and her pupil. - -Foiled in this direction, Mrs. Milroy tried next to find an -assailable place in the statement which the governess's reference -had made on the subject of the governess's character. - -Obtaining from the major the minutely careful report which his -mother had addressed to him on this topic, Mrs. Milroy read and -reread it, and failed to find the weak point of which she was in -search in any part of the letter. All the customary questions on -such occasions had been asked, and all had been scrupulously and -plainly answered. The one sole opening for an attack which it was -possible to discover was an opening which showed itself, after -more practical matters had been all disposed of, in the closing -sentences of the letter. - -"I was so struck," the passage ran, "by the grace and distinction -of Miss Gwilt's manners that I took an opportunity, when she was -out of the room, of asking how she first came to be governess. -'In the usual way,' I was told. 'A sad family misfortune, in -which she behaved nobly. She is a very sensitive person, and -shrinks from speaking of it among strangers--a natural reluctance -which I have always felt it a matter of delicacy to respect.' -Hearing this, of course, I felt the same delicacy on my side. It -was no part of my duty to intrude on the poor thing's private -sorrows; my only business was to do what I have now done, to make -sure that I was engaging a capable and respectable governess to -instruct my grandchild." - -After careful consideration of these lines, Mrs. Milroy, having a -strong desire to find circumstances suspicious, found them -suspicious accordingly. She determined to sift the mystery of -Miss Gwilt's family misfortunes to the bottom, on the chance of -extracting from it something useful to her purpose. There were -two ways of doing this. She might begin by questioning the -governess herself, or she might begin by questioning the -governess's reference. Experience of Miss Gwilt's quickness of -resource in dealing with awkward questions at their introductory -interview decided her on taking the latter course. "I'll get the -particulars from the reference first," thought Mrs. Milroy, "and -then question the creature herself, and see if the two stories -agree." - -The letter of inquiry was short, and scrupuously to the point. - -Mrs. Milroy began by informing her correspondent that the state -of her health necessitated leaving her daughter entirely under -the governess's influence and control. On that account she was -more anxious than most mothers to be thoroughly informed in every -respect about the person to whom she confided the entire charge -of an only child; and feeling this anxiety, she might perhaps be -excused for putting what might be thought, after the excellent -character Miss Gwilt had received, a somewhat unnecessary -question. With that preface, Mrs. Milroy came to the point, and -requested to be informed of the circumstances which had obliged -Miss Gwilt to go out as a governess. - -The letter, expressed in these terms, was posted the same day. On -the morning when the answer was due, no answer appeared. The next -morning arrived, and still there was no reply. When the third -morning came, Mrs. Milroy's impatience had broken loose from all -restraint. She had rung for the nurse in the manner which has -been already recorded, and had ordered the woman to be in waiting -to receive the letters of the morning with her own hands. In this -position matters now stood; and in these domestic circumstances -the new series of events at Thorpe Ambrose took their rise. - - -Mrs. Milroy had just looked at her watch, and had just put her -hand once more to the bell-pull, when the door opened and the -nurse entered the room. - -"Has the postman come?" asked Mrs. Milroy. - -The nurse laid a letter on the bed without answering, and waited, -with unconcealed curiosity, to watch the effect which it produced -on her mistress. - -Mrs. Milroy tore open the envelope the instant it was in her -hand. A printed paper appeared (which she threw aside), -surrounding a letter (which she looked at) in her own -handwriting! She snatched up the printed paper. It was the -customary Post- office circular, informing her that her letter -had been duly presented at the right address, and that the person -whom she had written to was not to be found. - -"Something wrong?" asked the nurse, detecting a change in her -mistress's face. - -The question passed unheeded. Mrs. Milroy's writing-desk was on -the table at the bedside. She took from it the letter which the -major's mother had written to her son, and turned to the page -containing the name and address of Miss - Gwilt's reference. "Mrs. Mandeville, 18 Kingsdown Crescent, -Bayswater," she read, eagerly to herself, and then looked at the -address on her own returned letter. No error had been committed: -the directions were identically the same. - -"Something wrong?" reiterated the nurse, advancing a step nearer -to the bed. - -"Thank God--yes!" cried Mrs. Milroy, with a sudden outburst of -exultation. She tossed the Post-office circular to the nurse, and -beat her bony hands on the bedclothes in an ecstasy of -anticipated triumph. "Miss Gwilt's an impostor! Miss Gwilt's an -impostor! If I die for it, Rachel, I'll be carried to the window -to see the police take her away!" - -"It's one thing to say she's an impostor behind her back, and -another thing to prove it to her face," remarked the nurse. She -put her hand as she spoke into her apron pocket, and, with a -significant look at her mistress, silently produced a second -letter. - -"For me?" asked Mrs. Milroy. - -"No!" said the nurse; "for Miss Gwilt." - -The two women eyed each other, and understood each other without -another word. - -"Where is she?" said Mrs. Milroy. - -The nurse pointed in the direction of the park. "Out again, for -another walk before breakfast--by herself." - -Mrs. Milroy beckoned to the nurse to stoop close over her. "Can -you open it, Rachel?" she whispered. - -Rachel nodded. - -"Can you close it again, so that nobody would know?" - -"Can you spare the scarf that matches your pearl gray dress?" -asked Rachel. - -"Take it!" said Mrs. Milroy, impatiently. - -The nurse opened the wardrobe in silence, took the scarf in -silence, and left the room in silence. In less than five minutes -she came back with the envelope of Miss Gwilt's letter open in -her hand. - -"Thank you, ma'am, for the scarf," said Rachel, putting the open -letter composedly on the counterpane of the bed. - -Mrs. Milroy looked at the envelope. It had been closed as usual -by means of adhesive gum, which had been made to give way by the -application of steam. As Mrs. Milroy took out the letter, her -hand trembled violently, and the white enamel parted into cracks -over the wrinkles on her forehead. - -Rachel withdrew to the window to keep watch on the park. "Don't -hurry," she said. "No signs of her yet." - -Mrs. Milroy still paused, keeping the all-important morsel of -paper folded in her hand. She could have taken Miss Gwilt's life, -but she hesitated at reading Miss Gwilt's letter. - -"Are you troubled with scruples?" asked the nurse, with a sneer. -"Consider it a duty you owe to your daughter." - -"You wretch!" said Mrs. Milroy. With that expression of opinion, -she opened the letter. - -It was evidently written in great haste, was undated, and was -signed in initials only. Thus it ran: - -"Diana Street. - -"BY DEAR LYDIA--The cab is waiting at the door, and I have only a -moment to tell you that I am obliged to leave London, on -business, for three or four days, or a week at longest. My -letters will be forwarded if you write. I got yours yesterday, -and I agree with you that it is very important to put him off the -awkward subject of yourself and your family as long as you safely -can. The better you know him, the better you will be able to make -up the sort of story that will do. Once told, you will have to -stick to it; and, _having_ to stick to it, beware of making it -complicated, and beware of making it in a hurry. I will write -again about this, and give you my own ideas. In the meantime, -don't risk meeting him too often in the park. - -"Yours, M. O." - -"Well?" asked the nurse, returning to the bedside. "Have you done -with it?" - -"Meeting him in the park!" repeated Mrs. Milroy, with her eyes -still fastened on the letter. "_Him!_ Rachel, where is the -major?" - -"In his own room." - -"I don't believe it! " - -"Have your own way. I want the letter and the envelope." - -"Can you close it again so that she won't know?" - -"What I can open I can shut. Anything more?" - -"Nothing more." - -Mrs. Milroy was left alone again, to review her plan of attack by -the new light that had now been thrown on Miss Gwilt. - -The information that had been gained by opening the governess's -letter pointed plainly to the conclusion that an adventuress had -stolen her way into the house by means of a false reference. But -having been obtained by an act of treachery which it was -impossible to acknowledge, it was not information that could be -used either for warning the major or for exposing Miss Gwilt. The -one available weapon in Mrs. Milroy's hands was the weapon -furnished by her own returned letter, and the one question to -decide was how to make the best and speediest use of it. - -The longer she turned the matter over in her mind, the more hasty -and premature seemed the exultation which she had felt at the -first sight of the Post-office circular. That a lady acting as -reference to a governess should have quitted her residence -without leaving any trace behind her, and without even mentioning -an address to which her letters could be forwarded, was a -circumstance in itself sufficiently suspicious to be mentioned to -the major. But Mrs. Milroy, however perverted her estimate of her -husband might be in some respects, knew enough of his character -to be assured that, if she told him what had happened, he would -frankly appeal to the governess herself for an explanation. Miss -Gwilt's quickness and cunning would, in that case, produce some -plausible answer on the spot, which the major's partiality would -be only too ready to accept; and she would at the same time, no -doubt, place matters in train, by means of the post, for the due -arrival of all needful confirmation on the part of her accomplice -in London. To keep strict silence for the present, and to -institute (without the governess's knowledge) such inquiries as -might be necessary to the discovery of undeniable evidence, was -plainly the only safe course to take with such a man as the -major, and with such a woman as Miss Gwilt. Helpless herself, to -whom could Mrs. Milroy commit the difficult and dangerous task of -investigation? The nurse, even if she was to be trusted, could -not be spared at a day's notice, and could not be sent away -without the risk of exciting remark. Was there any other -competent and reliable person to employ, either at Thorpe Ambrose -or in London? Mrs. Milroy turned from side to side of the bed, -searching every corner of her mind for the needful discovery, And -searching in vain. "Oh, if I could only lay my hand on some man I -could trust!" she thought, despairingly. "If I only knew where to -look for somebody to help me!" - -As the idea passed through her mind, the sound of her daughter's -voice startled her from the other side of the door. - -"May I come in?" asked Neelie. - -"What do you want?" returned Mrs. Milroy, impatiently. - -"I have brought up your breakfast, mamma." - -"My breakfast?" repeated Mrs. Milroy, in surprise. "Why doesn't -Rachel bring it up as usual?" She considered a moment, and then -called out, sharply, "Come in!" - -CHAPTER II. - -THE MAN IS FOUND. - -NEELIE entered the room, carrying the tray with the tea, the dry -toast, and the pat of butter which composed the invalid's -invariable breakfast. - -"What does this mean?" asked Mrs. Milroy, speaking and looking as -she might have spoken and looked if the wrong servant had come -into the room. - -Neelie put the tray down on the bedside table. "I thought I -should like to bring you up your breakfast, mamma, for once in a -way," she replied, "and I asked Rachel to let me." - -"Come here," said Mrs. Milroy, "and wish me good-morning." - -Neelie obeyed. As she stooped to kiss her mother, Mrs. Milroy -caught her by the arm, and turned her roughly to the light. There -were plain signs of disturbance and distress in her daughter's -face. A deadly thrill of terror ran through Mrs. Milroy on the -instant. She suspected that the opening of the letter had been -discovered by Miss Gwilt, and that the nurse was keeping out of -the way in consequence. - -"Let me go, mamma," said Neelie, shrinking under her mother's -grasp. "You hurt me." - -"Tell me why you have brought up my breakfast this morning," -persisted Mrs. Milroy. - -"I have told you, mamma." - -"You have not! You have made an excuse; I see it in your face. -Come! what is it?" - -Neelie's resolution ga ve way before her mother's. She looked -aside uneasily at the things in the tray. "I have been vexed," -she said, with an effort; "and I didn't want to stop in the -breakfast-room. I wanted to come up here, and to speak to you." - -"Vexed? Who has vexed you? What has happened? Has Miss Gwilt -anything to do with it?" - -Neelie looked round again at her mother in sudden curiosity and -alarm. "Mamma!" she said, "you read my thoughts. I declare you -frighten me. It _was_ Miss Gwilt." - -Before Mrs. Milroy could say a word more on her side, the door -opened and the nurse looked in. - -"Have you got what you want?" she asked, as composedly as usual. -"Miss, there, insisted on taking your tray up this morning. Has -she broken anything?" - -"Go to the window. I want to speak to Rachel." said Mrs. Milroy. - -As soon as her daughter's back was turned, she beckoned eagerly -to the nurse. "Anything wrong?" she asked, in a whisper. "Do you -think she suspects us?" - -The nurse turned away with her hard, sneering smile. "I told you -it should be done," she said, "and it _has_ been done. She hasn't -the ghost of a suspicion. I waited in the room; and I saw her -take up the letter and open it." - -Mrs. Milroy drew a deep breath of relief. "Thank you," she said, -loud enough for her daughter to hear. "I want nothing more." - -The nurse withdrew; and Neelie came back from the window. Mrs. -Milroy took her by the hand, and looked at her more attentively -and more kindly than usual. Her daughter interested her that -morning; for her daughter had something to say on the subject of -Miss Gwilt. - -"I used to think that you promised to be pretty, child," she -said, cautiously resuming the interrupted conversation in the -least direct way. "But you don't seem to be keeping your promise. -You look out of health and out of spirits. What is the matter -with you?" - -If there had been any sympathy between mother and child, Neelie -might have owned the truth. She might have said frankly: "I am -looking ill, because my life is miserable to me. I am fond of Mr. -Armadale, and Mr. Armadale was once fond of me. We had one little -disagreement, only one, in which I was to blame. I wanted to tell -him so at the time, and I have wanted to tell him so ever since; -and Miss Gwilt stands between us and prevents me. She has made us -like strangers; she has altered him, and taken him away from me. -He doesn't look at me as he did; he doesn't speak to me as he -did; he is never alone with me as he used to be; I can't say the -words to him that I long to say; and I can't write to him, for it -would look as if I wanted to get him back. It is all over between -me and Mr. Armadale; and it is that woman's fault. There is -ill-blood between Miss Gwilt and me the whole day long; and say -what I may, and do what I may, she always gets the better of me, -and always puts me in the wrong. Everything I saw at Thorpe -Ambrose pleased me, everything I did at Thorpe Ambrose made me -happy, before she came. Nothing pleases me, and nothing makes me -happy now!" If Neelie had ever been accustomed to ask her -mother's advice and to trust herself to her mother's love, she -might have said such words as these. As. it was, the tears came -into her eyes, and she hung her head in silence. - -"Come!" said Mrs. Milroy, beginning to lose patience. "You have -something to say to me about Miss Gwilt. What is it?" - -Neelie forced back her tears, and made an effort to answer. - -"She aggravates me beyond endurance, mamma; I can't bear her; I -shall do something--" Neelie stopped, and stamped her foot -angrily on the floor. "I shall throw something at her head if we -go on much longer like this! I should have thrown something this -morning if I hadn't left the room. Oh, do speak to papa about it! -Do find out some reason for sending her away! I'll go to -school--I'll do anything in the world to get rid of Miss Gwilt!" - -To get rid of Miss Gwilt! At those words--at that echo from her -daughter's lips of the one dominant desire kept secret in her own -heart--Mrs. Milroy slowly raised herself in bed. What did it -mean? Was the help she wanted coming from the very last of all -quarters in which she could have thought of looking for it? - -"Why do you want to get rid of Miss Gwilt?" she asked. "What have -you got to complain of?" - -"Nothing!" said Neelie. "That's the aggravation of it. Miss Gwilt -won't let me have anything to complain of. She is perfectly -detestable; she is driving me mad; and she is the pink of -propriety all the time. I dare say it's wrong, but I don't -care--I hate her!" - -Mrs. Milroy's eyes questioned her daughter's face as they had -never questioned it yet. There was something under the surface, -evidently--something which it might be of vital importance to her -own purpose to discover--which had not risen into view. She went -on probing her way deeper and deeper into Neelie's mind, with a -warmer and warmer interest in Neelie's secret. - -"Pour me out a cup of tea," she said; "and don't excite yourself, -my dear. Why do you speak to _me_ about this? Why don't you speak -to your father?" - -"I have tried to speak to papa," said Neelie. "But it's no use; -he is too good to know what a wretch she is. She is always on her -best behavior with him; she is always contriving to be useful to -him. I can't make him understand why I dislike Miss Gwilt; I -can't make _you_ understand--I only understand it myself." She -tried to pour out the tea, and in trying upset the cup. "I'll go -downstairs again!" exclaimed Neelie, with a burst of tears. "I'm -not fit for anything; I can't even pour out a cup of tea!" - -Mrs. Milroy seized her hand and stopped her. Trifling as it was, -Neelie's reference to the relations between the major and Miss -Gwilt had roused her mother's ready jealousy. The restraints -which Mrs. Milroy had laid on herself thus far vanished in a -moment--vanished even in the presence of a girl of sixteen, and -that girl her own child! - -"Wait here!" she said, eagerly. "You have come to the right place -and the right person. Go on abusing Miss Gwilt. I like to hear -you--I hate her, too!" - -"You, mamma!" exclaimed Neelie, looking at her mother in -astonishment. - -For a moment Mrs. Milroy hesitated before she said more. Some -last-left instinct of her married life in its earlier and happier -time pleaded hard with her to respect the youth and the sex of -her child. But jealousy respects nothing; in the heaven above and -on the earth beneath, nothing but itself. The slow fire of -self-torment, burning night and day in the miserable woman's -breast, flashed its deadly light into her eyes, as the next words -dropped slowly and venomously from her lips. - -"If you had had eyes in your head, you would never have gone to -your father," she said. "Your father has reasons of his own for -hearing nothing that you can say, or that anybody can say, -against Miss Gwilt." - -Many girls at Neelie's age would have failed to see the meaning -hidden under those words. It was the daughter's misfortune, in -this instance, to have had experience enough of the mother to -understand her. Neelie started back from the bedside, with her -face in a glow. "Mamma!" she said, "you are talking horribly! -Papa is the best, and dearest, and kindest--oh, I won't hear it! -I won't hear it!" - -Mrs. Milroy's fierce temper broke out in an instant--broke out -all the more violently from her feeling herself, in spite of -herself, to have been in the wrong. - -"You impudent little fool!" she retorted, furiously. "Do you -think I want _you_ to remind me of what I owe to your father? Am -I to learn how to speak of your father, and how to think of your -father, and how to love and honor your father, from a forward -little minx like you! I was finely disappointed, I can tell you, -when you were born--I wished for a boy, you impudent hussy! If -you ever find a man who is fool enough to marry you, he will be a -lucky man if you only love him half as well, a quarter as well, a -hundred-thousandth part as well, as I loved your father. Ah, you -can cry when it's too late; you can come creeping back to beg -your mother's pardon after you have insulted her. You little -dowdy, half-grown creature! I was handsomer than ever you will be -when I married your father. I would have gone through fire and -water to serve your father! If he had asked me to cut off one of -my arms, I would have done it--I would have done it to please -him!" She turned suddenly with her face to the wall, forgetting -her daughter, forgetting her husband, forgetting everything but -the torturing remembrance of her lost beauty. "My arms!" she -repeated to herself, faintly. "What arms I had when I was young!" -She snatched up the sleeve of her dressing-gown furtively, with a -shudder. "Oh, look at it now! look at it now!" - -Neelie fell on her knees at the bedside and hid her face. In -sheer despair of finding comfort and help anywhere else, she had -cast herself impulsively on her mother's mercy; and this was how -it had ended! "Oh, mamma," she pleaded, "you know I didn't mean -to offend you! I couldn't help it when you spoke so of my father. -Oh, do, do forgive me!" - -Mrs. Milroy turned again on her pillow, and looked at her -daughter vacantly. "Forgive you?" she repeated, with her mind -still in the past, groping its way back darkly to the present. - -"I beg your pardon, mamma--I beg your pardon on my knees. I am so -unhappy; I do so want a little kindness! Won't you forgive me?" - -"Wait a little," rejoined Mrs. Milroy. "Ah," she said, after an -interval, "now I know! Forgive you? Yes; I'll forgive you on one -condition." She lifted Neelie's head, and looked her searchingly -in the face. "Tell me why you hate Miss Gwilt! You've a reason of -your own for hating her, and you haven't confessed it yet." - -Neelie's head dropped again. The burning color that she was -hiding by hiding her face showed itself on her neck. Her mother -saw it, and gave her time. - -"Tell me," reiterated Mrs. Milroy, more gently, "why do you hate -her?" - -The answer came reluctantly, a word at a time, in fragments. - -"Because she is trying--" - -"Trying what?" - -"Trying to make somebody who is much--" - -"Much what?" - -"Much too young for her--" - -"Marry her?" - -"Yes, mamma." - -Breathlessly interested, Mrs. Milroy leaned forward, and twined -her hand caressingly in her daughter's hair. - -"Who is it, Neelie?" she asked, in a whisper. - -"You will never say I told you, mamma?" - -"Never! Who is it?" - -"Mr. Armadale." - -Mrs. Milroy leaned back on her pillow in dead silence. The plain -betrayal of her daughter's first love, by her daughter's own -lips, which would have absorbed the whole attention of other -mothers, failed to occupy her for a moment. Her jealousy, -distorting all things to fit its own conclusions, was busied in -distorting what she had just heard. "A blind," she thought, -"which has deceived my girl. It doesn't deceive _me._ Is Miss -Gwilt likely to succeed?" she asked, aloud. "Does Mr. Armadale -show any sort of interest in her?" - -Neelie looked up at her mother for the first time. The hardest -part of the confession was over now. She had revealed the truth -about Miss Gwilt, and she had openly mentioned Allan's name. - -"He shows the most unaccountable interest," she said. "It's -impossible to understand it. It's downright infatuation. I -haven't patience to talk about it!" - -"How do _you_ come to be in Mr. Armadale's secrets?" inquired -Mrs. Milroy. "Has he informed _you,_ of all the people in the -world, of his interest in Miss Gwilt?" - -"Me!" exclaimed Neelie, indignantly. "It's quite bad enough that -he should have told papa." - -At the re-appearance of the major in the narrative, Mrs. Milroy's -interest in the conversation rose to its climax. She raised -herself again from the pillow. "Get a chair," she said. "Sit -down, child, and tell me all about it. Every word, mind--every -word!" - -"I can only tell you, mamma, what papa told me." - -"When?" - -"Saturday. I went in with papa's lunch to the workshop, and he -said, 'I have just had a visit from Mr. Armadale; and I want to -give you a caution while I think of it.' I didn't say anything, -mamma; I only waited. Papa went on, and told me that Mr. Armadale -had been speaking to him on the subject of Miss Gwilt, and that -he had been asking a question about her which nobody in his -position had a right to ask. Papa said he had been obliged, -good-humoredly, to warn Mr. Armadale to be a little more -delicate, and a little more careful next time. I didn't feel much -interested, mamma; it didn't matter to _me_ what Mr. Armadale -said or did. Why should I care about it?" - -"Never mind yourself," interposed Mrs. Milroy, sharply. "Go on -with what your father said. What was he doing when he was talking -about Miss Gwilt? How did he look?" - -"Much as usual, mamma. He was walking up and down the workshop; -and I took his arm and walked up and down with him." - -"I don't care what _you_ were doing," said Mrs. Milroy, more and -more irritably. "Did your father tell you what Mr. Armadale's -question was, or did he not?" - -"Yes, mamma. He said Mr. Armadale began by mentioning that he was -very much interested in Miss Gwilt, and he then went on to ask -whether papa could tell him anything about her family -misfortunes--" - -"What!" cried Mrs. Milroy. The word burst from her almost in a -scream, and the white enamel on her face cracked in all -directions. "Mr. Armadale said _that?_" she went on, leaning out -further and further over the side of the bed. - -Neelie started up, and tried to put her mother back on the -pillow. - -"Mamma!" she exclaimed, "are you in pain? Are you ill? You -frighten me!" - -"Nothing, nothing, nothing," said Mrs. Milroy. She was too -violently agitated to make any other than the commonest excuse. -"My nerves are bad this morning; don't notice it. I'll try the -other side of the pillow. Go on! go on!. I'm listening, though -I'm not looking at you." She turned her face to the wall, and -clinched her trembling hands convulsively beneath the bedclothes. -"I've got her!" she whispered to herself, under her breath. "I've -got her at last!" - -"I'm afraid I've been talking too much," said Neelie. "I'm afraid -I've been stopping here too long. Shall I go downstairs, mamma, -and come back later in the day?" - -"Go on," repeated Mrs. Milroy, mechanically. "What did your -father say next? Anything more about Mr. Armadale?" - -"Nothing more, except how papa answered him," replied Neelie. -"Papa repeated his own words when he told me about it. He said, -'In the absence of any confidence volunteered by the lady -herself, Mr. Armadale, all I know or wish to know--and you must -excuse me for saying, all any one else need know or wish to -know--is that Miss Gwilt gave me a perfectly satisfactory -reference before she entered my house.' Severe, mamma, wasn't it? -I don't pity him in the least; he richly deserved it. The next -thing was papa's caution to _me._ He told me to check Mr. -Armadale's curiosity if he applied to me next. As if he was -likely to apply to me! And as if I should listen to him if he -did! That's all, mamma. You won't suppose, will you, that I have -told you this because I want to hinder Mr. Armadale from marrying -Miss Gwilt? Let him marry her if he pleases; I don't care!" said -Neelie, in a voice that faltered a little, and with a face which -was hardly composed enough to be in perfect harmony with a -declaration of indifference. "All I want is to be relieved from -the misery of having Miss Gwilt for my governess. I'd rather go -to school. I should like to go to school. My mind's quite changed -about all that, only I haven't the heart to tell papa. I don't -know what's come to me, I don't seem to have heart enough for -anything now; and when papa takes me on his knee in the evening, -and says, 'Let's have a talk, Neelie,' he makes me cry. Would you -mind breaking it to him, mamma, that I've changed my mind, and I -want to go to school?" The tears rose thickly in her eyes, and -she failed to see that her mother never even turned on the pillow -to look round at her. - -"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Milroy, vacantly. "You're a good girl; you -shall go to school." - -The cruel brevity of the reply, and the tone in which it was -spoken, told Neelie plainly that her mother's attention had been -wandering far away from her, and that it was useless and needless -to prolong the interview. She turned aside quietly, without a -word of remonstrance. It was nothing new in her experience to -find herself shut out from her mother's sympathies. She looked at -her eyes in the glass, and, pouring - out some cold water, bathed her face. "Miss Gwilt shan't see -I've been crying!" thought Neelie, as she went back to the -bedside to take her leave. "I've tired you out," mamma," she -said, gently. "Let me go now; and let me come back a little later -when you have had some rest." - -"Yes," repeated her mother, as mechanically as ever; "a little -later when I have had some rest." - -Neelie left the room. The minute after the door had closed on -her, Mrs. Milroy rang the bell for her nurse. In the face of the -narrative she had just heard, in the face of every reasonable -estimate of probabilities, she held to her own jealous -conclusions as firmly as ever. "Mr. Armadale may believe her, and -my daughter may believe her," thought the furious woman. "But I -know the major; and she can't deceive _me!_" - -The nurse came in. "Prop me up," said Mrs. Milroy. "And give me -my desk. I want to write." - -"You're excited," replied the nurse. "You're not fit to write." - -"Give me the desk," reiterated Mrs. Milroy. - -"Anything more?" asked Rachel, repeating her invariable formula -as she placed the desk on the bed. - -"Yes. Come back in half an hour. I shall want you to take a -letter to the great house." - -The nurse's sardonic composure deserted her for once. "Mercy on -us!" she exclaimed, with an accent of genuine surprise. "What -next? You don't mean to say you're going to write--?" - -"I am going to write to Mr. Armadale," interposed Mrs. Milroy; -"and you are going to take the letter to him, and wait for an -answer; and, mind this, not a living soul but our two selves must -know of it in the house." - -"Why are you writing to Mr. Armadale?" asked Rachel. "And why is -nobody to know of it but our two selves?" - -"Wait," rejoined Mrs. Milroy, "and you will see." - -The nurse's curiosity, being a woman's curiosity, declined to -wait. - -"I'll help you with my eyes open," she said; "but I won't help -you blindfold." - -"Oh, if I only had the use of my limbs!" groaned Mrs. Milroy. -"You wretch, if I could only do without you!" - -"You have the use of your head," retorted the impenetrable nurse. -"And you ought to know better than to trust me by halves, at this -time of day." - -It was brutally put; but it was true--doubly true, after the -opening of Miss Gwilt's letter. Mrs. Milroy gave way. - -"What do you want to know?" she asked. "Tell me, and leave me." - -"I want to know what you are writing to Mr. Armadale about?" - -"About Miss Gwilt." - -"What has Mr. Armadale to do with you and Miss Gwilt?" - -Mrs. Milroy held up the letter that had been returned to her by -the authorities at the Post-office. - -"Stoop," she said. "Miss Gwilt may be listening at the door. I'll -whisper." - -The nurse stooped, with her eye on the door. "You know that the -postman went with this letter to Kingsdown Crescent?" said Mrs. -Milroy. "And you know that he found Mrs. Mandeville gone away, -nobody could tell where?" - -"Well," whispered Rachel "what next?" - -"This, next. When Mr. Armadale gets the letter that I am going to -write to him, he will follow the same road as the postman; and -we'll see what happens when he knocks at Mrs. Mandeville's door." - -"How do you get him to the door?" - -"I tell him to go to Miss Gwilt's reference." - -"Is he sweet on Miss Gwilt?" - -"Yes." - -"Ah!" said the nurse. "I see!" - -CHAPTER III. - -THE BRINK OF DISCOVERY. - -THE morning of the interview between Mrs. Milroy and her daughter -at the cottage was a morning of serious reflection for the squire -at the great house. - -Even Allan's easy-tempered nature had not been proof against the -disturbing influences exercised on it by the events of the last -three days. Midwinter's abrupt departure had vexed him; and Major -Milroy's reception of his inquiries relating to Miss Gwilt -weighed unpleasantly on his mind. Since his visit to the cottage, -he had felt impatient and ill at ease, for the first time in his -life, with everybody who came near him. Impatient with Pedgift -Junior, who had called on the previous evening to announce his -departure for London, on business, the next day, and to place his -services at the disposal of his client; ill at ease with Miss -Gwilt, at a secret meeting with her in the park that morning; and -ill at ease in his own company, as he now sat moodily smoking in -the solitude of his room. "I can't live this sort of life much -longer," thought Allan. "If nobody will help me to put the -awkward question to Miss Gwilt, I must stumble on some way of -putting it for myself." - -What way? The answer to that question was as hard to find as -ever. Allan tried to stimulate his sluggish invention by walking -up and down the room, and was disturbed by the appearance of the -footman at the first turn. - -"Now then! what is it?" he asked, impatiently. - -"A letter, sir; and the person waits for an answer." - -Allan looked at the address. It was in a strange handwriting. He -opened the letter, and a little note inclosed in it dropped to -the ground. The note was directed, still in the strange -handwriting, to "Mrs. Mandeville, 18 Kingsdown Crescent, -Bayswater. Favored by Mr. Armadale." More and more surprised, -Allan turned for information to the signature at the end of the -letter. It was "Anne Milroy." - -"Anne Milroy?" he repeated. "It must be the major's wife. What -can she possibly want with me?" By way of discovering what she -wanted, Allan did at last what he might more wisely have done at -first. He sat down to read the letter. - -["Private."] "The Cottage, Monday. - -"DEAR SIR--The name at the end of these lines will, I fear, -recall to you a very rude return made on my part, some time -since, for an act of neighborly kindness on yours. I can only say -in excuse that I am a great sufferer, and that, if I was -ill-tempered enough, in a moment of irritation under severe pain, -to send back your present of fruit, I have regretted doing so -ever since. Attribute this letter, if you please, to my desire to -make some atonement, and to my wish to be of service to our good -friend and landlord, if I possibly can. - -"I have been informed of the question which you addressed to my -husband, the day before yesterday, on the subject of Miss Gwilt. -From all I have heard of you, I am quite sure that your anxiety -to know more of this charming person than you know now is an -anxiety proceeding from the most honorable motives. Believing -this, I feel a woman's interest--incurable invalid as I am--in -assisting you. If you are desirous of becoming acquainted with -Miss Gwilt's family circumstances without directly appealing to -Miss Gwilt herself, it rests with you to make the discovery; and -I will tell you how. - -"It so happens that, some few days since, I wrote privately to -Miss Gwilt's reference on this very subject. I had long observed -that my governess was singularly reluctant to speak of her family -and her friends; and, without attributing her silence to other -than perfectly proper motives, I felt it my duty to my daughter -to make some inquiry on the subject. The answer that I have -received is satisfactory as far as it goes. My correspondent -informs me that Miss Gwilt's story is a very sad one, and that -her own conduct throughout has been praiseworthy in the extreme. -The circumstances (of a domestic nature, as I gather) are all -plainly stated in a collection of letters now in the possession -of Miss Gwilt's reference. This lady is perfectly willing to let -me see the letters; but not possessing copies of them, and being -personally responsible for their security, she is reluctant, if -it can be avoided, to trust them to the post; and she begs me to -wait until she or I can find some reliable person who can be -employed to transmit the packet from her hands to mine. - -"Under these circumstances, it has struck me that you might -possibly, with your interest in the matter, be not unwilling to -take charge of the papers. If I am wrong in this idea, and if you -are not disposed, after what I have told you, to go to the -trouble and expense of a journey to London, you have only to burn -my letter and inclosure, and to think no more about it. If you -decide on becoming my envoy, I gladly provide you with the -necessary introduction to Mrs. Mandeville. You have only, on -presenting it, to receive the letters in a sealed packet, to send -them her e on your return to Thorpe Ambrose, and to wait an early -communication from me acquainting you with the result. - -"In conclusion, I have only to add that I see no impropriety in -your taking (if you feel so inclined) the course that I propose -to you. Miss Gwilt's manner of receiving such allusions as I have -made to her family circumstances has rendered it unpleasant for -me (and would render it quite impossible for you) to seek -information in the first instance from herself. I am certainly -justified in applying to her reference; and you are certainly not -to blame for being the medium of safely transmitting a sealed -communication with one lady to another. If I find in that -communication family secrets which cannot honorably be mentioned -to any third person, I shall, of course, be obliged to keep you -waiting until I have first appealed to Miss Gwilt. If I find -nothing recorded but what is to her honor, and what is sure to -raise her still higher in your estimation, I am undeniably doing -her a service by taking you into my confidence. This is how I -look at the matter; but pray don't allow me to influence _you._ - -"In any case, I have one condition to make, which I am sure you -will understand to be indispensable. The most innocent actions -are liable, in this wicked world, to the worst possible -interpretation I must, therefore, request that you will consider -this communication as strictly _private._. I write to you in a -confidence which is on no account (until circumstances may, in my -opinion, justify the revelation of it) to extend beyond our two -selves, - -"Believe me, dear sir, truly yours, - -"ANNE MILROY." - -In this tempting form the unscrupulous ingenuity of the major's -wife had set the trap. Without a moment's hesitation, Allan -followed his impulses, as usual, and walked straight into it, -writing his answer and pursuing his own reflections -simultaneously in a highly characteristic state of mental -confusion. - -"By Jupiter, this is kind of Mrs. Milroy!" ("My dear madam.") -"Just the thing I wanted, at the time when I needed it most!" ("I -don't know how to express my sense of your kindness, except by -saying that I will go to London and fetch the letters with the -greatest pleasure.") "She shall have a basket of fruit regularly -every day, all through the season. " ("I will go at once, dear -madam, and be back to-morrow.") "Ah, nothing like the women for -helping one when one is in love! This is just what my poor mother -would have done in Mrs. Milroy's place." ("On my word of honor as -a gentleman, I will take the utmost care of the letters; and keep -the thing strictly private, as you request.") "I would have given -five hundred pounds to anybody who would have put me up to the -right way to speak to Miss Gwilt; and here is this blessed woman -does it for nothing." ("Believe me, my dear madam, gratefully -yours, Allan Armadale.") - -Having sent his reply out to Mrs. Milroy's messenger, Allan -paused in a momentary perplexity. He had an appointment with Miss -Gwilt in the park for the next morning. It was absolutely -necessary to let her know that he would be unable to keep it; she -had forbidden him to write, and he had no chance that day of -seeing her alone. In this difficulty, he determined to let the -necessary intimation reach her through the medium of a message to -the major, announcing his departure for London on business, and -asking if he could be of service to any member of the family. -Having thus removed the only obstacle to his freedom of action, -Allan consulted the time-table, and found, to his disappointment, -that there was a good hour to spare before it would be necessary -to drive to the railway station. In his existing frame of mind he -would infinitely have preferred starting for London in a violent -hurry. - -When the time came at last, Allan, on passing the steward's -office, drummed at the door, and called through it to Mr. -Bashwood, "I'm going to town; back to-morrow." There was no -answer from within; and the servant, interposing, informed his -master that Mr. Bashwood, having no business to attend to that -day, had locked up the office, and had left some hours since. - -On reaching the station, the first person whom Allan encountered -was Pedgift Junior, going to London on the legal business which -he had mentioned on the previous evening at the great house. The -necessary explanations exchanged, and it was decided that the two -should travel in the same carriage. Allan was glad to have a -companion; and Pedgift, enchanted as usual to make himself useful -to his client, bustled away to get the tickets and see to the -luggage. Sauntering to and fro on the platform, until his -faithful follower returned, Allan came suddenly upon no less a -person than Mr. Bashwood himself, standing back in a corner with -the guard of the train, and putting a letter (accompanied, to all -appearance, by a fee) privately into the man's hand. - -"Halloo!" cried Allan, in his hearty way. "Something important -there, Mr. Bashwood, eh?" - -If Mr. Bashwood had been caught in the act of committing murder, -he could hardly have shown greater alarm than he now testified at -Allan's sudden discovery of him. Snatching off his dingy old hat, -he bowed bare-headed, in a palsy of nervous trembling from head -to foot. "No, sir--no, sir; only a little letter, a little -letter, a little letter," said the deputy-steward, taking refuge -in reiteration, and bowing himself swiftly backward out of his -employer's sight. - -Allan turned carelessly on his heel. "I wish I could take to that -fellow," he thought, "but I can't; he's such a sneak! What the -deuce was there to tremble about? Does he think I want to pry -into his secrets?" - -Mr. Bashwood's secret on this occasion concerned Allan more -nearly than Allan supposed. The letter which he had just placed -in charge of the guard was nothing less than a word of warning -addressed to Mrs. Oldershaw, and written by Miss Gwilt. - -"If you can hurry your business" (wrote the major's governess) -"do so, and come back to London immediately. Things are going -wrong here, and Miss Milroy is at the bottom of the mischief. -This morning she insisted on taking up her mother's breakfast, -always on other occasions taken up by the nurse. They had a long -confabulation in private; and half an hour later I saw the nurse -slip out with a letter, and take the path that leads to the great -house. The sending of the letter has been followed by young -Armadale's sudden departure for London--in the face of an -appointment which he had with me for tomorrow morning. This looks -serious. The girl is evidently bold enough to make a fight of it -for the position of Mrs. Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose, and she has -found out some way of getting her mother to help her. Don't -suppose I am in the least nervous or discouraged, and don't do -anything till you hear from me again. Only get back to London, -for I may have serious need of your assistance in the course of -the next day or two. - -"I send this letter to town (to save a post) by the midday train, -in charge of the guard. As you insist on knowing every step I -take at Thorpe Ambrose, I may as well tell you that my messenger -(for I can't go to the station myself) is that curious old -creature whom I mentioned to you in my first letter. Ever since -that time he has been perpetually hanging about here for a look -at me. I am not sure whether I frighten him or fascinate him; -perhaps I do both together. All you need care to know is that I -can trust him with my trifling errands, and possibly, as time -goes on, with something more. L. G." - - -Meanwhile the train had started from the Thorpe Ambrose station, -and the squire and his traveling companion were on their way to -London. - -Some men, finding themselves in Allan's company under present -circumstances, might have felt curious to know the nature of his -business in the metropolis. Young Pedgift's unerring instinct as -a man of the world penetrated the secret without the slightest -difficulty. "The old story," thought this wary old head, wagging -privately on its lusty young shoulders, "There's a woman in the -case, as usual. Any other business would have been turned over to -me." Perfectly satisfied with this conclusion, Mr. Pedgift the -younger proceeded, with an eye to his professional interest, to -make himself agreeable to his client in the capacity of volunteer -courier. He seized on the whole administrative business of the -journey to London, as he had seized on the whole administrative -business of the picnic at the Broads. On reaching the terminus, -Allan was ready to go to any hotel that might be recommended. His -invaluable solicitor straight-way drove him to a hotel at which -the Pedgift family had been accustomed to put up for three -generations. - -"You don't object to vegetables, sir?" said the cheerful Pedgift, -as the cab stopped at a hotel in Covent Garden Market. "Very -good; you may leave the rest to my grandfather, my father, and -me. I don't know which of the three is most beloved and respected -in this house. How d'ye do, William? (Our head-waiter, Mr. -Armadale.) Is your wife's rheumatism better, and does the little -boy get on nicely at school? Your master's out, is he? Never -mind, you'll do. This, William, is Mr. Armadale of Thorpe -Ambrose. I have prevailed on Mr. Armadale to try our house. Have -you got the bedroom I wrote for? Very good. Let Mr. Armadale have -it instead of me (my grandfather's favorite bedroom, sir; No. 57, -on the second floor); pray take it; I can sleep anywhere. Will -you have the mattress on the top of the feather-bed? You hear, -William? Tell Matilda, the mattress on the top of the -feather-bed. How is Matilda? Has she got the toothache, as usual? -The head-chambermaid, Mr. Armadale, and a most extraordinary -woman; she will _not_ part with a hollow tooth in her lower jaw. -My grandfather says, 'Have it out;' my father says, 'Have it -out;' I say, 'Have it out;' and Matilda turns a deaf ear to all -three of us. Yes, William, yes; if Mr. Armadale approves, this -sitting-room will do. About dinner, sir? Shall we say, in that -case, half-past seven? William, half-past seven. Not the least -need to order anything, Mr. Armadale. The head-waiter has only to -give my compliments to the cook, and the best dinner in London -will be sent up, punctual to the minute, as a necessary -consequence. Say, Mr. Pedgift Junior, if you please, William; -otherwise, sir, we might get my grandfather's dinner or my -father's dinner, and they _might_ turn out a little too heavy and -old-fashioned in their way of feeding for you and me. As to the -wine, William. At dinner, _my_ Champagne, and the sherry that my -father thinks nasty. After dinner, the claret with the blue -seal--the wine my innocent grandfather said wasn't worth sixpence -a bottle. Ha! ha! poor old boy! You will send up the evening -papers and the play-bills, just as usual, and--that will do? I -think, William, for the present. An invaluable servant, Mr. -Armadale; they're all invaluable servants in this house. We may -not be fashionable here, sir, but by the Lord Harry we are snug! -A cab? you would like a cab? Don't stir! I've rung the bell -twice--that means, Cab wanted in a hurry. Might I ask, Mr. -Armadale, which way your business takes you? Toward Bayswater? -Would you mind dropping me in the park? It's a habit of mine when -I'm in London to air myself among the aristocracy. Yours truly, -sir, has an eye for a fine woman and a fine horse; and when he's -in Hyde Park he's quite in his native element." Thus the -all-accomplished Pedgift ran on; and by these little arts did he -recommend himself to the good opinion of his client. - -When the dinner hour united the traveling companions again in -their sitting-room at the hotel, a far less acute observer than -young Pedgift must have noticed the marked change that appeared -in Allan's manner. He looked vexed and puzzled, and sat drumming -with his fingers on the dining-table without uttering a word. - -"I'm afraid something has happened to annoy you, sir, since we -parted company in the Park?" said Pedgift Junior. "Excuse the -question; I only ask it in case I can be of any use." - -"Something that I never expected has happened," returned Allan; -"I don't know what to make of it. I should like to have your -opinion," he added, after a little hesitation; "that is to say, -if you will excuse my not entering into any particulars?" - -"Certainly!" assented young Pedgift. "Sketch it in outline, sir. -The merest hint will do; I wasn't born yesterday." ("Oh, these -women!" thought the youthful philosopher, in parenthesis.) - -"Well," began Allan, "you know what I said when we got to this -hotel; I said I had a place to go to in Bayswater" (Pedgift -mentally checked off the first point: Case in the suburbs, -Bayswater); "and a person--that is to say--no--as I said before, -a person to inquire after." (Pedgift checked off the next point: -Person in the case. She-person, or he-person ? She-person, -unquestionably!) "Well, I went to the house, and when I asked for -her--I mean the person--she--that is to say, the person--oh, -confound it!" cried Allan, "I shall drive myself mad, and you, -too, if I try to tell my story in this roundabout way. Here it is -in two words. I went to No. 18 Kingsdown Crescent, to see a lady -named Mandeville; and, when I asked for her, the servant said -Mrs. Mandeville had gone away, without telling anybody where, and -without even leaving an address at which letters could be sent to -her. There! it's out at last. And what do you think of it now?" - -"Tell me first, sir," said the wary Pedgift, "what inquiries you -made when you found this lady had vanished?" - -"Inquiries!" repeated Allan. "I was utterly staggered; I didn't -say anything. What inquiries ought I to have made?" - -Pedgift Junior cleared his throat, and crossed his legs in a -strictly professional manner. - -"I have no wish, Mr. Armadale," he began, "to inquire into your -business with Mrs. Mandeville--" - -"No," interposed Allan, bluntly; "I hope you won't inquire into -that. My business with Mrs. Mandeville must remain a secret." - -"But," pursued Pedgift, laying down the law with the forefinger -of one hand on the outstretched palm of the other, "I may, -perhaps, be allowed to ask generally whether your business with -Mrs. Mandeville is of a nature to interest you in tracing her -from Kingsdown Crescent to her present residence?" - -"Certainly!" said Allan. "I have a very particular reason for -wishing to see her." - -"In that case, sir," returned Pedgift Junior, "there were two -obvious questions which you ought to have asked, to begin -with--namely, on what date Mrs. Mandeville left, and how she -left. Having discovered this, you should have ascertained next -under what domestic circumstances she went away--whether there -was a misunderstanding with anybody; say a difficulty about money -matters. Also, whether she went away alone, or with somebody -else. Also, whether the house was her own, or whether she only -lodged in it. Also, in the latter event--" - -"Stop! stop! you're making my head swim," cried Allan. "I don't -understand all these ins and outs. I'm not used to this sort of -thing." - -"I've been used to it myself from my childhood upward, sir," -remarked Pedgift. "And if I can be of any assistance, say the -word." - -"You're very kind," returned Allan. "If you could only help me to -find Mrs. Mandeville; and if you wouldn't mind leaving the thing -afterward entirely in my hands--?" - -"I'll leave it in your hands, sir, with all the pleasure in -life," said Pedgift Junior. ("And I'll lay five to one," he -added, mentally, "when the time comes, you'll leave it in mine!") -"We'll go to Bayswater together, Mr. Armadale, tomorrow morning. -In the meantime. here's the soup. The case now before the court -is, Pleasure versus Business. I don't know what you say, sir; I -say, without a moment's hesitation, Verdict for the plaintiff. -Let us gather our rosebuds while we may. Excuse my high spirits, -Mr. Armadale. Though buried in the country, I was made for a -London life; the very air of the metropolis intoxicates me." With -that avowal the irresistible Pedgift placed a chair for his -patron, and issued his orders cheerfully to his viceroy, the -head-waiter. "Iced punch, William, after the soup. I answer for -the punch, Mr. Armadale; it's made after a recipe of my -great-uncle's. He kept a tavern, and founded the fortunes of the -family. I don't mind telling you the Pedgifts have had a publican -amon g them; there's no false pride about me. 'Worth makes the -man (as Pope says) and want of it the fellow; the rest is all but -leather and prunella.' I cultivate poetry as well as music, sir, -in my leisure hours; in fact, I'm more or less on familiar terms -with the whole of the nine Muses. Aha! here's the punch! The -memory of my great-uncle, the publican, Mr. Armadale--drunk in -solemn silence!" - -Allan tried hard to emulate his companion's gayety and good -humor, but with very indifferent success. His visit to Kingsdown -Crescent recurred ominously again and again to his memory all -through the dinner, and all through the public amusements to -which he and his legal adviser repaired at a later hour of the -evening. When Pedgift Junior put out his candle that night, he -shook his wary head, and regretfully apostrophized "the women" -for the second time. - -By ten o'clock the next morning the indefatigable Pedgift was on -the scene of action. To Allan's great relief, he proposed making -the necessary inquiries at Kingsdown Crescent in his own person, -while his patron waited near at hand, in the cab which had -brought them from the hotel. After a delay of little more than -five minutes, he reappeared, in full possession of all attainable -particulars. His first proceeding was to request Allan to step -out of the cab, and to pay the driver. Next, he politely offered -his arm, and led the way round the corner of the crescent, across -a square, and into a by-street, which was rendered exceptionally -lively by the presence of the local cab-stand. Here he stopped, -and asked jocosely whether Mr. Armadale saw his way now, or -whether it would be necessary to test his patience by making an -explanation. - -"See my way?" repeated Allan, in bewilderment. "I see nothing but -a cab-stand." - -Pedgift Junior smiled compassionately, and entered on his -explanation. It was a lodging-house at Kingsdown Crescent, he -begged to state to begin with. He had insisted on seeing the -landlady. A very nice person, with all the remains of having been -a fine girl about fifty years ago; quite in Pedgift's style--if -he had only been alive at the beginning of the present -century--quite in Pedgift's style. But perhaps Mr. Armadale would -prefer hearing about Mrs. Mandeville? Unfortunately, there was -nothing to tell. There had been no quarreling, and not a farthing -left unpaid: the lodger had gone, and there wasn't an explanatory -circumstance to lay hold of anywhere. It was either Mrs. -Mandeville's way to vanish, or there was something under the -rose, quite undiscoverable so far. Pedgift had got the date on -which she left, and the time of day at which she left, and the -means by which she left. The means might help to trace her. She -had gone away in a cab which the servant had fetched from the -nearest stand. The stand was now before their eyes; and the -waterman was the first person to apply to--going to the waterman -for information being clearly (if Mr. Armadale would excuse the -joke) going to the fountain-head. Treating the subject in this -airy manner, and telling Allan that he would be back in a moment, -Pedgift Junior sauntered down the street, and beckoned the -waterman confidentially into the nearest public-house. - -In a little while the two re-appeared, the waterman taking -Pedgift in succession to the first, third, fourth, and sixth of -the cabmen whose vehicles were on the stand. The longest -conference was held with the sixth man; and it ended in the -sudden approach of the sixth cab to the part of the street where -Allan was waiting. - -"Get in, sir," said Pedgift, opening the door; "I've found the -man. He remembers the lady; and, though he has forgotten the name -of the street, he believes he can find the place he drove her to -when he once gets back into the neighborhood. I am charmed to -inform you, Mr. Armadale, that we are in luck's way so far. I -asked the waterman to show me the regular men on the stand; and -it turns out that one of the regular men drove Mrs. Mandeville. -The waterman vouches for him; he's quite an anomaly--a -respectable cabman; drives his own horse, and has never been in -any trouble. These are the sort of men, sir, who sustain one's -belief in human nature. I've had a look at our friend, and I -agree with the waterman; I think we can depend on him." - -The investigation required some exercise of patience at the -outset. It was not till the cab had traversed the distance -between Bayswater and Pimlico that the driver began to slacken -his pace and look about him. After once or twice retracing its -course, the vehicle entered a quiet by-street, ending in a dead -wall, with a door in it; and stopped at the last house on the -left-hand side, the house next to the wall. - -"Here it is, gentlemen," said the man, opening the cab door. - -Allan and Allan's adviser both got out, and both looked at the -house, with the same feeling of instinctive distrust. - -Buildings have their physiognomy--especially buildings in great -cities--and the face of this house was essentially furtive in its -expression. The front windows were all shut, and the front blinds -were all drawn down. It looked no larger than the other houses in -the street, seen in front; but it ran back deceitfully and gained -its greater accommodation by means of its greater depth. It -affected to be a shop on the ground-floor; but it exhibited -absolutely nothing in the space that intervened between the -window and an inner row of red curtains, which hid the interior -entirely from view. At one side was the shop door, having more -red curtains behind the glazed part of it, and bearing a brass -plate on the wooden part of it, inscribed with the name of -"Oldershaw." On the other side was the private door, with a bell -marked Professional; and another brass plate, indicating a -medical occupant on this side of the house, for the name on it -was, "Doctor Downward." If ever brick and mortar spoke yet, the -brick and mortar here said plainly, "We have got our secrets -inside, and we mean to keep them." - -"This can't be the place," said Allan; "there must be some -mistake." - -'You know best, sir," remarked Pedgift Junior, with his sardonic -gravity. "You know Mrs. Mandeville's habits." - -"I!" exclaimed Allan. "You may be surprised to hear it; but Mrs. -Mandeville is a total stranger to me." - -"I'm not in the least surprised to hear it, sir; the landlady at -Kingsdown Crescent informed me that Mrs. Mandeville was an old -woman. Suppose we inquire?" added the impenetrable Pedgift, -looking at the red curtains in the shop window with a strong -suspicion that Mrs. Mandeville's granddaughter might possibly be -behind them. - -They tried the shop door first. It was locked. They rang. A lean -and yellow young woman, with a tattered French novel in her hand, -opened it. - -"Good-morning, miss," said Pedgift. "Is Mrs. Mandeville at home?" - -The yellow young woman stared at him in astonishment. "No person -of that name is known here," she answered, sharply, in a foreign -accent. - -"Perhaps they know her at the private door?" suggested Pedgift -Junior. - -"Perhaps they do," said the yellow young woman, and shut the door -in his face. - -"Rather a quick-tempered young person that, sir," said Pedgift. -"I congratulate Mrs. Mandeville on not being acquainted with -her." He led the way, as he spoke, to Doctor Downward's side of -the premises, and rang the bell. - -The door was opened this time by a man in a shabby livery. He, -too, stared when Mrs. Mandeville's name was mentioned; and he, -too, knew of no such person in the house. - -"Very odd," said Pedgift, appealing to Allan. - -"What is odd?" asked a softly stepping, softly speaking gentleman -in black, suddenly appearing on the threshold of the parlor door. - -Pedgift Junior politely explained the circumstances, and begged -to know whether he had the pleasure of speaking to Doctor -Downward. - -The doctor bowed. If the expression may be pardoned, he was one -of those carefully constructed physicians in whom the -public--especially the female public--implicitly trust. He had -the necessary bald head, the necessary double eyeglass, the -necessary black clothes, and the necessary blandness of manner, -all complete. His voice was soothing, his ways were deliberate, -his smile was confid ential. What particular branch of his -profession Doctor Downward followed was not indicated on his -door-plate; but he had utterly mistaken his vocation if he was -not a ladies' medical man. - -"Are you quite sure there is no mistake about the name?" asked -the doctor, with a strong underlying anxiety in his manner. "I -have known very serious inconvenience to arise sometimes from -mistakes about names. No? There is really no mistake? In that -case, gentlemen, I can only repeat what my servant has already -told you. Don't apologize, pray. Good-morning." The doctor -withdrew as noiselessly as he had appeared; the man in the shabby -livery silently opened the door; and Allan and his companion -found themselves in the street again. - -"Mr. Armadale," said Pedgift, "I don't know how you feel; I feel -puzzled." - -"That's awkward," returned Allan. "I was just going to ask you -what we ought to do next." - -"I don't like the look of the place, the look of the shop-woman, -or the look of the doctor," pursued the other. "And yet I can't -say I think they are deceiving us; I can't say I think they -really know Mrs. Mandeville's name." - -The impressions of Pedgift Junior seldom misled him; and they had -not misled him in this case. The caution which had dictated Mrs. -Oldershaw's private removal from Bayswater was the caution which -frequently overreaches itself. It had warned her to trust nobody -at Pimlico with the secret of the name she had assumed as Miss -Gwilt's reference; but it had entirely failed to prepare her for -the emergency that had really happened. In a word, Mrs. Oldershaw -had provided for everything except for the one unimaginable -contingency of an after-inquiry into the character of Miss Gwilt. - -"We must do something," said Allan; "it seems useless to stop -here." - -Nobody had ever yet caught Pedgift Junior at the end of his -resources; and Allan failed to catch him at the end of them now. -"I quite agree with you, sir," he said; "we must do something. -We'll cross-examine the cabman." - -The cabman proved to be immovable. Charged with mistaking the -place, he pointed to the empty shop window. "I don't know what -you may have seen, gentlemen," he remarked; "but there's the only -shop window I ever saw with nothing at all inside it. _That_ -fixed the place in my mind at the time, and I know it again when -I see it." Charged with mistaking the person or the day, or the -house at which he had taken the person up, the cabman proved to -be still unassailable. The servant who fetched him was marked as -a girl well known on the stand. The day was marked as the -unluckiest working-day he had had since the first of the year; -and the lady was marked as having had her money ready at the -right moment (which not one elderly lady in a hundred usually -had), and having paid him his fare on demand without disputing it -(which not one elderly lady in a hundred usually did). "Take my -number, gentlemen," concluded the cabman, "and pay me for my -time; and what I've said to you, I'll swear to anywhere." - -Pedgift made a note in his pocket-book of the man's number. -Having added to it the name of the street, and the names on the -two brass plates, he quietly opened the cab door. "We are quite -in the dark, thus far," he said. "Suppose we grope our way back -to the hotel?" - -He spoke and looked more seriously than usual The mere fact of -"Mrs. Mandeville's" having changed her lodging without telling -any one where she was going, and without leaving any address at -which letters could be forwarded to her--which the jealous -malignity of Mrs. Milroy had interpreted as being undeniably -suspicious in itself--had produced no great impression on the -more impartial judgment of Allan's solicitor. People frequently -left their lodgings in a private manner, with perfectly -producible reasons for doing so. But the appearance of the place -to which the cabman persisted in declaring that he had driven -"Mrs. Mandeville" set the character and proceedings of that -mysterious lady before Pedgift Junior in a new light. His -personal interest in the inquiry suddenly strengthened, and he -began to feel a curiosity to know the real nature of Allan's -business which he had not felt yet. - -"Our next move, Mr. Armadale, is not a very easy move to see," he -said, as they drove back to the hotel. "Do you think you could -put me in possession of any further particulars?" - -Allan hesitated; and Pedgift Junior saw that he had advanced a -little too far. "I mustn't force it," he thought; "I must give it -time, and let it come of its own accord." "In the absence of any -other information, sir," he resumed, "what do you say to my -making some inquiry about that queer shop, and about those two -names on the door-plate? My business in London, when I leave you, -is of a professional nature; and I am going into the right -quarter for getting information, if it is to be got." - -"There can't be any harm, I suppose, in making inquiries," -replied Allan. - -He, too, spoke more seriously than usual; he, too, was beginning -to feel an all-mastering curiosity to know more. Some vague -connection, not to be distinctly realized or traced out, began to -establish itself in his mind between the difficulty of -approaching Miss Gwilt's family circumstances and the difficulty -of approaching Miss Gwilt's reference. "I'll get down and walk, -and leave you to go on to your business," he said. "I want to -consider a little about this, and a walk and a cigar will help -me." - -"My business will be done, sir, between one and two," said -Pedgift, when the cab had been stopped, and Allan had got out. -"Shall we meet again at two o'clock, at the hotel?" - -Allan nodded, and the cab drove off. - -CHAPTER IV. - -ALLAN AT BAY. - -Two o'clock came; and Pedgift Junior, punctual to his time, came -with it. His vivacity of the morning had all sparkled out; he -greeted Allan with his customary politeness, but without his -customary smile; and, when the headwaiter came in for orders, his -dismissal was instantly pronounced in words never yet heard to -issue from the lips of Pedgift in that hotel: "Nothing at -present." - -"You seem to be in low spirits," said Allan. "Can't we get our -information? Can nobody tell you anything about the house in -Pimlico?" - -"Three different people have told me about it, Mr. Armadale, and -they have all three said the same thing." - -Allan eagerly drew his chair nearer to the place occupied by his -traveling companion. His reflections in the interval since they -had last seen each other had not tended to compose him. That -strange connection, so easy to feel, so hard to trace, between -the difficulty of approaching Miss Gwilt's family circumstances -and the difficulty of approaching Miss Gwilt's reference, which -had already established itself in his thoughts, had by this time -stealthily taken a firmer and firmer hold on his mind. Doubts -troubled him which he could neither understand nor express. -Curiosity filled him, which he half longed and half dreaded to -satisfy. - -"I am afraid I must trouble you with a question or two, sir, -before I can come to the point," said Pedgift Junior. "I don't -want to force myself into your confidence. I only want to see my -way, in what looks to me like a very awkward business. Do you -mind telling me whether others besides yourself are interested in -this inquiry of ours?" - -"Other people _are_ interested in it," replied Allan. "There's no -objection to telling you that." - -"Is there any other person who is the object of the inquiry -besides Mrs. Mandeville, herself?" pursued Pedgift, winding his -way a little deeper into the secret. - -"Yes; there is another person," said Allan, answering rather -unwillingly. - -"Is the person a young woman, Mr. Armadale?" - -Allan started. "How do you come to guess that?" he began, then -checked himself, when it was too late. "Don't ask me any more -questions," he resumed. "I'm a bad hand at defending myself -against a sharp fellow like you; and I'm bound in honor toward -other people to keep the particulars of this business to myself." - -Pedgift Junior had apparently heard enough for his purpose. He -drew his chair, in his turn, nearer to Allan. He was evidently -anxious and embarrassed; but his professional manner began to -show itself again from sheer fo rce of habit. - -"I've done with my questions, sir," he said; "and I have -something to say now on my side. In my father's absence, perhaps -you may be kindly disposed to consider me as your legal adviser. -If you will take my advice, you will not stir another step in -this inquiry." - -"What do you mean?" interposed Allan. - -"It is just possible, Mr. Armadale, that the cabman, positive as -he is, may have been mistaken. I strongly recommend you to take -it for granted that he _is_ mistaken, and to drop it there." - -The caution was kindly intended; but it came too late. Allan did -what ninety-nine men out of a hundred in his position would have -done--he declined to take his lawyer's advice. - -"Very well, sir," said Pedgift Junior; "if you will have it, you -must have it." - -He leaned forward close to Allan's ear, and whispered what he had -heard of the house in Pimlico, and of the people who occupied it. - -"Don't blame me, Mr. Armadale," he added, when the irrevocable -words had been spoken. "I tried to spare you." - -Allan suffered the shock, as all great shocks are suffered, in -silence. His first impulse would have driven him headlong for -refuge to that very view of the cabman's assertion which had just -been recommended to him, but for one damning circumstance which -placed itself inexorably in his way. Miss Gwilt's marked -reluctance to approach the story of her past life rose -irrepressibly on his memory, in indirect but horrible -confirmation of the evidence which connected Miss Gwilt's -reference with the house in Pimlico. One conclusion, and one -only--the conclusion which any man must have drawn, hearing what -he had just heard, and knowing no more than he knew--forced -itself into his mind. A miserable, fallen woman, who had -abandoned herself in her extremity to the help of wretches -skilled in criminal concealment, who had stolen her way back to -decent society and a reputable employment by means of a false -character, and whose position now imposed on her the dreadful -necessity of perpetual secrecy and perpetual deceit in relation -to her past life--such was the aspect in which the beautiful -governess at Thorpe Ambrose now stood revealed to Allan's eyes! - -Falsely revealed, or truly revealed? Had she stolen her way back -to decent society and a reputable employment by means of a false -character? She had. Did her position impose on her the dreadful -necessity of perpetual secrecy and perpetual deceit in relation -to her past life? It did. Was she some such pitiable victim to -the treachery of a man unknown as Allan had supposed? _She was no -such pitiable victim._ The conclusion which Allan had drawn--the -conclusion literally forced into his mind by the facts before -him--was, nevertheless, the conclusion of all others that was -furthest even from touching on the truth. The true story of Miss -Gwilt's connection with the house in Pimlico and the people who -inhabited it--a house rightly described as filled with wicked -secrets, and people rightly represented as perpetually in danger -of feeling the grasp of the law--was a story which coming events -were yet to disclose: a story infinitely less revolting, and yet -infinitely more terrible, than Allan or Allan's companion had -either of them supposed. - -"I tried to spare you, Mr. Armadale," repeated Pedgift. "I was -anxious, if I could possibly avoid it, not to distress you." - -Allan looked up, and made an effort to control himself. "You have -distressed me dreadfully," he said. "You have quite crushed me -down. But it is not your fault. I ought to feel you have done me -a service; and what I ought to do I will do, when I am my own man -again. There is one thing," Allan added, after a moment's painful -consideration, "which ought to be understood between us at once. -The advice you offered me just now was very kindly meant, and it -was the best advice that could be given. I will take it -gratefully. We will never talk of this again, if you please; and -I beg and entreat you will never speak about it to any other -person. Will you promise me that?" - -Pedgift gave the promise with very evident sincerity, but without -his professional confidence of manner. The distress in Allan's -face seemed to daunt him. After a moment of very uncharacteristic -hesitation, he considerately quitted the room. - -Left by himself, Allan rang for writing materials, and took out -of his pocket-book the fatal letter of introduction to "Mrs. -Mandeville" which he had received from the major's wife. - -A man accustomed to consider consequences and to prepare himself -for action by previous thought would, in Allan's present -circumstances, have felt some difficulty as to the course which -it might now be least embarrassing and least dangerous to pursue. -Accustomed to let his impulses direct him on all other occasions, -Allan acted on impulse in the serious emergency that now -confronted him. Though his attachment to Miss Gwilt was nothing -like the deeply rooted feeling which he had himself honestly -believed it to be, she had taken no common place in his -admiration, and she filled him with no common grief when he -thought of her now. His one dominant desire, at that critical -moment in his life, was a man's merciful desire to protect from -exposure and ruin the unhappy woman who had lost her place in his -estimation, without losing her claim to the forbearance that -could spare, and to the compassion that could shield her. "I -can't go back to Thorpe Ambrose; I can't trust myself to speak to -her, or to see her again. But I can keep her miserable secret; -and I will!" With that thought in his heart, Allan set himself to -perform the first and foremost duty which now claimed him--the -duty of communicating with Mrs. Milroy. If he had possessed a -higher mental capacity and a clearer mental view, he might have -found the letter no easy one to write. As it was, he calculated -no consequences, and felt no difficulty. His instinct warned him -to withdraw at once from the position in which he now stood -toward the major's wife, and he wrote what his instinct counseled -him to write under those circumstances, as rapidly as the pen -could travel over the paper: - - -"Dunn's Hotel, Covent Garden, Tuesday. - -"DEAR MADAM--Pray excuse my not returning to Thorpe Ambrose -today, as I said I would. Unforeseen circumstances oblige me to -stop in London. I am sorry to say I have not succeeded in seeing -Mrs. Mandeville, for which reason I cannot perform your errand; -and I beg, therefore, with many apologies, to return the letter -of introduction. I hope you will allow me to conclude by saying -that I am very much obliged to you for your kindness, and that I -will not venture to trespass on it any further. - -"I remain, dear madam, yours truly, - -"ALLAN ARMADALE." - - -In those artless words, still entirely unsuspicious of the -character of the woman he had to deal with, Allan put the weapon -she wanted into Mrs. Milroy's hands. - -The letter and its inclosure once sealed up and addressed, he was -free to think of himself and his future. As he sat idly drawing -lines with his pen on the blotting-paper, the tears came into his -eyes for the first time--tears in which the woman who had -deceived him had no share. His heart had gone back to his dead -mother. "If she had been alive," he thought, "I might have -trusted _her,_ and she would have comforted me." It was useless -to dwell on it; he dashed away the tears, and turned his -thoughts, with the heart-sick resignation that we all know, to -living and present things. - -He wrote a line to Mr. Bashwood, briefly informing the deputy -steward that his absence from Thorpe Ambrose was likely to be -prolonged for some little time, and that any further instructions -which might be necessary, under those circumstances, would reach -him through Mr. Pedgift the elder. This done, and the letters -sent to the post, his thoughts were forced back once more on -himself. Again the blank future waited before him to be filled -up; and again his heart shrank from it to the refuge of the past. - -This time other images than the image of his mother filled his -mind. The one all-absorbing interest of his earlier days stirred -living and eager in him again. He thought of the sea; he thought -of his yacht lying idle in the fishing h arbor at his -west-country home. The old longing got possession of him to hear -the wash of the waves,; to see the filling of the sails; to feel -the vessel that his own hands had helped to build bounding under -him once more. He rose in his impetuous way to call for the -time-table, and to start for Somersetshire by the first train, -when the dread of the questions which Mr. Brock might ask, the -suspicion of the change which Mr. Brock might see in him, drew -him back to his chair. "I'll write," he thought, "to have the -yacht rigged and refitted, and I'll wait to go to Somersetshire -myself till Midwinter can go with me." He sighed as his memory -reverted to his absent friend. Never had he fell the void made in -his life by Midwinter's departure so painfully as he felt it now, -in the dreariest of all social solitudes--the solitude of a -stranger in London, left by himself at a hotel. - -Before long, Pedgift Junior looked in, with an apology for his -intrusion. Allan felt too lonely and too friendless not to -welcome his companion's re-appearance gratefully. "I'm not going -back to Thorpe Ambrose," he said; "I'm going to stay a little -while in London. I hope you will be able to stay with me?" To do -him justice, Pedgift was touched by the solitary position in -which the owner of the great Thorpe Ambrose estate now appeared -before him. He had never, in his relations with Allan, so -entirely forgotten his business interests as he forgot them now. - -"You are quite right, sir, to stop here; London's the place to -divert your mind," said Pedgift, cheerfully. "All business is -more or less elastic in its nature, Mr. Armadale; I'll spin _my_ -business out, and keep you company with the greatest pleasure. We -are both of us on the right side of thirty, sir; let's enjoy -ourselves. What do you say to dining early, and going to the -play, and trying the Great Exhibition in Hyde Park to-morrow -morning, after breakfast? If we only live like fighting-cocks, -and go in perpetually for public amusements, we shall arrive in -no time at the _mens sana in corpore sano_ of the ancients. Don't -be alarmed at the quotation, sir. I dabble a little in Latin -after business hours, and enlarge my sympathies by occasional -perusal of the Pagan writers, assisted by a crib. William, dinner -at five; and, as it's particularly important to-day, I'll see the -cook myself." - -The evening passed; the next day passed; Thursday morning came, -and brought with it a letter for Allan. The direction was in Mrs. -Milroy's handwriting; and the form of address adopted in the -letter warned Allan, the moment he opened it, that something had -gone wrong. - - -["Private."] - -"The Cottage, Thorpe Ambrose, Wednesday. - -"SIR--I have just received your mysterious letter. It has more -than surprised, it has really alarmed me. After having made the -friendliest advances to you on my side, I find myself suddenly -shut out from your confidence in the most unintelligible, and, I -must add, the most discourteous manner. It is quite impossible -that I can allow the matter to rest where you have left it. The -only conclusion I can draw from your letter is that my confidence -must have been abused in some way, and that you know a great deal -more than you are willing to tell me. Speaking in the interest of -my daughter's welfare, I request that you will inform me what the -circumstances are which have prevented your seeing Mrs. -Mandeville, and which have led to the withdrawal of the -assistance that you unconditionally promised me in your letter of -Monday last. - -"In my state of health, I cannot involve myself in a lengthened -correspondence. I must endeavor to anticipate any objections you -may make, and I must say all that I have to say in my present -letter. In the event (which I am most unwilling to consider -possible) of your declining to accede to the request that I have -just addressed to you, I beg to say that I shall consider it my -duty to my daughter to have this very unpleasant matter cleared -up. If I don't hear from you to my full satisfaction by return of -post, I shall be obliged to tell my husband that circumstances -have happened which justify us in immediately testing the -respectability of Miss Gwilt's reference. And when he asks me for -my authority, I will refer him to you. - -"Your obedient servant, ANNE MILROY." - - -In those terms the major's wife threw off the mask, and left her -victim to survey at his leisure the trap in which she had caught -him. Allan's belief in Mrs. Milroy's good faith had been so -implicitly sincere that her letter simply bewildered him. He saw -vaguely that he had been deceived in some way, and that Mrs. -Milroy's neighborly interest in him was not what it had looked on -the surface; and he saw no more. The threat of appealing to the -major--on which, with a woman's ignorance of the natures of men, -Mrs. Milroy had relied for producing its effect--was the only -part of the letter to which Allan reverted with any satisfaction: -it relieved instead of alarming him. "If there _is_ to be a -quarrel," he thought, "it will be a comfort, at any rate, to have -it out with a man." - -Firm in his resolution to shield the unhappy woman whose secret -he wrongly believed himself to have surprised, Allan sat down to -write his apologies to the major's wife. After setting up three -polite declarations, in close marching order, he retired from the -field. "He was extremely sorry to have offended Mrs. Milroy. He -was innocent of all intention to offend Mrs. Milroy. And he -begged to remain Mrs. Milroy's truly." Never had Allan's habitual -brevity as a letter-writer done him better service than it did -him now. With a little more skillfulness in the use of his pen, -he might have given his enemy even a stronger hold on him than -the hold she had got already. - -The interval day passed, and with the next morning's post Mrs. -Milroy's threat came realized in the shape of a letter from her -husband. The major wrote less formally than his wife had written, -but his questions were mercilessly to the point: - - -["Private."] - -"The Cottage, Thorpe Ambrose, Friday, July 11, 1851. - -"DEAR SIR--When you did me the favor of calling here a few days -since, you asked a question relating to my governess, Miss Gwilt, -which I thought rather a strange one at the time, and which -caused, as you may remember, a momentary embarrassment between -us. - -"This morning the subject of Miss Gwilt has been brought to my -notice again in a manner which has caused me the utmost -astonishment. In plain words, Mrs. Milroy has informed me that -Miss Gwilt has exposed herself to the suspicion of having -deceived us by a false reference. On my expressing the surprise -which such an extraordinary statement caused me, and requesting -that it might be instantly substantiated, I was still further -astonished by being told to apply for all particulars to no less -a person than Mr. Armadale. I have vainly requested some further -explanation from Mrs. Milroy; she persists in maintaining -silence, and in referring me to yourself. - -"Under these extraordinary circumstances, I am compelled, in -justice to all parties, to ask you certain questions which I will -endeavor to put as plainly as possible, and which I am quite -ready to believe (from my previous experience of you) that you -will answer frankly on your side. - -"I beg to inquire, in the first place, whether you admit or deny -Mrs. Milroy's assertion that you have made yourself acquainted -with particulars relating either to Miss Gwilt or to Miss Gwilt's -reference, of which I am entirely ignorant? In the second place, -if you admit the truth of Mrs. Milroy's statement, I request to -know how you became acquainted with those particulars? Thirdly, -and lastly, I beg to ask you what the particulars are? - -"If any special justification for putting these questions be -needed--which, purely as a matter of courtesy toward yourself, I -am willing to admit--I beg to remind you that the most precious -charge in my house, the charge of my daughter, is confided to -Miss Gwilt; and that Mrs. Milroy's statement places you, to all -appearance, in the position of being competent to tell me whether -that charge is properly bestowed or not. - -"I have only to add that, as nothing has thus far occurred to -justify me in entertaining the slightest suspicion either of my -governess or her reference, I shall wait before I make any appeal -to Miss Gwilt until I have received your answer--which I shall -expect by return of post. Believe me, dear sir, faithfully yours, - -"DAVID MILROY." - - -This transparently straightforward letter at once dissipated the -confusion which had thus far existed in Allan's mind. He saw the -snare in which he had been caught (though he was still -necessarily at a loss to understand why it had been set for him) -as he had not seen it yet. Mrs. Milroy had clearly placed him -between two alternatives--the alternative of putting himself in -the wrong, by declining to answer her husband's questions; or the -alternative of meanly sheltering his responsibility behind the -responsibility of a woman, by acknowledging to the major's own -face that the major's wife had deceived him. - -In this difficulty Allan acted as usual, without hesitation. His -pledge to Mrs. Milroy to consider their correspondence private -still bound him, disgracefully as she had abused it. And his -resolution was as immovable as ever to let no earthly -consideration tempt him into betraying Miss Gwilt. "I may have -behaved like a fool," he thought, "but I won't break my word; and -I won't be the means of turning that miserable woman adrift in -the world again." - -He wrote to the major as artlessly and briefly as he had written -to the major's wife. He declared his unwillingness to cause a -friend and neighbor any disappointment, if he could possibly help -it. On this occasion he had no other choice. The questions the -major asked him were questions which he could not consent to -answer. He was not very clever at explaining himself, and he -hoped he might be excused for putting it in that way, and saying -no more. - -Monday's post brought with it Major Milroy's rejoinder, and -closed the correspondence. - - -"The Cottage, Thorpe Ambrose, Sunday. - -"SIR--Your refusal to answer my questions, unaccompanied as it is -by even the shadow of an excuse for such a proceeding, can be -interpreted but in one way. Besides being an implied -acknowledgment of the correctness of Mrs. Milroy's statement, it -is also an implied reflection on my governess's character. As an -act of justice toward a lady who lives under the protection of my -roof, and who has given me no reason whatever to distrust her, I -shall now show our correspondence to Miss Gwilt; and I shall -repeat to her the conversation which I had with Mrs. Milroy on -the subject, in Mrs. Milroy's presence. - -"One word more respecting the future relations between us, and I -have done. My ideas on certain subjects are, I dare say, the -ideas of an old-fashioned man. In my time, we had a code of honor -by which we regulated our actions. According to that code, if a -man made private inquiries into a lady's affairs, without being -either her husband, her father, or her brother, he subjected -himself to the responsibility of justifying his conduct in the -estimation of others; and, if he evaded that responsibility, he -abdicated the position of a gentleman. It is quite possible that -this antiquated way of thinking exists no longer; but it is too -late for me, at my time of life, to adopt more modern views. I am -scrupulously anxious, seeing that we live in a country and a time -in which the only court of honor is a police-court, to express -myself with the utmost moderation of language upon this the last -occasion that I shall have to communicate with you. Allow me, -therefore, merely to remark that our ideas of the conduct which -is becoming in a gentleman differ seriously; and permit me on -this account to request that you will consider yourself for the -future as a stranger to my family and to myself. - -"Your obedient servant, - -"DAVID MILROY." - - -The Monday morning on which his client received the major's -letter was the blackest Monday that had yet been marked in -Pedgift's calendar. When Allan's first angry sense of the tone of -contempt in which his friend and neighbor pronounced sentence on -him had subsided, it left him sunk in a state of depression from -which no efforts made by his traveling companion could rouse him -for the rest of the day. Reverting naturally, now that his -sentence of banishment had been pronounced, to his early -intercourse with the cottage, his memory went back to Neelie, -more regretfully and more penitently than it had gone back to her -yet." If _she_ had shut the door on me, instead of her father," -was the bitter reflection with which Allan now reviewed the past, -"I shouldn't have had a word to say against it; I should have -felt it served me right." - -The next day brought another letter--a welcome letter this time, -from Mr. Brock. Allan had written to Somersetshire on the subject -of refitting the yacht some days since. The letter had found the -rector engaged, as he innocently supposed, in protecting his old -pupil against the woman whom he had watched in London, and whom -he now believed to have followed him back to his own home. Acting -under the directions sent to her, Mrs. Oldershaw's house-maid had -completed the mystification of Mr. Brock. She had tranquilized -all further anxiety on the rector's part by giving him a written -undertaking (in the character of Miss Gwilt), engaging never to -approach Mr. Armadale, either personally or by letter! Firmly -persuaded that he had won the victory at last, poor Mr. Brock -answered Allan's note in the highest spirits, expressing some -natural surprise at his leaving Thorpe Ambrose, but readily -promising that the yacht should be refitted, and offering the -hospitality of the rectory in the heartiest manner. - -This letter did wonders in raising Allan's spirits. It gave him a -new interest to look to, entirely disassociated from his past -life in Norfolk. He began to count the days that were still to -pass before the return of his absent friend. It was then Tuesday. -If Midwinter came back from his walking trip, as he had engaged -to come back, in a fortnight, Saturday would find him at Thorpe -Ambrose. A note sent to meet the traveler might bring him to -London the same night; and, if all went well, before another week -was over they might be afloat together in the yacht. - -The next day passed, to Allan's relief, without bringing any -letters. The spirits of Pedgift rose sympathetically with the -spirits of his client. Toward dinner time he reverted to the -_mens sana in corpore sano_ of the ancients, and issued his -orders to the head-waiter more royally than ever. - -Thursday came, and brought the fatal postman with more news from -Norfolk. A letter-writer now stepped on the scene who had not -appeared there yet; and the total overthrow of all Allan's plans -for a visit to Somersetshire was accomplished on the spot. - -Pedgift Junior happened that morning to be the first at the -breakfast table. When Allan came in, he relapsed into his -professional manner, and offered a letter to his patron with a -bow performed in dreary silence. - -"For me?" inquired Allan, shrinking instinctively from a new -correspondent. - -"For you, sir--from my father," replied Pedgift, "inclosed in one -to myself. Perhaps you will allow me to suggest, by way of -preparing you for--for something a little unpleasant--that we -shall want a particularly good dinner to-day; and (if they're not -performing any modern German music to-night) I think we should do -well to finish the evening melodiously at the Opera." - -"Something wrong at Thorpe Ambrose?" asked Allen. - -"Yes, Mr. Armadale; something wrong at Thorpe Ambrose." - -Allan sat down resignedly, and opened the letter. - - -["Private and Confidential."] - -"High Street Thorpe Ambrose, 17th July, 1851. - -"DEAR SIR--I cannot reconcile it with my sense of duty to your -interests to leave you any longer in ignorance of reports current -in this town and its neighborhood, which, I regret to say, are -reports affecting yourself. - -"The first intimation of anything unpleasant reached me on Monday -last. It was widely rumored in the town that something had gone -wrong at Major Milroy's with the new governess, and that Mr. -Armadale was mixed up in it. I paid no heed to this, believing it -to be one of the many trumpery pieces of scandal perpetually set -going here, and as necessary as the air they breathe to the -comfort of the inhabitants of this highly respectable place. - -"Tuesday, however, put the matter in a new light. The most -interesting particulars were circulated on the highest authority. -On Wednesday, the gentry in the neighborhood took the matter up, -and universally sanctioned the view adopted by the town. To-day -the public feeling has reached its climax, and I find myself -under the necessity of making you acquainted with what has -happened. - -"To begin at the beginning. It is asserted that a correspondence -took place last week between Major Milroy and yourself; in which -you cast a very serious suspicion on Miss Gwilt's respectability, -without defining your accusations and without (on being applied -to) producing your proofs. Upon this, the major appears to have -felt it his duty (while assuring his governess of his own firm -belief in her respectability) to inform her of what had happened, -in order that she might have no future reason to complain of his -having had any concealments from her in a matter affecting her -character. Very magnanimous on the major's part; but you will see -directly that Miss Gwilt was more magnanimous still. After -expressing her thanks in a most becoming manner, she requested -permission to withdraw herself from Major Milroy's service. - -"Various reports are in circulation as to the governess's reason -for taking this step. - -"The authorized version (as sanctioned by the resident gentry) -represents Miss Gwilt to have said that she could not -condescend--in justice to herself, and in justice to her highly -respectable reference--to defend her reputation against undefined -imputations cast on it by a comparative stranger. At the same -time it was impossible for her to pursue such a course of conduct -as this, unless she possessed a freedom of action which was quite -incompatible with her continuing to occupy the dependent position -of a governess. For that reason she felt it incumbent on her to -leave her situation. But, while doing this, she was equally -determined not to lead to any misinterpretation of her motives by -leaving the neighborhood. No matter at what inconvenience to -herself, she would remain long enough at Thorpe Ambrose to await -any more definitely expressed imputations that might be made on -her character, and to repel them publicly the instant they -assumed a tangible form. - -"Such is the position which this high-minded lady has taken up, -with an excellent effect on the public mind in these parts. It is -clearly her interest, for some reason, to leave her situation, -without leaving the neighborhood. On Monday last she established -herself in a cheap lodging on the outskirts of the town. And on -the same day she probably wrote to her reference, for yesterday -there came a letter from that lady to Major Milroy, full of -virtuous indignation, and courting the fullest inquiry. The -letter has been shown publicly, and has immensely strengthened -Miss Gwilt's position. She is now considered to be quite a -heroine. The _Thorpe Ambrose Mercury_ has got a leading article -about her, comparing her to Joan of Arc. It is considered -probable that she will be referred to in the sermon next Sunday. -We reckon five strong-minded single ladies in this -neighborhood--and all five have called on her. A testimonial was -suggested; but it has been given up at Miss Gwilt's own request, -and a general movement is now on foot to get her employment as a -teacher of music. Lastly, I have had the honor of a visit from -the lady herself, in her capacity of martyr, to tell me, in the -sweetest manner, that she doesn't blame Mr. Armadale, and that -she considers him to be an innocent instrument in the hands of -other and more designing people. I was carefully on my guard with -her; for I don't altogether believe in Miss Gwilt, and I have my -lawyer's suspicions of the motive that is at the bottom of her -present proceedings. - -"I have written thus far, my dear sir, with little hesitation or -embarrassment. But there is unfortunately a serious side to this -business as well as a ridiculous side; and I must unwillingly -come to it before I close my letter. - -"It is, I think, quite impossible that you can permit yourself to -be spoken of as you are spoken of now, without stirring -personally in the matter. You have unluckily made many enemies -here, and foremost among them is my colleague, Mr. Darch. He has -been showing everywhere a somewhat rashly expressed letter you -wrote to him on the subject of letting the cottage to Major -Milroy instead of to himself, and it has helped to exasperate the -feeling against you. It is roundly stated in so many words that -you have been prying into Miss Gwilt's family affairs, with the -most dishonorable motives; that you have tried, for a profligate -purpose of your own, to damage her reputation, and to deprive her -of the protection of Major Milroy's roof; and that, after having -been asked to substantiate by proof the suspicions that you have -cast on the reputation of a defenseless woman, you have -maintained a silence which condemns you in the estimation of all -honorable men. - -"I hope it is quite unnecessary for me to say that I don't attach -the smallest particle of credit to these infamous reports. But -they are too widely spread and too widely believed to be treated -with contempt. I strongly urge you to return at once to this -place, and to take the necessary measures for defending your -character, in concert with me, as your legal adviser. I have -formed, since my interview with Miss Gwilt, a very strong opinion -of my own on the subject of that lady which it is not necessary -to commit to paper. Suffice it to say here that I shall have a -means to propose to you for silencing the slanderous tongues of -your neighbors, on the success of which I stake my professional -reputation, if you will only back me by your presence and -authority. - -"It may, perhaps, help to show you the necessity there is for -your return, if I mention one other assertion respecting -yourself, which is in everybody's mouth. Your absence is, I -regret to tell you, attributed to the meanest of all motives. It -is said that you are remaining in London because you are afraid -to show your face at Thorpe Ambrose. - -"Believe me, dear sir, your faithful servant, - -"A. PEDGIFT, Sen." - - -Allan was of an age to feel the sting contained in the last -sentence of his lawyer's letter. He started to his feet in a -paroxysm of indignation, which revealed his character to Pedgift -Junior in an entirely new light. - -"Where's the time-table?" cried Allan. "I must go back to Thorpe -Ambrose by the next train! If it doesn't start directly, I'll -have a special engine. I must and will go back instantly, and I -don't care two straws for the expense!" - -"Suppose we telegraph to my father, sir?" suggested the judicious -Pedgift. "It's the quickest way of expressing your feelings, and -the cheapest." - -"So it is," said Allan. "Thank you for reminding me of it. -Telegraph to them! Tell your father to give every man in Thorpe -Ambrose the lie direct, in my name. Put it in capital letters, -Pedgift--put it in capital letters!" - -Pedgift smiled and shook his head. If he was acquainted with no -other variety of human nature, he thoroughly knew the variety -that exists in country towns. - -"It won't have the least effect on them, Mr. Armadale," he -remarked quietly. "They'll only go on lying harder than ever. If -you want to upset the whole town, one line will do it. With five -shillings' worth of human labor and electric fluid, sir (I dabble -a little in science after business hours), we'll explode a -bombshell in Thorpe Ambrose!" He produced the bombshell on a slip -of paper as he spoke: "A. Pedgift, Junior, to A. Pedgift, -Senior.--Spread it all over the place that Mr. Armadale is coming -down by the next train." - -"More words!" suggested Allan, looking over his shoulder. "Make -it stronger." - -"Leave my father to make it stronger, sir," returned the wary -Pedgift. "My father is on the spot, and his command of language -is something quite extraordinary." He rang the bell, and -dispatched the telegram. - -Now that something had been done, Allan subsided gradually into a -state of composure. He l ooked back again at Mr. Pedgift's -letter, and then handed it to Mr. Pedgift's son. - -"Can you guess your father's plan for setting me right in the -neighborhood?" he asked. - -Pedgift the younger shook his wise head. "His plan appears to be -connected in some way, sir, with his opinion of Miss Gwilt." - -"I wonder what he thinks of her?" said Allan. - -"I shouldn't be surprised, Mr. Armadale," returned Pedgift -Junior, "if his opinion staggers you a little, when you come to -hear it. My father has had a large legal experience of the shady -side of the sex, and he learned his profession at the Old -Bailey." - -Allan made no further inquiries. He seemed to shrink from -pursuing the subject, after having started it himself. "Let's be -doing something to kill the time," he said. "Let's pack up and -pay the bill." - -They packed up and paid the bill. The hour came, and the train -left for Norfolk at last. - -While the travelers were on their way back, a somewhat longer -telegraphic message than Allan's was flashing its way past them -along the wires, in the reverse direction--from Thorpe Ambrose to -London. The message was in cipher, and, the signs being -interpreted, it ran thus: "From Lydia Gwilt to Maria -Oldershaw.--Good news! He is coming back. I mean to have an -interview with him. Everything looks well. Now I have left the -cottage, I have no women's prying eyes to dread, and I can come -and go as I please. Mr. Midwinter is luckily out of the way. I -don't despair of becoming Mrs. Armadale yet. Whatever happens, -depend on my keeping away from London until I am certain of not -taking any spies after me to your place. I am in no hurry to -leave Thorpe Ambrose. I mean to be even with Miss Milroy first." - -Shortly after that message was received in London, Allan was back -again in his own house. - -It was evening--Pedgift Junior had just left him--and Pedgift -Senior was expected to call on business in half an hour's time. - -CHAPTER V. - -PEDGIFT'S REMEDY. - -AFTER waiting to hold a preliminary consultation with his son, -Mr. Pedgift the elder set forth alone for his interview with -Allan at the great house. - -Allowing for the difference in their ages, the son was, in this -instance, so accurately the reflection of the father, that an -acquaintance with either of the two Pedgifts was almost -equivalent to an acquaintance with both. Add some little height -and size to the figure of Pedgift Junior, give more breadth and -boldness to his humor, and some additional solidity and composure -to his confidence in himself, and the presence and character of -Pedgift Senior stood, for all general purposes, revealed before -you. - -The lawyer's conveyance to Thorpe Ambrose was his own smart gig, -drawn by his famous fast-trotting mare. It was his habit to drive -himself; and it was one among the trifling external peculiarities -in which he and his son differed a little, to affect something of -the sporting character in his dress. The drab trousers of Pedgift -the elder fitted close to his legs; his boots, in dry weather and -wet alike, were equally thick in the sole; his coat pockets -overlapped his hips, and his favorite summer cravat was of light -spotted muslin, tied in the neatest and smallest of bows. He used -tobacco like his son, but in a different form. While the younger -man smoked, the elder took snuff copiously; and it was noticed -among his intimates that he always held his "pinch" in a state of -suspense between his box and his nose when he was going to clinch -a good bargain or to say a good thing. The art of diplomacy -enters largely into the practice of all successful men in the -lower branch of the law. Mr. Pedgift's form of diplomatic -practice had been the same throughout his life, on every occasion -when he found his arts of persuasion required at an interview -with another man. He invariably kept his strongest argument, or -his boldest proposal, to the last, and invariably remembered it -at the door (after previously taking his leave), as if it was a -purely accidental consideration which had that instant occurred -to him. Jocular friends, acquainted by previous experience with -this form of proceeding, had given it the name of "Pedgift's -postscript." There were few people in Thorpe Ambrose who did not -know what it meant when the lawyer suddenly checked his exit at -the opened door; came back softly to his chair, with his pinch of -snuff suspended between his box and his nose; said, "By-the-by, -there's a point occurs to me;" and settled the question off-hand, -after having given it up in despair not a minute before. - -This was the man whom the march of events at Thorpe Ambrose had -now thrust capriciously into a foremost place. This was the one -friend at hand to whom Allan in his social isolation could turn -for counsel in the hour of need. - - -"Good-evening, Mr. Armadale. Many thanks for your prompt -attention to my very disagreeable letter," said Pedgift Senior, -opening the conversation cheerfully the moment he entered his -client's house. "I hope you understand, sir, that I had really no -choice under the circumstances but to write as I did?" - -"I have very few friends, Mr. Pedgift," returned Allan, simply. -"And I am sure you are one of the few." - -"Much obliged, Mr. Armadale. I have always tried to deserve your -good opinion, and I mean, if I can, to deserve it now. You found -yourself comfortable, I hope, sir, at the hotel in London? We -call it Our hotel. Some rare old wine in the cellar, which I -should have introduced to your notice if I had had the honor of -being with you. My son unfortunately knows nothing about wine." - -Allan felt his false position in the neighborhood far too acutely -to be capable of talking of anything but the main business of the -evening His lawyer's politely roundabout method of approaching -the painful subject to be discussed between them rather irritated -than composed him. He came at once to the point, in his own -bluntly straightforward way. - -"The hotel was very comfortable, Mr. Pedgift, and your son was -very kind to me. But we are not in London now; and I want to talk -to you about how I am to meet the lies that are being told of me -in this place. Only point me out any one man," cried Allan, with -a rising voice and a mounting color--"any one man who says I am -afraid to show my face in the neighborhood, and I'll horsewhip -him publicly before another day is over his head!" - -Pedgift Senior helped himself to a pinch of snuff, and held it -calmly in suspense midway between his box and his nose. - -"You can horsewhip a man, sir; but you can't horsewhip a -neighborhood," said the lawyer, in his politely epigrammatic -manner. "We will fight our battle, if you please, without -borrowing our weapons of the coachman yet a while, at any rate." - -"But how are we to begin?" asked Allan, impatiently. "How am I to -contradict the infamous things they say of me?" - -"There are two ways of stepping out of your present awkward -position, sir--a short way, and a long way," replied Pedgift -Senior. "The short way (which is always the best) has occurred to -me since I have heard of your proceedings in London from my son. -I understand that you permitted him, after you received my -letter, to take me into your confidence. I have drawn various -conclusions from what he has told me, which I may find it -necessary to trouble you with presently. In the meantime I should -be glad to know under what circumstances you went to London to -make these unfortunate inquiries about Miss Gwilt? Was it your -own notion to pay that visit to Mrs. Mandeville? or were you -acting under the influence of some other person?" - -Allan hesitated. "I can't honestly tell you it was my own -notion," he replied, and said no more. - -"I thought as much!" remarked Pedgift Senior, in high triumph. -"The short way out of our present difficulty, Mr. Armadale, lies -straight through that other person, under whose influence you -acted. That other person must be presented forthwith to public -notice, and must stand in that other person's proper place. The -name, if you please, sir, to begin with--we'll come to the -circumstances directly." - -"I am sorry to say, Mr. Pedgift, that we must try the longest -way, if you have no objection," replied Allan, quietly. "The -short way happens to b e a way I can't take on this occasion." - -The men who rise in the law are the men who decline to take No -for an answer. Mr. Pedgift the elder had risen in the law; and -Mr. Pedgift the elder now declined to take No for an answer. But -all pertinacity--even professional pertinacity included--sooner -or later finds its limits; and the lawyer, doubly fortified as he -was by long experience and copious pinches of snuff, found his -limits at the very outset of the interview. It was impossible -that Allan could respect the confidence which Mrs. Milroy had -treacherously affected to place in him. But he had an honest -man's regard for his own pledged word--the regard which looks -straightforward at the fact, and which never glances sidelong at -the circumstances--and the utmost persistency of Pedgift Senior -failed to move him a hairbreadth from the position which he had -taken up. "No" is the strongest word in the English language, in -the mouth of any man who has the courage to repeat it often -enough, and Allan had the courage to repeat it often enough on -this occasion. - -"Very good, sir," said the lawyer, accepting his defeat without -the slightest loss of temper. "The choice rests with you, and you -have chosen. We will go the long way. It starts (allow me to -inform you) from my office; and it leads (as I strongly suspect) -through a very miry road to--Miss Gwilt." - -Allan looked at his legal adviser in speechless astonishment. - -"If you won't expose the person who is responsible in the first -instance, sir, for the inquiries to which you unfortunately lent -yourself," proceeded Mr. Pedgift the elder, "the only other -alternative, in your present position, is to justify the -inquiries themselves." - -"And how is that to be done?" inquired Allan. - -"By proving to the whole neighborhood, Mr. Armadale, what I -firmly believe to be the truth--that the pet object of the public -protection is an adventuress of the worst class; an undeniably -worthless and dangerous woman. In plainer English still, sir, by -employing time enough and money enough to discover the truth -about Miss Gwilt." - - -Before Allan could say a word in answer, there was an -interruption at the door. After the usual preliminary knock, one -of the servants came in. - -"I told you I was not to be interrupted," said Allan, irritably. -"Good heavens! am I never to have done with them? Another -letter!" - -"Yes, sir," said the man, holding it out. "And," he added, -speaking words of evil omen in his master's ears, "the person -waits for an answer." - -Allan looked at the address of the letter with a natural -expectation of encountering the handwriting of the major's wife. -The anticipation was not realized. His correspondent was plainly -a lady, but the lady was not Mrs. Milroy. - -"Who can it be?" he said, looking mechanically at Pedgift Senior -as he opened the envelope. - -Pedgift Senior gently tapped his snuff-box, and said, without a -moment's hesitation, "Miss Gwilt." - -Allan opened the letter. The first two words in it were the echo -of the two words the lawyer had just pronounced. It _was_ Miss -Gwilt! - -Once more, Allan looked at his legal adviser in speechless -astonishment. - -"I have known a good many of them in my time, sir," explained -Pedgift Senior, with a modesty equally rare and becoming in a man -of his age. "Not as handsome as Miss Gwilt, I admit. But quite as -bad, I dare say. Read your letter, Mr. Armadale--read your -letter." - -Allan read these lines: - - -"Miss Gwilt presents her compliments to Mr. Armadale and begs to -know if it will be convenient to him to favor her with an -interview, either this evening or to-morrow morning. Miss Gwilt -offers no apology for making her present request. She believes -Mr. Armadale will grant it as an act of justice toward a -friendless woman whom he has been innocently the means of -injuring, and who is earnestly desirous to set herself right in -his estimation." - - -Allan handed the letter to his lawyer in silent perplexity and -distress. - -The face of Mr. Pedgift the elder expressed but one feeling when -he had read the letter in his turn and had handed it back--a -feeling of profound admiration. "What a lawyer she would have -made," he exclaimed, fervently, "if she had only been a man!" - -"I can't treat this as lightly as you do, Mr. Pedgift," said -Allan. "It's dreadfully distressing to me. I was so fond of her," -he added, in a lower tone--"I was so fond of her once." - -Mr. Pedgift Senior suddenly became serious on his side. - -"Do you mean to say, sir, that you actually contemplate seeing -Miss Gwilt?" he asked, with an expression of genuine dismay. - -"I can't treat her cruelly," returned Allan. "I have been the -means of injuring her--without intending it, God knows! I can't -treat her cruelly after that! " - -"Mr. Armadale," said the lawyer, "you did me the honor, a little -while since, to say that you considered me your friend. May I -presume on that position to ask you a question or two, before you -go straight to your own ruin?" - -"Any questions you like," said Allan, looking back at the -letter--the only letter he had ever received from Miss Gwilt. - -"You have had one trap set for you already, sir, and you have -fallen into it. Do you want to fall into another?" - -"You know the answer to that question, Mr. Pedgift, as well as I -do." - -"I'll try again, Mr. Armadale; we lawyers are not easily -discouraged. Do you think that any statement Miss Gwilt might -make to you, if you do see her, would be a statement to be relied -on, after what you and my son discovered in London?" - -"She might explain what we discovered in London," suggested -Allan, still looking at the writing, and thinking of the hand -that had traced it. - -"_Might_ explain it? My dear sir, she is quite certain to explain -it! I will do her justice: I believe she would make out a case -without a single flaw in it from beginning to end." - -That last answer forced Allan's attention away from the letter. -The lawyer's pitiless common sense showed him no mercy. - -"If you see that woman again, sir," proceeded Pedgift Senior, -"you will commit the rashest act of folly I ever heard of in all -my experience. She can have but one object in coming here--to -practice on your weakness for her. Nobody can say into what false -step she may not lead you, if you once give her the opportunity. -You admit yourself that you have been fond of her; your -attentions to her have been the subject of general remark; if you -haven't actually offered her the chance of becoming Mrs. -Armadale, you have done the next thing to it; and knowing all -this, you propose to see her, and to let her work on you with her -devilish beauty and her devilish cleverness, in the character of -your interesting victim! You, who are one of the best matches in -England! You, who are the natural prey of all the hungry single -women in the community! I never heard the like of it; I never, in -all my professional experience, heard the like of it! If you must -positively put yourself in a dangerous position, Mr. Armadale," -concluded Pedgift the elder, with the everlasting pinch of snuff -held in suspense between his box and his nose, "there's a -wild-beast show coming to our town next week. Let in the tigress, -sir; don't let in Miss Gwilt!" - -For the third time Allan looked at his lawyer. And for the third -time his lawyer looked back at him quite unabashed. - -"You seem to have a very bad opinion of Miss Gwilt," said Allan. - -"The worst possible opinion, Mr. Armadale," retorted Pedgift -Senior, coolly. "We will return to that when we have sent the -lady's messenger about his business. Will you take my advice? -Will you decline to see her?" - -"I would willingly decline--it would be so dreadfully distressing -to both of us," said Allan. "I would willingly decline, if I only -knew how." - -"Bless my soul, Mr. Armadale, it's easy enough! Don't commit -_you_ yourself in writing. Send out to the messenger, and say -there's no answer." - -The short course thus suggested was a course which Allan -positively declined to take. "It's treating her brutally," he -said; "I can't and won't do it." - -Once more the pertinacity of Pedgift the elder found its limits, -and once more that wise man yielded gracefully to a compromise. -On receiving his client's promise not to s ee Miss Gwilt, he -consented to Allan's committing himself in writing under his -lawyer's dictation. The letter thus produced was modeled in -Allan's own style; it began and ended in one sentence. "Mr. -Armadale presents his compliments to Miss Gwilt, and regrets that -he cannot have the pleasure of seeing her at Thorpe Ambrose." -Allan had pleaded hard for a second sentence, explaining that he -only declined Miss Gwilt's request from a conviction that an -interview would be needlessly distressing on both sides. But his -legal adviser firmly rejected the proposed addition to the -letter. "When you say No to a woman, sir," remarked Pedgift -Senior, "always say it in one word. If you give her your reasons, -she invariably believes that you mean Yes." - -Producing that little gem of wisdom from the rich mine of his -professional experience, Mr. Pedgift the elder sent out the -answer to Miss Gwilt's messenger, and recommended the servant to -"see the fellow, whoever he was, well clear of the house." - -"Now, sir," said the lawyer, "we will come back, if you like, to -my opinion of Miss Gwilt. It doesn't it all agree with yours, I'm -afraid. You think her an object of pity--quite natural at your -age. I think her an object for the inside of a prison--quite -natural at mine. You shall hear the grounds on which I have -formed my opinion directly. Let me show you that I am in earnest -by putting the opinion itself, in the first place, to a practical -test. Do you think Miss Gwilt is likely to persist in paying you -a visit, Mr. Armadale, after the answer you have just sent to -her?" - -"Quite impossible!" cried Allan, warmly. "Miss Gwilt is a lady; -after the letter I have sent to her, she will never come near me -again." - -"There we join issue, sir," cried Pedgift Senior. "I say she will -snap her fingers at your letter (which was one of the reasons why -I objected to your writing it). I say, she is in all probability -waiting her messenger's return, in or near your grounds at this -moment. I say, she will try to force her way in here, before -four-and-twenty hours more are over your head. Egad, sir!" cried -Mr. Pedgift, looking at his watch, "it's only seven o'clock now. -She's bold enough and clever enough to catch you unawares this -very evening. Permit me to ring for the servant--permit me to -request that you will give him orders immediately to say you are -not at home. You needn't hesitate, Mr. Armadale! If you're right -about Miss Gwilt, it's a mere formality. If I'm right, it's a -wise precaution. Back your opinion, sir," said Mr. Pedgift, -ringing the bell; "I back mine!" - -Allan was sufficiently nettled when the bell rang to feel ready -to give the order. But when the servant came in, past -remembrances got the better of him, and the words stuck in his -throat. "You give the order," he said to Mr. Pedgift, and walked -away abruptly to the window. "You're a good fellow!" thought the -old lawyer, looking after him, and penetrating his motive on the -instant. "The claws of that she-devil shan't scratch you if I can -help it." - -The servant waited inexorably for his orders. - -"If Miss Gwilt calls here, either this evening, or at any other -time," said Pedgift Senior, "Mr. Armadale is not at home. Wait! -If she asks when Mr. Armadale will be back, you don't know. Wait! -If she proposes coming in and sitting down, you have a general -order that nobody is to come in and sit down unless they have a -previous appointment with Mr. Armadale. Come!" cried old Pedgift, -rubbing his hands cheerfully when the servant had left the room, -"I've stopped her out now, at any rate! The orders are all given, -Mr. Armadale. We may go on with our conversation." - -Allan came back from the window. "The conversation is not a very -pleasant one," he said. "No offense to you, but I wish it was -over." - -"We will get it over as soon as possible, sir," said Pedgift -Senior, still persisting, as only lawyers and women _can_ -persist, in forcing his way little by little nearer and nearer to -his own object. "Let us go back, if you please, to the practical -suggestion which I offered to you when the servant came in with -Miss Gwilt's note. There is, I repeat, only one way left for you, -Mr. Armadale, out of your present awkward position. You must -pursue your inquiries about this woman to an end--on the chance -(which I consider next to a certainty) that the end will justify -you in the estimation of the neighborhood." - -"I wish to God I had never made any inquiries at all!" said -Allan. "Nothing will induce me, Mr. Pedgift, to make any more." - -"Why?" asked the lawyer. - -"Can you ask me why," retorted Allan, hotly, "after your son has -told you what we found out in London? Even if I had less cause to -be--to be sorry for Miss Gwilt than I have; even if it was some -other woman, do you think I would inquire any further into the -secret of a poor betrayed creature--much less expose it to the -neighborhood? I should think myself as great a scoundrel as the -man who has cast her out helpless on the world, if I did anything -of the kind. I wonder you can ask me the question--upon my soul, -I wonder you can ask me the question!" - -"Give me your hand, Mr. Armadale!" cried Pedgift Senior, warmly; -"I honor you for being so angry with me. The neighborhood may say -what it pleases; you're a gentleman, sir, in the best sense of -the word. Now," pursued the lawyer, dropping Allan's hand, and -lapsing back instantly from sentiment to business, "just hear -what I have got to say in my own defense. Suppose Miss Gwilt's -real position happens to be nothing like what you are generously -determined to believe it to be?" - -"We have no reason to suppose that," said Allan, resolutely. - -"Such is your opinion, sir," persisted Pedgift. "Mine, founded on -what is publicly known of Miss Gwilt's proceedings here, and on -what I have seen of Miss Gwilt herself, is that she is as far as -I am from being the sentimental victim you are inclined to make -her out. Gently, Mr. Armadale! remember that I have put my -opinion to a practical test, and wait to condemn it off-hand -until events have justified you. Let me put my points, sir--make -allowances for me as a lawyer--and let me put my points. You and -my son are young men; and I don't deny that the circumstances, on -the surface, appear to justify the interpretation which, as young -men, you have placed on them. I am an old man--I know that -circumstances are not always to be taken as they appear on the -surface--and I possess the great advantage, in the present case, -of having had years of professional experience among some of the -wickedest women who ever walked this earth." - -Allan opened his lips to protest, and checked himself, in despair -of producing the slightest effect. Pedgift Senior bowed in polite -acknowledgment of his client's self-restraint, and took instant -advantage of it to go on. - -"All Miss Gwilt's proceedings," he resumed, "since your -unfortunate correspondence with the major show me that she is an -old hand at deceit. The moment she is threatened with -exposure--exposure of some kind, there can be no doubt, after -what you discovered in London--she turns your honorable silence -to the best possible account, and leaves the major's service in -the character of a martyr. Once out of the house, what does she -do next? She boldly stops in the neighborhood, and serves three -excellent purposes by doing so. In the first place, she shows -everybody that she is not afraid of facing another attack on her -reputation. In the second place, she is close at hand to twist -you round her little finger, and to become Mrs. Armadale in spite -of circumstances, if you (and I) allow her the opportunity. In -the third place, if you (and I) are wise enough to distrust her, -she is equally wise on her side, and doesn't give us the first -great chance of following her to London, and associating her with -her accomplices. Is this the conduct of an unhappy woman who has -lost her character in a moment of weakness, and who has been -driven unwillingly into a deception to get it back again?" - -"You put it cleverly," said Allan, answering with marked -reluctance; "I can't deny that you put it cleverly." - -"Your own common sense, Mr. Armadale, is beginning to tell you -that I put it just ly," said Pedgift Senior. "I don't presume to -say yet what this woman's connection may be with those people at -Pimlico. All I assert is that it is not the connection you -suppose. Having stated the facts so far, I have only to add my -own personal impression of Miss Gwilt. I won't shock you, if I -can help it; I'll try if I can't put it cleverly again. She came -to my office (as I told you in my letter), no doubt to make -friends with your lawyer, if she could; she came to tell me, in -the most forgiving and Christian manner, that she didn't blame -_you._" - -"Do you ever believe in anybody, Mr. Pedgift?" interposed Allan. - -"Sometimes, Mr. Armadale," returned Pedgift the elder, as -unabashed as ever. "I believe as often as a lawyer can. To -proceed, sir. When I was in the criminal branch of practice, it -fell to my lot to take instructions for the defense of women -committed for trial from the women's own lips. Whatever other -difference there might be among them, I got, in time, to notice, -among those who were particularly wicked and unquestionably -guilty, one point in which they all resembled each other. Tall -and short, old and young, handsome and ugly, they all had a -secret self-possession that nothing could shake. On the surface -they were as different as possible. Some of them were in a state -of indignation; some of them were drowned in tears; some of them -were full of pious confidence; and some of them were resolved to -commit suicide before the night was out. But only put your finger -suddenly on the weak point in the story told by any one of them, -and there was an end of her rage, or her tears, or her piety, or -her despair; and out came the genuine woman, in full possession -of all her resources with a neat little lie that exactly suited -the circumstances of the case. Miss Gwilt was in tears, -sir--becoming tears that didn't make her nose red--and I put my -finger suddenly on the weak point in _her_ story. Down dropped -her pathetic pocket-handkerchief from her beautiful blue eyes, -and out came the genuine woman with the neat little lie that -exactly suited the circumstances! I felt twenty years younger, -Mr. Armadale, on the spot. I declare I thought I was in Newgate -again, with my note-book in my hand, taking my instructions for -the defense!" - -"The next thing you'll say, Mr. Pedgift," cried Allan, angrily, -"is that Miss Gwilt has been in prison!" - -Pedgift Senior calmly rapped his snuff-box, and had his answer -ready at a moment's notice. - -"She may have richly deserved to see the inside of a prison, Mr. -Armadale; but, in the age we live in, that is one excellent -reason for her never having been near any place of the kind. A -prison, in the present tender state of public feeling, for a -charming woman like Miss Gwilt! My dear sir, if she had attempted -to murder you or me, and if an inhuman judge and jury had decided -on sending her to a prison, the first object of modern society -would be to prevent her going into it; and, if that couldn't be -done, the next object would be to let her out again as soon as -possible. Read your newspaper, Mr. Armadale, and you'll find we -live in piping times for the black sheep of the community--if -they are only black enough. I insist on asserting, sir, that we -have got one of the blackest of the lot to deal with in this -case. I insist on asserting that you have had the rare luck, in -these unfortunate inquiries, to pitch on a woman who happens to -be a fit object for inquiry, in the interests of the public -protection. Differ with me as strongly as you please, but don't -make up your mind finally about Miss Gwilt until events have put -those two opposite opinions of ours to the test that I have -proposed. A fairer test there can't be. I agree with you that no -lady worthy of the name could attempt to force her way in here, -after receiving your letter. But I deny that Miss Gwilt is worthy -of the name; and I say she will try to force her way in here in -spite of you." - -"And I say she won't!" retorted Allan, firmly. - -Pedgift Senior leaned back in his chair and smiled. There was a -momentary silence, and in that silence the door-bell rang. - -The lawyer and the client both looked expectantly in the -direction of the hall. - -"No," cried Allan, more angrily than ever. - -"Yes!" cried Pedgift Senior, contradicting him with the utmost -politeness. - -They waited the event. The opening of the house door was audible, -but the room was too far from it for the sound of voices to reach -the ear as well. After a long interval of expectation, the -closing of the door was heard at last. Allan rose impetuously and -rang the bell. Mr. Pedgift the elder sat sublimely calm, and -enjoyed, with a gentle zest, the largest pinch of snuff he had -taken yet. - -"Anybody for me?" asked Allan, when the servant came in. - -The man looked at Pedgift Senior, with an expression of -unutterable reverence, and answered, "Miss Gwilt." - -"I don't want to crow over you, sir," said Mr. Pedgift the elder, -when the servant had withdrawn. "But what do you think of Miss -Gwilt _ now?_" - -Allan shook his head in silent discouragement and distress. - -"Time is of some importance, Mr. Armadale. After what has just -happened, do you still object to taking the course I have had the -honor of suggesting to you?" - -"I can't, Mr. Pedgift," said Allan. "I can't be the means of -disgracing her in the neighborhood. I would rather be disgraced -myself--as I am." - -"Let me put it in another way, sir. Excuse my persisting. You -have been very kind to me and my family; and I have a personal -interest, as well as a professional interest, in you. If you -can't prevail on yourself to show this woman's character in its -true light, will you take common precautions to prevent her doing -any more harm? Will you consent to having her privately watched -as long as she remains in this neighborhood?" - -For the second time Allan shook his head. - -"Is that your final resolution, sir?" - -"It is, Mr. Pedgift; but I am much obliged to you for your -advice, all the same." - -Pedgift Senior rose in a state of gentle resignation, and took up -his hat "Good-evening, sir," he said, and made sorrowfully for -the door. Allan rose on his side, innocently supposing that the -interview was at an end. Persons better acquainted with the -diplomatic habits of his legal adviser would have recommended him -to keep his seat. The time was ripe for "Pedgift's postscript," -and the lawyer's indicative snuff-box was at that moment in one -of his hands, as he opened the door with the other. - -"Good-evening," said Allan. - -Pedgift Senior opened the door, stopped, considered, closed the -door again, came back mysteriously with his pinch of snuff in -suspense between his box and his nose, and repeating his -invariable formula, "By-the-by, there's a point occurs to me," -quietly resumed possession of his empty chair - -Allan, wondering, took the seat, in his turn, which he had just -left. Lawyer and client looked at each other once more, and the -inexhaustible interview began again. - -CHAPTER VI. - -PEDGIFT'S POSTSCRIPT. - -"I MENTIONED that a point had occurred to me, sir," remarked -Pedgift Senior. - -"You did," said Allan. - -"Would you like to hear what it is, Mr. Armadale?" - -"If you please," said Allan. - -"With all my heart, sir! This is the point. I attach considerable -importance--if nothing else can be done--to having Miss Gwilt -privately looked after, as long as she stops at Thorpe Ambrose. -It struck me just now at the door, Mr. Armadale, that what you -are not willing to do for your own security, you might be willing -to do for the security of another person." - -"What other person?" inquired Allan. - -"A young lady who is a near neighbor of yours, sir. Shall I -mention the name in confidence? Miss Milroy." - -Allan started, and changed color. - -"Miss Milroy!" he repeated. "Can _she_ be concerned in this -miserable business? I hope not, Mr. Pedgift; I sincerely hope -not." - -"I paid a visit, in your interests, sir, at the cottage this -morning," proceeded Pedgift Senior. "You shall hear what happened -there, and judge for yourself. Major Milroy has been expressing -his opinion of you pretty freely; and I thought it highly -desirable to give him a caution. It's always the way with those -quiet addle-headed me n: when they do once wake up, there's no -reasoning with their obstinacy, and no quieting their violence. -Well, sir, this morning I went to the cottage. The major and Miss -Neelie were both in the parlor--miss not looking so pretty as -usual; pale, I thought, pale, and worn, and anxious. Up jumps the -addle-headed major (I wouldn't give _that,_ Mr. Armadale, for the -brains of a man who can occupy himself for half his lifetime in -making a clock!)--up jumps the addle-headed major, in the -loftiest manner, and actually tries to look me down. Ha! ha! the -idea of anybody looking _me_ down, at my time of life. I behaved -like a Christian; I nodded kindly to old What's-o'clock 'Fine -morning, major,' says I. 'Have you any business with me?' says -he. 'Just a word,' says I. Miss Neelie, like the sensible girl -she is, gets up to leave the room; and what does her ridiculous -father do? He stops her. 'You needn't go, my dear, I have nothing -to say to Mr. Pedgift,' says this old military idiot, and turns -my way, and tries to look me down again. 'You are Mr. Armadale's -lawyer,' says he; 'if you come on any business relating to Mr. -Armadale, I refer you to my solicitor.' (His solicitor is Darch; -and Darch has had enough of _me_ in business, I can tell you!) -'My errand here, major, does certainly relate to Mr. Armadale,' -says I; 'but it doesn't concern your lawyer--at any rate, just -yet. I wish to caution you to suspend your opinion of my client, -or, if you won't do that, to be careful how you express it in -public. I warn you that our turn is to come, and that you are not -at the end yet of this scandal about Miss Gwilt.' It struck me as -likely that he would lose his temper when he found himself -tackled in that way, and he amply fulfilled my expectations. He -was quite violent in his language--the poor weak -creature--actually violent with _me!_ I behaved like a Christian -again; I nodded kindly, and wished him good-morning. When I -looked round to wish Miss Neelie good-morning, too, she was gone. -You seem restless, Mr. Armadale," remarked Pedgift Senior, as -Allan, feeling the sting of old recollections, suddenly started -out of his chair, and began pacing up and down the room. "I won't -try your patience much longer, sir; I am coming to the point." - -"I beg your pardon, Mr. Pedgift," said Allan, returning to his -seat, and trying to look composedly at the lawyer through the -intervening image of Neelie which the lawyer had called up. - -"Well, sir, I left the cottage," resumed Pedgift Senior. "Just as -I turned the corner from the garden into the park, whom should I -stumble on but Miss Neelie herself, evidently on the lookout for -me. 'I want to speak to you for one moment, Mr. Pedgift!' says -she. 'Does Mr. Armadale think _me_ mixed up in this matter?' She -was violently agitated--tears in her eyes, sir, of the sort which -my legal experience has _not_ accustomed me to see. I quite -forgot myself; I actually gave her my arm, and led her away -gently among the trees. (A nice position to find me in, if any of -the scandal-mongers of the town had happened to be walking in -that direction!) 'My dear Miss Milroy,' says I, 'why should Mr. -Armadale think _you_ mixed up in it?' " - -"You ought to have told her at once that I thought nothing of the -kind!" exclaimed Allan, indignantly. "Why did you leave her a -moment in doubt about it?" - -"Because I am a lawyer, Mr. Armadale," rejoined Pedgift Senior, -dryly. "Even in moments of sentiment, under convenient trees, -with a pretty girl on my arm, I can't entirely divest myself of -my professional caution. Don't look distressed, sir, pray! I set -things right in due course of time. Before I left Miss Milroy, I -told her, in the plainest terms, no such idea had ever entered -your head." - -"Did she seem relieved?" asked Allan. - -"She was able to dispense with the use of my arm, sir," replied -old Pedgift, as dryly as ever, "and to pledge me to inviolable -secrecy on the subject of our interview. She was particularly -desirous that _you_ should hear nothing about it. If you are at -all anxious on your side to know why I am now betraying her -confidence, I beg to inform you that her confidence related to no -less a person than the lady who favored you with a call just -now--Miss Gwilt." - -Allan, who had been once more restlessly pacing the room, -stopped, and returned to his chair. - -"Is this serious?" he asked. - -"Most serious, sir," returned Pedgift Senior. "I am betraying -Miss Neelie's secret, in Miss Neelie's own interest. Let us go -back to that cautious question I put to her. She found some -little difficulty in answering it, for the reply involved her in -a narrative of the parting interview between her governess and -herself. This is the substance of it. The two were alone when -Miss Gwilt took leave of her pupil; and the words she used (as -reported to me by Miss Neelie) were these. She said, 'Your mother -has declined to allow me to take leave of her. Do you decline -too?' Miss Neelie's answer was a remarkably sensible one for a -girl of her age. 'We have not been good friends,' she said, 'and -I believe we are equally glad to part with each other. But I have -no wish to decline taking leave of you.' Saying that, she held -out her hand. Miss Gwilt stood looking at her steadily, without -taking it, and addressed her in these words: '_You are not Mrs. -Armadale yet._' Gently, sir! Keep your temper. It's not at all -wonderful that a woman, conscious of having her own mercenary -designs on you, should attribute similar designs to a young lady -who happens to be your near neighbor. Let me go on. Miss Neelie, -by her own confession (and quite naturally, I think), was -excessively indignant. She owns to having answered, 'You -shameless creature, how dare you say that to me!' Miss Gwilt's -rejoinder was rather a remarkable one--the anger, on her side, -appears to have been of the cool, still, venomous kind. 'Nobody -ever yet injured me, Miss Milroy,' she said, 'without sooner or -later bitterly repenting it. _You_ will bitterly repent it.' She -stood looking at her pupil for a moment in dead silence, and then -left the room. Miss Neelie appears to have felt the imputation -fastened on her, in connection with you, far more sensitively -than she felt the threat. She had previously known, as everybody -had known in the house, that some unacknowledged proceedings of -yours in London had led to Miss Gwilt's voluntary withdrawal from -her situation. And she now inferred, from the language addressed -to her, that she was actually believed by Miss Gwilt to have set -those proceedings on foot, to advance herself, and to injure her -governess, in your estimation. Gently, sir, gently! I haven't -quite done yet. As soon as Miss Neelie had recovered herself, she -went upstairs to speak to Mrs. Milroy. Miss Gwilt's abominable -imputation had taken her by surprise; and she went to her mother -first for enlightenment and advice. She got neither the one nor -the other. Mrs. Milroy declared she was too ill to enter on the -subject, and she has remained too ill to enter on it ever since. -Miss Neelie applied next to her father. The major stopped her the -moment your name passed her lips: he declared he would never hear -you mentioned again by any member of his family. She has been -left in the dark from that time to this, not knowing how she -might have been misrepresented by Miss Gwilt, or what falsehoods -you might have been led to believe of her. At my age and in my -profession, I don't profess to have any extraordinary softness of -heart. But I do think, Mr. Armadale, that Miss Neelie's position -deserves our sympathy." - -"I'll do anything to help her!" cried Allan, impulsively. "You -don't know, Mr. Pedgift, what reason I have--" He checked -himself, and confusedly repeated his first words. "I'll do -anything," he reiterated earnestly--"anything in the world to -help her!" - -"Do you really mean that, Mr. Armadale? Excuse my asking; but you -can very materially help Miss Neelie, if you choose! " - -"How?" asked Allan. "Only tell me how!" - -"By giving me your authority, sir, to protect her from Miss -Gwilt." - -Having fired that shot pointblank at his client, the wise lawyer -waited a little to let it take its effect before he said any -more. - -Allan's face clouded, and he shifted uneasily from side to side -of his chair. - -"Your son is hard enough to deal with, Mr. Pedgift," he said, -"and you are harder than your son." - -"Thank you, sir," rejoined the ready Pedgift, "in my son's name -and my own, for a handsome compliment to the firm. If you really -wish to be of assistance to Miss Neelie," he went on, more -seriously, "I have shown you the way. You can do nothing to quiet -her anxiety which I have not done already. As soon as I had -assured her that no misconception of her conduct existed in your -mind, she went away satisfied. Her governess's parting threat -doesn't seem to have dwelt on her memory. I can tell you, Mr. -Armadale, it dwells on mine! You know my opinion of Miss Gwilt; -and you know what Miss Gwilt herself has done this very evening -to justify that opinion even in your eyes. May I ask, after all -that has passed, whether you think she is the sort of woman who -can be trusted to confine herself to empty threats?" - -The question was a formidable one to answer. Forced steadily back -from the position which he had occupied at the outset of the -interview, by the irresistible pressure of plain facts, Allan -began for the first time to show symptoms of yielding on the -subject of Miss Gwilt. "Is there no other way of protecting Miss -Milroy but the way you have mentioned?" he asked, uneasily. - -"Do you think the major would listen to you, sir, if you spoke to -him?" asked Pedgift Senior, sarcastically. "I'm rather afraid he -wouldn't honor _me_ with his attention. Or perhaps you would -prefer alarming Miss Neelie by telling her in plain words that we -both think her in danger? Or, suppose you send me to Miss Gwilt, -with instructions to inform her that she has done her pupil a -cruel injustice? Women are so proverbially ready to listen to -reason; and they are so universally disposed to alter their -opinions of each other on application--especially when one woman -thinks that another woman has destroyed her prospect of making a -good marriage. Don't mind _me,_ Mr. Armadale; I'm only a lawyer, -and I can sit waterproof under another shower of Miss Gwilt's -tears!" - -"Damn it, Mr. Pedgift, tell me in plain words what you want to -do!" cried Allan, losing his temper at last. - -"In plain words, Mr. Armadale, I want to keep Miss Gwilt's -proceedings privately under view, as long as she stops in this -neighborhood. I answer for finding a person who will look after -her delicately and discreetly. And I agree to discontinue even -this harmless superintendence of her actions, if there isn't good -reasons shown for continuing it, to your entire satisfaction, in -a week's time. I make that moderate proposal, sir, in what I -sincerely believe to be Miss Milroy's interest, and I wait your -answer, Yes or No." - -"Can't I have time to consider?" asked Allan, driven to the last -helpless expedient of taking refuge in delay. - -"Certainly, Mr. Armadale. But don't forget, while you are -considering, that Miss Milroy is in the habit of walking out -alone in your park, innocent of all apprehension of danger, and -that Miss Gwilt is perfectly free to take any advantage of that -circumstance that Miss Gwilt pleases." - -"Do as you like!" exclaimed Allan, in despair. "And, for God's -sake, don't torment me any longer!" - -Popular prejudice may deny it, but the profession of the law is a -practically Christian profession in one respect at least. Of all -the large collection of ready answers lying in wait for mankind -on a lawyer's lips, none is kept in better working order than -"the soft answer which turneth away wrath." Pedgift Senior rose -with the alacrity of youth in his legs, and the wise moderation -of age on his tongue. "Many thanks, sir," he said, "for the -attention you have bestowed on me. I congratulate you on your -decision, and I wish you good-evening." This time his indicative -snuff-box was not in his hand when he opened the door, and he -actually disappeared without coming back for a second postscript. - -Allan's head sank on his breast when he was left alone. "If it -was only the end of the week!" he thought, longingly. "If I only -had Midwinter back again!" - -As that aspiration escaped the client's lips, the lawyer got -gayly into his gig. "Hie away, old girl!" cried Pedgift Senior, -patting the fast-trotting mare with the end of his whip. "I never -keep a lady waiting--and I've got business to-night with one of -your own sex!" - -CHAPTER VII. - -THE MARTYRDOM OF MISS GWILT. - -THE outskirts of the little town of Thorpe Ambrose, on the side -nearest to "the great house," have earned some local celebrity as -exhibiting the prettiest suburb of the kind to be found in East -Norfolk. Here the villas and gardens are for the most part built -and laid out in excellent taste, the trees are in the prime of -their growth, and the healthy common beyond the houses rises and -falls in picturesque and delightful variety of broken ground. The -rank, fashion, and beauty of the town make this place their -evening promenade; and when a stranger goes out for a drive, if -he leaves it to the coachman, the coachman starts by way of the -common as a matter of course. - -On the opposite side, that is to say, on the side furthest from -"the great house," the suburbs (in the year 1851) were -universally regarded as a sore subject by all persons zealous for -the reputation of the town. - -Here nature was uninviting, man was poor, and social progress, as -exhibited under the form of building, halted miserably. The -streets dwindled feebly, as they receded from the center of the -town, into smaller and smaller houses, and died away on the -barren open ground into an atrophy of skeleton cottages. Builders -hereabouts appeared to have universally abandoned their work in -the first stage of its creation. Land-holders set up poles on -lost patches of ground, and, plaintively advertising that they -were to let for building, raised sickly little crops meanwhile, -in despair of finding a purchaser to deal with them. All the -waste paper of the town seemed to float congenially to this -neglected spot; and all the fretful children came and cried here, -in charge of all the slatternly nurses who disgraced the place. -If there was any intention in Thorpe Ambrose of sending a -worn-out horse to the knacker's, that horse was sure to be found -waiting his doom in a field on this side of the town. No growth -flourished in these desert regions but the arid growth of -rubbish; and no creatures rejoiced but the creatures of the -night--the vermin here and there in the beds, and the cats -everywhere on the tiles. - -The sun had set, and the summer twilight was darkening. The -fretful children were crying in their cradles; the horse destined -for the knacker dozed forlorn in the field of his imprisonment; -the cats waited stealthily in corners for the coming night. But -one living figure appeared in the lonely suburb--the figure of -Mr. Bashwood. But one faint sound disturbed the dreadful -silence--the sound of Mr. Bashwood's softly stepping feet. - -Moving slowly past the heaps of bricks rising at intervals along -the road, coasting carefully round the old iron and the broken -tiles scattered here and there in his path, Mr. Bashwood advanced -from the direction of the country toward one of the unfinished -streets of the suburb. His personal appearance had been -apparently made the object of some special attention. His false -teeth were brilliantly white; his wig was carefully brushed; his -mourning garments, renewed throughout, gleamed with the hideous -and slimy gloss of cheap black cloth. He moved with a nervous -jauntiness, and looked about him with a vacant smile. Having -reached the first of the skeleton cottages, his watery eyes -settled steadily for the first time on the view of the street -before him. The next instant he started; his breath quickened; he -leaned, trembling and flushing, against the unfinished wall at -his side. A lady, still at some distance, was advancing toward -him down the length of the street. "She's coming!" he whispered, -with a strange mixture of rapture and fear, of alternating color -and paleness, showing itself in his haggard face. "I wish I was -the ground she treads on! I wish I was the glove she's got on her -hand!" He bur st ecstatically into those extravagant words, with -a concentrated intensity of delight in uttering them that -actually shook his feeble figure from head to foot. - -Smoothly and gracefully the lady glided nearer and nearer, until -she revealed to Mr. Bashwood's eyes, what Mr. Bashwood's -instincts had recognized in the first instance--the face of Miss -Gwilt. - -She was dressed with an exquisitely expressive economy of outlay. -The plainest straw bonnet procurable, trimmed sparingly with the -cheapest white ribbon, was on her head. Modest and tasteful -poverty expressed itself in the speckless cleanliness and the -modestly proportioned skirts of her light "print" gown, and in -the scanty little mantilla of cheap black silk which she wore -over it, edged with a simple frilling of the same material. The -luster of her terrible red hair showed itself unshrinkingly in a -plaited coronet above her forehead, and escaped in one vagrant -love-lock, perfectly curled, that dropped over her left shoulder. -Her gloves, fitting her like a second skin, were of the sober -brown hue which is slowest to show signs of use. One hand lifted -her dress daintily above the impurities of the road; the other -held a little nosegay of the commonest garden flowers. -Noiselessly and smoothly she came on, with a gentle and regular -undulation of the print gown; with the love-lock softly lifted -from moment to moment in the evening breeze; with her head a -little drooped, and her eyes on the ground--in walk, and look, -and manner, in every casual movement that escaped her, expressing -that subtle mixture of the voluptuous and the modest which, of -the many attractive extremes that meet in women, is in a man's -eyes the most irresistible of all. - -"Mr. Bashwood!" she exclaimed, in loud, clear tones indicative of -the utmost astonishment, "what a surprise to find you here! I -thought none but the wretched inhabitants ever ventured near this -side of the town. Hush!" she added quickly, in a whisper. "You -heard right when you heard that Mr. Armadale was going to have me -followed and watched. There's a man behind one of the houses. We -must talk out loud of indifferent things, and look as if we had -met by accident. Ask me what I am doing. Out loud! Directly! You -shall never see me again, if you don't instantly leave off -trembling and do what I tell you!" - -She spoke with a merciless tyranny of eye and voice--with a -merciless use of her power over the feeble creature whom she -addressed. Mr. Bashwood obeyed her in tones that quavered with -agitation, and with eyes that devoured her beauty in a strange -fascination of terror and delight. - -"I am trying to earn a little money by teaching music," she said, -in the voice intended to reach the spy's ears. "If you are able -to recommend me any pupils, Mr. Bashwood, your good word will -oblige me. Have you been in the grounds to-day?" she went on, -dropping her voice again in a whisper. "Has Mr. Armadale been -near the cottage? Has Miss Milroy been out of the garden? No? Are -you sure? Look out for them to-morrow, and next day, and next -day. They are certain to meet and make it up again, and I must -and will know of it. Hush! Ask me my terms for teaching music. -What are you frightened about? It's me the man's after--not you. -Louder than when you asked me what I was doing, just now; louder, -or I won't trust you any more; I'll go to somebody else!" - -Once more Mr. Bashwood obeyed. "Don't be angry with me," he -murmured, faintly, when he had spoken the necessary words. "My -heart beats so you'll kill me!" - -"You poor old dear!" she whispered back, with a sudden change in -her manner, with an easy satirical tenderness. "What business -have you with a heart at your age? Be here to-morrow at the same -time, and tell me what you have seen in the grounds. My terms are -only five shillings a lesson," she went on, in her louder tone. -"I'm sure that's not much, Mr. Bashwood; I give such long -lessons, and I get all my pupils' music half-price." She suddenly -dropped her voice again, and looked him brightly into instant -subjection. "Don't let Mr. Armadale out of your sight to-morrow! -If that girl manages to speak to him, and if I don't hear of it, -I'll frighten you to death. If I _do_ hear of it, I'll kiss you! -Hush! Wish me good-night, and go on to the town, and leave me to -go the other way. I don't want you--I'm not afraid of the man -behind the houses; I can deal with him by myself. Say goodnight, -and I'll let you shake hands. Say it louder, and I'll give you -one of my flowers, if you'll promise not to fall in love with -it." She raised her voice again. "Goodnight, Mr. Bashwood! Don't -forget my terms. Five shillings a lesson, and the lessons last an -hour at a time, and I get all my pupils' music half-price, which -is an immense advantage, isn't it?" She slipped a flower into his -hand--frowned him into obedience, and smiled to reward him for -obeying, at the same moment--lifted her dress again above the -impurities of the road--and went on her way with a dainty and -indolent deliberation, as a cat goes on her way when she has -exhausted the enjoyment of frightening a mouse. - -Left alone, Mr. Bashwood turned to the low cottage wall near -which he had been standing, and, resting himself on it wearily, -looked at the flower in his hand. - -His past existence had disciplined him to bear disaster and -insult, as few happier men could have borne them; but it had not -prepared him to feel the master-passion of humanity, for the -first time, at the dreary end of his life, in the hopeless decay -of a manhood that had withered under the double blight of -conjugal disappointment and parental sorrow. "Oh, if I was only -young again!" murmured the poor wretch, resting his arms on the -wall and touching the flower with his dry, fevered lips in a -stealthy rapture of tenderness. "She might have liked me when I -was twenty!" He suddenly started back into an erect position, and -stared about him in vacant bewilderment and terror. "She told me -to go home," he said, with a startled look. "Why am I stopping -here?" He turned, and hurried on to the town--in such dread of -her anger, if she looked round and saw him, that he never so much -as ventured on a backward glance at the road by which she had -retired, and never detected the spy dogging her footsteps, under -cover of the empty houses and the brick-heaps by the roadside. - -Smoothly and gracefully, carefully preserving the speckless -integrity of her dress, never hastening her pace, and never -looking aside to the right hand or the left, Miss Gwilt pursued -her way toward the open country. The suburban road branched off -at its end in two directions. On the left, the path wound through -a ragged little coppice to the grazing grounds of a neighboring -farm; on the right, it led across a hillock of waste land to the -high-road. Stopping a moment to consider, but not showing the spy -that she suspected him by glancing behind her while there was a -hiding-place within his reach, Miss Gwilt took the path across -the hillock. "I'll catch him there," she said to herself, looking -up quietly at the long straight line of the empty high-road. - -Once on the ground that she had chosen for her purpose, she met -the difficulties of the position with perfect tact and -self-possession. After walking some thirty yards along the road, -she let her nosegay drop, half turned round in stooping to pick -it up, saw the man stopping at the same moment behind her, and -instantly went on again, quickening her pace little by little, -until she was walking at the top of her speed. The spy fell into -the snare laid for him. Seeing the night coming, and fearing that -he might lose sight of her in the darkness, he rapidly lessened -the distance between them. Miss Gwilt went on faster and faster -till she plainly heard his footstep behind her, then stopped, -turned, and met the man face to face the next moment. - -"My compliments to Mr. Armadale," she said, "and tell him I've -caught you watching me." - -"I'm not watching you, miss," retorted the spy, thrown off his -guard by the daring plainness of the language in which she had -spoken to him. - -Miss Gwilt's eyes measured him contemptuously from head to foot. -He was a weakly, undersized man. She wa s the taller, and (quite -possibly) the stronger of the two. - -"Take your hat off, you blackguard, when you speak to a lady," -she said, and tossed his hat in an instant, across a ditch by -which they were standing, into a pool on the other side. - -This time the spy was on his guard. He knew as well as Miss Gwilt -knew the use which might be made of the precious minutes, if he -turned his back on her and crossed the ditch to recover his hat. -"It's well for you you're a woman," he said, standing scowling at -her bareheaded in the fast-darkening light. - -Miss Gwilt glanced sidelong down the onward vista of the road, -and saw, through the gathering obscurity, the solitary figure of -a man rapidly advancing toward her. Some women would have noticed -the approach of a stranger at that hour and in that lonely place -with a certain anxiety. Miss Gwilt was too confident in her own -powers of persuasion not to count on the man's assistance -beforehand, whoever he might be, _because_ he was a man. She -looked back at the spy with redoubled confidence in herself, and -measured him contemptuously from head to foot for the second -time. - -"I wonder whether I'm strong enough to throw you after your hat?" -she said. "I'll take a turn and consider it." - -She sauntered on a few steps toward the figure advancing along -the road. The spy followed her close. "Try it," he said, -brutally. "You're a fine woman; you're welcome to put your arms -round me if you like." As the words escaped him, he too saw the -stranger for the first time. He drew back a step and waited. Miss -Gwilt, on her side, advanced a step and waited, too. - -The stranger came on, with the lithe, light step of a practiced -walker, swinging a stick in his hand and carrying a knapsack on -his shoulders. A few paces nearer, and his face became visible. -He was a dark man, his black hair was powdered with dust, and his -black eyes were looking steadfastly forward along the road before -him. - -Miss Gwilt advanced with the first signs of agitation she had -shown yet. "Is it possible?" she said, softly. "Can it really be -you?" - -It was Midwinter, on his way back to Thorpe Ambrose, after his -fortnight among the Yorkshire moors. - -He stopped and looked at her, in breathless surprise. The image -of the woman had been in his thoughts, at the moment when the -woman herself spoke to him. "Miss Gwilt!" he exclaimed, and -mechanically held out his hand. - -She took it, and pressed it gently. "I should have been glad to -see you at any time," she said. "You don't know how glad I am to -see you now. May I trouble you to speak to that man? He has been -following me, and annoying me all the way from the town." - -Midwinter stepped past her without uttering a word. Faint as the -light was, the spy saw what was coming in his face, and, turning -instantly, leaped the ditch by the road-side. Before Midwinter -could follow, Miss Gwilt's hand was on his shoulder. - -"No," she said, "you don't know who his employer is." - -Midwinter stopped and looked at her. - -"Strange things have happened since you left us," she went on. "I -have been forced to give up my situation, and I am followed and -watched by a paid spy. Don't ask who forced me out of my -situation, and who pays the spy--at least not just yet. I can't -make up my mind to tell you till I am a little more composed. Let -the wretch go. Do you mind seeing me safe back to my lodging? -It's in your way home. May I--may I ask for the support of your -arm? My little stock of courage is quite exhausted." She took his -arm and clung close to it. The woman who had tyrannized over Mr. -Bashwood was gone, and the woman who had tossed the spy's hat -into the pool was gone. A timid, shrinking, interesting creature -filled the fair skin and trembled on the symmetrical limbs of -Miss Gwilt. She put her handkerchief to her eyes. "They say -necessity has no law," she murmured, faintly. "I am treating you -like an old friend. God knows I want one!" - -They went on toward the town. She recovered herself with a -touching fortitude; she put her handkerchief back in her pocket, -and persisted in turning the conversation on Midwinter's walking -tour. "It is bad enough to be a burden on you," she said, gently -pressing on his arm as she spoke; "I mustn't distress you as -well. Tell me where you have been, and what you have seen. -Interest me in your journey; help me to escape from myself." - -They reached the modest little lodging in the miserable little -suburb. Miss Gwilt sighed, and removed her glove before she took -Midwinter's hand. "I have taken refuge here," she said, simply. -"It is clean and quiet; I am too poor to want or expect more. We -must say good-by, I suppose, unless"--she hesitated modestly, and -satisfied herself by a quick look round that they were -unobserved--"unless you would like to come in and rest a little? -I feel so gratefully toward you, Mr. Midwinter! Is there any -harm, do you think, in my offering you a cup of tea?" - -The magnetic influence of her touch was thrilling through him -while she spoke. Change and absence, to which he had trusted to -weaken her hold on him, had treacherously strengthened it -instead. A man exceptionally sensitive, a man exceptionally pure -in his past life, he stood hand in hand, in the tempting secrecy -of the night, with the first woman who had exercised over him the -all-absorbing influence of her sex. At his age, and in his -position, who could have left her? The man (with a man's -temperament) doesn't live who could have left her. Midwinter went -in. - -A stupid, sleepy lad opened the house door. Even he, being a male -creature, brightened under the influence of Miss Gwilt. "The urn, -John," she said, kindly, "and another cup and saucer. I'll borrow -your candle to light my candles upstairs, and then I won't -trouble you any more to-night." John was wakeful and active in an -instant. "No trouble, miss," he said, with awkward civility. Miss -Gwilt took his candle with a smile. "How good people are to me!" -she whispered, innocently, to Midwinter, as she led the way -upstairs to the little drawing-room on the first floor. - -She lit the candles, and, turning quickly on her guest, stopped -him at the first attempt he made to remove the knapsack from his -shoulders. "No," she said, gently; "in the good old times there -were occasions when the ladies unarmed their knights. I claim the -privilege of unarming _my_ knight." Her dexterous fingers -intercepted his at the straps and buckles, and she had the dusty -knapsack off, before he could protest against her touching it. - -They sat down at the one little table in the room. It was very -poorly furnished; but there was something of the dainty neatness -of the woman who inhabited it in the arrangement of the few poor -ornaments on the chimney-piece, in the one or two prettily bound -volumes on the chiffonier, in the flowers on the table, and the -modest little work-basket in the window. "Women are not all -coquettes," she said, as she took off her bonnet and mantilla, -and laid them carefully on a chair. "I won't go into my room, and -look in my glass, and make myself smart; you shall take me just -as I am." Her hands moved about among the tea-things with a -smooth, noiseless activity. - -Her magnificent hair flashed crimson in the candle-light, as she -turned her head hither and thither, searching with an easy grace -for the things she wanted in the tray. Exercise had heightened -the brilliancy of her complexion, and had quickened the rapid -alternations of expression in her eyes--the delicious languor -that stole over them when she was listening or thinking, the -bright intelligence that flashed from them softly when she spoke. -In the lightest word she said, in the least thing she did, there -was something that gently solicited the heart of the man who sat -with her. Perfectly modest in her manner, possessed to perfection -of the graceful restraints and refinements of a lady, she had all -the allurements that feast the eye, all the siren invitations -that seduce the sense--a subtle suggestiveness in her silence, -and a sexual sorcery in her smile. - -"Should I be wrong," she asked, suddenly suspending the -conversation which she had thus far persistently restricted to -the subject of Midwinter's walking tour, "if I g uessed that you -have something on your mind--something which neither my tea nor -my talk can charm away? Are men as curious as women? Is the -something--Me?" - -Midwinter struggled against the fascination of looking at her and -listening to her. "I am very anxious to hear what has happened -since I have been away," he said. "But I am still more anxious, -Miss Gwilt, not to distress you by speaking of a painful -subject." - -She looked at him gratefully. "It is for your sake that I have -avoided the painful subject," she said, toying with her spoon -among the dregs in her empty cup. "But you will hear about it -from others, if you don't hear about it from me; and you ought to -know why you found me in that strange situation, and why you see -me here. Pray remember one thing, to begin with. I don't blame -your friend, Mr. Armadale. I blame the people whose instrument he -is." - -Midwinter started. "Is it possible," he began, "that Allan can be -in any way answerable--?" He stopped, and looked at Miss Gwilt in -silent astonishment. - -She gently laid her hand on his. "Don't be angry with me for only -telling the truth," she said. "Your friend is answerable for -everything that has happened to me--innocently answerable, Mr. -Midwinter, I firmly believe. We are both victims. _He_ is the -victim of his position as the richest single man in the -neighborhood; and I am the victim of Miss Milroy's determination -to marry him." - -"Miss Milroy?" repeated Midwinter, more and more astonished. -"Why, Allan himself told me--" He stopped again. - -"He told you that I was the object of his admiration? Poor -fellow, he admires everybody; his head is almost as empty as -this," said Miss Gwilt, smiling indicatively into the hollow of -her cup. She dropped the spoon, sighed, and became serious again. -"I am guilty of the vanity of having let him admire me," she went -on, penitently, "without the excuse of being able, on my side, to -reciprocate even the passing interest that he felt in me. I don't -undervalue his many admirable qualities, or the excellent -position he can offer to his wife. But a woman's heart is not to -be commanded--no, Mr. Midwinter, not even by the fortunate master -of Thorpe Ambrose, who commands everything else." - -She looked him full in the face as she uttered that magnanimous -sentiment. His eyes dropped before hers, and his dark color -deepened. He had felt his heart leap in him at the declaration of -her indifference to Allan. For the first time since they had -known each other, his interests now stood self-revealed before -him as openly adverse to the interests of his friend. - -"I have been guilty of the vanity of letting Mr. Armadale admire -me, and I have suffered for it," resumed Miss Gwilt. "If there -had been any confidence between my pupil and me, I might have -easily satisfied her that she might become Mrs. Armadale--if she -could--without having any rivalry to fear on my part. But Miss -Milroy disliked and distrusted me from the first. She took her -own jealous view, no doubt, of Mr. Armadale's thoughtless -attentions to me. It was her interest to destroy the position, -such as it was, that I held in his estimation; and it is quite -likely her mother assisted her. Mrs. Milroy had her motive also -(which I am really ashamed to mention) for wishing to drive me -out of the house. Anyhow, the conspiracy has succeeded. I have -been forced (with Mr. Armadale's help) to leave the major's -service. Don't be angry, Mr. Midwinter! Don't form a hasty -opinion! I dare say Miss Milroy has some good qualities, though I -have not found them out; and I assure you again and again that I -don't blame Mr. Armadale. I only blame the people whose -instrument he is." - -"How is he their instrument? How can he be the instrument of any -enemy of yours?" asked Midwinter. "Pray excuse my anxiety, Miss -Gwilt: Allan's good name is as dear to me as my own!" - -Miss Gwilt's eyes turned full on him again, and Miss Gwilt's -heart abandoned itself innocently to an outburst of enthusiasm. -"How I admire your earnestness!" she said. "How I like your -anxiety for your friend! Oh, if women could only form such -friendships! Oh you happy, happy men!" Her voice faltered, and -her convenient tea-cup absorbed her for the third time. " I would -give all the little beauty I possess," she said, "if I could only -find such a friend as Mr. Armadale has found in _you._ I never -shall, Mr. Midwinter--I never shall. Let us go back to what we -were talking about. I can only tell you how your friend is -concerned in my misfortune by telling you something first about -myself. I am like many other governesses; I am the victim of sad -domestic circumstances. It may be weak of me, but I have a horror -of alluding to them among strangers. My silence about my family -and my friends exposes me to misinterpretation in my dependent -position. Does it do me any harm, Mr. Midwinter, in your -estimation?" - -"God forbid!" said Midwinter, fervently. "There is no man -living," he went on, thinking of his own family story, "who has -better reason to understand and respect your silence than I -have." - -Miss Gwilt seized his hand impulsively. "Oh," she said, "I knew -it, the first moment I saw you! I knew that you, too, had -suffered; that you, too, had sorrows which you kept sacred! -Strange, strange sympathy! I believe in mesmerism--do you?" She -suddenly recollected herself, and shuddered. "Oh, what have I -done? What must you think of me?" she exclaimed, as he yielded to -the magnetic fascination of her touch, and, forgetting everything -but the hand that lay warm in his own, bent over it and kissed -it. "Spare me!" she said, faintly, as she felt the burning touch -of his lips. "I am so friendless--I am so completely at your -mercy!" - -He turned away from her, and hid his face in his hands; he was -trembling, and she saw it. She looked at him while his face was -hidden from her; she looked at him with a furtive interest and -surprise. "How that man loves me!" she thought. "I wonder whether -there was a time when I might have loved _him?_" - -The silence between them remained unbroken for some minutes. He -had felt her appeal to his consideration as she had never -expected or intended him to feel it--he shrank from looking at -her or from speaking to her again. - -"Shall I go on with my story?" she asked. "Shall we forget and -forgive on both sides?" A woman's inveterate indulgence for every -expression of a man's admiration which keeps within the limits of -personal respect curved her lips gently into a charming smile. -She looked down meditatively at her dress, and brushed a crumb -off her lap with a little flattering sigh. "I was telling you," -she went on, "of my reluctance to speak to strangers of my sad -family story. It was in that way, as I afterward found out, that -I laid myself open to Miss Milroy's malice and Miss Milroy's -suspicion. Private inquiries about me were addressed to the lady -who was my reference--at Miss Milroy's suggestion, in the first -instance, I have no doubt. I am sorry to say, this is not the -worst of it. By some underhand means, of which I am quite -ignorant, Mr. Armadale's simplicity was imposed on; and, when -application was made secretly to my reference in London, it was -made, Mr. Midwinter, through your friend." - -Midwinter suddenly rose from his chair and looked at her. The -fascination that she exercised over him, powerful as it was, -became a suspended influence, now that the plain disclosure came -plainly at last from her lips. He looked at her, and sat down -again, like a man bewildered, without uttering a word. - -"Remember how weak he is," pleaded Miss Gwilt, gently, "and make -allowances for him as I do. The trifling accident of his failing -to find my reference at the address given him seems, I can't -imagine why, to have excited Mr. Armadale's suspicion. At any -rate, he remained in London. What he did there, it is impossible -for me to say. I was quite in the dark; I knew nothing: I -distrusted nobody; I was as happy in my little round of duties as -I could be with a pupil whose affections I had failed to win, -when, one morning, to my indescribable astonishment, Major Milroy -showed me a correspondence between Mr. Armadale and himself. He -spoke to me in his wife's presence. Poor - creature, I make no complaint of her; such affliction as she -suffers excuses everything. I wish I could give you some idea of -the letters between Major Milroy and Mr. Armadale; but my head is -only a woman's head, and I was so confused and distressed at the -time! All I can tell you is that Mr. Armadale chose to preserve -silence about his proceedings in London, under circumstances -which made that silence a reflection on my character. The major -was most kind; his confidence in me remained unshaken; but could -his confidence protect me against his wife's prejudice and his -daughter's ill-will? Oh, the hardness of women to each other! Oh, -the humiliation if men only knew some of us as we really are! -What could I do? I couldn't defend myself against mere -imputations; and I couldn't remain in my situation after a slur -had been cast on me. My pride (Heaven help me, I was brought up -like a gentlewoman, and I have sensibilities that are not blunted -even yet!)--my pride got the better of me, and I left my place. -Don't let it distress you, Mr. Midwinter! There's a bright side -to the picture. The ladies in the neighborhood have overwhelmed -me with kindness; I have the prospect of getting pupils to teach; -I am spared the mortification of going back to be a burden on my -friends. The only complaint I have to make is, I think, a just -one. Mr. Armadale has been back at Thorpe Ambrose for some days. -I have entreated him, by letter, to grant me an interview; to -tell me what dreadful suspicions he has of me, and to let me set -myself right in his estimation. Would you believe it? He has -declined to see me--under the influence of others, not of his own -free will, I am sure! Cruel, isn't it? But he has even used me -more cruelly still; he persists in suspecting me; it is he who is -having me watched. Oh, Mr. Midwinter, don't hate me for telling -you what you _must_ know! The man you found persecuting me and -frightening me tonight was only earning his money, after all, as -Mr. Armadale's spy." - -Once more Midwinter started to his feet; and this time the -thoughts that were in him found their way into words. - -"I can't believe it; I won't believe it!" he exclaimed, -indignantly. "If the man told you that, the man lied. I beg your -pardon, Miss Gwilt; I beg your pardon from the bottom of my -heart. Don't, pray don't think I doubt _you;_ I only say there is -some dreadful mistake. I am not sure that I understand as I ought -all that you have told me. But this last infamous meanness of -which you think Allan guilty, I _do_ understand. I swear to you, -he is incapable of it! Some scoundrel has been taking advantage -of him; some scoundrel has been using his name. I'll prove it to -you, if you will only give me time. Let me go and clear it up at -once. I can't rest; I can't bear to think of it; I can't even -enjoy the pleasure of being here. Oh," he burst out desperately, -"I'm sure you feel for me, after what you have said--I feel so -for _you!_" - -He stopped in confusion. Miss Gwilt's eyes were looking at him -again, and Miss Gwilt's hand had found its way once more into his -own. - -"You are the most generous of living men," she said, softly. "I -will believe what you tell me to believe. Go," she added, in a -whisper, suddenly releasing his hand, and turning away from him. -"For both our sakes, go!" - -His heart beat fast; he looked at her as she dropped into a chair -and put her handkerchief to her eyes. For one moment he -hesitated; the next, he snatched up his knapsack from the floor, -and left her precipitately, without a backward look or a parting -word. - -She rose when the door closed on him. A change came over her the -instant she was alone. The color faded out of her cheeks; the -beauty died out of her eyes; her face hardened horribly with a -silent despair. "It's even baser work than I bargained for," she -said, "to deceive _him._" After pacing to and fro in the room for -some minutes, she stopped wearily before the glass over the -fire-place. "You strange creature!" she murmured, leaning her -elbows on the mantelpiece, and languidly addressing the -reflection of herself in the glass. "Have you got any conscience -left? And has that man roused it?" - -The reflection of her face changed slowly. The color returned to -her cheeks, the delicious languor began to suffuse her eyes -again. Her lips parted gently, and her quickening breath began to -dim the surface of the glass. She drew back from it, after a -moment's absorption in her own thoughts, with a start of terror. -"What am I doing?" she asked herself, in a sudden panic of -astonishment. "Am I mad enough to be thinking of him in _that_ -way?" - -She burst into a mocking laugh, and opened her desk on the table -recklessly with a bang. "It's high time I had some talk with -Mother Jezebel," she said, and sat down to write to Mrs. -Oldershaw. - -"I have met with Mr. Midwinter," she began, "under very lucky -circumstances; and I have made the most of my opportunity. He has -just left me for his friend Armadale; and one of two good things -will happen to-morrow. If they don't quarrel, the doors of Thorpe -Ambrose will be opened to me again at Mr. Midwinter's -intercession. If they do quarrel, I shall be the unhappy cause of -it, and I shall find my way in for myself, on the purely -Christian errand of reconciling them." - -She hesitated at the next sentence, wrote the first few words of -it, scratched them out again, and petulantly tore the letter into -fragments, and threw the pen to the other end of the room. -Turning quickly on her chair, she looked at the seat which -Midwinter had occupied, her foot restlessly tapping the floor, -and her handkerchief thrust like a gag between her clinched -teeth. "Young as you are," she thought, with her mind reviving -the image of him in the empty chair, "there has been something -out of the common in _your_ life; and I must and will know it!" - -The house clock struck the hour, and roused her. She sighed, and, -walking back to the glass, wearily loosened the fastenings of her -dress; wearily removed the studs from the chemisette beneath it, -and put them on the chimney-piece. She looked indolently at the -reflected beauties of her neck and bosom, as she unplaited her -hair and threw it back in one great mass over her shoulders. -"Fancy," she thought, "if he saw me now!" She turned back to the -table, and sighed again as she extinguished one of the candles -and took the other in her hand. "Midwinter?" she said, as she -passed through the folding-doors of the room to her bed-chamber. -"I don't believe in his name, to begin with!" - - -The night had advanced by more than an hour before Midwinter was -back again at the great house. - -Twice, well as the homeward way was known to him, he had strayed -out of the right road. The events of the evening--the interview -with Miss Gwilt herself, after his fortnight's solitary thinking -of her; the extraordinary change that had taken place in her -position since he had seen her last; and the startling assertion -of Allan's connection with it--had all conspired to throw his -mind into a state of ungovernable confusion. The darkness of the -cloudy night added to his bewilderment. Even the familiar gates -of Thorpe Ambrose seemed strange to him. When he tried to think -of it, it was a mystery to him how he had reached the place. - -The front of the house was dark, and closed for the night. -Midwinter went round to the back. The sound of men's voices, as -he advanced, caught his ear. They were soon distinguishable as -the voices of the first and second footman, and the subject of -conversation between them was their master. - -"I'll bet you an even half-crown he's driven out of the -neighborhood before another week is over his head," said the -first footman. - -"Done!" said the second. "He isn't as easy driven as you think." - -"Isn't he!" retorted the other. "He'll be mobbed if he stops -here! I tell you again, he's not satisfied with the mess he's got -into already. I know it for certain, he's having the governess -watched." - -At those words, Midwinter mechanically checked himself before he -turned the corner of the house. His first doubt of the result of -his meditated appeal to Allan ran through him like a sudden -chill. The influence exercised by the voic e of public scandal is -a force which acts. in opposition to the ordinary law of -mechanics. It is strongest, not by concentration, but by -distribution. To the primary sound we may shut our ears; but the -reverberation of it in echoes is irresistible. On his way back, -Midwinter's one desire had been to find Allan up, and to speak to -him immediately. His one hope now was to gain time to contend -with the new doubts and to silence the new misgivings; his one -present anxiety was to hear that Allan had gone to bed. He turned -the corner of the house, and presented himself before the men -smoking their pipes in the back garden. As soon as their -astonishment allowed them to speak, they offered to rouse their -master. Allan had given his friend up for that night, and had -gone to bed about half an hour since. - -"It was my master's' particular order, sir," said the -head-footman, "that he was to be told of it if you came back." - -"It is _my_ particular request," returned Midwinter, "that you -won't disturb him." - -The men looked at each other wonderingly, as he took his candle -and left them. - -CHAPTER VIII. - -SHE COMES BETWEEN THEM. - -APPOINTED hours for the various domestic events of the day were -things unknown at Thorpe Ambrose. Irregular in all his habits, -Allan accommodated himself to no stated times (with the solitary -exception of dinner-time) at any hour of the day or night. He -retired to rest early or late, and he rose early or late, exactly -as he felt inclined. The servants were forbidden to call him; and -Mrs. Gripper was accustomed to improvise the breakfast as she -best might, from the time when the kitchen fire was first lighted -to the time when the clock stood on the stroke of noon. - -Toward nine o'clock on the morning after his return Midwinter -knocked at Allan's door, and on entering the room found it empty. -After inquiry among the servants, it appeared that Allan had -risen that morning before the man who usually attended on him was -up, and that his hot water had been brought to the door by one of -the house-maids, who was then still in ignorance of Midwinter's -return. Nobody had chanced to see the master, either on the -stairs or in the hall; nobody had heard him ring the bell for -breakfast, as usual. In brief, nobody knew anything about him, -except what was obviously clear to all--that he was not in the -house. - -Midwinter went out under the great portico. He stood at the head -of the flight of steps considering in which direction he should -set forth to look for his friend. Allan's unexpected absence -added one more to the disquieting influences which still -perplexed his mind. He was in the mood in which trifles irritate -a man, and fancies are all-powerful to exalt or depress his -spirits. - -The sky was cloudy; and the wind blew in puffs from the south; -there was every prospect, to weather-wise eyes, of coming rain. -While Midwinter was still hesitating, one of the grooms passed -him on the drive below. The man proved, on being questioned, to -be better informed about his master's movements than the servants -indoors. He had seen Allan pass the stables more than an hour -since, going out by the back way into the park with a nosegay in -his hand. - -A nosegay in his hand? The nosegay hung incomprehensibly on -Midwinter's mind as he walked round, on the chance of meeting -Allan, to the back of the house. "What does the nosegay mean?" he -asked himself, with an unintelligible sense of irritation, and a -petulant kick at a stone that stood in his way. - -It meant that Allan had been following his impulses as usual. The -one pleasant impression left on his mind after his interview with -Pedgift Senior was the impression made by the lawyer's account of -his conversation with Neelie in the park. The anxiety that he -should not misjudge her, which the major's daughter had so -earnestly expressed, placed her before Allan's eyes in an -irresistibly attractive character--the character of the one -person among all his neighbors who had some respect still left -for his good opinion. Acutely sensible of his social isolation, -now that there was no Midwinter to keep him company in the empty -house, hungering and thirsting in his solitude for a kind word -and a friendly look, he began to think more and more regretfully -and more and more longingly of the bright young face so -pleasantly associated with his first happiest days at Thorpe -Ambrose. To be conscious of such a feeling as this was, with a -character like Allan's, to act on it headlong, lead him where it -might. He had gone out on the previous morning to look for Neelie -with a peace-offering of flowers, but with no very distinct idea -of what he should say to her if they met; and failing to find her -on the scene of her customary walks, he had characteristically -persisted the next morning in making a second attempt with -another peace-offering on a larger scale. Still ignorant of his -friend's return, he was now at some distance from the house, -searching the park in a direction which he had not tried yet. - -After walking out a few hundred yards beyond the stables, and -failing to discover any signs of Allan, Midwinter retraced his -steps, and waited for his friend's return, pacing slowly to and -fro on the little strip of garden ground at the back of the -house. - -From time to time, as he passed it, he looked in absently at the -room which had formerly been Mrs. Armadale's, which was now -(through his interposition) habitually occupied by her son--the -room with the Statuette on the bracket, and the French windows -opening to the ground, which had once recalled to him the Second -Vision of the Dream. The Shadow of the Man, which Allan had seen -standing opposite to him at the long window; the view over a lawn -and flower-garden; the pattering of the rain against the glass; -the stretching out of the Shadow's arm, and the fall of the -statue in fragments on the floor--these objects and events of the -visionary scene, so vividly present to his memory once, were all -superseded by later remembrances now, were all left to fade as -they might in the dim background of time. He could pass the room -again and again, alone and anxious, and never once think of the -boat drifting away in the moonlight, and the night's imprisonment -on the Wrecked Ship! - -Toward ten o'clock the well-remembered sound of Allan's voice -became suddenly audible in the direction of the stables. In a -moment more he was visible from the garden. His second morning's -search for Neelie had ended to all appearance in a second defeat -of his object. The nosegay was still in his hand; and he was -resignedly making a present of it to one of the coachman's -children. - -Midwinter impulsively took a step forward toward the stables, and -abruptly checked his further progress. - -Conscious that his position toward his friend was altered already -in relation to Miss Gwilt, the first sight of Allan filled his -mind with a sudden distrust of the governess's influence over -him, which was almost a distrust of himself. He knew that he had -set forth from the moors on his return to Thorpe Ambrose with the -resolution of acknowledging the passion that had mastered him, -and of insisting, if necessary, on a second and a longer absence -in the interests of the sacrifice which he was bent on making to -the happiness of his friend. What had become of that resolution -now? The discovery of Miss Gwilt's altered position, and the -declaration that she had voluntarily made of her indifference to -Allan, had scattered it to the winds. The first words with which -he would have met his friend, if nothing had happened to him on -the homeward way, were words already dismissed from his lips. He -drew back as he felt it, and struggled, with an instinctive -loyalty toward Allan, to free himself at the last moment from the -influence of Miss Gwilt. - -Having disposed of his useless nosegay, Allan passed on into the -garden, and the instant he entered it recognized Midwinter with a -loud cry of surprise and delight. - -"Am I awake or dreaming?" he exclaimed, seizing his friend -excitably by both hands." You dear old Midwinter, have you sprung -up out of the ground, or have you dropped from the clouds?" - -It was not till Midwinter had explained the mystery of his -unexpec ted appearance in every particular that Allan could be -prevailed on to say a word about himself. When he did speak, he -shook his head ruefully, and subdued the hearty loudness of his -voice, with a preliminary look round to see if the servants were -within hearing. - -"I've learned to be cautious since you went away and left me," -said Allan. "My dear fellow, you haven't the least notion what -things have happened, and what an awful scrape I'm in at this -very moment!" - -"You are mistaken, Allan. I have heard more of what has happened -than you suppose." - -"What! the dreadful mess I'm in with Miss Gwilt? the row with the -major? the infernal scandal-mongering in the neighborhood? You -don't mean to say--?" - -"Yes," interposed Midwinter, quietly; "I have heard of it all." - -"Good heavens! how? Did you stop at Thorpe Ambrose on your way -back? Have you been in the coffee-room at the hotel? Have you met -Pedgift? Have you dropped into the Reading Rooms, and seen what -they call the freedom of the press in the town newspaper?" - -Midwinter paused before he answered, and looked up at the sky. -The clouds had been gathering unnoticed over their heads, and the -first rain-drops were beginning to fall. - -"Come in here," said Allan. "We'll go up to breakfast this way. " -He led Midwinter through the open French window into his own -sitting-room. The wind blew toward that side of the house, and -the rain followed them in. Midwinter, who was last, turned and -closed the window. - -Allan was too eager for the answer which the weather had -interrupted to wait for it till they reached the breakfast-room. -He stopped close at the window, and added two more to his string -of questions. - -"How can you possibly have heard about me and Miss Gwilt?" he -asked. "Who told you?" - -"Miss Gwilt herself," replied Midwinter, gravely. - -Allan's manner changed the moment the governess's name passed his -friend's lips. - -"I wish you had heard my story first," he said. "Where did you -meet with Miss Gwilt?" - -There was a momentary pause. They both stood still at the window, -absorbed in the interest of the moment. They both forgot that -their contemplated place of shelter from the rain had been the -breakfast-room upstairs. - -"Before I answer your question," said Midwinter, a little -constrainedly, "I want to ask you something, Allan, on my side. -Is it really true that you are in some way concerned in Miss -Gwilt's leaving Major Milroy's service?" - -There was another pause. The disturbance which had begun to -appear in Allan's manner palpably increased. - -"It's rather a long story," he began. "I have been taken in, -Midwinter. I've been imposed on by a person, who--I can't help -saying it--who cheated me into promising what I oughtn't to have -promised, and doing what I had better not have done. It isn't -breaking my promise to tell you. I can trust in your discretion, -can't I? You will never say a word, will you?" - -"Stop!" said Midwinter. "Don't trust me with any secrets which -are not your own. If you have given a promise, don't trifle with -it, even in speaking to such an intimate friend as I am." He laid -his hand gently and kindly on Allan's shoulder. "I can't help -seeing that I have made you a little uncomfortable," he went on. -"I can't help seeing that my question is not so easy a one to -answer as I had hoped and supposed. Shall we wait a little? Shall -we go upstairs and breakfast first?" - -Allan was far too earnestly bent on presenting his conduct to his -friend in the right aspect to heed Midwinter's suggestion. He -spoke eagerly on the instant, without moving from the window. - -"My dear fellow, it's a perfectly easy question to answer. -Only"--he hesitated--"only it requires what I'm a bad hand at: it -requires an explanation." - -"Do you mean," asked Midwinter, more seriously, but not less -gently than before, "that you must first justify yourself, and -then answer my question?" - -"That's it!" said Allan, with an air of relief. "You're hit the -right nail on the head, just as usual." - -Midwinter's face darkened for the first time. "I am sorry to hear -it," he said, his voice sinking low, and his eyes dropping to the -ground as he spoke. - -The rain was beginning to fall thickly. It swept across the -garden, straight on the closed windows, and pattered heavily -against the glass. - -"Sorry!" repeated Allan. "My dear fellow, you haven't heard the -particulars yet. Wait till I explain the thing first." - -"You are a bad hand at explanations," said Midwinter, repeating -Allan's own words. "Don't place yourself at a disadvantage. Don't -explain it." - -Allan looked at him, in silent perplexity and surprise. - -"You are my friend--my best and dearest friend," Midwinter went -on. "I can't bear to let you justify yourself to me as if I was -your judge, or as if I doubted you." He looked up again at Allan -frankly and kindly as he said those words. "Besides," he resumed, -"I think, if I look into my memory, I can anticipate your -explanation. We had a moment's talk, before I went away, about -some very delicate questions which you proposed putting to Major -Milroy. I remember I warned you; I remember I had my misgivings. -Should I be guessing right if I guessed that those questions have -been in some way the means of leading you into a false position? -If it is true that you have been concerned in Miss Gwilt's -leaving her situation, is it also true--is it only doing you -justice to believe--that any mischief for which you are -responsible has been mischief innocently done?" - -"Yes," said Allan, speaking, for the first time, a little -constrainedly on his side. "It is only doing me justice to say -that." He stopped and began drawing lines absently with his -finger on the blurred surface of the window-pane. "You're not -like other people, Midwinter," he resumed, suddenly, with an -effort; "and I should have liked you to have heard the -particulars all the same." - -"I will hear them if you desire it," returned Midwinter. "But I -am satisfied, without another word, that you have not willingly -been the means of depriving Miss Gwilt of her situation. If that -is understood between you and me, I think we need say no more. -Besides, I have another question to ask, of much greater -importance--a question that has been forced on me by what I saw -with my own eyes, and heard with my own ears, last night." - -He stopped, recoiling in spite of himself. "Shall we go upstairs -first?" he asked, abruptly, leading the way to the door, and -trying to gain time. - -It was useless. Once again, the room which they were both free to -leave, the room which one of them had twice tried to leave -already, held them as if they were prisoners. - -Without answering, without even appearing to have heard -Midwinter's proposal to go upstairs, Allan followed him -mechanically as far as the opposite side of the window. There he -stopped. "Midwinter!" he burst out, in a sudden panic of -astonishment and alarm, "there seems to be something strange -between us! You're not like yourself. What is it?" - -With his hand on the lock of the door, Midwinter turned, and -looked back into the room. The moment had come. His haunting fear -of doing his friend an injustice had shown itself in a restraint -of word, look, and action which had been marked enough to force -its way to Allan's notice. The one course left now, in the -dearest interests of the friendship that united them, was to -speak at once, and to speak boldly. - -"There's something strange between us," reiterated Allan. "For -God's sake, what is it?" - -Midwinter took his hand from the door, and came down again to the -window, fronting Allan. He occupied the place, of necessity, -which Allan had just left. It was the side of the window on which -the Statuette stood. The little figure, placed on its projecting -bracket, was, close behind him on his right hand. No signs of -change appeared in the stormy sky. The rain still swept slanting -across the garden, and pattered heavily against the glass. - -"Give me your hand, Allan." - -Allan gave it, and Midwinter held it firmly while he spoke. - -"There is something strange between us," he said. "There is -something to be set right which touches you nearly; and it has -not been set right yet. You asked me just now where I met with -Miss Gwilt. I met with h er on my way back here, upon the -high-road on the further side of the town. She entreated me to -protect her from a man who was following and frightening her. I -saw the scoundrel with my own eyes, and I should have laid hands -on him, if Miss Gwilt herself had not stopped me. She gave a very -strange reason for stopping me. She said I didn't know who his -employer was." - -Allan's ruddy color suddenly deepened; he looked aside quickly -through the window at the pouring rain. At the same moment their -hands fell apart, and there was a pause of silence on either -side. Midwinter was the first to speak again. - -"Later in the evening," he went on, "Miss Gwilt explained -herself. She told me two things. She declared that the man whom I -had seen following her was a hired spy. I was surprised, but I -could not dispute it. She told me next, Allan--what I believe -with my whole heart and soul to be a falsehood which has been -imposed on her as the truth--she told me that the spy was in your -employment!" - -Allan turned instantly from the window, and looked Midwinter full -in the face again. "I must explain myself this time," he said, -resolutely. - -The ashy paleness peculiar to him in moments of strong emotion -began to show itself on Midwinter's cheeks. - -"More explanations!" he said, and drew back a step, with his eyes -fixed in a sudden terror of inquiry on Allan's face. - -"You don't know what I know, Midwinter. You don't know that what -I have done has been done with a good reason. And what is more, I -have not trusted to myself--I have had good advice." - -"Did you hear what I said just now?" asked Midwinter, -incredulously. "You can't--surely, you can't have been attending -to me?" - -"I haven't missed a word," rejoined Allan. "I tell you again, you -don't know what I know of Miss Gwilt. She has threatened Miss -Milroy. Miss Milroy is in danger while her governess stops in -this neighborhood." - -Midwinter dismissed the major's daughter from the conversation -with a contemptuous gesture of his hand. - -"I don't want to hear about Miss, Milroy," he said. "Don't mix up -Miss Milroy-- Good God, Allan, am I to understand that the spy -set to watch Miss Gwilt was doing his vile work with your -approval?" - -"Once for all, my dear fellow, will you, or will you not, let me -explain?" - -"Explain!" cried Midwinter, his eyes aflame, and his hot Creole -blood rushing crimson into his face. "Explain the employment of a -spy? What! after having driven Miss Gwilt out of her situation by -meddling with her private affairs, you meddle again by the vilest -of all means--the means of a paid spy? You set a watch on the -woman whom you yourself told me you loved, only a fortnight -since--the woman you were thinking of as your wife! I don't -believe it; I won't believe it. Is my head failing me? Is it -Allan Armadale I am speaking to? Is it Allan Armadale's face -looking at me? Stop! you are acting under some mistaken scruple. -Some low fellow has crept into your confidence, and has done this -in your name without telling you first." - -Allan controlled himself with admirable patience and admirable -consideration for the temper of his friend. "If you persist in -refusing to hear me," he said, "I must wait as well as I can till -my turn comes." - -"Tell me you are a stranger to the employment of that man, and I -will hear you willingly." - -"Suppose there should be a necessity, that you know nothing -about, for employing him?" - -"I acknowledge no necessity for the cowardly persecution of a -helpless woman." - -A momentary flush of irritation--momentary, and no more--passed -over Allan's face. "You mightn't think her quite so helpless," he -said, "if you knew the truth." - -"Are _you_ the man to tell me the truth?" retorted the other. -"You who have refused to hear her in her own defense! You who -have closed the doors of this house against her!" - -Allan still controlled himself, but the effort began at last to -be visible. - -"I know your temper is a hot one," he said. "But for all that, -your violence quite takes me by surprise. I can't account for it, -unless"--he hesitated a moment, and then finished the sentence in -his usual frank, outspoken way--"unless you are sweet yourself on -Miss Gwilt." - -Those last words heaped fuel on the fire. They stripped the truth -instantly of all concealments and disguises, and laid it bare to -view. Allan's instinct had guessed, and the guiding influence -stood revealed of Midwinter's interest in Miss Gwilt. - -"What right have you to say that?" he asked, with raised voice -and threatening eyes. - -"I told _you,_" said Allan, simply, "when I thought I was sweet -on her myself. Come! come! it's a little hard, I think, even if -you are in love with her, to believe everything she tells you, -and not to let me say a word. Is _that_ the way you decide -between us?" - -"Yes, it is!" cried the other, infuriated by Allan's second -allusion to Miss Gwilt. "When I am asked to choose between the -employer of a spy and the victim of a spy, I side with the -victim!" - -"Don't try me too hard, Midwinter, I have a temper to lose as -well as you." - -He stopped, struggling with himself. The torture of passion in -Midwinter's face, from which a less simple and less generous -nature might have recoiled in horror, touched Allan suddenly with -an artless distress, which, at that moment, was little less than -sublime. He advanced, with his eyes moistening, and his hand held -out. "You asked me for my hand just now," he said, "and I gave it -you. Will you remember old times, and give me yours, before it's -too late?" - -"No!" retorted Midwinter, furiously. "I may meet Miss Gwilt -again, and I may want my hand free to deal with your spy!" - -He had drawn back along the wall as Allan advanced, until the -bracket which supported the Statuette was before instead of -behind him. In the madness of his passion he saw nothing but -Allan's face confronting him. In the madness of his passion, he -stretched out his right hand as he answered, and shook it -threateningly in the air. It struck the forgotten projection of -the bracket--and the next instant the Statuette lay in fragments -on the floor. - -The rain drove slanting over flower-bed and lawn, and pattered -heavily against the glass; and the two Armadales stood by the -window, as the two Shadows had stood in the Second Vision of the -Dream, with the wreck of the image between them. - -Allan stooped over the fragments of the little figure, and lifted -them one by one from the floor. - -"Leave me," he said, without looking up, "or we shall both repent -it." - -Without a word, Midwinter moved back slowly. He stood for the -second time with his hand on the door, and looked his last at the -room. The horror of the night on the Wreck had got him once more, -and the flame of his passion was quenched in an instant. - -"The Dream!" he whispered, under his breath. "The Dream again!" - -The door was tried from the outside, and a servant appeared with -a trivial message about the breakfast. - -Midwinter looked at the man with a blank, dreadful helplessness -in his face. "Show me the way out," he said. "The place is dark, -and the room turns round with me." - -The servant took him by the arm, and silently led him out. - -As the door closed on them, Allan picked up the last fragment of -the broken figure. He sat down alone at the table, and hid his -face in his hands. The self-control which he had bravely -preserved under exasperation renewed again and again now failed -him at last in the friendless solitude of his room, and, in the -first bitterness of feeling that Midwinter had turned against him -like the rest, he burst into tears. - -The moments followed each other, the slow time wore on. Little by -little the signs of a new elemental disturbance began to show -themselves in the summer storm. The shadow of a swiftly deepening -darkness swept over the sky. The pattering of the rain lessened -with the lessening wind. There was a momentary hush of stillness. -Then on a sudden the rain poured down again like a cataract, and -the low roll of thunder came up solemnly on the dying air. - -CHAPTER IX. - -SHE KNOWS THE TRUTH. - -1. _From Mr. Bashwood to Miss Gwilt._ - -"Thorpe Ambrose, July 20th, 1851. - -"DEAR MADAM--I received yesterday, by private messenger, your -obliging note, in which you di rect me to communicate with you -through the post only, as long as there is reason to believe that -any visitors who may come to you are likely to be observed. May I -be permitted to say that I look forward with respectful anxiety -to the time when I shall again enjoy the only real happiness I -have ever experienced--the happiness of personally addressing -you? - -"In compliance with your desire that I should not allow this day -(the Sunday) to pass without privately noticing what went on at -the great house, I took the keys, and went this morning to the -steward's office. I accounted for my appearance to the servants -by informing them that I had work to do which it was important to -complete in the shortest possible time. The same excuse would -have done for Mr. Armadale if we had met, but no such meeting -happened. - -"Although I was at Thorpe Ambrose in what I thought good time, I -was too late to see or hear anything myself of a serious quarrel -which appeared to have taken place, just before I arrived, -between Mr. Armadale and Mr. Midwinter. - -"All the little information I can give you in this matter is -derived from one of the servants. The man told me that he heard -the voices of the two gentlemen loud in Mr. Armadale's -sitting-room. He went in to announce breakfast shortly afterward, -and found Mr. Midwinter in such a dreadful state of agitation -that he had to be helped out of the room. The servant tried to -take him upstairs to lie down and compose himself. He declined, -saying he would wait a little first in one of the lower rooms, -and begging that he might be left alone. The man had hardly got -downstairs again when he heard the front door opened and closed. -He ran back, and found that Mr. Midwinter was gone. The rain was -pouring at the time, and thunder and lightning came soon -afterward. Dreadful weather certainly to go out in. The servant -thinks Mr. Midwinter's mind was unsettled. I sincerely hope not. -Mr. Midwinter is one of the few people I have met with in the -course of my life who have treated me kindly. - -"Hearing that Mr. Armadale still remained in the sitting-room, I -went into the steward's office (which, as you may remember, is on -the same side of the house), and left the door ajar, and set the -window open, waiting and listening for anything that might -happen. Dear madam, there was a time when I might have thought -such a position in the house of my employer not a very becoming -one. Let me hasten to assure you that this is far from being my -feeling now. I glory in any position which makes me serviceable -to you. - -"The state of the weather seemed hopelessly adverse to that -renewal of intercourse between Mr. Armadale and Miss Milroy which -you so confidently anticipate, and of which you are so anxious to -be made aware. Strangely enough, however, it is actually in -consequence of the state of the weather that I am now in a -position to give you the very information you require. Mr. -Armadale and Miss Milroy met about an hour since. The -circumstances were as follows: - -"Just at the beginning of the thunder-storm, I saw one of the -grooms run across from the stables, and heard him tap at his -master's window. Mr. Armadale opened the window and asked what -was the matter. The groom said he came with a message from the -coachman's wife. She had seen from her room over the stables -(which looks on to the park) Miss Milroy quite alone, standing -for shelter under one of the trees. As that part of the park was -at some distance from the major's cottage, she had thought that -her master might wish to send and ask the young lady into the -house--especially as she had placed herself, with a thunder-storm -coming on, in what might turn out to be a very dangerous -position. - -"The moment Mr. Armadale understood the man's message, he called -for the water-proof things and the umbrellas, and ran out -himself, instead of leaving it to the servants. In a little time -he and the groom came back with Miss Milroy between them, as well -protected as could be from the rain. - -"I ascertained from one of the women-servants, who had taken the -young lady into a bedroom, and had supplied her with such dry -things as she wanted, that Miss Milroy had been afterward shown -into the drawing-room, and that Mr. Armadale was there with her. -The only way of following your instructions, and finding out what -passed between them, was to go round the house in the pelting -rain, and get into the conservatory (which opens into the -drawing-room) by the outer door. I hesitate at nothing, dear -madam, in your service; I would cheerfully get wet every day, to -please you. Besides, though I may at first sight be thought -rather an elderly man, a wetting is of no very serious -consequence to me. I assure you I am not so old as I look, and I -am of a stronger constitution than appears. - -"It was impossible for me to get near enough in the conservatory -to see what went on in the drawing-room, without the risk of -being discovered. But most of the conversation reached me, except -when they dropped their voices. This is the substance of what I -heard: - -"I gathered that Miss Milroy had been prevailed on, against her -will, to take refuge from the thunder-storm in Mr. Armadale's -house. She said so, at least, and she gave two reasons. The first -was that her father had forbidden all intercourse between the -cottage and the great house. Mr. Armadale met this objection by -declaring that her father had issued his orders under a total -misconception of the truth, and by entreating her not to treat -him as cruelly as the major had treated him. He entered, I -suspect, into some explanations at this point, but as he dropped -his voice I am unable to say what they were. His language, when I -did hear it, was confused and ungrammatical. It seemed, however, -to be quite intelligible enough to persuade Miss Milroy that her -father had been acting under a mistaken impression of the -circumstances. At least, I infer this; for, when I next heard the -conversation, the young lady was driven back to her second -objection to being in the house--which was, that Mr. Armadale had -behaved very badly to her, and that he richly deserved that she -should never speak to him again. - -"In this latter case, Mr. Armadale attempted no defense of any -kind. He agreed with her that he had behaved badly; he agreed -with her that he richly deserved she should never speak to him -again. At the same time he implored her to remember that he had -suffered his punishment already. He was disgraced in the -neighborhood; and his dearest friend, his one intimate friend in -the world, had that very morning turned against him like the -rest. Far or near, there was not a living creature whom he was -fond of to comfort him, or to say a friendly word to him. He was -lonely and miserable, and his heart ached for a little -kindness--and that was his only excuse for asking Miss Milroy to -forget and forgive the past. - -"I must leave you, I fear, to judge for yourself of the effect of -this on the young lady; for, though I tried hard, I failed to -catch what she said. I am almost certain I heard her crying, and -Mr. Armadale entreating her not to break his heart. They -whispered a great deal, which aggravated me. I was afterward -alarmed by Mr. Armadale coming out into the conservatory to pick -some flowers. He did not come as far, fortunately, as the place -where I was hidden; and he went in again into the drawing-room, -and there was more talking (I suspect at close quarters), which -to my great regret I again failed to catch. Pray forgive me for -having so little to tell you. I can only add that, when the storm -cleared off, Miss Milroy went away with the flowers in her hand, -and with Mr. Armadale escorting her from the house. My own humble -opinion is that he had a powerful friend at court, all through -the interview, in the young lady's own liking for him. - -"This is all I can say at present, with the exception of one -other thing I heard, which I blush to mention. But your word is -law, and you have ordered me to have no concealments from you. - -"Their talk turned once, dear madam, on yourself. I think I heard -the word 'creature' from Miss Milroy; and I am certain that Mr. -Armadale, while acknowledging that he had once admired you, added -that circumstances had since satisfied him of 'his folly.' I -quote his own expression; it made me quite tremble with -indignation. If I may be permitted to say so, the man who admires -Miss Gwilt lives in Paradise. Respect, if nothing else, ought to -have closed Mr. Armadale's lips. He is my employer, I know; but -after his calling it an act of folly to admire you (though I _am_ -his deputy-steward), I utterly despise him. - -"Trusting that I may have been so happy as to give you -satisfaction thus far, and earnestly desirous to deserve the -honor of your continued confidence in me, I remain, dear madam, - -"Your grateful and devoted servant, - -"FELIX BASHWOOD." - -2. _From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt._ - -"Diana Street, Monday, July 21st. - -"MY DEAR LYDIA--I trouble you with a few lines. They are written -under a sense of the duty which I owe to myself, in our present -position toward each other. - -"I am not at all satisfied with the tone of your last two -letters; and I am still less pleased at your leaving me this -morning without any letter at all--and this when we had arranged, -in the doubtful state of our prospects, that I was to hear from -you every day. I can only interpret your conduct in one way. I -can only infer that matters at Thorpe Ambrose, having been all -mismanaged, are all going wrong. - -"It is not my present object to reproach you, for why should I -waste time, language, and paper? I merely wish to recall to your -memory certain considerations which you appear to be disposed to -overlook. Shall I put them in the plainest English? Yes; for, -with all my faults, I am frankness personified. - -"In the first place, then, I have an interest in your becoming -Mrs. Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose as well as you. Secondly, I have -provided you (to say nothing of good advice) with all the money -needed to accomplish our object. Thirdly, I hold your notes of -hand, at short dates, for every farthing so advanced. Fourthly -and lastly, though I am indulgent to a fault in the capacity of a -friend--in the capacity of a woman of business, my dear, I am not -to be trifled with. That is all, Lydia, at least for the present. - -"Pray don't suppose I write in anger; I am only sorry and -disheartened. My state of mind resembles David's. If I had the -wings of a dove, I would flee away and be at rest. - -"Affectionately yours, MARIA OLDERSHAW." - -3. _From Mr. Bashwood to Miss Gwilt._ - -"Thorpe Ambrose, July 21st. - -"DEAR MADAM--You will probably receive these lines a few hours -after my yesterday's communication reaches you. I posted my first -letter last night, and I shall post this before noon to-day. - -"My present object in writing is to give you some more news from -this house. I have the inexpressible happiness of announcing that -Mr. Armadale's disgraceful intrusion on your privacy is at an -end. The watch set on your actions is to be withdrawn this day. I -write, dear madam, with the tears in my eyes--tears of joy, -caused by feelings which I ventured to express in my previous -letter (see first paragraph toward the end). Pardon me this -personal reference. I can speak to you (I don't know why) so much -more readily with my pen than with my tongue. - -"Let me try to compose myself, and proceed with my narrative. - -"I had just arrived at the steward's office this morning, when -Mr. Pedgift the elder followed me to the great house to see Mr. -Armadale by special appointment. It is needless to say that I at -once suspended any little business there was to do, feeling that -your interests might possibly be concerned. It is also most -gratifying to add that this time circumstances favored me. I was -able to stand under the open window and to hear the whole -interview. - -"Mr. Armadale explained himself at once in the plainest terms. He -gave orders that the person who had been hired to watch you -should be instantly dismissed. On being asked to explain this -sudden change of purpose, he did not conceal that it was owing to -the effect produced on his mind by what had passed between Mr. -Midwinter and himself on the previous day. Mr. Midwinter's -language, cruelly unjust as it was, had nevertheless convinced -him that no necessity whatever could excuse any proceeding so -essentially base in itself as the employment of a spy, and on -that conviction he was now determined to act. - -"But for your own positive directions to me to conceal nothing -that passes here in which your name is concerned, I should really -be ashamed to report what Mr. Pedgift said on his side. He has -behaved kindly to me, I know. But if he was my own brother, I -could never forgive him the tone in which he spoke of you, and -the obstinacy with which he tried to make Mr. Armadale change his -mind. - -"He began by attacking Mr. Midwinter. He declared that Mr. -Midwinter's opinion was the very worst opinion that could be -taken; for it was quite plain that you, dear madam, had twisted -him round your finger. Producing no effect by this coarse -suggestion (which nobody who knows you could for a moment -believe), Mr. Pedgift next referred to Miss Milroy, and asked Mr. -Armadale if he had given up all idea of protecting her. What this -meant I cannot imagine. I can only report it for your private -consideration. Mr. Armadale briefly answered that he had his own -plan for protecting Miss Milroy, and that the circumstances were -altered in that quarter, or words to a similar effect. Still Mr. -Pedgift persisted. He went on (I blush to mention) from bad to -worse. He tried to persuade Mr. Armadale next to bring an action -at law against one or other of the persons who had been most -strongly condemning his conduct in the neighborhood, for the -purpose--I really hardly know how to write it--of getting you -into the witness-box. And worse yet: when Mr. Armadale still said -No, Mr. Pedgift, after having, as I suspected by the sound of his -voice, been on the point of leaving the room, artfully came back, -and proposed sending for a detective officer from London, simply -to look at you. 'The whole of this mystery about Miss Gwilt's -true character,' he said, 'may turn on a question of identity. It -won't cost much to have a man down from London; and it's worth -trying whether her face is or is not known at headquarters to the -police.' I again and again assure you, dearest lady, that I only -repeat those abominable words from a sense of duty toward -yourself. I shook--I declare I shook from head to foot when I -heard them. - -"To resume, for there is more to tell you. - -"Mr. Armadale (to his credit--I don't deny it, though I don't -like him) still said No. He appeared to be getting irritated -under Mr. Pedgift's persistence, and he spoke in a somewhat hasty -way. 'You persuaded me on the last occasion when we talked about -this,' he said, 'to do something that I have been since heartily -ashamed of. You won't succeed in persuading me, Mr. Pedgift, a -second time.' Those were his words. Mr. Pedgift took him up -short; Mr. Pedgift seemed to be nettled on his side. - -" 'If that is the light in which you see my advice, sir,' he -said, 'the less you have of it for the future, the better. Your -character and position are publicly involved in this matter -between yourself and Miss Gwilt; and you persist, at a most -critical moment, in taking a course of your own, which I believe -will end badly. After what I have already said and done in this -very serious case, I can't consent to go on with it with both my -hands tied, and I can't drop it with credit to myself while I -remain publicly known as your solicitor. You leave me no -alternative, sir, but to resign the honor of acting as your legal -adviser.' 'I am sorry to hear it,' says Mr. Armadale, 'but I have -suffered enough already through interfering with Miss Gwilt. I -can't and won't stir any further in the matter.' '_You_ may not -stir any further in it, sir,' says Mr. Pedgift, 'and _I_ shall -not stir any further in it, for it has ceased to be a question of -professional interest to me. But mark my words, Mr. Armadale, you -are not at the end of this business yet. Some other person's -curiosity may go on from the point where you (and I) have -stopped; and some other person's hand may let the broad daylight -in yet on Miss Gwilt.' - -"I report their language, d ear madam, almost word for word, I -believe, as I heard it. It produced an indescribable impression -on me; it filled me, I hardly know why, with quite a panic of -alarm. I don't at all understand it, and I understand still less -what happened immediately afterward. - -"Mr. Pedgift's voice, when he said those last words, sounded -dreadfully close to me. He must have been speaking at the open -window, and he must, I fear, have seen me under it. I had time, -before he left the house, to get out quietly from among the -laurels, but not to get back to the office. Accordingly I walked -away along the drive toward the lodge, as if I was going on some -errand connected with the steward's business. - -"Before long, Mr. Pedgift overtook me in his gig, and stopped. -'So _you_ feel some curiosity about Miss Gwilt, do you?' he said. -'Gratify your curiosity by all means; _I_ don't object to it.' I -felt naturally nervous, but I managed to ask him what he meant. -He didn't answer; he only looked down at me from the gig in a -very odd manner, and laughed. 'I have known stranger things -happen even than _that!_' he said to himself suddenly, and drove -off. - -"I have ventured to trouble you with this last incident, though -it may seem of no importance in your eyes, in the hope that your -superior ability may be able to explain it. My own poor -faculties, I confess, are quite unable to penetrate Mr. Pedgift's -meaning. All I know is that he has no right to accuse me of any -such impertinent feeling as curiosity in relation to a lady whom -I ardently esteem and admire. I dare not put it in warmer words. - -"I have only to add that I am in a position to be of continued -service to you here if you wish it. Mr. Armadale has just been -into the office, and has told me briefly that, in Mr. Midwinter's -continued absence, I am still to act as steward's deputy till -further notice. - -"Believe me, dear madam, anxiously and devotedly yours, FELIX -BASHWOOD." - -4. _From Allan Armadale to the Reverend Decimus Brock._ - -Thorpe Ambrose, Tuesday. - -"MY DEAR MR. BROCK--I am in sad trouble. Midwinter has quarreled -with me and left me; and my lawyer has quarreled with me and left -me; and (except dear little Miss Milroy, who has forgiven me) all -the neighbors have turned their backs on me. There is a good deal -about 'me' in this, but I can't help it. I am very miserable -alone in my own house. Do pray come and see me! You are the only -old friend I have left, and I do long so to tell you about it. - -"N. B.--On my word of honor as a gentleman, I am not to blame. -Yours affectionately, - -"ALLAN ARMADALE. - -"P. S.--I would come to you (for this place is grown quite -hateful to me), but I have a reason for not going too far away -from Miss Milroy just at present." - -5. _From Robert Stapleton to Allan Armadale, Esq._ - -"Bascombe Rectory, Thursday Morning. - -"RESPECTED SIR--I see a letter in your writing, on the table -along with the others, which I am sorry to say my master is not -well enough to open. He is down with a sort of low fever. The -doctor says it has been brought on with worry and anxiety which -master was not strong enough to bear. This seems likely; for I -was with him when he went to London last month, and what with his -own business, and the business of looking after that person who -afterward gave us the slip, he was worried and anxious all the -time; and for the matter of that, so was I. - -"My master was talking of you a day or two since. He seemed -unwilling that you should know of his illness, unless he got -worse. But I think you ought to know of it. At the same time he -is not worse; perhaps a trifle better. The doctor says he must be -kept very quiet, and not agitated on any account. So be pleased -to take no notice of this--I mean in the way of coming to the -rectory. I have the doctor's orders to say it is not needful, and -it would only upset my master in the state he is in now. - -"I will write again if you wish it. Please accept of my duty, and -believe me to remain, sir, your humble servant, - -"ROBERT STAPLETON. - -"P. S.--The yacht has been rigged and repainted, waiting your -orders. She looks beautiful." - -6. _From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt._ - -"Diana Street, July 24th. - -"MISS GWILT--The post hour has passed for three mornings -following, and has brought me no answer to my letter. Are you -purposely bent on insulting me? or have you left Thorpe Ambrose? -In either case, I won't put up with your conduct any longer. The -law shall bring you to book, if I can't. - -"Your first note of hand (for thirty pounds) falls due on Tuesday -next, the 29th. If you had behaved with common consideration -toward me, I would have let you renew it with pleasure. As things -are, I shall have the note presented; and, if it is not paid, I -shall instruct my man of business to take the usual course. - -"Yours, MARIA OLDERSHAW." - -7. _From Miss Gwilt to Mrs. Oldershaw._ - -"5 Paradise Place, Thorpe Ambrose, July 25th. - -MRS. OLDERSHAW--The time of your man of business being, no doubt, -of some value, I write a line to assist him when he takes the -usual course. He will find me waiting to be arrested in the -first-floor apartments, at the above address. In my present -situation, and with my present thoughts, the best service you can -possibly render me is to lock me up. - -"L. G." - -8. _From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt._ - -"Diana Street, July 26th. - -"MY DARLING LYDIA--The longer I live in this wicked world the -more plainly I see that women's own tempers are the worst enemies -women have to contend with. What a truly regretful style of -correspondence we have fallen into! What a sad want of -self-restraint, my dear, on your side and on mine! - -"Let me, as the oldest in years, be the first to make the needful -excuses, the first to blush for my own want of self-control. Your -cruel neglect, Lydia, stung me into writing as I did. I am so -sensitive to ill treatment, when it is inflicted on me by a -person whom I love and admire; and, though turned sixty, I am -still (unfortunately for myself) so young at heart. Accept my -apologies for having made use of my pen, when I ought to have -been content to take refuge in my pocket-handkerchief. Forgive -your attached Maria for being still young at heart! - -"But oh, my dear--though I own I threatened you--how hard of you -to take me at my word! How cruel of you, if your debt had been -ten times what it is, to suppose me capable (whatever I might -say) of the odious inhumanity of arresting my bosom friend! -Heavens! have I deserved to be taken at my word in this -unmercifully exact way, after the years of tender intimacy that -have united us? But I don't complain; I only mourn over the -frailty of our common human nature. Let us expect as little of -each other as possible, my dear; we are both women, and we can't -help it. I declare, when I reflect on the origin of our -unfortunate sex--when I remember that we were all originally made -of no better material than the rib of a man (and that rib of so -little importance to its possessor that he never appears to have -missed it afterward), I am quite astonished at our virtues, and -not in the least surprised at our faults. - -"I am wandering a little; I am losing myself in serious thought, -like that sweet character in Shakespeare who was 'fancy free.' -One last word, dearest, to say that my longing for an answer to -this proceeds entirely from my wish to hear from you again in -your old friendly tone, and is quite unconnected with any -curiosity to know what you are doing at Thorpe Ambrose--except -such curiosity as you yourself might approve. Need I add that I -beg you as a favor to _me_ to renew, on the customary terms? I -refer to the little bill due on Tuesday next, and I venture to -suggest that day six weeks. - -"Yours, with a truly motherly feeling, - -"MARIA OLDERSHAW." - -9. _From Miss Gwilt to Mrs. Oldershaw._ - -"Paradise Place, July 27th. - -"I HAVE just got your last letter. The brazen impudence of it has -roused me. I am to be treated like a child, am I?--to be -threatened first, and then, if threatening fails, to be coaxed -afterward? You _ shall_ coax me; you shall know, my motherly -friend, the sort of child you have to deal with. - -"I had a reason, Mrs. Oldershaw, for the silence which has so -seriously offended yo u. I was afraid--actually afraid--to let -you into the secret of my thoughts. No such fear troubles me now. -My only anxiety this morning is to make you my best -acknowledgments for the manner in which you have written to me. -After carefully considering it, I think the worst turn I can -possibly do you is to tell you what you are burning to know. So -here I am at my desk, bent on telling it. If you don't bitterly -repent, when you are at the end of this letter, not having held -to your first resolution, and locked me up out of harm's way -while you had the chance, my name is not Lydia Gwilt. - -"Where did my last letter end? I don't remember, and don't care. -Make it out as you can--I am not going back any further than this -day week. That is to say, Sunday last. - -"There was a thunder-storm in the morning. It began to clear off -toward noon. I didn't go out: I waited to see Midwinter or to -hear from him. (Are you surprised at my not writing 'Mr.' before -his name? We have got so familiar, my dear, that 'Mr.' would be -quite out of place.) He had left me the evening before, under -very interesting circumstances. I had told him that his friend -Armadale was persecuting me by means of a hired spy. He had -declined to believe it, and had gone straight to Thorpe Ambrose -to clear the thing up. I let him kiss my hand before he went. He -promised to come back the next day (the Sunday). I felt I had -secured my influence over him; and I believed he would keep his -word. - -"Well, the thunder passed away as I told you. The weather cleared -up; the people walked out in their best clothes; the dinners came -in from the bakers; I sat dreaming at my wretched little hired -piano, nicely dressed and looking my best--and still no Midwinter -appeared. It was late in the afternoon, and I was beginning to -feel offended, when a letter was brought to me. It had been left -by a strange messenger who went away again immediately. I looked -at the letter. Midwinter at last--in writing, instead of in -person. I began to feel more offended than ever; for, as I told -you, I thought I had used my influence over him to better -purpose. - -"The letter, when I read it, set my mind off in a new direction. -It surprised, it puzzled, it interested me. I thought, and -thought, and thought of him, all the rest of the day. - -"He began by asking my pardon for having doubted what I told him. -Mr. Armadale's own lips had confirmed me. They had quarreled (as -I had anticipated they would); and he, and the man who had once -been his dearest friend on earth, had parted forever. So far, I -was not surprised. I was amused by his telling me in his -extravagant way that he and his friend were parted forever; and I -rather wondered what he would think when I carried out my plan, -and found my way into the great house on pretense of reconciling -them. - -"But the second part of the letter set me thinking. Here it is, -in his own words. - - -" 'It is only by struggling against myself (and no language can -say how hard the struggle has been) that I have decided on -writing, instead of speaking to you. A merciless necessity claims -my future life. I must leave Thorpe Ambrose, I must leave -England, without hesitating, without stopping to look back. There -are reasons--terrible reasons, which I have madly trifled -with--for my never letting Mr. Armadale set eyes on me, or hear -of me again, after what has happened between us. I must go, never -more to live under the same roof, never more to breathe the same -air with that man. I must hide myself from him under an assumed -name; I must put the mountains and the seas between us. I have -been warned as no human creature was ever warned before. I -believe--I dare not tell you why--I believe that, if the -fascination you have for me draws me back to you, fatal -consequences will come of it to the man whose life has been so -strangely mingled with your life and mine--the man who was once -_your_ admirer and _my_ friend. And yet, feeling this, seeing it -in my mind as plainly as I see the sky above my head, there is a -weakness in me that still shrinks from the one imperative -sacrifice of never seeing you again. I am fighting with it as a -man fights with the strength of his despair. I have been near -enough, not an hour since, to see the house where you live, and -have forced myself away again out of sight of it. Can I force -myself away further still, now that my letter is written--now, -when the useless confession escapes me, and I own to loving you -with the first love I have ever known, with the last love I shall -ever feel? Let the coming time answer the question; I dare not -write of it or think of it more.' - - -"Those were the last words. In that strange way the letter ended. - -"I felt a perfect fever of curiosity to know what he meant. His -loving me, of course, was easy enough to understand. But what did -he mean by saying he had been warned? Why was he never to live -under the same roof, never to breathe the same air again, with -young Armadale? What sort of quarrel could it be which obliged -one man to hide himself from another under an assumed name, and -to put the mountains and the seas between them? Above all, if he -came back, and let me fascinate him, why should it be fatal to -the hateful lout who possesses the noble fortune and lives in the -great house? - -"I never longed in my life as I longed to see him again and put -these questions to him. I got quite superstitious about it as the -day drew on. They gave me a sweet-bread and a cherry pudding for -dinner. I actually tried if he would come back by the stones in -the plate! He will, he won't, he will, he won't--and so on. It -ended in 'He won't.' I rang the bell, and had the things taken -away. I contradicted Destiny quite fiercely. I said, 'He will!' -and I waited at home for him. - -"You don't know what a pleasure it is to me to give you all these -little particulars. Count up--my bosom friend, my second -mother--count up the money you have advanced on the chance of my -becoming Mrs. Armadale, and then think of my feeling this -breathless interest in another man. Oh, Mrs. Oldershaw, how -intensely I enjoy the luxury of irritating you! - -"The day got on toward evening. I rang again, and sent down to -borrow a railway time-table. What trains were there to take him -away on Sunday? The national respect for the Sabbath stood my -friend. There was only one train, which had started hours before -he wrote to me. I went and consulted my glass. It paid me the -compliment of contradicting the divination by cherry-stones. My -glass said: 'Get behind the window-curtain; he won't pass the -long lonely evening without coming back again to look at the -house.' I got behind the window-curtain, and waited with his -letter in my hand. - -"The dismal Sunday light faded, and the dismal Sunday quietness -in the street grew quieter still. The dusk came, and I heard a -step coming with it in the silence. My heart gave a little -jump--only think of my having any heart left! I said to myself: -'Midwinter!' And Midwinter it was. - -"When he came in sight he was walking slowly, stopping and -hesitating at every two or three steps. My ugly little -drawing-room window seemed to be beckoning him on in spite of -himself. After waiting till I saw him come to a standstill, a -little aside from the house, but still within view of my -irresistible window, I put on my things and slipped out by the -back way into the garden. The landlord and his family were at -supper, and nobody saw me. I opened the door in the wall, and got -round by the lane into the street. At that awkward moment I -suddenly remembered, what I had forgotten before, the spy set to -watch me, who was, no doubt, waiting somewhere in sight of the -house. - -"It was necessary to get time to think, and it was (in my state -of mind) impossible to let Midwinter go without speaking to him. -In great difficulties you generally decide at once, if you decide -at all. I decided to make an appointment with him for the next -evening, and to consider in the interval how to manage the -interview so that it might escape observation. This, as I felt at -the time, was leaving my own curiosity free to torment me for -four-and-twenty mortal hours; but what other choice had I? It was -as good as giving u p being mistress of Thorpe Ambrose -altogether, to come to a private understanding with Midwinter in -the sight and possibly in the hearing of Armadale's spy. - -"Finding an old letter of yours in my pocket, I drew back into -the lane, and wrote on the blank leaf, with the little pencil -that hangs at my watch-chain: 'I must and will speak to you. It -is impossible tonight, but be in the street tomorrow at this -time, and leave me afterward forever, if you like. When you have -read this, overtake me, and say as you pass, without stopping or -looking round, "Yes, I promise." ' - -"I folded up the paper, and came on him suddenly from behind. As -he started and turned round, I put the note into his hand, -pressed his hand, and passed on. Before I had taken ten steps I -heard him behind me. I can't say he didn't look round--I saw his -big black eyes, bright and glittering in the dusk, devour me from -head to foot in a moment; but otherwise he did what I told him. -'I can deny you nothing,' he whispered; 'I promise.' He went on -and left me. I couldn't help thinking at the time how that brute -and booby Armadale would have spoiled everything in the same -situation. - -"I tried hard all night to think of a way of making our interview -of the next evening safe from discovery, and tried in vain. Even -as early as this, I began to feel as if Midwinter's letter had, -in some unaccountable manner, stupefied me. - -"Monday morning made matters worse. News came from my faithful -ally, Mr. Bashwood, that Miss Milroy and Armadale had met and -become friends again. You may fancy the state I was in! An hour -or two later there came more news from Mr. Bashwood--good news -this time. The mischievous idiot at Thorpe Ambrose had shown -sense enough at last to be ashamed of himself. He had decided on -withdrawing the spy that very day, and he and his lawyer had -quarreled in consequence. - -"So here was the obstacle which I was too stupid to remove for -myself obligingly removed for me! No more need to fret about the -coming interview with Midwinter; and plenty of time to consider -my next proceedings, now that Miss Milroy and her precious swain -had come together again. Would you believe it, the letter, or the -man himself (I don't know which), had taken such a hold on me -that, though I tried and tried, I could think of nothing else; -and this when I had every reason to fear that Miss Milroy was in -a fair way of changing her name to Armadale, and when I knew that -my heavy debt of obligation to her was not paid yet? Was there -ever such perversity? I can't account for it; can you? - -"The dusk of the evening came at last. I looked out of the -window--and there he was! - -"I joined him at once; the people of the house, as before, being -too much absorbed in their eating and drinking to notice anything -else. 'We mustn't be seen together here,' I whispered. 'I must go -on first, and you must follow me.' - -"He said nothing in the way of reply. What was going on in his -mind I can't pretend to guess; but, after coming to his -appointment, he actually hung back as if he was half inclined to -go away again. - -" 'You look as if you were afraid of me,' I said. - -" 'I _am_ afraid of you,' he answered--'of you, and of myself.' - -"It was not encouraging; it was not complimentary. But I was in -such a frenzy of curiosity by this time that, if he had been -ruder still, I should have taken no notice of it. I led the way a -few steps toward the new buildings, and stopped and looked round -after him. - -" 'Must I ask it of you as a favor,' I said, 'after your giving -me your promise, and after such a letter as you have written to -me?' - -"Something suddenly changed him; he was at my side in an instant. -'I beg your pardon, Miss Gwilt; lead the way where you please.' -He dropped back a little after that answer, and I heard him say -to himself, 'What _is_ to be _will_ be. What have I to do with -it, and what has she?' - -"It could hardly have been the words, for I didn't understand -them--it must have been the tone he spoke in, I suppose, that -made me feel a momentary tremor. I was half inclined, without the -ghost of a reason for it, to wish him good-night, and go in -again. Not much like me, you will say. Not much, indeed! It -didn't last a moment. Your darling Lydia soon came to her senses -again. - -"I led the way toward the unfinished cottages, and the country -beyond. It would have been much more to my taste to have had him -into the house, and have talked to him in the light of the -candles. But I had risked it once already; and in this -scandal-mongering place, and in my critical position, I was -afraid to risk it again. The garden was not to be thought of -either, for the landlord smokes his pipe there after his supper. -There was no alternative but to take him away from the town. - -"From time to time, I looked back as I went on. There he was, -always at the same distance, dim and ghost-like in the dusk, -silently following me. - -"I must leave off for a little while. The church bells have -broken out, and the jangling of them drives me mad. In these -days, when we have all got watches and clocks, why are bells -wanted to remind us when the service begins? We don't require to -be rung into the theater. How excessively discreditable to the -clergy to be obliged to ring us into the church! - - ---------- - -"They have rung the congregation in at last; and 1 can take up my -pen, and go on again. - -"I was a little in doubt where to lead him to. The high-road was -on one side of me; but, empty as it looked, somebody might be -passing when we least expected It. The other way was through the -coppice. I led him through the coppice. - -"At the outskirts of the trees, on the other side, there was a -dip in the ground with some felled timber lying on it, and a -little pool beyond, still and white and shining in the twilight. -The long grazing-grounds rose over its further shore, with the -mist thickening on them, and a dim black line far away of cattle -in slow procession going home. There wasn't a living creature -near; there wasn't a sound to be heard. I sat down on one of the -felled trees and looked back for him. 'Come,' I said, -softly--'come and sit by me here.' - -"Why am I so particular about all this? I hardly know. The place -made an unaccountably vivid impression on me, and I can't help -writing about it. If I end badly--suppose we say on the -scaffold?--I believe the last thing I shall see, before the -hangman pulls the drop, will be the little shining pool, and the -long, misty grazing-grounds, and the cattle winding dimly home in -the thickening night. Don't be alarmed, you worthy creature! My -fancies play me strange tricks sometimes; and there is a little -of last night's laudanum, I dare say, in this part of my letter. - -"He came--in the strangest silent way, like a man walking in his -sleep--he came and sat down by me. Either the night was very -close, or I was by this time literally in a fever: I couldn't -bear my bonnet on; I couldn't bear my gloves. The want to look at -him, and see what his singular silence meant, and the -impossibility of doing it in the darkening light, irritated my -nerves, till I thought I should have screamed. I took his hand, -to try if that would help me. It was burning hot; and it closed -instantly on mine--you know how. Silence, after _that,_ was not -to be thought of. The one safe way was to begin talking to him at -once. - -" 'Don't despise me,' I said. 'I am obliged to bring you to this -lonely place; I should lose my character if we were seen -together.' - -"I waited a little. His hand warned me once more not to let the -silence continue. I determined to _make_ him speak to me this -time. - -" 'You have interested me, and frightened me,' I went on. 'You -have written me a very strange letter. I must know what it -means.' - -" 'It is too late to ask. _You_ have taken the way, and _I_ have -taken the way, from which there is no turning back.' He made that -strange answer in a tone that was quite new to me--a tone that -made me even more uneasy than his silence had made me the moment -before. 'Too late,' he repeated--'too late! There is only one -question to ask me now.' - -" 'What is it?' - -"As I said the words, a sudden trembling passed from his hand to -m ine, and told me instantly that I had better have held my -tongue. Before I could move, before I could think, he had me in -his arms. 'Ask me if I love you,' he whispered. At the same -moment his head sank on my bosom; and some unutterable torture -that was in him burst its way out, as it does with _us,_ in a -passion of sobs and tears. - -"My first impulse was the impulse of a fool. I was on the point -of making our usual protest and defending myself in our usual -way. Luckily or unluckily, I don't know which, I have lost the -fine edge of the sensitiveness of youth; and I checked the first -movement of my hands, and the first word on my lips. Oh, dear, -how old I felt, while he was sobbing his heart out on my breast! -How I thought of the time when he might have possessed himself of -my love! All he had possessed himself of now was--my waist. - -"I wonder whether I pitied him? It doesn't matter if I did. At -any rate, my hand lifted itself somehow, and my fingers twined -themselves softly in his hair. Horrible recollections came back -to me of other times, and made me shudder as I touched him. And -yet I did it. What fools women are! - -" 'I won't reproach you,' I said, gently. 'I won't say this is a -cruel advantage to take of me, in such a position as mine. You -are dreadfully agitated; I will let you wait a little and compose -yourself.' - -"Having got as far as that, I stopped to consider how I should -put the questions to him that I was burning to ask. But I was too -confused, I suppose, or perhaps too impatient to consider. I let -out what was uppermost in my mind, in the words that came first. - -" 'I don't believe you love me,' I said. 'You write strange -things to me; you frighten me with mysteries. What did you mean -by saying in your letter that it would be fatal to Mr. Armadale -if you came back to me? What danger can there be to Mr. -Armadale--?' - -"Before I could finish the question, he suddenly lifted his head -and unclasped his arms. I had apparently touched some painful -subject which recalled him to himself. Instead of my shrinking -from _him,_ it was he who shrank from _me._ I felt offended with -him; why, I don't know--but offended I was; and I thanked him -with my bitterest emphasis for remembering what was due to me, -_at last!_ - -" 'Do you believe in Dreams?' he burst out, in the most strangely -abrupt manner, without taking the slightest notice of what I had -said to him. 'Tell me,' he went on, without allowing me time to -answer, 'were you, or was any relation of yours, ever connected -with Allan Armadale's father or mother? Were you, or was anybody -belonging to you, ever in the island of Madeira? ' - -"Conceive my astonishment, if you can. I turned cold. In an -instant I turned cold all over. He was plainly in the secret of -what had happened when I was in Mrs. Armadale's service in -Madeira--in all probability before he was born! That was -startling enough of itself. And he had evidently some reason of -his own for trying to connect _me_ with those events--which was -more startling still. - -" 'No,' I said, as soon as I could trust myself to speak. 'I know -nothing of his father or mother.' - -" 'And nothing of the island of Madeira?' - -" 'Nothing of the island of Madeira.' - -"He turned his head away, and began talking to himself. - -" 'Strange!' he said. 'As certainly as I was in the Shadow's -place at the window, _she_ was in the Shadow's place at the -pool!' - -"Under other circumstances, his extraordinary behavior might have -alarmed me. But after his question about Madeira, there was some -greater fear in me which kept all common alarm at a distance. I -don't think I ever determined on anything in my life as I -determined on finding out how he had got his information, and who -he really was. It was quite plain to me that I had roused some -hidden feeling in him by my question about Armadale, which was as -strong in its way as his feeling for _me._ What had become of my -influence over him? - -"I couldn't imagine what had become of it; but I could and did -set to work to make him feel it again. - -" 'Don't treat me cruelly,' I said; 'I didn't treat _you_ cruelly -just now. Oh, Mr. Midwinter, it's so lonely, it's so dark--don't -frighten me!' - -" 'Frighten you!' He was close to me again in a moment. 'Frighten -you!' He repeated the word with as much astonishment as if I had -woke him from a dream, and charged him with something that he had -said in his sleep. - -"It was on the tip of my tongue, finding how I had surprised him, -to take him while he was off his guard, and to ask why my -question about Armadale had produced such a change in his -behavior to me. But after what had happened already, I was afraid -to risk returning to the subject too soon. Something or -other--what they call an instinct, I dare say--warned me to let -Armadale alone for the present, and to talk to him first about -himself. As I told you in one of my early letters, I had noticed -signs and tokens in his manner and appearance which convinced me, -young as he was, that he had done something or suffered something -out of the common in his past life. I had asked myself more and -more suspiciously every time I saw him whether he was what he -appeared to be; and first and foremost among my other doubts was -a doubt whether he was passing among us by his real name. Having -secrets to keep about my own past life, and having gone myself in -other days by more than one assumed name, I suppose I am all the -readier to suspect other people when I find something mysterious -about them. Any way, having the suspicion in my mind, I -determined to startle him, as he had startled me, by an -unexpected question on my side--a question about his name. - -"While I was thinking, he was thinking; and, as it soon appeared, -of what I had just said to him. 'I am so grieved to have -frightened you,' he whispered, with that gentleness and humility -which we all so heartily despise in a man when he speaks to other -women, and which we all so dearly like when he speaks to -ourselves. 'I hardly know what I have been saying,' he went on; -'my mind is miserably disturbed. Pray forgive me, if you can; I -am not myself to-night.' - -" 'I am not angry,' I said; 'I have nothing to forgive. We are -both imprudent; we are both unhappy.' I laid my head on his -shoulder. 'Do you really love me?' I asked him, softly, in a -whisper. - -"His arm stole round me again; and I felt the quick beat of his -heart get quicker and quicker. 'If you only knew!' he whispered -back; 'if you only knew--' He could say no more. I felt his face -bending toward mine, and dropped my head lower, and stopped him -in the very act of kissing me. - -" 'No,' I said; 'I am only a woman who has taken your fancy. You -are treating me as if I was your promised wife.' - -" '_Be_ my promised wife!' he whispered, eagerly, and tried to -raise my head. I kept it down. The horror of these old -remembrances that you know of came back and made me tremble a -little when he asked me to be his wife. I don't think I was -actually faint; but something like faintness made me close my -eyes. The moment I shut them, the darkness seemed to open as if -lightning had split it; and the ghosts of _those other men_ rose -in the horrid gap, and looked at me. - -" 'Speak to me!' he whispered, tenderly. 'My darling, my angel, -speak to me!' - -"His voice helped me to recover myself. I had just sense enough -left to remember that the time was passing, and that I had not -put my question to him yet about his name. - -" 'Suppose I felt for you as you feel for me?' I said. 'Suppose I -loved you dearly enough to trust you with the happiness of all my -life to come?' - -"I paused a moment to get my breath. It was unbearably still and -close; the air seemed to have died when the night came. - -" 'Would you be marrying me honorably,' I went on, 'if you -married me in your present name?' - -"His arm dropped from my waist, and I felt him give one great -start. After that he sat by me, still, and cold, and silent, as -if my question had struck him dumb. I put my arm round his neck, -and lifted my head again on his shoulder. Whatever the spell was -I had laid on him, my coming closer in that way seemed to break -it. - -" 'Who told you?' He stopped. 'No,' he went on, 'nobody can have -told you. What ma de you suspect--?' He stopped again. - -" 'Nobody told me,' I said; 'and I don't know what made me -suspect. Women have strange fancies sometimes. Is Midwinter -really your name?' - -" 'I can't deceive you,' he answered, after another interval of -silence; 'Midwinter is _not_ really my name.' - -"I nestled a little closer to him. - -" 'What _is_ your name?' I asked. - -"He hesitated. - -"I lifted my face till my cheek just touched his. I persisted, -with my lips close at his ear: - -" 'What, no confidence in me even yet! No confidence in the woman -who has almost confessed she loves you--who has almost consented -to be your wife!' - -"He turned his face to mine. For the second time he tried to kiss -me, and for the second time I stopped him. - -"'If I tell you my name,' he said, 'I must tell you more.' - -"I let my cheek touch his again. - -" 'Why not?' I said. 'How can I love a man--much less marry -him--if he keeps himself a stranger to me?' - -"There was no answering that, as I thought. But he did answer it. - -" 'It is a dreadful story,' he said. 'It may darken all your -life, if you know it, as it has darkened mine.' - -"I put my other arm round him, and persisted. 'Tell it me; I'm -not afraid; tell it me.' - -"He began to yield to my other arm. - -" 'Will you keep it a sacred secret?' he said. 'Never to be -breathed--never to be known but to you and me?' - -"I promised him it should be a secret. I waited in a perfect -frenzy of expectation. Twice he tried to begin, and twice his -courage failed him. - -" 'I can't!' he broke out in a wild, helpless way. I can't tell -it!' - -"My curiosity, or more likely my temper, got beyond all control. -He had irritated me till I was reckless what I said or what I -did. I suddenly clasped him close, and pressed my lips to his. 'I -love you!' I whispered in a kiss. '_Now_ will you tell me?' - -"For the moment he was speechless. I don't know whether I did it -purposely to drive him wild. I don't know whether I did it -involuntarily in a burst of rage. Nothing is certain but that I -interpreted his silence the wrong way. I pushed him back from me -in a fury the instant after I had kissed him. 'I hate you!' I -said. 'You have maddened me into forgetting myself. Leave me. I -don't care for the darkness. Leave me instantly, and never see me -again!' - -"He caught me by the hand and stopped me. He spoke in a new -voice; he suddenly _commanded,_ as only men can. - -" 'Sit down,' he said. 'You have given me back my courage--you -shall know who I am.' - -"In the silence and the darkness all round us, I obeyed him, and -sat down. - -"In the silence and the darkness all round us, he took me in his -arms again, and told me who he was. - - ---------- - -"Shall I trust you with his story? Shall I tell you his real -name? Shall I show you, as I threatened, the thoughts that have -grown out of my interview with him and out of all that has -happened to me since that time? - -"Or shall I keep his secret as I promised? and keep my own secret -too, by bringing this weary, long letter to an end at the very -moment when you are burning to hear more! - -"Those are serious questions, Mrs. Oldershaw--more serious than -you suppose. I have had time to calm down, and I begin to see, -what I failed to see when I first took up my pen to write to you, -the wisdom of looking at consequences. Have I frightened myself -in trying to frighten _you?_ It is possible--strange as it may -seem, it is really possible. - -"I have been at the window for the last minute or two, thinking. -There is plenty of time for thinking before the post leaves. The -people are only now coming out of church. - -"I have settled to put my letter on one side, and to take a look -at my diary. In plainer words I must see what I risk if I decide -on trusting you; and my diary will show me what my head is too -weary to calculate without help. I have written the story of my -days (and sometimes the story of my nights) much more regularly -than usual for the last week, having reasons of my own for being -particularly careful in this respect under present circumstances. -If I end in doing what it is now in my mind to do, it would be -madness to trust to my memory. The smallest forgetfulness of the -slightest event that has happened from the night of my interview -with Midwinter to the present time might be utter ruin to me. - -" 'Utter ruin to her!' you will say. 'What kind of ruin does she -mean?' - -"Wait a little, till I have asked my diary whether I can safely -tell you." - -CHAPTER X. - -MISS GWILT'S DIARY. - -"July 21st, Monday night, eleven o'clock.--Midwinter has just -left me. We parted by my desire at the path out of the coppice; -he going his way to the hotel, and I going mine to my lodgings. - -"I have managed to avoid making another appointment with him by -arranging to write to him to-morrow morning. This gives me the -night's interval to compose myself, and to coax my mind back (if -I can) to my own affairs. Will the night pass, and the morning -find me still thinking of the Letter that came to him from his -father's deathbed? of the night he watched through on the Wrecked -Ship; and, more than all, of the first breathless moment when he -told me his real Name? - -"Would it help me to shake off these impressions, I wonder, if I -made the effort of writing them down? There would be no danger, -in that case, of my forgetting anything important. And perhaps, -after all, it may be the fear of forgetting something which I -ought to remember that keeps this story of Midwinter's weighing -as it does on my mind. At any rate, the experiment is worth -trying. In my present situation I _must_ be free to think of -other things, or I shall never find my way through all the -difficulties at Thorpe Ambrose that are still to come. - -"Let me think. What _haunts_ me, to begin with? - -"The Names haunt me. I keep saying and saying to myself: Both -alike!--Christian name and surname both alike! A light-haired -Allan Armadale, whom I have long since known of, and who is the -son of my old mistress. A dark-haired Allan Armadale, whom I only -know of now, and who is only known to others under the name of -Ozias Midwinter. Stranger still; it is not relationship, it is -not chance, that has made them namesakes. The father of the light -Armadale was the man who was _born_ to the family name, and who -lost the family inheritance. The father of the dark Armadale was -the man who _took_ the name, on condition of getting the -inheritance--and who got it. - -"So there are two of them--I can't help thinking of it--both -unmarried. The light-haired Armadale, who offers to the woman who -can secure him, eight thousand a year while he lives; who leaves -her twelve hundred a year when he dies; who must and shall marry -me for those two golden reasons; and whom I hate and loathe as I -never hated and loathed a man yet. And the dark-haired Armadale, -who has a poor little income, which might perhaps pay his wife's -milliner, if his wife was careful; who has just left me, -persuaded that I mean to marry him; and whom--well, whom I -_might_ have loved once, before I was the woman I am now. - -"And Allan the Fair doesn't know he has a namesake. And Allan the -Dark has kept the secret from everybody but the Somersetshire -clergyman (whose discretion he can depend on) and myself. - -"And there are two Allan Armadales--two Allan Armadales--two -Allan Armadales. There! three is a lucky number. Haunt me again, -after that, if you can! - -"What next? The murder in the timber ship? No; the murder is a -good reason why the dark Armadale, whose father committed it, -should keep his secret from the fair Armadale, whose father was -killed; but it doesn't concern _me._ I remember there was a -suspicion in Madeira at the time of something wrong. _Was_ it -wrong? Was the man who had been tricked out of his wife to blame -for shutting the cabin door, and leaving the man who had tricked -him to drown in the wreck? Yes; the woman wasn't worth it. - -"What am I sure of that really concerns myself? - -"I am sure of one very important thing. I am sure that -Midwinter--I must call him by his ugly false name, or I may -confuse the two Armadales before I have done--I am sure that -Midwinter is perfectly ignorant that I and the little imp of -twelve years old who waited o n Mrs. Armadale in Madeira, and -copied the letters that were supposed to arrive from the West -Indies, are one and the same. There are not many girls of twelve -who could have imitated a man's handwriting, and held their -tongues about it afterward, as I did; but that doesn't matter -now. What does matter is that Midwinter's belief in the Dream is -Midwinter's only reason for trying to connect me with Allan -Armadale, by associating me with Allan Armadale's father and -mother. I asked him if he actually thought me old enough to have -known either of them. And he said No, poor fellow, in the most -innocent, bewildered way. Would he say No if he saw me now? Shall -I turn to the glass and see if I look my five-and-thirty years? -or shall I go on writing? I will go on writing. - -"There is one thing more that haunts me almost as obstinately as -the Names. - -"I wonder whether I am right in relying on Midwinter' -superstition (as I do) to help me in keeping him at arms-length. -After having let the excitement of the moment hurry me into -saying more than I need have said, he is certain to press me; he -is certain to come back, with a man's hateful selfishness and -impatience in such things, to the question of marrying me. Will -the Dream help me to check him? After alternately believing and -disbelieving in it, he has got, by his own confession, to -believing in it again. Can I say I believe in it, too? I have -better reasons for doing so than he knows of. I am not only the -person who helped Mrs. Armadale's marriage by helping her to -impose on her own father: I am the woman who tried to drown -herself; the woman who started the series of accidents which put -young Armadale in possession of his fortune; the woman who has -come Thorpe Ambrose to marry him for his fortune, now he has got -it; and more extraordinary still, the woman who stood in the -Shadow's place at the pool! These may be coincidences, but they -are strange coincidences. I declare I begin to fancy that _I_ -believe in the Dream too! - -"Suppose I say to him, 'I think as you think. I say what you said -in your letter to me, Let us part before the harm is done. Leave -me before the Third Vision of the Dream comes true. Leave me, and -put the mountains and the seas between you and the man who bears -your name!' - -"Suppose, on the other side, that his love for me makes him -reckless of everything else? Suppose he says those desperate -words again, which I understand now: What _is_ to be, _will_ be. -What have I to do with it, and what has she?' Suppose--suppose-- - -"I won't write any more. I hate writing. It doesn't relieve -me--it makes me worse. I'm further from being able to think of -all that I _must_ think of than I was when I sat down. It is past -midnight. To-morrow has come already; and here I am as helpless -as the stupidest woman living! Bed is the only fit place for me. - -"Bed? If it was ten years since, instead of to-day; and if I had -married Midwinter for love, I might be going to bed now with -nothing heavier on my mind than a visit on tiptoe to the nursery, -and a last look at night to see if my children were sleeping -quietly in their cribs. I wonder whether I should have loved my -children if I had ever had any? Perhaps, yes--perhaps, no. It -doesn't matter. - - -"Tuesday morning, ten o'clock.--Who was the man who invented -laudanum? I thank him from the bottom of my heart whoever he was. -If all the miserable wretches in pain of body and mind, whose -comforter he has been, could meet together to sing his praises, -what a chorus it would be! I have had six delicious hours of -oblivion; I have woke up with my mind composed; I have written a -perfect little letter to Midwinter; I have drunk my nice cup of -tea, with a real relish of it; I have dawdled over my morning -toilet with an exquisite sense of relief--and all through the -modest little bottle of Drops, which I see on my bedroom -chimney-piece at this moment. 'Drops,' you are a darling! If I -love nothing else, I love _you._ - -"My letter to Midwinter has been sent through the post; and I -have told him to reply to me in the same manner. - -"I feel no anxiety about his answer--he can only answer in one -way. I have asked for a little time to consider, because my -family circumstances require some consideration, in his interests -as well as in mine. I have engaged to tell him what those -circumstances are (what shall I say, I wonder?) when we next -meet; and I have requested him in the meantime to keep all that -has passed between us a secret for the present. As to what he is -to do himself in the interval while I am supposed to be -considering, I have left it to his own discretion--merely -reminding him that his attempting to see me again (while our -positions toward each other cannot be openly avowed) might injure -my reputation. I have offered to write to him if he wishes it; -and I have ended by promising to make the interval of our -necessary separation as short as I can. - -"This sort of plain, unaffected letter--which I might have -written to him last night, if his story had not been running in -my head as it did--has one defect, I know. It certainly keeps him -out of the way, while I am casting my net, and catching my gold -fish at the great house for the second time; but it also leaves -an awkward day of reckoning to come with Midwinter if I succeed. -How am I to manage him? What am I to do? I ought to face those -two questions as boldly as usual; but somehow my courage seems to -fail me, and I don't quite fancy meeting _that_ difficulty, till -the time comes when it _must_ be met. Shall I confess to my diary -that I am sorry for Midwinter, and that I shrink a little from -thinking of the day when he hears that I am going to be mistress -at the great house? - -"But I am not mistress yet; and I can't take a step in the -direction of the great house till I have got the answer to my -letter, and till I know that Midwinter is out of the way. -Patience! patience! I must go and forget myself at my piano. -There is the 'Moonlight Sonata' open, and tempting me, on the -music-stand. Have I nerve enough to play it, I wonder? Or will it -set me shuddering with the mystery and terror of it, as it did -the other day? - - -"Five o'clock.--I have got his answer. The slightest request I -can make is a command to him. He has gone; and he sends me his -address in London. 'There are two considerations' (he says) -'which help to reconcile me to leaving you. The first is that -_you_ wish it, and that it is only to be for a little while. The -second is that I think I can make some arrangements in London for -adding to my income by my own labor. I have never cared for money -for myself; but you don't know how I am beginning already to -prize the luxuries and refinements that money can provide, for my -wife's sake.' Poor fellow! I almost wish I had not written to him -as I did; I almost wish I had not sent him away from me. - -"Fancy if Mother Oldershaw saw this page in my diary! I have had -a letter from her this morning--a letter to remind me of my -obligations, and to tell me she suspects things are all going -wrong. Let her suspect! I shan't trouble myself to answer; I -can't be worried with that old wretch in the state I am in now. - -"It is a lovely afternoon--I want a walk--I mustn't think of -Midwinter. Suppose I put on my bonnet, and try my experiment at -once at the great house? Everything is in my favor. There is no -spy to follow me, and no lawyer to keep me out, this time. Am I -handsome enough, today? Well, yes; handsome enough to be a match -for a little dowdy, awkward, freckled creature, who ought to be -perched on a form at school, and strapped to a backboard to -straighten her crooked shoulders. - - " 'The nursery lisps out in all they utter; - Besides, they always smell of bread-and-butter.' - -"How admirably Byron has described girls in their teens! - - -"Eight o'clock.--I have just got back from Armadale's house. I -have seen him, and spoken to him; and the end of it may be set -down in three plain words. I have failed. There is no more chance -of my being Mrs. Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose than there is of my -being Queen of England. - -"Shall I write and tell Oldershaw? Shall I go back to London? Not -till I have had time to think a little. N ot just yet. - -"Let me think; I have failed completely--failed, with all the -circumstances in favor of success. I caught him alone on the -drive in front of the house. He was excessively disconcerted, but -at the same time quite willing to hear me. I tried him, first -quietly--then with tears, and the rest of it. I introduced myself -in the character of the poor innocent woman whom he had been the -means of injuring. I confused, I interested, I convinced him. I -went on to the purely Christian part of my errand, and spoke with -such feeling of his separation from his friend, for which I was -innocently responsible, that I turned his odious rosy face quite -pale, and made him beg me at last not to distress him. But, -whatever other feelings I roused in him, I never once roused his -old feeling for _me._ I saw it in his eyes when he looked at me; -I felt it in his fingers when we shook hands. We parted friends, -and nothing more. - -"It is for this, is it, Miss Milroy, that I resisted temptation, -morning after morning, when I knew you were out alone in the -park? I have just left you time to slip in, and take my place in -Armadale's good graces, have I? I never resisted temptation yet -without suffering for it in some such way as this! If I had only -followed my first thoughts, on the day when I took leave of you, -my young lady--well, well, never mind that now. I have got the -future before me; you are not Mrs. Armadale yet! And I can tell -you one other thing--whoever else he marries, he will never marry -_you._ If I am even with you in no other way, trust me, whatever -comes of it, to be even with you there! - -"I am not, to my own surprise, in one of my furious passions. The -last time I was in this perfectly cool state, under serious -provocation, something came of it, which I daren't write down, -even in my own private diary. I shouldn't be surprised if -something comes of it now. - -"On my way back, I called at Mr. Bashwood's lodgings in the town. -He was not at home, and I left a message telling him to come here -tonight and speak to me. I mean to relieve him at once of the -duty of looking after Armadale and Miss Milroy. I may not see my -way yet to ruining her prospects at Thorpe Ambrose as completely -as she has ruined mine. But when the time comes, and I do see it, -I don't know to what lengths my sense of injury may take me; and -there may be inconvenience, and possibly danger, in having such a -chicken-hearted creature as Mr. Bashwood in my confidence. - -"I suspect I am more upset by all this than I supposed. -Midwinter's story is beginning to haunt me again, without rhyme -or reason. - -"A soft, quick, trembling knock at the street door! I know who it -is. No hand but old Bashwood's could knock in that way. - - -"Nine o'clock.--I have just got rid of him. He has surprised me -by coming out in a new character. - -"It seems (though I didn't detect him) that he was at the great -house while I was in company with Armadale. He saw us talking on -the drive, and he afterward heard what the servants said, who saw -us too. The wise opinion below stairs is that we have 'made it -up,' and that the master is likely to marry me after all. 'He's -sweet on her red hair,' was the elegant expression they used in -the kitchen. 'Little missie can't match her there; and little -missie will get the worst of it.' How I hate the coarse ways of -the lower orders! - -"While old Bashwood was telling me this, I thought he looked even -more confused and nervous than usual. But I failed to see what -was really the matter until after I had told him that he was to -leave all further observation of Mr. Armadale and Miss Milroy to -me. Every drop of the little blood there is in the feeble old -creature's body seemed to fly up into his face. He made quite an -overpowering effort; he really looked as if he would drop down -dead of fright at his own boldness; but be forced out the -question for all that, stammering, and stuttering, and kneading -desperately with both hands at the brim of his hideous great hat. -'I beg your pardon, Miss Gwi-Gwi-Gwilt! You are not really -go-go-going to marry Mr. Armadale, are you? Jealous--if ever I -saw it in a man's face yet, I saw it in his--actually jealous of -Armadale at his age! If I had been in the humor for it, I should -have burst out laughing in his face. As it was, I was angry, and -lost all patience with him. I told him he was an old fool, and -ordered him to go on quietly with his usual business until I sent -him word that he was wanted again. He submitted as usual; but -there was an indescribable something in his watery old eyes, when -he took leave of me, which I have never noticed in them before. -Love has the credit of working all sorts of strange -transformations. Can it be really possible that Love has made Mr. -Bashwood man enough to be angry with me? - -"Wednesday.--My experience of Miss Milroy's habits suggested a -suspicion to me last night which I thought it desirable to clear -up this morning. - -"It was always her way, when I was at the cottage, to take a walk -early in the morning before breakfast. Considering that I used -often to choose that very time for _my_ private meetings with -Armadale, it struck me as likely that my former pupil might be -taking a leaf out of my book, and that I might make some -desirable discoveries if I turned my steps in the direction of -the major's garden at the right hour. I deprived myself of my -Drops, to make sure of waking; passed a miserable night in -consequence; and was ready enough to get up at six o'clock, and -walk the distance from my lodgings to the cottage in the fresh -morning air. - -"I had not been five minutes on the park side of the garden -inclosure before I sat her come out. - -"She seemed to have had a bad night too; her eyes were heavy and -red, and her lips and cheeks looked swollen as if she had been -crying. There was something on her mind, evidently; something, as -it soon appeared, to take her out of the garden into the park. -She walked (if one can call it walking; with such legs as hers!) -straight to the summer house, and opened the door, and crossed -the bridge, and went on quicker and quicker toward the low ground -in the park, where the trees are thickest. I followed her over -the open space with perfect impunity in the preoccupied state she -was in; and, when she began to slacken her pace among the trees, -I was among the trees too, and was not afraid of her seeing me. - -"Before long, there was a crackling and trampling of heavy feet -coming up toward us through the under-wood in a deep dip of the -ground. I knew that step as well as she knew it. 'Here I am,' she -said, in a faint little voice. I kept behind the trees a few -yards off, in some doubt on which side Armadale would come out of -the under-wood to join her. He came out up the side of the dell, -opposite to the tree behind which I was standing. They sat down -together on the bank. I sat down behind the tree, and looked at -them through the under-wood, and heard without the slightest -difficulty every word that they said. - -"The talk began by his noticing that she looked out of spirits, -and asking if anything had gone wrong at the cottage. The artful -little minx lost no time in making the necessary impression on -him; she began to cry. He took her hand, of course, and tried, in -his brutishly straightforward way, to comfort her. No; she was -not to be comforted. A miserable prospect was before her; she had -not slept the whole night for thinking of it. Her father had -called her into his room the previous evening, had spoken about -the state of her education, and had told her in so many words -that she was to go to school. The place had been found, and the -terms had been settled; and as soon as her clothes could he got -ready, miss was to go. - -" 'While that hateful Miss Gwilt was in the house,' says this -model young person, 'I would have gone to school willingly--I -wanted to go. But it's all different now; I don't think of it in -the same way; I feel too old for school. I'm quite heart-broken, -Mr. Armadale.' There she stopped as if she had meant to say more, -and gave him a look which finished the sentence plainly: 'I'm -quite heart-broken, Mr. Armadale, now we are friendly again, at -going away from you!' For d ownright brazen impudence, which a -grown woman would be ashamed of, give me the young girls whose -'modesty' is so pertinaciously insisted on by the nauseous -domestic sentimentalists of the present day! - -"Even Armadale, booby as he is, understood her. After bewildering -himself in a labyrinth of words that led nowhere, he took -her--one can hardly say round the waist, for she hasn't got -one--he took her round the last hook-and-eye of her dress, and, -by way of offering her a refuge from the indignity of being sent -to school at her age, made her a proposal of marriage in so many -words. - -"If I could have killed them both at that moment by lifting up my -little finger, I have not the least doubt I should have lifted -it. As things were, I only waited to see what Miss Milroy would -do. - -"She appeared to think it necessary--feeling, I suppose, that she -had met him without her father's knowledge, and not forgetting -that I had had the start of her as the favored object of Mr. -Armadale's good opinion--to assert herself by an explosion of -virtuous indignation. She wondered how he could think of such a -thing after his conduct with Miss Gwilt, and after her father had -forbidden him the house! Did he want to make her feel how -inexcusably she had forgotten what was due to herself? Was it -worthy of a gentleman to propose what he knew as well as she did -was impossible? and so on, and so on. Any man with brains in his -head would have known what all this rodomontade really meant. -Armadale took it so seriously that he actually attempted to -justify himself. - -"He declared, in his headlong, blundering way, that he was quite -in earnest; he and her father might make it up and be friends -again; and, if the major persisted in treating him as a stranger, -young ladies and gentlemen in their situation had made runaway -marriages before now, and fathers and mothers who wouldn't -forgive them before had forgiven them afterward. Such -outrageously straightforward love-making as this left Miss -Milroy, of course, but two alternatives--to confess that she had -been saying No when she meant Yes, or to take refuge in another -explosion. She was hypocrite enough to prefer another explosion. -'How dare you, Mr. Armadale? Go away directly! It's -inconsiderate, it's heartless, it's perfectly disgraceful to say -such things to me!' and so on, and so on. It seems incredible, -but it is not the less true, that he was positively fool enough -to take her at her word. He begged her pardon, and went away like -a child that is put in the corner--the most contemptible object -in the form of man that eyes ever looked on! - -"She waited, after he had gone, to compose herself, and I waited -behind the trees to see how she would succeed. Her eyes wandered -round slyly to the path by which he had left her. She smiled -(grinned would be the truer way of putting it, with such a mouth -as hers); took a few steps on tiptoe to look after him; turned -back again, and suddenly burst into a violent fit of crying. I am -not quite so easily taken in as Armadale, and I saw what it all -meant plainly enough. - -" 'To-morrow,' I thought to myself, 'you will be in the park -again, miss, by pure accident. The next day, you will lead him on -into proposing to you for the second time. The day after, he will -venture back to the subject of runaway marriages, and you will -only be becomingly confused. And the day after that, if he has -got a plan to propose, and if your clothes are ready to be packed -for school, you will listen to him.' Yes, yes; Time is always on -the man's side, where a woman is concerned, if the man is only -patient enough to let Time help him. - -"I let her leave the place and go back to the cottage, quite -unconscious that I had been looking at her. I waited among the -trees, thinking. The truth is, I was impressed by what I had -heard and seen, in a manner that it is not very easy to describe. -It put the whole thing before me in a new light. It showed -me--what I had never even suspected till this morning--that she -is really fond of him. - -"Heavy as my debt of obligation is to her, there is no fear _now_ -of my failing to pay it to the last farthing. It would have been -no small triumph for me to stand between Miss Milroy and her -ambition to be one of the leading ladies of the county. But it is -infinitely more, where her first love is concerned, to stand -between Miss Milroy and her heart's desire. Shall I remember my -own youth and spare her? No! She has deprived me of the one -chance I had of breaking the chain that binds me to a past life -too horrible to be thought of. I am thrown back into a position, -compared to which the position of an outcast who walks the -streets is endurable and enviable. No, Miss Milroy--no, Mr. -Armadale; I will spare neither of you. - -"I have been back some hours. I have been thinking, and nothing -has come of it. Ever since I got that strange letter of -Midwinter's last Sunday, my usual readiness in emergencies has -deserted me. When I am not thinking of him or of his story, my -mind feels quite stupefied. I, who have always known what to do -on other occasions, don't know what to do now. It would be easy -enough, of course, to warn Major Milroy of his daughter's -proceedings. But the major is fond of his daughter; Armadale is -anxious to be reconciled with him; Armadale is rich and -prosperous, and ready to submit to the elder man; and sooner or -later they will be friends again, and the marriage will follow. -Warning Major Milroy is only the way to embarrass them for the -present; it is not the way to part them for good and all. - -"What _is_ the way? I can't see it. I could tear my own hair off -my head! I could burn the house down! If there was a train of -gunpowder under the whole world, I could light it, and blow the -whole world to destruction--I am in such a rage, such a frenzy -with myself for not seeing it! - -"Poor dear Midwinter! Yes, '_dear._' I don't care. I'm lonely and -helpless. I want somebody who is gentle and loving to make much -of me; I wish I had his head on my bosom again; I have a good -mind to go to London and marry him. Am I mad? Yes; all people who -are as miserable as I am are mad. I must go to the window and get -some air. Shall I jump out? No; it disfigures one so, and the -coroner's inquest lets so many people see it. - -"The air has revived me. I begin to remember that I have Time on -my side, at any rate. Nobody knows but me of their secret -meetings in the park the first thing in the morning. If jealous -old Bashwood, who is slinking and sly enough for anything, tries -to look privately after Armadale, in his own interests, he will -try at the usual time when he goes to the steward's office. He -knows nothing of Miss Milroy's early habits; and he won't be on -the spot till Armadale has got back to the house. For another -week to come, I may wait and watch them, and choose my own time -and way of interfering the moment I see a chance of his getting -the better of her hesitation, and making her say Yes. - -"So here I wait, without knowing how things will end with -Midwinter in London; with my purse getting emptier and emptier, -and no appearance so far of any new pupils to fill it; with -Mother Oldershaw certain to insist on having her money back the -moment she knows I have failed; without prospects, friends, or -hopes of any kind--a lost woman, if ever there was a lost woman -yet. Well! I say it again and again and again--I don't care! Here -I stop, if I sell the clothes off my back, if I hire myself at -the public-house to play to the brutes in the tap-room; here I -stop till the time comes, and I see the way to parting Armadale -and Miss Milroy forever! - - -"Seven o'clock.--Any signs that the time is coming yet? I hardly -know; there are signs of a change, at any rate, in my position in -the neighborhood. - -"Two of the oldest and ugliest of the many old and ugly ladies -who took up my case when I left Major Milroy's service have just -called, announcing themselves, with the insufferable impudence of -charitable Englishwomen, as a deputation from my patronesses. It -seems that the news of my reconciliation with Armadale has spread -from the servants' offices at the great house, and has reached -the town, with this result. - -"It is the unanimous opinion of my 'patronesses' (and the opinion -of Major Milroy also, who has been consulted) that I have acted -with the most inexcusable imprudence in going to Armadale's -house, and in there speaking on friendly terms with a man whose -conduct toward myself has made his name a by-word in the -neighborhood. My total want of self-respect in this matter has -given rise to a report that I am trading as cleverly as ever on -my good looks, and that I am as likely as not to end in making -Armadale marry me, after all. My 'patronesses' are, of course, -too charitable to believe this. They merely feel it necessary to -remonstrate with me in a Christian spirit, and to warn me that -any second and similar imprudence on my part would force all my -best friends in the plate to withdraw the countenance and -protection which I now enjoy. - -"Having addressed me, turn and turn about, in these terms -(evidently all rehearsed beforehand), my two Gorgon visitors -straightened themselves in their chairs, and looked at me as much -as to say, 'You may often have heard of Virtue, Miss Gwilt, but -we don't believe you ever really saw it in full bloom till we -came and called on you.' - -"Seeing they were bent on provoking me, I kept my temper, and -answered them in my smoothest, sweetest, and most lady-like -manner. I have noticed that the Christianity of a certain class -of respectable people begins when they open their prayer-books at -eleven o'clock on Sunday morning, and ends when they shut them up -again at one o'clock on Sunday afternoon. Nothing so astonishes -and insults Christians of this sort as reminding them of their -Christianity on a week-day. On this hint, as the man says in the -play, I spoke. - -" 'What have I done that is wrong?' I asked, innocently. 'Mr. -Armadale has injured me; and I have been to his house and -forgiven him the injury. Surely there must be some mistake, -ladies? You can't have really come here to remonstrate with me in -a Christian spirit for performing an act of Christianity?' - -"The two Gorgons got up. I firmly believe some women have cats' -tails as well as cats' faces. I firmly believe the tails of those -two particular cats wagged slowly under their petticoats, and -swelled to four times their proper size. - -" 'Temper we were prepared for, Miss Gwilt,' they said, 'but not -Profanity. We wish you good-evening.' - -"So they left me, and so 'Miss Gwilt' sinks out of the -patronizing notice of the neighborhood - -"I wonder what will come of this trumpery little quarrel? One -thing will come of it which I can see already. The report will -reach Miss Milroy's ears; she will insist on Armadale's -justifying himself; and Armadale will end in satisfying her of -his innocence by making another proposal. This will be quite -likely to hasten matters between them; at least it would with me. -If I was in her place, I should say to myself, 'I will make sure -of him while I can.' Supposing it doesn't rain to-morrow morning, -I think I will take another early walk in the direction of the -park. - - -"Midnight.--As I can't take my drops, with a morning walk before -me, I may as well give up all hope of sleeping, and go on with my -diary. Even with my drops, I doubt if my head would be very quiet -on my pillow to-night. Since the little excitement of the scene -with my 'lady-patronesses' has worn off, I have been troubled -with misgivings which would leave me but a poor chance, under any -circumstances, of getting much rest. - -"I can't imagine why, but the parting words spoken to Armadale by -that old brute of a lawyer have come back to my mind! Here they -are, as reported in Mr. Bashwood's letter: 'Some other person's -curiosity may go on from the point where you (and I) have -stopped, and some other person's hand may let the broad daylight -in yet on Miss Gwilt.' - -"What does he mean by that? And what did he mean afterward when -he overtook old Bashwood in the drive, by telling him to gratify -his curiosity? Does this hateful Pedgift actually suppose there -is any chance-- ? Ridiculous! Why, I have only to _look_ at the -feeble old creature, and he daren't lift his little finger unless -I tell him. _He_ try to pry into my past life, indeed! Why, -people with ten times his brains, and a hundred times his -courage, hare tried--and have left off as wise as they began. - -"I don't know, though; it might have been better if I had kept my -temper when Bashwood was here the other night. And it might be -better still if I saw him to-morrow, and took him back into my -good graces by giving him something to do for me. Suppose I tell -him to look after the two Pedgifts, and to discover whether there -is any chance of their attempting to renew their connection with -Armadale? No such thing is at all likely; but if I gave old -Bashwood this commission, it would flatter his sense of his own -importance to me, and would at the same time serve the excellent -purpose of keeping him out of my way. - - -"Thursday morning, nine o'clock.--I have just got back from the -park. - -"For once I have proved a true prophet. There they were together, -at the same early hour, in the same secluded situation among the -trees; and there was miss in full possession of the report of my -visit to the great house, and taking her tone accordingly. - -"After saying one or two things about me, which I promise him not -to forget, Armadale took the way to convince her of his constancy -which I felt beforehand he would be driven to take. He repeated -his proposal of marriage, with excellent effect this time. Tears -and kisses and protestations followed; and my late pupil opened -her heart at last, in the most innocent manner. Home, she -confessed, was getting so miserable to her now that it was only -less miserable than going to school. Her mother's temper was -becoming more violent and unmanageable every day. The nurse, who -was the only person with any influence over her, had gone away in -disgust. Her father was becoming more and more immersed in his -clock, and was made more and more resolute to send her away from -home by the distressing scenes which now took place with her -mother almost day by day. I waited through these domestic -disclosures on the chance of hearing any plans they might have -for the future discussed between them; and my patience, after no -small exercise of it, was rewarded at last. - -"The first suggestion (as was only natural where such a fool as -Armadale was concerned) came from the girl. - -"She started an idea which I own I had not anticipated. She -proposed that Armadale should write to her father; and, cleverer -still, she prevented all fear of his blundering by telling him -what he was to say. He was to express himself as deeply -distressed at his estrangement from the major, and to request -permission to call at the cottage, and say a few words in his own -justification. That was all. The letter was not to be sent that -day, for the applicants for the vacant place of Mrs. Milroy's -nurse were coming, and seeing them and questioning them would put -her father, with his dislike of such things, in no humor to -receive Armadale's application indulgently. The Friday would be -the day to send the letter, and on the Saturday morning if the -answer was unfortunately not favorable, they might meet again, 'I -don't like deceiving my father; he has always been so kind to me. -And there will be no need to deceive him, Allan, if we can only -make you friends again.' Those were the last words the little -hypocrite said, when I left them. - -"What will the major do? Saturday morning will show. I won't -think of it till Saturday morning has come and gone. They are not -man and wife yet; and again and again I say it, though my brains -are still as helpless as ever, man and wife they shall never be. - -"On my way home again, I caught Bashwood at his breakfast, with -his poor old black tea-pot, and his little penny loaf, and his -one cheap morsel of oily butter, and his darned dirty tablecloth. -It sickens me to think of it. - -"I coaxed and comforted the miserable old creature till the tears -stood in his eyes, and he quite blushed with pleasure. He -undertakes to look after the Pedgifts with the utmost alacrity. -Pedgift the elder he described, when once roused, as the most -obstinate man livin g; nothing will induce him to give way, -unless Armadale gives way also on his side. Pedgift the younger -is much the more likely of the two to make attempts at a -reconciliation. Such, at least, is Bashwood's opinion. It is of -very little consequence now what happens either way. The only -important thing is to tie my elderly admirer safely again to my -apron-string. And this is done. - -"The post is late this morning. It has only just come in, and has -brought me a letter from Midwinter. - - -"It is a charming letter; it flatters me and flutters me as if I -was a young girl again. No reproaches for my never having written -to him; no hateful hurrying of me, in plain words, to marry him. -He only writes to tell me a piece of news. He has obtained, -through his lawyers, a prospect of being employed as occasional -correspondent to a newspaper which is about to be started in -London. The employment will require him to leave England for the -Continent, which would exactly meet his own wishes for the -future, but he cannot consider the proposal seriously until he -has first ascertained whether it would meet my wishes too. He -knows no will but mine, and he leaves me to decide, after first -mentioning the time allowed him before his answer must be sent -in. It is the time, of course (if I agree to his going abroad), -in which I must marry him. But there is not a word about this in -his letter. He asks for nothing but a sight of my handwriting to -help him through the interval while we are separated from each -other. - -"That is the letter; not very long, but so prettily expressed. - -"I think I can penetrate the secret of his fancy for going -abroad. That wild idea of putting the mountains and the seas -between Armadale and himself is still in his mind. As if either -he or I could escape doing what we are fated to do--supposing we -really are fated--by putting a few hundred or a few thousand -miles between Armadale and ourselves! What strange absurdity and -inconsistency! And yet how I like him for being absurd and -inconsistent; for don't I see plainly that I am at the bottom of -it all? Who leads this clever man astray in spite of himself? Who -makes him too blind to see the contradiction in his own conduct, -which he would see plainly in the conduct of another person? How -interested I do feel in him! How dangerously near I am to -shutting my eyes on the past, and letting myself love him! Was -Eve fonder of Adam than ever, I wonder, after she had coaxed him -into eating the apple? I should have quite doted on him if I had -been in her place. (Memorandum: To write Midwinter a charming -little letter on my side, with a kiss in it; and as time is -allowed him before he sends in his answer, to ask for time, too, -before I tell him whether I will or will not go abroad.) - - -"Five o'clock.--A tiresome visit from my landlady; eager for a -little gossip, and full of news which she thinks will interest -me. - -"She is acquainted, I find, with Mrs. Milroy's late nurse; and -she has been seeing her friend off at the station this afternoon. -They talked, of course, of affairs at the cottage, and my name -found its way into the conversation. I am quite wrong, it seems, -if the nurse's authority is to be trusted, in believing Miss -Milroy to be responsible for sending Mr. Armadale to my reference -in London. Miss Milroy really knew nothing about it, and it all -originated in her mother's mad jealousy of me. The present -wretched state of things at the cottage is due entirely to the -same cause. Mrs. Milroy is firmly persuaded that my remaining at -Thorpe Ambrose is referable to my having some private means of -communicating with the major which it is impossible for her to -discover. With this conviction in her mind, she has become so -unmanageable that no person, with any chance of bettering -herself, could possibly remain in attendance an her; and sooner -or later, the major, object to it as he may, will be obliged to -place her under proper medical care. - -"That is the sum and substance of what the wearisome landlady, -had to tell me. Unnecessary to say that I was not in the least -interested by it. Even if the nurse's s assertion is to be -depended on--which I persist in doubting--it is of no importance -now. I know that Miss Milroy, and nobody but Miss Milroy has -utterly ruined my prospect of becoming Mrs. Armadale of Thorpe -Ambrose, and I care to know nothing more. If her mother was -really alone in the attempt to expose my false reference, her -mother seems to be suffering for it, at any rate. And so good-by -to Mrs. Milroy; and Heaven defend me from any more last glimpses -at the cottages seen through the medium of my landlady's -spectacles! - - -"Nine o'clock.--Bashwood has just left me, having come with news -from the great house. Pedgift the younger has made his attempt at -bringing about a reconciliation this very day, and has failed. I -am the sole cause of the failure. Armadale is quite willing to be -reconciled if Pedgift the elder will avoid all future occasion of -disagreement between them by never recurring to the subject of -Miss Gwilt. This, however, happens to be exactly the condition -which Pedgift's father--with his opinion of me and my -doings--should consider it his duty to Armadale _not_ to accept. -So lawyer and client remain as far apart as ever, and the -obstacle of the Pedgifts is cleared out of my way. - -"It might have been a very awkward obstacle, so far as Pedgift -the elder is concerned, if one of his suggestions had been -carried out; I mean, if an officer of the London police had been -brought down here to look at me. It is a question, even now, -whether I had better not take to the thick veil again, which I -always wear in London and other large places. The only difficulty -is that it would excite remark in this inquisitive little town to -see me wearing a thick veil, for the first time, in the summer -weather. - -"It is close on ten o'clock; I have been dawdling over my diary -longer than I supposed. - -"No words can describe how weary and languid I feel. Why don't I -take my sleeping drops and go to bed? There is no meeting between -Armadale and Miss Milroy to force me into early rising to-morrow -morning. Am I trying, for the hundredth time, to see my way -clearly into the future--trying, in my present state of fatigue, -to be the quick-witted woman I once was, before all these -anxieties came together and overpowered me? or am I perversely -afraid of my bed when I want it most? I don't know; I am tired -and miserable; I am looking wretchedly haggard and old. With a -little encouragement, I might be fool enough to burst out crying. -Luckily, there is no one to encourage me. What sort of a night is -it, I wonder? - -"A cloudy night, with the moon showing at intervals, and the wind -rising. I can just hear it moaning among the ins and outs of the -unfinished cottages at the end of the street. My nerves must be a -little shaken, I think. I was startled just now by a shadow on -the wall. It was only after a moment or two that I mustered sense -enough to notice where the candle was, and to see that the shadow -was my own. - -"Shadows remind me of Midwinter; or, if the shadows don't, -something else does. I must have another look at his letter, and -then I will positively go to bed. - - -"I shall end in getting fond of him. If I remain much longer in -this lonely uncertain state--so irresolute, so unlike my usual -self--I shall end in getting fond of him. What madness! As if _I_ -could ever be really fond of a man again! - -"Suppose I took one of my sudden resolutions, and married him. -Poor as he is, he would give me a name and a position if I became -his wife. Let me see how the name--his own name--would look, if I -really did consent to it for mine. - -" 'Mrs. Armadale!' Pretty. - -" 'Mrs. Allan Armadale!' Prettier still. - -"My nerves _must_ be shaken. Here is my own handwriting startling -me now! It is so strange; it is enough to startle anybody. The -similarity in the two names never struck me in this light before. -Marry which of the two I might, my name would, of course, be the -same. I should have been Mrs. Armadale, if I had married the -light-haired Allan at the great house. And I can be Mrs. Armadale -still, if I marry the dark-haired Allan in London. It's alm ost -maddening to write it down--to feel that something ought to come -of it--and to find nothing come. - -"How _can_ anything come of it? If I did go to London, and marry -him (as of course I must marry him) under his real name, would he -let me be known by it afterward? With all his reasons for -concealing his real name, he would insist--no, he is too fond of -me to do that--he would entreat me to take the name which he has -assumed. Mrs. Midwinter. Hideous! Ozias, too, when I wanted to -address him familiarly, as his wife should. Worse than hideous! - -"And yet there would be some reason for humoring him in this if -he asked me. - -"Suppose the brute at the great house happened to leave this -neighborhood as a single man; and suppose, in his absence, any of -the people who know him heard of a Mrs. Allan Armadale, they -would set her down at once as his wife. Even if they actually saw -me--if I actually came among them with that name, and if he was -not present to contradict it--his own servants would be the first -to say, 'We knew she would marry him, after all!' And my -lady-patronesses, who will be ready to believe anything of me now -we have quarreled, would join the chorus _sotto voce:_ 'Only -think, my dear, the report that so shocked us actually turns out -to be true!' No. If I marry Midwinter, I must either be -perpetually putting my husband and myself in a false position--or -I must leave his real name, his pretty, romantic name, behind me -at the church door. - -"My husband! As if I was really going to marry him! I am _not_ -going to marry him, and there's an end of it. - - -"Half-past ten.--Oh, dear! oh, dear! how my temples throb, and -how hot my weary eyes feel! There is the moon looking at me -through the window. How fast the little scattered clouds are -flying before the wind! Now they let the moon in; and now they -shut the moon out. What strange shapes the patches of yellow -light take, and lose again, all in a moment! No peace and quiet -for me, look where I may. The candle keeps flickering, and the -very sky itself is restless to-night. - -" 'To bed! to bed!' as Lady Macbeth says. I wonder, by-the-by, -what Lady Macbeth would have done in my position? She would have -killed somebody when her difficulties first began. Probably -Armadale. - - -"Friday morning.--A night's rest, thanks again to my Drops. I -went to breakfast in better spirits, and received a morning -welcome in the shape of a letter from Mrs. Oldershaw. - -"My silence has produced its effect on Mother Jezebel. She -attributes it to the right cause, and she shows her claws at -last. If I am not in a position to pay my note of hand for thirty -pounds, which is due on Tuesday next, her lawyer is instructed to -'take the usual course.' _If_ I am not in a position to pay it! -Why, when I have settled to-day with my landlord, I shall have -barely five pounds left! There is not the shadow of a prospect -between now and Tuesday of my earning any money; and I don't -possess a friend in this place who would trust me with sixpence. -The difficulties that are swarming round me wanted but one more -to complete them, and that one has come. - -"Midwinter would assist me, of course, if I could bring myself to -ask him for assistance. But _that_ means marrying him. Am I -really desperate enough and helpless enough to end it in that -way? No; not yet. - -"My head feels heavy; I must get out into the fresh air, and -think about it. - - -"Two o'clock.--I believe I have caught the infection of -Midwinter's superstition. I begin to think that events are -forcing me nearer and nearer to some end which I don't see yet, -but which I am firmly persuaded is now not far off. - -"I have been insulted--deliberately insulted before witnesses--by -Miss Milroy. - -"After walking, as usual, in the most unfrequented place I could -pick out, and after trying, not very successfully, to think to -some good purpose of what I am to do next, I remembered that I -needed some note-paper and pens, and went back to the town to the -stationer's shop. It might have been wiser to have sent for what -I wanted. But I was weary of myself, and weary of my lonely -rooms; and I did my own errand, for no better reason than that it -was something to do. - -"I had just got into the shop, and was asking for what I wanted, -when another customer came in. We both looked up, and recognized -each other at the same moment: Miss Milroy. - -"A woman and a lad were behind the counter, besides the man who -was serving me. The woman civilly addressed the new customer. -'What can we have the pleasure of doing for you, miss?' After -pointing it first by looking me straight in the face, she -answered, 'Nothing, thank you, at present. I'll come back when -the shop is empty.' - -"She went out. The three people in the shop looked at me in -silence. In silence, on my side, I paid for my purchases, and -left the place. I don't know how I might have felt if I had been -in my usual spirits. In the anxious, unsettled state I am in now, -I can't deny it, the girl stung me. - -"In the weakness of the moment (for it was nothing else), I was -on the point of matching her petty spitefulness by spitefulness -quite as petty on my side. I had actually got as far as the whole -length of the street on my way to the major's cottage, bent on -telling him the secret of his daughter's morning walks, before my -better sense came back to me. When I did cool down, I turned -round at once, and took the way home. No, no, Miss Milroy; mere -temporary mischief-making at the cottage, which would only end in -your father forgiving you, and in Armadale profiting by his -indulgence, will nothing like pay the debt I owe you. I don't -forget that your heart is set on Armadale; and that the major, -however he may talk, has always ended hitherto in giving you your -own way. My head may be getting duller and duller, but it has not -quite failed me yet. - -"In the meantime, there is Mother Oldershaw's letter waiting -obstinately to be answered; and here am I, not knowing what to do -about it yet. Shall I answer it or not? It doesn't matter for the -present; there are some hours still to spare before the post goes -out. - -"Suppose I asked Armadale to lend me the money? I should enjoy -getting _something_ out of him; and I believe, in his present -situation with Miss Milroy, he would do anything to be rid of me. -Mean enough this, on my part. Pooh! When you hate and despise a -man, as I hate and despise Armadale, who cares for looking mean -in _his_ eyes? - -"And yet my pride--or my something else, I don't know -what--shrinks from it. - -"Half-past two--only half-past two. Oh, the dreadful weariness of -these long summer days! I can't keep thinking and thinking any -longer; I must do something to relieve my mind. Can I go to my -piano? No; I'm not fit for it. Work? No; I shall get thinking -again if I take to my needle. A man, in my place, would find -refuge in drink. I'm not a man, and I can't drink. I'll dawdle -over my dresses, and put my things tidy. - - * * * * * * - -"Has an hour passed? More than an hour. It seems like a minute. - -"I can't look back through these leaves, but I know I wrote -somewhere that I felt myself getting nearer and nearer to some -end that was still hidden from me. The end is hidden no longer. -The cloud is off my mind, the blindness has gone from my eyes. I -see it! I see it! - -"It came to me--I never sought it. If I was lying on my -death-bed, I could swear, with a safe conscience, I never sought -it. - -"I was only looking over my things; I was as idly and as -frivolously employed as the most idle and most frivolous woman -living. I went through my dresses, and my linen. What could be -more innocent? Children go through their dresses and their linen. - -"It was, such a long summer day, and I was so tired of myself. I -went to my boxes next. I looked over the large box first, which I -usually leave open; and then I tried the small box, which I -always keep locked. - -"From one thing to the other, I came at last to the bundle of -letters at the bottom--the letters of the man for whom I once -sacrificed and suffered everything; the man who has made me what -I am. - -"A hundred times I had determined to burn his letters; but I have -never burned them. This, time, all I said wa s, 'I won't read his -letters!' And I did read them. - -"The villain--the false, cowardly, heartless villain--what have I -to do with his letters now? Oh, the misery of being a woman! Oh, -the meanness that our memory of a man can tempt us to, when our -love for him is dead and gone! I read the letters--I was so -lonely and so miserable, I read the letters. - -"I came to the last--the letter he wrote to encourage me, when I -hesitated as the terrible time came nearer and nearer; the letter -that revived me when my resolution failed at the eleventh hour. I -read on, line after line, till I came to these words: - - -" '. . . I really have no patience with such absurdities as you -have written to me. You say I am driving you on to do what is -beyond a woman's courage. Am I? I might refer you to any -collection of Trials, English or foreign. to show that you were -utterly wrong. But such collections may be beyond your reach; and -I will only refer you to a case in yesterday's newspaper. The -circumstances are totally different from our circumstances; but -the example of resolution in a woman is an example worth your -notice. - -" 'You will find, among the law reports, a married woman charged -with fraudulently representing herself to be the missing widow of -an officer in the merchant service, who was supposed to have been -drowned. The name of the prisoner's husband (living) and the name -of the officer (a very common one, both as to Christian and -surname) happened to be identically the same. There was money to -be got by it (sorely wanted by the prisoner's husband, to whom -she was devotedly attached), if the fraud had succeeded. The -woman took it all on herself. Her husband was helpless and ill, -and the bailiffs were after him. The circumstances, as you may -read for yourself, were all in her favor, and were so well -managed by her that the lawyers themselves acknowledged she might -have succeeded, if the supposed drowned man had not turned up -alive and well in the nick of time to confront her. The scene -took place at the lawyer's office, and came out in the evidence -at the police court. The woman was handsome, and the sailor was a -good-natured man. He wanted, at first, if the lawyers would have -allowed him, to let her off. He said to her, among other things: -"You didn't count on the drowned man coming back, alive and -hearty, did you, ma'am?" "It's lucky for you," she said, "I -didn't count on it. You have escaped the sea, but you wouldn't -have escaped _me._" "Why, what would you have done, if you _had_ -known I was coming back?" says the sailor. She looked him -steadily in the face, and answered: "I would have killed you." -There! Do you think such a woman as that would have written to -tell me I was pressing her further than she had courage to go? A -handsome woman, too, like yourself. You would drive some men in -my position to wish they had her now in your place.' - - -"I read no further. When I had got on, line by line, to those -words, it burst on me like a flash of lightning. In an instant I -saw it as plainly as I see it now. It is horrible, it is unheard -of, it outdares all daring; but, if I can only nerve myself to -face one terrible necessity, it is to be done. _I may personate -the richly provided widow of Allan Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose, if -I can count on Allan Armadale's death in a given time._ - -"There, in plain words, is the frightful temptation under which I -now feel myself sinking. It is frightful in more ways than one; -for it has come straight out of that other temptation to which I -yielded in the by-gone time. - -"Yes; there the letter has been waiting for me in my box, to -serve a purpose never thought of by the villain who wrote it. -There is the Case, as he called it--only quoted to taunt me; -utterly unlike my own case at the time--there it has been, -waiting and lurking for me through all the changes in my life, -till it has come to be like _my_ case at last. - -"It might startle any woman to see this, and even this is not the -worst. The whole thing has been in my Diary, for days past, -without my knowing it! Every idle fancy that escaped me has been -tending secretly that one way! And I never saw, never suspected -it, till the reading of the letter put my own thoughts before me -in a new light--till I saw the shadow of my own circumstances -suddenly reflected in one special circumstance of that other -woman's case! - -"It is to be done, if I can but look the necessity in the face. -It is to be done, _if I can count on Allan Armadale's death in a -given time._ - -"All but his death is easy. The whole series of events under -which I have been blindly chafing and fretting for more than a -week past have been, one and all--though I was too stupid to see -it--events in my favor; events paving the way smoothly and more -smoothly straight to the end. - -"In three bold steps--only three!--that end might be reached. Let -Midwinter marry me privately, under his real name--step the -first! Let Armadale leave Thorpe Ambrose a single man, and die in -some distant place among strangers--step the second! - -"Why am I hesitating? Why not go on to step the third, and last? - -"I _will_ go on. Step the third, and last, is my appearance, -after the announcement of Armadale's death has reached this -neighborhood, in the character of Armadale's widow, with my -marriage certificate in my hand to prove my claim. It is as clear -as the sun at noonday. Thanks to the exact similarity between the -two names, and thanks to the careful manner in which the secret -of that similarity has been kept, I may be the wife of the dark -Allan Armadale, known as such to nobody but my husband and -myself; and I may, out of that very position, claim the character -of widow of the light Allan Armadale, with proof to support me -(in the shape of my marriage certificate) which would be proof in -the estimation of the most incredulous person living. - -"To think of my having put all this in my Diary! To think of my -having actually contemplated this very situation, and having seen -nothing more in it, at the time, than a reason (if I married -Midwinter) for consenting to appear in the world under my -husband's assumed name! - -"What is it daunts me? The dread of obstacles? The fear of -discovery? - -"Where are the obstacles? Where is the fear of discovery? - -"I am actually suspected all over the neighborhood of intriguing -to be mistress of Thorpe Ambrose. I am the only person who knows -the real turn that Armadale's inclinations have taken. Not a -creature but myself is as yet aware of his early morning meetings -with Miss Milroy. If it is necessary to part them, I can do it at -any moment by an anonymous line to the major. If it is necessary -to remove Armadale from Thorpe Ambrose, I can get him away at -three days' notice. His own lips informed me, when I last spoke -to him, that he would go to the ends of the earth to be friends -again with Midwinter, if Midwinter would let him. I have only to -tell Midwinter to write from London, and ask to be reconciled; -and Midwinter would obey me--and to London Armadale would go. -Every difficulty, at starting, is smoothed over ready to my hand. -Every after-difficulty I could manage for myself. In the whole -venture--desperate as it looks to pass myself off for the widow -of one man, while I am all the while the wife of the other--there -is absolutely no necessity that wants twice considering, but the -one terrible necessity of Armadale's death. - -"His death! It might be a terrible necessity to any other woman; -but is it, ought it to be terrible to Me? - -"I hate him for his mother's sake. I hate him for his own sake. I -hate him for going to London behind my back, and making inquiries -about me. I hate him for forcing me out of my situation before I -wanted to go. I hate him for destroying all my hopes of marrying -him, and throwing me back helpless on my own miserable life. But, -oh, after what I have done already in the past time, how can I? -how can I? - -"The girl, too--the girl who has come between us; who has taken -him away from me; who has openly insulted me this very day--how -the girl whose heart is set on him would feel it if he died! What -a vengeance on _her,_ if I did it! And when I was received as -Armadale's widow what a triumph fo r _me._ Triumph! It is more -than triumph--it is the salvation of me. A name that can't be -assailed, a station that can't be assailed, to hide myself in -from my past life! Comfort, luxury, wealth! An income of twelve -hundred a year secured to me secured by a will which has been -looked at by a lawyer: secured independently of anything Armadale -can say or do himself! I never had twelve hundred a year. At my -luckiest time, I never had half as much, really my own. What have -I got now? Just five pounds left in the world--and the prospect -next week of a debtor's prison. - -"But, oh, after what I have done already in the past time, how -can I? how can I? - -"Some women--in my place, and with my recollections to look back -on--would feel it differently. Some women would say, 'It's easier -the second time than the first.' Why can't I? why can't I? - -"Oh, you Devil tempting me, is there no Angel near to raise some -timely obstacle between this and to-morrow which might help me to -give it up? - -"I shall sink under it--I shall sink, if I write or think of it -any more! I'll shut up these leaves and go out again. I'll get -some common person to come with me, and we will talk of common -things. I'll take out the woman of the house, and her children. -We will go and see something. There is a show of some kind in the -town--I'll treat them to it. I'm not such an ill-natured woman -when I try; and the landlady has really been kind to me. Surely I -might occupy my mind a little in seeing her and her children -enjoying themselves. - - -"A minute since, I shut up these leaves as I said I would; and -now I have opened them again, I don't know why. I think my brain -is turned. I feel as if something was lost out of my mind; I feel -as if I ought to find it here - -"I have found it! _Midwinter!!!_ - -"Is it possible that I can have been thinking of the reasons For -and Against, for an hour past--writing Midwinter's name over and -over again--speculating seriously on marrying him--and all the -time not once remembering that, even with every other impediment -removed, _he_ alone, when the time came, would be an -insurmountable obstacle in my way? Has the effort to face the -consideration of Armadale's death absorbed me to _that_ degree? I -suppose it has. I can't account for such extraordinary -forgetfulness on my part in any other way. - -"Shall I stop and think it out, as I have thought out all the -rest? Shall I ask myself if the obstacle of Midwinter would, -after all, when the time came, be the unmanageable obstacle that -it looks at present? No! What need is there to think of it? I -have made up my mind to get the better of the temptation. I have -made up my mind to give my landlady and her children a treat; I -have made up my mind to close my Diary. And closed it shall be. - - -"Six o'clock.--The landlady's gossip is unendurable; the -landlady's children distract me. I have left them to run back -here before post time and write a line to Mrs. Oldershaw. - -"The dread that I shall sink under the temptation has grown -stronger and stronger on me. I have determined to put it beyond -my power to have my own way and follow my own will. Mother -Oldershaw shall be the salvation of me for the first time since I -have known her. If I can't pay my note of hand, she threatens me -with an arrest. Well, she _shall_ arrest me. In the state my mind -is in now, the best thing that can happen to me is to be taken -away from Thorpe Ambrose, whether I like it or not. I will write -and say that I am to be found here I will write and tell her, in -so many words, that the best service she can render me is to lock -me up. - - -"Seven o'clock.--The letter has gone to the post. I had begun to -feel a little easier, when the children came in to thank me for -taking them to the show. One of them is a girl, and the girl -upset me. She is a forward child, and her hair is nearly the -color of mine. She said, 'I shall be like you when I have grown -bigger, shan't I?' Her idiot of a mother said, 'Please to excuse -her, miss,' and took her out of the room, laughing. Like me! I -don't pretend to be fond of the child; but think of her being -like Me! - - -"Saturday morning.--I have done well for once in acting on -impulse, and writing as I did to Mrs. Oldershaw. The only new -circumstance that has happened is another circumstance in my -favor! - -"Major Milroy has answered Armadale's letter, entreating -permission to call at the cottage and justify himself. His -daughter read it in silence, when Armadale handed it to her at -their meeting this morning, in the park. But they talked about it -afterward, loud enough for me to hear them. The major persists in -the course he has taken. He says his opinion of Armadale's -conduct has been formed, not on common report, but on Armadale's -own letters, and he sees no reason to alter the conclusion at -which he arrived when the correspondence between them was closed. - -"This little matter had, I confess, slipped out of my memory. It -might have ended awkwardly for _me._ If Major Milroy had been -less obstinately wedded to his own opinion, Armadale might have -justified himself; the marriage engagement might have been -acknowledged; and all _my_ power of influencing the matter might -have been at an end. As it is, they must continue to keep the -engagement strictly secret; and Miss Milroy, who has never -ventured herself near the great house since the thunder-storm -forced her into it for shelter, will be less likely than ever to -venture there now. I can part them when I please; with an -anonymous line to the major, I can part them when I please! - -"After having discussed the letter, the talk between them turned -on what they were to do next. Major Milroy's severity, as it soon -appeared, produced the usual results. Armadale returned to the -subject of the elopement; and this time she listened to him. -There is everything to drive her to it. Her outfit of clothes is -nearly ready; and the summer holidays, at the school which has -been chosen for her, end at the end of next week. When I left -them, they had decided to meet again and settle something on -Monday. - -"The last words I heard him address to her, before I went away, -shook me a little. He said: 'There is one difficulty, Neelie, -that needn't trouble us, at any rate. I have got plenty of -money.' And then he kissed her. The way to his life began to look -an easier way to me when he talked of his money, and kissed her. - -"Some hours have passed, and the more I think of it, the more I -fear the blank interval between this time and the time when Mrs. -Oldershaw calls in the law, and protects me against myself. It -might have been better if I had stopped at home this morning. But -how could I? After the insult she offered me yesterday, I tingled -all over to go and look at her. - -"To-day; Sunday; Monday; Tuesday. They can't arrest me for the -money before Wednesday. And my miserable five pounds are -dwindling to four! And he told her he had plenty of money! And -she blushed and trembled when he kissed her. It might have been -better for him, better for her, and better for me, if my debt had -fallen due yesterday, and if the bailiffs had their hands on me -at this moment. - -"Suppose I had the means of leaving Thorpe Ambrose by the next -train, and going somewhere abroad, and absorbing myself in some -new interest, among new people. Could I do it, rather than look -again at that easy way to his life which would smooth the way to -everything else? - -"Perhaps I might. But where is the money to come from? Surely -some way of getting it struck me a day or two since? Yes; that -mean idea of asking Armadale to help me! Well; I _will_ be mean -for once. I'll give him the chance of making a generous use of -that well-filled purse which it is such a comfort to him to -reflect on in his present circumstances. It would soften my heart -toward any man if he lent me money in my present extremity; and, -if Armadale lends me money, it might soften my heart toward him. -When shall I go? At once! I won't give myself time to feel the -degradation of it, and to change my mind. - - -"Three 'clock.--I mark the hour. He has sealed his own doom. He -has insulted me. - -"Yes! I have suffered it once from Miss Milroy. And I have now -suffered it a second time from Arm adale himself. An insult--a -marked, merciless, deliberate insult in the open day! - -"I had got through the town, and had advanced a few hundred yards -along the road that leads to the great house, when I saw Armadale -at a little distance, coming toward me. He was walking -fast--evidently with some errand of his own to take him to the -town. The instant he caught sight of me he stopped, colored up, -took off his hat, hesitated, and turned aside down a lane behind -him, which I happen to know would take him exactly in the -contrary direction to the direction in which he was walking when -he first saw me. His conduct said in so many words, 'Miss Milroy -may hear of it; I daren't run the risk of being seen speaking to -you.' Men have used me heartlessly; men have done and said hard -things to me; but no man living ever yet treated me as if I was -plague-struck, and as if the very air about me was infected by my -presence! - -"I say no more. When he walked away from me down that lane, he -walked to his death. I have written to Midwinter to expect me in -London nest week, and to be ready for our marriage soon -afterward. - - -"Four o'clock.--Half an hour since, I put on my bonnet to go out -and post the letter to Midwinter myself. And here I am, still in -my room, with my mind torn by doubts, and my letter on the table. - -"Armadale counts for nothing in the perplexities that are now -torturing me. It is Midwinter who makes me hesitate. Can I take -the first of those three steps that lead me to the end, without -the common caution of looking at consequences? Can I marry -Midwinter, without knowing beforehand how to meet the obstacle of -my husband, when the time comes which transforms me from the -living Armadale's wife to the dead Armadale's widow? - -"Why can't I think of it, when I know I _must_ think of it? Why -can't I look at it as steadily as I have looked at all the rest? -I feel his kisses on my lips; I feel his tears on my bosom; I -feel his arms round me again. He is far away in London; and yet, -he is here and won't let me think of it! - -"Why can't I wait a little? Why can't I let Time help me? Time? -It's Saturday! What need is there to think of it, unless I like? -There is no post to London to-day. I _must_ wait. If I posted the -letter, it wouldn't go. Besides, to- morrow I may hear from Mrs. -Oldershaw. I ought to wait to hear from Mrs. Oldershaw. I can't -consider myself a free woman till I know what Mrs. Oldershaw -means to do. There is a necessity for waiting till to-morrow. I -shall take my bonnet off, and lock the letter up in my desk. - - -"Sunday morning.--There is no resisting it! One after another the -circumstances crowd on me. They come thicker and thicker, and -they all force me one way. - -"I have got Mother Oldershaw's answer. The wretch fawns on me, -and cringes to me. I can see, as plainly as if she had -acknowledged it, that she suspects me of seeing my own way to -success at Thorpe Ambrose without her assistance . Having found -threatening me useless, she tries coaxing me now. I am her -darling Lydia again! She is quite shocked that I could imagine -she ever really intended to arrest her bosom friend; and she has -only to entreat me, as a favor to herself, to renew the bill! - -"I say once more, no mortal creature could resist it! Time after -time I have tried to escape the temptation; and time after time -the circumstances drive me back again. I can struggle no longer. -The post that takes the letters to-night shall take my letter to -Midwinter among the rest. - -"To-night! If I give myself till to-night, something else may -happen. If I give myself till to-night, I may hesitate again. I'm -weary of the torture of hesitating. I must and will have relief -in the present, cost what it may in the future. My letter to -Midwinter will drive me mad if I see it staring and staring at me -in my desk any longer. I can post it in ten minutes' time--and I -will! - -"It is done. The first of the three steps that lead me to the end -is a step taken. My mind is quieter--the letter is in the post. - -"By to-morrow Midwinter will receive it. Before the end of the -week Armadale must be publicly seen to leave Thorpe Ambrose; and -I must be publicly seen to leave with him. - -"Have I looked at the consequences of my marriage to Midwinter? -No! Do I know how to meet the obstacle of my husband, when the -time comes which transforms me from the living Armadale's wife to -the dead Armadale's widow? - -"No! When the time comes, I must meet the obstacle as I best may. -I am going blindfold, then--so far as Midwinter is -concerned--into this frightful risk? Yes; blindfold. Am I out of -my senses? Very likely. Or am I a little too fond of him to look -the thing in the face? I dare say. Who cares? - -"I won't, I won't, I won't think of it! Haven't I a will of my -own? And can't I think, if I like, of something else? - -"Here is Mother Jezebel's cringing letter. _That_ is something -else to think of. I'll answer it. I am in a fine humor for -writing to Mother Jezebel. - - * * * * * * * - -_Conclusion of Miss Gwilt's Letter to Mrs. Oldershaw._ - -".... I told you, when I broke off, that I would wait before I -finished this, and ask my Diary if I could safely tell you what I -have now got it in my mind to do. Well, I have asked; and my -Diary says, 'Don't tell her!' Under these circumstances I close -my letter--with my best excuses for leaving you in the dark. - -"I shall probably be in London before long--and I may tell you by -word of mouth what I don't think it safe to write here. Mind, I -make no promise! It all depends on how I feel toward you at the -time. I don't doubt your discretion; but (under certain -circumstances) I am not so sure of your courage. L. G." - -"P. S.--My best thanks for your permission to renew the bill. I -decline profiting by the proposal. The money will be ready when -the money is due. I have a friend now in London who will pay it -if I ask him. Do you wonder who the friend is? You will wonder at -one or two other things, Mrs. Oldershaw, before many weeks more -are over your head and mine." - -CHAPTER XI. - -LOVE AND LAW. - -ON the morning of Monday, the 28th of July, Miss Gwilt--once more -on the watch for Allan and Neelie--reached her customary post of -observation in the park, by the usual roundabout way. - -She was a little surprised to find Neelie alone at the place of -meeting. She was more seriously astonished, when the tardy Allan -made his appearance ten minutes later, to see him mounting the -side of the dell, with a large volume under his arm, and to hear -him say, as an apology for being late, that "he had muddled away -his time in hunting for the Books; and that he had only found -one, after all, which seemed in the least likely to repay either -Neelie or himself for the trouble of looking into it." - -If Miss Gwilt had waited long enough in the park, on the previous -Saturday, to hear the lovers' parting words on that occasion, she -would have been at no loss to explain the mystery of the volume -under Allan's arm, and she would have understood the apology -which he now offered for being late as readily as Neelie herself. - -There is a certain exceptional occasion in life--the occasion of -marriage--on which even girls in their teens sometimes become -capable (more or less hysterically) of looking at consequences. -At the farewell moment of the interview on Saturday, Neelie's -mind had suddenly precipitated itself into the future; and she -had utterly confounded Allan by inquiring whether the -contemplated elopement was an offense punishable by the Law? Her -memory satisfied her that she had certainly read somewhere, at -some former period, in some book or other (possibly a novel), of -an elopement with a dreadful end--of a bride dragged home in -hysterics--and of a bridegroom sentenced to languish in prison, -with all his beautiful hair cut off, by Act of Parliament, close -to his head. Supposing she could bring herself to consent to the -elopement at all--which she positively declined to promise--she -must first insist on discovering whether there was any fear of -the police being concerned in her marriage as well as the parson -and the clerk. Allan, being a man, ought to know; and to Allan -she looked for information--with - this preliminary assurance to assist him in laying down the law, -that she would die of a broken heart a thousand times over, -rather than be the innocent means of sending him to languish in -prison, and of cutting his hair off, by Act of Parliament, close -to his head. "It's no laughing matter," said Neelie, resolutely, -in conclusion; "I decline even to think of our marriage till my -mind is made easy first on the subject of the Law." - -"But I don't know anything about the law, not even as much as you -do," said Allan. "Hang the law! I don't mind my head being -cropped. Let's risk it." - -"Risk it?" repeated Neelie, indignantly. "Have you no -consideration for me? I won't risk it! Where there's a will, -there's a way. We must find out the law for ourselves." - -"With all my heart," said Allan. "How?" - -"Out of books, to be sure! There must be quantities of -information in that enormous library of yours at the great house. -If you really love me, you won't mind going over the backs of a -few thousand books, for my sake!" - -"I'll go over the backs of ten thousand!" cried Allan, warmly. -"Would you mind telling me what I'm to look for?" - -"For 'Law,' to be sure! When it says 'Law' on the back, open it, -and look inside for Marriage--read every word of it--and then -come here and explain it to me. What! you don't think your head -is to be trusted to do such a simple thing as that?" - -"I'm certain it isn't, " said Allan. "Can't you help me?" - -"Of course I can, if you can't manage without me! Law may be -hard, but it can't be harder than music; and I must, and will, -satisfy my mind. Bring me all the books you can find, on Monday -morning--in a wheelbarrow, if there are a good many of them, and -if you can't manage it in any other way." - -The result of this conversation was Allan's appearance in the -park, with a volume of Blackstone's Commentaries under his arm, -on the fatal Monday morning, when Miss Gwilt's written engagement -of marriage was placed in Midwinter's hands. Here again, in this, -as in all other human instances, the widely discordant elements -of the grotesque and the terrible were forced together by that -subtle law of contrast which is one of the laws of mortal life. -Amid all the thickening complications now impending over their -heads--with the shadow of meditated murder stealing toward one of -them already from the lurking-place that hid Miss Gwilt--the two -sat down, unconscious of the future, with the book between them; -and applied themselves to the study of the law of marriage, with -a grave resolution to understand it, which, in two such students, -was nothing less than a burlesque in itself! - - -"Find the place," said Neelie, as soon as they were comfortably -established. "We must manage this by what they call a division of -labor. You shall read, and I'll take notes." - -She produced forthwith a smart little pocket-book and pencil, and -opened the book in the middle, where there was a blank page on -the right hand and the left. At the top of the right-hand page -she wrote the word _Good._ At the top of the left-hand page she -wrote the word _Bad._ " 'Good' means where the law is on our -side," she explained; "and 'Bad' means where the law is against -us. We will have 'Good' and 'Bad' opposite each other, all down -the two pages; and when we get to the bottom, we'll add them up, -and act accordingly. They say girls have no heads for business. -Haven't they! Don't look at me--look at Blackstone, and begin." - -"Would you mind giving one a kiss first?" asked Allan. - -"I should mind it very much. In our serious situation, when we -have both got to exert our intellects, I wonder you can ask for -such a thing!" - -"That's why I asked for it," said the unblushing Allan. "I feel -as if it would clear my head." - -"Oh, if it would clear your head, that's quite another thing! I -must clear your head, of course, at any sacrifice. Only one, -mind," she whispered, coquettishly; "and pray be careful of -Blackstone, or you'll lose the place." - -There was a pause in the conversation. Blackstone and the -pocket-book both rolled on the ground together. - -"If this happens again," said Neelie, picking up the pocket-book, -with her eyes and her complexion at their brightest and best, "I -shall sit with my back to you for the rest of the morning. _Will_ -you go on?" - -Allan found his place for the second time, and fell headlong into -the bottomless abyss of the English Law. - -"Page 280," he began. "Law of husband and wife. Here's a bit I -don't understand, to begin with: 'It may be observed generally -that the law considers marriage in the light of a Contract.' What -does that mean? I thought a contract was the sort of a thing a -builder signs when he promises to have the workmen out of the -house in a given time, and when the time comes (as my poor mother -used to say) the workmen never go." - -"Is there nothing about Love?" asked Neelie. "Look a little lower -down." - -"Not a word. He sticks to his confounded 'Contract' all the way -through." - -"Then he's a brute! Go on to something else that's more in our -way." - -"Here's a bit that's more in our way: 'Incapacities. If any -persons under legal incapacities come together, it is a -meretricious, and not a matrimonial union.' (Blackstone's a good -one at long words, isn't he? I wonder what he means by -meretricious?) 'The first of these legal disabilities is a prior -marriage, and having another husband or wife living--' " - -"Stop!" said Neelie; "I must make a note of that." She gravely -made her first entry on the page headed "Good," as follows: "I -have no husband, and Allan has no wife. We are both entirely -unmarried at the present time." - -"All right, so far," remarked Allan, looking over her shoulder. - -"Go on," said Neelie. "What next?" - -" 'The next disability,' " proceeded Allan, " 'is want of age. -The age for consent to matrimony is, fourteen in males, and -twelve in females.' Come!" cried Allan, cheerfully, "Blackstone -begins early enough, at any rate!" - -Neelie was too business-like to make any other remark, on her -side, than the necessary remark in the pocket-book. She made -another entry under the head of "Good": "I am old enough to -consent, and so is Allan too. Go on," resumed Neelie, looking -over the reader's shoulder. "Never mind all that prosing of -Blackstone's, about the husband being of years of discretion, and -the wife under twelve. Abominable wretch! the wife under twelve! -Skip to the third incapacity, if there is one." - -" 'The third incapacity,' " Allan went on, " 'is want of reason.' -" - -Neelie immediately made a third entry on the side of "Good": -"Allan and I are both perfectly reasonable. Skip to the next -page." - -Allan skipped. " 'A fourth incapacity is in respect of proximity -of relationship.' " - -A fourth entry followed instantly on the cheering side of the -pocket-book: "He loves me, and I love him--without our being in -the slightest degree related to each other. Any more?" asked -Neelie, tapping her chin impatiently with the end of the pencil. - -"Plenty more," rejoined Allan; "all in hieroglyphics. Look here: -'Marriage Acts, 4 Geo. IV., c. 76, and 6 and 7 Will. IV., c. 85 -(_q_).' Blackstone's intellect seems to be wandering here. Shall -we take another skip, and see if he picks himself up again on the -next page?" - -"Wait a little," said Neelie; "what's that I see in the middle?" -She read for a minute in silence, over Allan's shoulder, and -suddenly clasped her hands in despair. "I knew I was right!" she -exclaimed. "Oh, heavens, here it is!" - -"Where?" asked Allan. "I see nothing about languishing in prison, -and cropping a fellow's hair close to his head, unless it's in -the hieroglyphics. Is '4 Geo. IV.' short for 'Lock him up'? and -does 'c. 85 (_q_)' mean, 'Send for the hair-cutter'?" - -"Pray be serious," remonstrated Neelie. "We are both sitting on a -volcano. There," she said pointing to the place. "Read it! If -anything can bring you to a proper sense of our situation, _that_ -will." - -Allan cleared his throat, and Neelie held the point of her pencil -ready on the depressing side of the account--otherwise the "Bad" -page of the pocket-book. - -" 'And as it is the policy of our law,' " Allan began, " 'to -prevent the marriage of persons under the age of twenty-one, -without the co nsent of parents and guardians' "--(Neelie made -her first entry on the side of "Bad!" "I'm only seventeen next -birthday, and circumstances forbid me to confide my attachment to -papa")--" 'it is provided that in the case of the publication of -banns of a person under twenty-one, not being a widower or widow, -who are deemed emancipated' "--(Neelie made another entry on the -depressing side: "Allan is not a widower, and I am not a widow; -consequently, we are neither of us emancipated")--" 'if the -parent or guardian openly signifies his dissent at the time the -banns are published' "--("which papa would be certain to do")--" -'such publication would be void.' I'll take breath here if you'll -allow me," said Allan. "Blackstone might put it in shorter -sentences, I think, if he can't put it in fewer words. Cheer up, -Neelie! there must be other ways of marrying, besides this -roundabout way, that ends in a Publication and a Void. Infernal -gibberish! I could write better English myself." - -"We are not at the end of it yet," said Neelie. "The Void is -nothing to what is to come." - -"Whatever it is," rejoined Allan, "we'll treat it like a dose of -physic--we'll take it at once, and be done with it." He went on -reading: " 'And no license to marry without banns shall be -granted, unless oath shall be first made by one of the parties -that he or she believes that there is no impediment of kindred or -alliance'--well, I can take my oath of that with a safe -conscience! What next? 'And one of the said parties must, for the -space of fifteen days immediately preceding such license, have -had his or her usual place of abode within the parish or chapelry -within which such marriage is to be solemnized!' Chapelry! I'd -live fifteen days in a dog-kennel with the greatest pleasure. I -say, Neelie, all this seems like plain sailing enough. What are -you shaking your head about? Go on, and I shall see? Oh, all -right; I'll go on. Here we are: 'And where one of the said -parties, not being a widower or widow, shall be under the age of -twenty-one years, oath must first be made that the consent of the -person or persons whose consent is required has been obtained, or -that there is no person having authority to give such consent. -The consent required by this act is that of the father--' " At -those last formidable words Allan came to a full stop. "The -consent of the father," he repeated, with all needful seriousness -of look and manner. "I couldn't exactly swear to that, could I?" - -Neelie answered in expressive silence. She handed him the -pocket-book, with the final entry completed, on the side of -"Bad," in these terms: "Our marriage is impossible, unless Allan -commits perjury." - -The lovers looked at each other, across the insuperable obstacle -of Blackstone, in speechless dismay. - -"Shut up the book," said Neelie, resignedly. "I have no doubt we -should find the police, and the prison, and the hair-cutting--all -punishments for perjury, exactly as I told you!--if we looked at -the next page. But we needn't trouble ourselves to look; we have -found out quite enough already. It's all over with us. I must go -to school on Saturday, and you must manage to forget me as soon -as you can. Perhaps we may meet in after-life, and you may be a -widower and I may be a widow, and the cruel law may consider us -emancipated, when it's too late to be of the slightest use. By -that time, no doubt, I shall be old and ugly, and you will -naturally have ceased to care about me, and it will all end in -the grave, and the sooner the better. Good-by," concluded Neelie, -rising mournfully, with the tears in her eyes. "It's only -prolonging our misery to stop here, unless--unless you have -anything to propose?" - -"I've got something to propose," cried the headlong Allan. "It's -an entirely new idea. Would you mind trying the blacksmith at -Gretna Green?" - -"No earthly consideration," answered Neelie, indignantly, "would -induce me to be married by a blacksmith!" - -"Don't be offended," pleaded Allan; "I meant it for the best. -Lots of people in our situation have tried the blacksmith, and -found him quite as good as a clergyman, and a most amiable man, I -believe, into the bargain. Never mind! We must try another string -to our bow." - -"We haven't got another to try," said Neelie. - -"Take my word for it," persisted Allan, stoutly, "there must be -ways and means of circumventing Blackstone (without perjury), if -we only knew of them. It's a matter of law, and we must consult -somebody in the profession. I dare say it's a risk. But nothing -venture, nothing have. What do you say to young Pedgift? He's a -thorough good fellow. I'm sure we could trust young Pedgift to -keep our secret." - -"Not for worlds!" exclaimed Neelie. "You may be willing to trust -your secrets to the vulgar little wretch; I won't have him -trusted with mine. I hate him. No!" she concluded, with a -mounting color and a peremptory stamp of her foot on the grass. -"I positively forbid you to take any of the Thorpe Ambrose people -into your confidence. They would instantly suspect me, and it -would be all over the place in a moment. My attachment may be an -unhappy one, " remarked Neelie, with her handkerchief to her -eyes, "and papa may nip it in the bud, but I won't have it -profaned by the town gossip!" - -"Hush! hush!" said Allan. "I won't say a word at Thorpe Ambrose, -I won't indeed!" He paused, and considered for a moment. "There's -another way!" he burst out, brightening up on the instant. "We've -got the whole week before us. I'll tell you what I'll do, I'll go -to London!" - -There was a sudden rustling--heard neither by one nor the -other--among the trees behind them that screened Miss Gwilt. One -more of the difficulties in her way (the difficulty of getting -Allan to London) now promised to be removed by an act of Allan's -own will. - -"To London?" repeated Neelie, looking up in astonishment. - -"To London!" reiterated Allan. "That's far enough away from -Thorpe Ambrose, surely? Wait a minute, and don't forget that this -is a question of law. Very well, I know some lawyers in London -who managed all my business for me when I first came in for this -property; they are just the men to consult. And if they decline -to be mixed up in it, there's their head clerk, who is one of the -best fellows I ever met with in my life. I asked him to go -yachting with me, I remember; and, though he couldn't go, he said -he felt the obligation all the same. That's the man to help us. -Blackstone's a mere infant to him. Don't say it's absurd; don't -say it's exactly like _me._ Do pray hear me out. I won't breathe -your name or your father's. I'll describe you as 'a young lady to -whom I am devotedly attached.' And if my friend the clerk asks -where you live, I'll say the north of Scotland, or the west of -Ireland, or the Channel Islands, or anywhere else you like. My -friend the clerk is a total stranger to Thorpe Ambrose and -everybody in it (which is one recommendation); and in five -minutes' time he'd put me up to what to do (which is another). If -you only knew him! He's one of those extraordinary men who appear -once or twice in a century--the sort of man who won't allow you -to make a mistake if you try. All I have got to say to him -(putting it short) is, 'My dear fellow, I want to be privately -married without perjury.' All he has got to say to me (putting it -short) is, 'You must do so-and-so and so-and-so, and you must be -careful to avoid this, that, and the other.' I have nothing in -the world to do but to follow his directions; and you have -nothing in the world to do but what the bride always does when -the bridegroom is ready and willing!" His arm stole round -Neelie's waist, and his lips pointed the moral of the last -sentence with that inarticulate eloquence which is so uniformly -successful in persuading a woman against her will. - -All Neelie's meditated objections dwindled, in spite of her, to -one feeble little question. "Suppose I allow you to go, Allan?" -she whispered, toying nervously with the stud in the bosom of his -shirt. "Shall you be very long away?" - -"I'll be off to-day," said Allan, "by the eleven o'clock train. -And I'll be back to-morrow, if I and my friend the clerk can -settle it all in time. If not, by Wednesday at latest." - -"You'll write to me even day?" pleaded Neelie, clinging a little -closer to him. "I shall sink under the suspense, if you don't -promise to write to me every day." - -Allan promised to write twice a day, if she -liked--letter-writing, which was such an effort to other men, was -no effort to _him!_ - -"And mind, whatever those people may say to you in London," -proceeded Neelie, "I insist on your coming back for me. I -positively decline to run away, unless you promise to fetch me." - -Allan promised for the second time, on his sacred word of honor, -and at the full compass of his voice. But Neelie was not -satisfied even yet. She reverted to first principles, and -insisted on knowing whether Allan was quite sure he loved her. -Allan called Heaven to witness how sure he was; and got another -question directly for his pains. Could he solemnly declare that -he would never regret taking Neelie away from home? Allan called -Heaven to witness again, louder than ever. All to no purpose! The -ravenous female appetite for tender protestations still hungered -for more. "I know what will happen one of these days," persisted -Neelie. "You will see some other girl who is prettier than I am; -and you will wish you had married her instead of Me!" - -As Allan opened his lips for a final outburst of asseveration, -the stable clock at the great house was faintly audible in the -distance striking the hour. Neelie started guiltily. It was -breakfast-time at the cottage--in other words, time to take -leave. At the last moment her heart went back to her father; and -her head sank on Allan's bosom as she tried to say, Good-by. -"Papa has always been so kind to me, Allan," she whispered, -holding him back tremulously when he turned to leave her. "It -seems so guilty and so heartless to go away from him and be -married in secret. Oh, do, do think before you really go to -London; is there no way of making him a little kinder and juster -to _you?_" The question was useless; the major's resolutely -unfavorable reception of Allan's letter rose in Neelie's memory, -and answered her as the words passed her lips. With a girl's -impulsiveness she pushed Allan away before he could speak, and -signed to him impatiently to go. The conflict of contending -emotions, which she had mastered thus far, burst its way outward -in spite of her after he had waved his hand for the last time, -and had disappeared in the depths of the dell. When she turned -from the place, on her side, her long-restrained tears fell -freely at last, and made the lonely way back to the cottage the -dimmest prospect that Neelie had seen for many a long day past. - -As she hurried homeward, the leaves parted behind her, and Miss -Gwilt stepped softly into the open space. She stood there in -triumph, tall, beautiful, and resolute. Her lovely color -brightened while she watched Neelie's retreating figure hastening -lightly away from her over the grass. - -"Cry, you little fool!" she said, with her quiet, clear tones, -and her steady smile of contempt. "Cry as you have never cried -yet! You have seen the last of your sweetheart." - -CHAPTER XII. - -A SCANDAL AT THE STATION. - -AN hour later, the landlady at Miss Gwilt's lodgings was lost in -astonishment, and the clamorous tongues of the children were in a -state of ungovernable revolt. "Unforeseen circumstances" had -suddenly obliged the tenant of the first floor to terminate the -occupation of her apartments, and to go to London that day by the -eleven o'clock train. - -"Please to have a fly at the door at half-past ten," said Miss -Gwilt, as the amazed landlady followed her upstairs. "And excuse -me, you good creature, if I beg and pray not to be disturbed till -the fly comes. "Once inside the room, she locked the door, and -then opened her writing-desk. "Now for my letter to the major!" -she said. "How shall I word it?" - -A moment's consideration apparently decided her. Searching -through her collection of pens, she carefully selected the worst -that could be found, and began the letter by writing the date of -the day on a soiled sheet of note-paper, in crooked, clumsy -characters, which ended in a blot made purposely with the feather -of the pen. Pausing, sometimes to think a little, sometimes to -make another blot, she completed the letter in these words: - - -"HON'D SIR--It is on my conscience to tell you something, which I -think you ought to know. You ought to know of the goings-on of -Miss, your daughter, with young Mister Armadale. I wish you to -make sure, and, what is more, I advise you to be quick about it, -if she is going the way you want her to go, when she takes her -morning walk before breakfast. I scorn to make mischief, where -there is true love on both sides. But I don't think the young man -means truly by Miss. What I mean is, I think Miss only has his -fancy. Another person, who shall be nameless betwixt us, has his -true heart. Please to pardon my not putting my name; I am only a -humble person, and it might get me into trouble. This is all at -present, dear sir, from yours, - -"A WELL-WISHER." - - -"There!" said Miss Gwilt, as she folded the letter up. "If I had -been a professed novelist, I could hardly have written more -naturally in the character of a servant than that!" She wrote the -necessary address to Major Milroy; looked admiringly for the last -time at the coarse and clumsy writing which her own delicate hand -had produced; and rose to post the letter herself, before she -entered next on the serious business of packing up. "Curious!" -she thought, when the letter had been posted, and she was back -again making her traveling preparations in her own room; "here I -am, running headlong into a frightful risk--and I never was in -better spirits in my life!" - -The boxes were ready when the fly was at the door, and Miss Gwilt -was equipped (as becomingly as usual) in her neat traveling -costume. The thick veil, which she was accustomed to wear in -London, appeared on her country straw bonnet for the first time." -One meets such rude men occasionally in the railway," she said to -the landlady. "And though I dress quietly, my hair is so very -remarkable." She was a little paler than usual; but she had never -been so sweet-tempered and engaging, so gracefully cordial and -friendly, as now, when the moment of departure had come. The -simple people of the house were quite moved at taking leave of -her. She insisted on shaking hands with the landlord--on speaking -to him in her prettiest way, and sunning him in her brightest -smiles. "Come!" she said to the landlady, "you have been so kind, -you have been so like a mother to me, you must give me a kiss at -parting." She embraced the children all together in a lump, with -a mixture of humor and tenderness delightful to see, and left a -shilling among them to buy a cake. "If I was only rich enough to -make it a sovereign," she whispered to the mother, "how glad I -should be!" The awkward lad who ran on errands stood waiting at -the fly door. He was clumsy, he was frowsy, he had a gaping mouth -and a turn-up nose; but the ineradicable female delight in being -charming accepted him, for all that, in the character of a last -chance. "You dear, dingy John!" she said, kindly, at the carriage -door. "I am so poor I have only sixpence to give you--with my -very best wishes. Take my advice, John--grow to be a fine man, -and find yourself a nice sweetheart! Thank you a thousand times!" -She gave him a friendly little pat on the cheek with two of her -gloved fingers, and smiled, and nodded, and got into the fly. - -"Armadale next!" she said to herself as the carriage drove off. - -Allan's anxiety not to miss the train had brought him to the -station in better time than usual. After taking his ticket and -putting his portmanteau under the porter's charge, he was pacing -the platform and thinking of Neelie, when he heard the rustling -of a lady's dress behind him, and, turning round to look, found -himself face to face with Miss Gwilt. - -There was no escaping her this time. The station wall was on his -right hand, and the line was on his left; a tunnel was behind -him, and Miss Gwilt was in front, inquiring in her sweetest tones -whether Mr. Armadale was going to London. - -Allan colored scarlet with vexation and surprise. There he was - obviously waiting for the train; and there was his portmanteau -close by, with his name on it, already labeled for London! What -answer but the true one could he make after that? Could he let -the train go without him, and lose the precious hours so vitally -important to Neelie and himself? Impossible! Allan helplessly -confirmed the printed statement on his portmanteau, and heartily -wished himself at the other end of the world as he said the -words. - -"How very fortunate!" rejoined Miss Gwilt. "I am going to London -too. Might I ask you Mr. Armadale (as you seem to be quite -alone), to be my escort on the journey?" - -Allan looked at the little assembly of travelers, and travelers' -friends, collected on the platform, near the booking-office door. -They were all Thorpe Ambrose people. He was probably known by -sight, and Miss Gwilt was probably known by sight, to every one -of them. In sheer desperation, hesitating more awkwardly than -ever, he produced his cigar case. "I should be delighted," he -said, with an embarrassment which was almost an insult under the -circumstances. "But I--I'm what the people who get sick over a -cigar call a slave to smoking." - -"I delight in smoking!" said Miss Gwilt, with undiminished -vivacity and good humor. "It's one of the privileges of the men -which I have always envied. I'm afraid, Mr. Armadale, you must -think I am forcing myself on you. It certainly looks like it. The -real truth is, I want particularly to say a word to you in -private about Mr. Midwinter." - -The train came up at the same moment. Setting Midwinter out of -the question, the common decencies of politeness left Allan no -alternative but to submit. After having been the cause of her -leaving her situation at Major Milroy's, after having pointedly -avoided her only a few days since on the high-road, to have -declined going to London in the same carriage with Miss Gwilt -would have been an act of downright brutality which it was simply -impossible to commit. "Damn her!" said Allan, internally, as he -handed his traveling companion into an empty carriage, -officiously placed at his disposal, before all the people at the -station, by the guard. "You shan't be disturbed, sir," the man -whispered, confidentially, with a smile and a touch of his hat. -Allan could have knocked him down with the utmost pleasure. -"Stop!" he said, from the window. "I don't want the carriage--" -It was useless; the guard was out of hearing; the whistle blew, -and the train started for London. - -The select assembly of travelers' friends, left behind on the -platform, congregated in a circle on the spot, with the -station-master in the center. - -The station-master--otherwise Mr. Mack--was a popular character -in the neighborhood. He possessed two social qualifications which -invariably impress the average English mind--he was an old -soldier, and he was a man of few words. The conclave on the -platform insisted on taking his opinion, before it committed -itself positively to an opinion of its own. A brisk fire of -remarks exploded, as a matter of course, on all sides; but -everybody's view of the subject ended interrogatively, in a -question aimed pointblank at the station-master's ears. - -"She's got him, hasn't she?" "She'll come back 'Mrs. Armadale,' -won't she?" "He'd better have stuck to Miss Milroy, hadn't he?" -"Miss Milroy stuck to _him._ She paid him a visit at the great -house, didn't she?" "Nothing of the sort; it's a shame to take -the girl's character away. She was caught in a thunder-storm -close by; he was obliged to give her shelter; and she's never -been near the place since. Miss Gwilt's been there, if you like, -with no thunderstorm to force _her_ in; and Miss Gwilt's off with -him to London in a carriage all to themselves, eh, Mr. Mack?" -"Ah, he's a soft one, that Armadale! with all his money, to take -up with a red-haired woman, a good eight or nine years older than -he is! She's thirty if she's a day. That's what I say, Mr. Mack. -What do you say?" "Older or younger, she'll rule the roast at -Thorpe Ambrose; and I say, for the sake of the place, and for the -sake of trade, let's make the best of it; and Mr. Mack, as a man -of the world, sees it in the same light as I do, don't you, sir?" - -"Gentlemen," said the station-master, with his abrupt military -accent, and his impenetrable military manner, "she's a devilish -fine woman. And when I was Mr. Armadale's age, it's my opinion, -if her fancy had laid that way, she might have married Me." - -With that expression of opinion the station-master wheeled to the -right, and intrenched himself impregnably in the stronghold of -his own office. - -The citizens of Thorpe Ambrose looked at the closed door, and -gravely shook their heads. Mr. Mack had disappointed them. No -opinion which openly recognizes the frailty of human nature is -ever a popular opinion with mankind. "It's as good as saying that -any of _us_ might have married her if _we_ had been Mr. -Armadale's age!" Such was the general impression on the minds of -the conclave, when the meeting had been adjourned, and the -members were leaving the station. - -The last of the party to go was a slow old gentleman, with a -habit of deliberately looking about him. Pausing at the door, -this observant person stared up the platform and down the -platform, and discovered in the latter direction, standing behind -an angle of the wall, an elderly man in black, who had escaped -the notice of everybody up to that time. "Why, bless my soul!" -said the old gentleman, advancing inquisitively by a step at a -time, "it can't be Mr. Bashwood!" - -It _was_ Mr. Bashwood--Mr. Bashwood, whose constitutional -curiosity had taken him privately to the station, bent on solving -the mystery of Allan's sudden journey to London--Mr. Bashwood, -who had seen and heard, behind his angle in the wall, what -everybody else had seen and heard, and who appeared to have been -impressed by it in no ordinary way. He stood stiffly against the -wall, like a man petrified, with one hand pressed on his bare -head, and the other holding his hat--he stood, with a dull flush -on his face, and a dull stare in his eyes, looking straight into -the black depths of the tunnel outside the station, as if the -train to London had disappeared in it but the moment before. - -"Is your head bad?" asked the old gentleman. "Take my advice. Go -home and lie down." - -Mr. Bashwood listened mechanically, with his usual attention, and -answered mechanically, with his usual politeness. - -"Yes, sir," he said, in a low, lost tone, like a man between -dreaming and waking; "I'll go home and lie down." - -"That's right," rejoined the old gentleman, making for the door. -"And take a pill, Mr. Bashwood--take a pill." - -Five minutes later, the porter charged with the business of -locking up the station found Mr. Bashwood, still standing -bare-headed against the wall, and still looking straight into the -black depths of the tunnel, as if the train to London had -disappeared in it but a moment since. - -"Come, sir!" said the porter; "I must lock up. Are you out of -sorts? Anything wrong with your inside? Try a drop of -gin-and-bitters." - -"Yes," said Mr. Bashwood, answering the porter, exactly as he had -answered the old gentleman; "I'll try a drop of gin-and-bitters." - -The porter took him by the arm, and led him out. "You'll get it -there," said the man, pointing confidentially to a public-house; -"and you'll get it good." - -"I shall get it there," echoed Mr. Bashwood, still mechanically -repeating what was said to him; "and I shall get it good." - -His will seemed to be paralyzed; his actions depended absolutely -on what other people told him to do. He took a few steps in the -direction of the public-house, hesitated, staggered, and caught -at the pillar of one of the station lamps near him. - -The porter followed, and took him by the arm once more. - -"Why, you've been drinking already!" exclaimed the man, with a -suddenly quickened interest in Mr. Bashwood's case. "What was it? -Beer?" - -Mr. Bashwood, in his low, lost tones, echoed the last word. - -It was close on the porter's dinner-time. But, when the lower -orders of the English people believe they have discovered an -intoxicated man, their sympathy with him is boundless. The porter -let his dinner take i ts chance, and carefully assisted Mr. -Bashwood to reach the public-house. "Gin-and-bitters will put you -on your legs again," whispered this Samaritan setter-right of the -alcoholic disasters of mankind. - -If Mr. Bashwood had really been intoxicated, the effect of the -porter's remedy would have been marvelous indeed. Almost as soon -as the glass was emptied, the stimulant did its work. The -long-weakened nervous system of the deputy-steward, prostrated -for the moment by the shock that had fallen on it, rallied again -like a weary horse under the spur. The dull flush on his cheeks, -the dull stare in his eyes, disappeared simultaneously. After a -momentary effort, he recovered memory enough of what had passed -to thank the porter, and to ask whether he would take something -himself. The worthy creature instantly accepted a dose of his own -remedy--in the capacity of a preventive--and went home to dinner -as only those men can go home who are physically warmed by -gin-and-bitters and morally elevated by the performance of a good -action. - -Still strangely abstracted (but conscious now of the way by which -he went), Mr. Bashwood left the public-house a few minutes later, -in his turn. He walked on mechanically, in his dreary black -garments, moving like a blot on the white surface of the -sun-brightened road, as Midwinter had seen him move in the early -days at Thorpe Ambrose, when they had first met. Arrived at the -point where he had to choose between the way that led into the -town and the way that led to the great house, he stopped, -incapable of deciding, and careless, apparently, even of making -the attempt. "I'll be revenged on her!" he whispered to himself, -still absorbed in his jealous frenzy of rage against the woman -who had deceived him. "I'll be revenged on her," he repeated, in -louder tones, "if I spend every half-penny I've got!" - -Some women of the disorderly sort, passing on their way to the -town, heard him. "Ah, you old brute," they called out, with the -measureless license of their class, "whatever she did, she served -you right!" - -The coarseness of the voices startled him, whether he -comprehended the words or not. He shrank away from more -interruption and more insult, into the quieter road that led to -the great house. - -At a solitary place by the wayside he stopped and sat down. He -took off his hat and lifted his youthful wig a little from his -bald old head, and tried desperately to get beyond the one -immovable conviction which lay on his mind like lead--the -conviction that Miss Gwilt had been purposely deceiving him from -the first. It was useless. No effort would free him from that one -dominant impression, and from the one answering idea that it had -evoked--the idea of revenge. He got up again, and put on his hat -and walked rapidly forward a little way--then turned without -knowing why, and slowly walked back again "If I had only dressed -a little smarter!" said the poor wretch, helplessly. "If I had -only been a little bolder with her, she might have overlooked my -being an old man!" The angry fit returned on him. He clinched his -clammy, trembling hands, and shook them fiercely in the empty -air. "I'll be revenged on her," he reiterated. "I'll be revenged -on her, if I spend every half-penny I've got!" It was terribly -suggestive of the hold she had taken on him, that his vindictive -sense of injury could not get far enough away from her to reach -the man whom he believed to be his rival, even yet. In his rage, -as in his love, he was absorbed, body and soul, by Miss Gwilt. - -In a moment more, the noise of running wheels approaching from -behind startled him. He turned and looked round. There was Mr. -Pedgift the elder, rapidly overtaking him in the gig, just as Mr. -Pedgift had overtaken him once already, on that former occasion -when he had listened under the window at the great house, and -when the lawyer had bluntly charged him with feeling a curiosity -about Miss Gwilt! - -In an instant the inevitable association of ideas burst on his -mind. The opinion of Miss Gwilt, which he had heard the lawyer -express to Allan at parting, flashed back into his memory, side -by side with Mr. Pedgift's sarcastic approval of anything in the -way of inquiry which his own curiosity might attempt. "I may be -even with her yet," he thought, "if Mr. Pedgift will help -me!--Stop, sir!" he called out, desperately, as the gig came up -with him. "If you please, sir, I want to speak to you." - -Pedgift Senior slackened the pace of his fast-trotting mare, -without pulling up. "Come to the office in half an hour," he -said; "I'm busy now." Without waiting for an answer, without -noticing Mr. Bashwood's bow, he gave the mare the rein again, and -was out of sight in another minute. - -Mr. Bashwood sat down once more in a shady place by the roadside. -He appeared to be incapable of feeling any slight but the one -unpardonable slight put upon him by Miss Gwilt. He not only -declined to resent, he even made the best of Mr. Pedgift's -unceremonious treatment of him. "Half an hour," he said, -resignedly. "Time enough to compose myself; and I want time. Very -kind of Mr. Pedgift, though he mightn't have meant it." - -The sense of oppression in his head forced him once again to -remove his hat. He sat with it on his lap, deep in thought; his -face bent low, and the wavering fingers of one hand drumming -absently on the crown of the hat. If Mr. Pedgift the elder, -seeing him as he sat now, could only have looked a little way -into the future, the monotonously drumming hand of the -deputy-steward might have been strong enough, feeble as it was, -to stop the lawyer by the roadside. It was the worn, weary, -miserable old hand of a worn, weary, miserable old man; but it -was, for all that (to use the language of Mr. Pedgift's own -parting prediction to Allan), the hand that was now destined to -"let the light in on Miss Gwilt." - -CHAPTER XIII. - -AN OLD MAN'S HEART. - -PUNCTUAL to the moment, when the half hour's interval had -expired, Mr. Bashwood was announced at the office as waiting to -see Mr. Pedgift by special appointment. - -The lawyer looked up from his papers with an air of annoyance: he -had totally forgotten the meeting by the roadside. "See what he -wants," said Pedgift Senior to Pedgift Junior, working in the -same room with him. "And if it's nothing of importance, put it -off to some other time." - -Pedgift Junior swiftly disappeared and swiftly returned. - -"Well?" asked the father. - -"Well," answered the son, "he is rather more shaky and -unintelligible than usual. I can make nothing out of him, except -that he persists in wanting to see you. My own idea," pursued -Pedgift Junior, with his usual, sardonic gravity, "is that he is -going to have a fit, and that he wishes to acknowledge your -uniform kindness to him by obliging you with a private view of -the whole proceeding." - -Pedgift Senior habitually matched everybody--his son -included--with their own weapons. "Be good enough to remember, -Augustus," he rejoined, "that my Room is not a Court of Law. A -bad joke is not invariably followed by 'roars of laughter' -_here._ Let Mr. Bashwood come in." - -Mr. Bashwood was introduced, and Pedgift Junior withdrew. "You -mustn't bleed him, sir," whispered the incorrigible joker, as he -passed the back of his father's chair. "Hot-water bottles to the -soles of his feet, and a mustard plaster on the pit of his -stomach--that's the modern treatment." - -"Sit down, Bashwood," said Pedgift Senior when they were alone. -"And don't forget that time's money. Out with it, whatever it is, -at the quickest possible rate, and in the fewest possible words." - -These preliminary directions, bluntly but not at all unkindly -spoken, rather increased than diminished the painful agitation -under which Mr. Bashwood was suffering. He stammered more -helplessly, he trembled more continuously than usual, as he made -his little speech of thanks, and added his apologies at the end -for intruding on his patron in business hours. - -"Everybody in the place, Mr. Pedgift, sir, knows your time is -valuable. Oh, dear, yes! oh, dear, yes! most valuable, most -valuable! Excuse me, sir, I'm coming out with it. Your -goodness--or rather your business--no, your goodness gave me half -an hour to wait--and I ha ve thought of what I had to say, and -prepared it, and put it short." Having got as far as that, he -stopped with a pained, bewildered look. He had put it away in his -memory, and now, when the time came, he was too confused to find -it. And there was Mr. Pedgift mutely waiting; his face and manner -expressive alike of that silent sense of the value of his own -time which every patient who has visited a great doctor, every -client who has consulted a lawyer in large practice, knows so -well. "Have you heard the news, sir?" stammered Mr. Bashwood, -shifting his ground in despair, and letting the uppermost idea in -his mind escape him, simply because it was the one idea in him -that was ready to come out. - -"Does it concern _me?_" asked Pedgift Senior, mercilessly brief, -and mercilessly straight in coming to the point. - -"It concerns a lady, sir--no, not a lady--a young man, I ought to -say, in whom you used to feel some interest. Oh, Mr. Pedgift, -sir, what do you think! Mr. Armadale and Miss Gwilt have gone up -to London together to-day--alone, sir--alone in a carriage -reserved for their two selves. Do you think he's going to marry -her? Do you really think, like the rest of them, he's going to -marry her?" - -He put the question with a sudden flush in his face and a sudden -energy in his manner. His sense of the value of the lawyer's -time, his conviction of the greatness of the lawyer's -condescension, his constitutional shyness and timidity--all -yielded together to his one overwhelming interest in hearing Mr. -Pedgift's answer. He was loud for the first time in his life in -putting the question. - -"After my experience of Mr. Armadale," said the lawyer, instantly -hardening in look and manner, "I believe him to be infatuated -enough to marry Miss Gwilt a dozen times over, if Miss Gwilt -chose to ask him. Your news doesn't surprise me in the least, -Bashwood. I'm sorry for him. I can honestly say that, though he -_has_ set my advice at defiance. And I'm more sorry still," he -continued, softening again as his mind reverted to his interview -with Neelie under the trees of the park--"I'm more sorry still -for another person who shall be nameless. But what have I to do -with all this? And what on earth is the matter with you?" he -resumed, noticing for the first time the abject misery in Mr. -Bashwood's manner, the blank despair in Mr. Bashwood's face, -which his answer had produced. "Are you ill? Is there something -behind the curtain that you're afraid to bring out? I don't -understand it. Have you come here--here in my private room, in -business hours--with nothing to tell me but that young Armadale -has been fool enough to ruin his prospects for life? Why, I -foresaw it all weeks since, and what is more, I as good as told -him so at the last conversation I had with him in the great -house." - -At those last words, Mr. Bashwood suddenly rallied. The lawyer's -passing reference to the great house had led him back in a moment -to the purpose that he had in view. - -"That's it, sir!" he said, eagerly; "that's what I wanted to -speak to you about; that's what I've been preparing in my mind. -Mr. Pedgift, sir, the last time you were at the great house, when -you came away in your gig, you--you overtook me on the drive." - -"I dare say I did," remarked Pedgift, resignedly. "My mare -happens to be a trifle quicker on her legs than you are on yours, -Bashwood. Go on, go on. We shall come in time, I suppose, to what -you are driving at." - -"You stopped, and spoke to me, sir," proceeded Mr. Bashwood, -advancing more and more eagerly to his end. "You said you -suspected me of feeling some curiosity about Miss Gwilt, and you -told me (I remember the exact words, sir)--you told me to gratify -my curiosity by all means, for you didn't object to it." - -Pedgift Senior began for the first time to look interested in -hearing more. - -"I remember something of the sort," he replied; "and I also -remember thinking it rather remarkable that you should -_happen_--we won't put it in any more offensive way--to be -exactly under Mr. Armadale's open window while I was talking to -him. It might have been accident, of course; but it looked rather -more like curiosity. I could only judge by appearances," -concluded Pedgift, pointing his sarcasm with a pinch of snuff; -"and appearances, Bashwood, were decidedly against you." - -"I don't deny it, sir. I only mentioned the circumstance because -I wished to acknowledge that I _was_ curious, and _am_ curious -about Miss Gwilt." - -"Why?" asked Pedgift Senior, seeing something under the surface -in Mr. Bashwood's face and manner, but utterly in the dark thus -far as to what that something might be. - -There was silence for a moment. The moment passed, Mr. Bashwood -took the refuge usually taken by nervous, unready men, placed in -his circumstances, when they are at a loss for an answer. He -simply reiterated the assertion that he had just made. "I feel -some curiosity sir," he said, with a strange mixture of -doggedness and timidity, "about Miss Gwilt." - -There was another moment of silence. In spite of his practiced -acuteness and knowledge of the world, the lawyer was more puzzled -than ever. The case of Mr. Bashwood presented the one human -riddle of all others which he was least qualified to solve. -Though year after year witnesses in thousands and thousands of -cases, the remorseless disinheriting of nearest and dearest -relations, the unnatural breaking-up of sacred family ties, the -deplorable severance of old and firm friendships, due entirely to -the intense self-absorption which the sexual passion can produce -when it enters the heart of an old man, the association of love -with infirmity and gray hairs arouses, nevertheless, all the -world over, no other idea than the idea of extravagant -improbability or extravagant absurdity in the general mind. If -the interview now taking place in Mr. Pedgift's consulting-room -had taken place at his dinner-table instead, when wine had opened -his mind to humorous influences, it is possible that he might, by -this time, have suspected the truth. But, in his business hours, -Pedgift Senior was in the habit of investigating men's motives -seriously from the business point of view; and he was on that -very account simply incapable of conceiving any improbability so -startling, any absurdity so enormous, as the absurdity and -improbability of Mr. Bashwood's being in love. - -Some men in the lawyer's position would have tried to force their -way to enlightenment by obstinately repeating the unanswered -question. Pedgift Senior wisely postponed the question until he -had moved the conversation on another step. "Well," he resumed, -"let us say you feel a curiosity about Miss Gwilt. What next?" - -The palms of Mr. Bashwood's hands began to moisten under the -influence of his agitation, as they had moistened in the past -days when he had told the story of his domestic sorrows to -Midwinter at the great house. Once more he rolled his -handkerchief into a ball, and dabbed it softly to and fro from -one hand to the other. - -"May I ask if I am right, sir," he began, "in believing that you -have a very unfavorable opinion of Miss Gwilt? You are quite -convinced, I think--" - -"My good fellow," interrupted Pedgift Senior, "why need you be in -any doubt about it? You were under Mr. Armadale's open window all -the while I was talking to him; and your ears, I presume, were -not absolutely shut." - -Mr. Bashwood showed no sense of the interruption. The little -sting of the lawyer's sarcasm was lost in the nobler pain that -wrung him from the wound inflicted by Miss Gwilt. - -"You are quite convinced, I think, sir," he resumed, "that there -are circumstances in this lady's past life which would be highly -discreditable to her if they were discovered at the present -time?" - -"The window was open at the great house, Bashwood; and your ears, -I presume, were not absolutely shut." - -Still impenetrable to the sting, Mr. Bashwood persisted more -obstinately than ever. - -"Unless I am greatly mistaken," he said, "your long experience in -such things has even suggested to you, sir, that Miss Gwilt might -turn out to be known to the police?" - -Pedgift Senior's patience gave way. "You have been over ten -minutes in this room," he broke out. "Can you, or can you not, -tell me in plain English what you want?" - -In plain English--with the passion that had transformed him, the -passion which (in Miss Gwilt's own words) had made a man of him, -burning in his haggard cheeks--Mr. Bashwood met the challenge, -and faced the lawyer (as, the worried sheep faces the dog) on his -own ground. - -"I wish to say, sir," he answered, "that your opinion in this -matter is my opinion too. I believe there is something wrong in -Miss Gwilt's past life which she keeps concealed from everybody, -and I want to be the man who knows it." - -Pedgift Senior saw his chance, and instantly reverted to the -question that he had postponed. "Why?" he asked for the second -time. - -For the second time Mr. Bashwood hesitated. - -Could he acknowledge that he had been mad enough to love her, and -mean enough to be a spy for her? Could he say, She has deceived -me from the first, and she has deserted me, now her object is -served. After robbing me of my happiness, robbing me of my honor, -robbing me of my last hope left in life, she has gone from me -forever, and left me nothing but my old man's longing, slow and -sly, and strong and changeless, for revenge. Revenge that I may -have, if I can poison her success by dragging her frailties into -the public view. Revenge that I will buy (for what is gold or -what is life to me?) with the last farthing of my hoarded money -and the last drop of my stagnant blood. Could he say that to the -man who sat waiting for his answer? No; he could only crush it -down and be silent. - -The lawyer's expression began to harden once more. - -"One of us must speak out," he said; "and as you evidently won't, -I will. I can only account for this extraordinary anxiety of -yours to make yourself acquainted with Miss Gwilt's secrets, in -one of two ways. Your motive is either an excessively mean one -(no offense, Bashwood, I am only putting the case), or an -excessively generous one. After my experience of your honest -character and your creditable conduct, it is only your due that I -should absolve you at once of the mean motive. I believe you are -as incapable as I am--I can say no more--of turning to mercenary -account any discoveries you might make to Miss Gwilt's prejudice -in Miss Gwilt's past life. Shall I go on any further? or would -you prefer, on second thoughts, opening your mind frankly to me -of your own accord?" - -"I should prefer not interrupting you, sir," said Mr. Bashwood. - -"As you please, " pursued Pedgift Senior. "Having absolved you of -the mean motive, I come to the generous motive next. It is -possible that you are an unusually grateful man; and it is -certain that Mr. Armadale has been remarkably kind to you. After -employing you under Mr. Midwinter, in the steward's office, he -has had confidence enough in your honesty and your capacity, now -his friend has left him, to put his business entirely and -unreservedly in your hands. It's not in my experience of human -nature--but it may be possible, nevertheless---that you are so -gratefully sensible of that confidence, and so gratefully -interested in your employer's welfare, that you can't see him, in -his friendless position, going straight to his own disgrace and -ruin, without making an effort to save him. To put it in two -words. Is it your idea that Mr. Armadale might be prevented from -marrying Miss Gwilt, if he could be informed in time of her real -character? And do you wish to be the man who opens his eyes to -the truth? If that is the case--" - -He stopped in astonishment. Acting under some uncontrollable -impulse, Mr. Bashwood had started to his feet. He stood, with his -withered face lit up by a sudden irradiation from within, which -made him look younger than his age by a good twenty years--he -stood, gasping for breath enough to speak, and gesticulated -entreatingly at the lawyer with both hands. - -"Say it again, sir!" he burst out, eagerly, recovering his breath -before Pedgift Senior had recovered his surprise. "The question -about Mr. Armadale, sir!--only once more!--only once more, Mr. -Pedgift, please!" - -With his practiced observation closely and distrustfully at work -on Mr. Bashwood' s face, Pedgift Senior motioned to him to sit -down again, and put the question for the second time. - -"Do I think," said Mr. Bashwood, repeating the sense, but not the -words of the question, "that Mr. Armadale might be parted from -Miss Gwilt, if she could be shown to him as she really is? Yes, -sir ! And do I wish to be the man who does it? Yes, sir! yes, -sir! ! yes, sir! ! !" - -"It's rather strange," remarked the lawyer, looking at him more -and more distrustfully, "that you should be so violently -agitated, simply because my question happens to have hit the -mark." - -The question happened to have hit a mark which Pedgift little -dreamed of. It had released Mr. Bashwood's mind in an instant -from the dead pressure of his one dominant idea of revenge, and -had shown him a purpose to be achieved by the discovery of Miss -Gwilt's secrets which had never occurred to him till that moment. -The marriage which he had blindly regarded as inevitable was a -marriage that might be stopped--not in Allan's interests, but in -his own--and the woman whom he believed that he had lost might -yet, in spite of circumstances, be a woman won! His brain whirled -as he thought of it. His own roused resolution almost daunted -him, by its terrible incongruity with all the familiar habits of -his mind, and all the customary proceedings of his life. - -Finding his last remark unanswered, Pedgift Senior considered a -little before he said anything more. - -"One thing is clear," reasoned the lawyer with himself. "His true -motive in this matter is a motive which he is afraid to avow. My -question evidently offered him a chance of misleading me, and he -has accepted it on the spot. That's enough for _me._ If I was Mr. -Armadale's lawyer, the mystery might be worth investigating. As -things are, it's no interest of mine to hunt Mr. Bashwood from -one lie to another till I run him to earth at last. I have -nothing whatever to do with it; and I shall leave him free to -follow his own roundabout courses, in his own roundabout way." -Having arrived at that conclusion, Pedgift Senior pushed back his -chair, and rose briskly to terminate the interview. - -"Don't be alarmed, Bashwood," he began. "The subject of our -conversation is a subject exhausted, so far as I am concerned. I -have only a few last words to say, and it's a habit of mine, as -you know, to say my last words on my legs. Whatever else I may be -in the dark about, I have made one discovery, at any rate. I have -found out what you really want with me--at last! You want me to -help you." - -"If you would be so very, very kind, sir!" stammered Mr. -Bashwood. "If you would only give me the great advantage of your -opinion and advice." - -"Wait a bit, Bashwood We will separate those two things, if you -please. A lawyer may offer an opinion like any other man; but -when a lawyer gives his advice--by the Lord Harry, sir, it's -Professional! You're welcome to my opinion in this matter; I have -disguised it from nobody. I believe there have been events in -Miss Gwilt's career which (if they could be discovered) would -even make Mr. Armadale, infatuated as he is, afraid to marry -her--supposing, of course, that he really _is_ going to marry -her; for, though the appearances are in favor of it so far, it is -only an assumption, after all. As to the mode of proceeding by -which the blots on this woman's character might or might not be -brought to light in time--she may be married by license in a -fortnight if she likes--_that_ is a branch of the question on -which I positively decline to enter. It implies speaking in my -character as a lawyer, and giving you, what I decline positively -to give you, my professional advice." - -"Oh, sir, don't say that!" pleaded Mr. Bashwood. "Don't deny me -the great favor, the inestimable advantage of your advice! I have -such a poor head, Mr. Pedgift! I am so old and so slow, sir, and -I get so sadly startled and worried when I'm thrown out of my -ordinary ways. It's quite natural you should be a little -impatient with me for taking up your time--I know that time is -money, to a clever man like you. Would you excuse me --would you -please excuse me, if I venture to say that I have saved a little -something, a few pounds, sir; and being quite lonely, with nobody -dependent on me, I'm sure I may spend my savings as I please?" -Blind to every consideration but the one consideration of -propitiating Mr. Pedgift, he took out a dingy, ragged old -pocket-book, and tried, with trembling fingers, to open it on the -lawyer's table. - -"Put your pocket-book back directly," said Pedgift Senior. -"Richer men than you have tried that argument with me, and have -found that there is such a thing (off the stage) as a lawyer who -is not to be bribed. I will have nothing to do with the case, -under existing circumstances. If you want to know why, I beg to -inform you that Miss Gwilt ceased to be professionally -interesting to me on the day when I ceased to be Mr. Armadale's -lawyer. I may have other reasons besides, which I don't think it -necessary to mention. The reason already given is explicit -enough. Go your own way, and take your responsibility on your own -shoulders. You _may_ venture within reach of Miss Gwilt's claws -and come out again without being scratched. Time will show. In -the meanwhile, I wish you good-morning--and I own, to my shame, -that I never knew till today what a hero you were." - -This time, Mr. Bashwood felt the sting. Without another word of -expostulation or entreaty, without even saying "Good-morning" on -his side, he walked to the door, opened it, softly, and left the -room. - -The parting look in his face, and the sudden silence that had -fallen on him, were not lost on Pedgift Senior. "Bashwood will -end badly," said the lawyer, shuffling his papers, and returning -impenetrably to his interrupted work. - -The change in Mr. Bashwood's face and manner to something dogged -and self-contained was so startlingly uncharacteristic of him, -that it even forced itself on the notice of Pedgift Junior and -the clerks as he passed through the outer office. Accustomed to -make the old man their butt, they took a boisterously comic view -of the marked alteration in him. Deaf to the merciless raillery -with which he was assailed on all sides, he stopped opposite -young Pedgift, and, looking him attentively in the face, said, in -a quiet, absent manner, like a man thinking aloud, "I wonder -whether _you_ would help me?" - -"Open an account instantly," said Pedgift Junior to the clerks, -"in the name of Mr. Bashwood. Place a chair for Mr. Bashwood, -with a footstool close by, in case he wants it. Supply me with a -quire of extra double-wove satin paper, and a gross of picked -quills, to take notes of Mr. Bashwood's case; and inform my -father instantly that I am going to leave him and set up in -business for myself, on the strength of Mr. Bashwood's patronage. -Take a seat, sir, pray take a seat, and express your feelings -freely." - -Still impenetrably deaf to the raillery of which he was the -object, Mr. Bashwood waited until Pedgift Junior had exhausted -himself, and then turned quietly away. - -"I ought to have known better," he said, in the same absent -manner as before. "He is his father's son all over--he would make -game of me on my death-bed." He paused a moment at the door, -mechanically brushing his hat with his hand, and went out into -the street. - -The bright sunshine dazzled his eyes, the passing vehicles and -foot-passengers startled and bewildered him. He shrank into a -by-street, and put his hand over his eyes. "I'd better go home," -he thought, "and shut myself up, and think about it in my own -room." - -His lodging was in a small house, in the poor quarter of the -town. He let himself in with his key, and stole softly upstairs -The one little room he possessed met him cruelly, look round it -where he might, with silent memorials of Miss Gwilt. On the -chimney-piece were the flowers she had given him at various -times, all withered long since, and all preserved on a little -china pedestal, protected by a glass shade. On the wall hung a -wretched colored print of a woman, which he had caused to be -nicely framed and glazed, because there was a look in it that -reminded him of her face. In his clumsy old mahogany writing-desk -were the few letters, brief and peremptory, which she had written -to him at the time when he was watching and listening meanly at -Thorpe Ambrose to please _her._ And when, turning his back on -these, he sat down wearily on his sofa-bedstead--there, hanging -over one end of it, was the gaudy cravat of blue satin, which he -had bought because she had told him she liked bright colors, and -which he had never yet had the courage to wear, though he had -taken it out morning after morning with the resolution to put it -on! Habitually quiet in his actions, habitually restrained in his -language, he now seized the cravat as if it was a living thing -that could feel, and flung it to the other end of the room with -an oath. - -The time passed; and still, though his resolution to stand -between Miss Gwilt and her marriage remained unbroken, he was as -far as ever from discovering the means which might lead him to -his end. The more he thought and thought of it, the darker and -the darker his course in the future looked to him. - -He rose again, as wearily as he had sat down, and went to his -cupboard. "I'm feverish and thirsty," he said; "a cup of tea may -help me." He opened his canister, and measured out his small -allowance of tea, less carefully than usual. "Even my own hands -won't serve me to-day!" he thought, as he scraped together the -few grains of tea that he had spilled, and put them carefully -back in the canister. - -In that fine summer weather, the one fire in the house was the -kitchen fire. He went downstairs for the boiling water, with his -teapot in his hand. - -Nobody but the landlady was in the kitchen. She was one of the -many English matrons whose path through this world is a path of -thorns; and who take a dismal pleasure, whenever the opportunity -is afforded them, in inspecting the scratched and bleeding feet -of other people in a like condition with themselves. Her one vice -was of the lighter sort--the vice of curiosity; and among the -many counterbalancing virtues she possessed was the virtue of -greatly respecting Mr. Bashwood, as a lodger whose rent was -regularly paid, and whose ways were always quiet and civil from -one year's end to another. - -"What did you please to want, sir?" asked the landlady. "Boiling -water, is it? Did you ever know the water boil, Mr. Bashwood, -when you wanted it? Did you ever see a sulkier fire than that? -I'll put a stick or two in, if you'll wait a little, and give me -the chance. Dear, dear me, you'll excuse my mentioning it, sir, -but how poorly you do look to-day!" - -The strain on Mr. Bashwood's mind was beginning to tell. -Something of the helplessness which he had shown at the station -appeared again in his face and manner as he put his teapot on the -kitchen table and sat down. - -"I'm in trouble, ma'am," he said, quietly; "and I find trouble -gets harder to bear than it used to be." - -"Ah, you may well say that!" groaned the landlady. "_I'm_ ready -for the undertaker, Mr. Bashwood, when _my_ time comes, whatever -you may be. You're too lonely, sir. When you're in trouble, it's -some help--though not much--to shift a share of it off on another -person's shoulders. If your good lady had only been alive now, -sir, what a comfort you would have found her, wouldn't you?" - -A momentary spasm of pain passed across Mr. Bashwood's face. The -landlady had ignorantly recalled him to the misfortunes of his -married life. He had been long since forced to quiet her -curiosity about his family affairs by telling her that he was a -widower, and that his domestic circumstances had not been happy -ones; but he had taken her no further into his confidence than -this. The sad story which he had related to Midwinter, of his -drunken wife who had ended her miserable life in a lunatic -asylum, was a story which he had shrunk from confiding to the -talkative woman, who would have confided it in her turn to every -one else in the house. - -"What I always say to my husband when he's low, sir," pursued the -landlady, intent on the kettle, "is, 'What would you do _now,_ -Sam, without Me?' When his temper don't get the better of him ( -it will boil directly, Mr. Bashwood), he says, 'Elizabeth, I -could do nothing.' When his temper does get the better of him, he -says, 'I should try the public-house, missus; and I'll try it -now.' Ah, I've got _my_ troubles! A man with grown-up sons and -daughters tippling in a public-house! I don't call to mind, Mr. -Bashwood, whether _you_ ever had any sons and daughters? And yet, -now I think of it, I seem to fancy you said yes, you had. -Daughters, sir, weren't they? and, ah, dear! dear! to be sure! -all dead." - -"I had one daughter, ma'am," said Mr. Bashwood, patiently--"only -one, who died before she was a year old." - -"Only one!" repeated the sympathizing landlady. "It's as near -boiling as it ever will be, sir; give me the tea-pot. Only one! -Ah, it comes heavier (don't it?) when it's an only child? You -said it was an only child, I think, didn't you, sir?" - -For a moment, Mr. Bashwood looked at the woman with vacant eyes, -and without attempting to answer her. After ignorantly recalling -the memory of the wife who had disgraced him, she was now, as -ignorantly, forcing him back on the miserable remembrance of the -son who had ruined and deserted him. For the first time, since he -had told his story to Midwinter, at their introductory interview -in the great house, his mind reverted once more to the bitter -disappointment and disaster of the past. Again he thought of the -bygone days, when he had become security for his son, and when -that son's dishonesty had forced him to sell everything he -possessed to pay the forfeit that was exacted when the forfeit -was due. "I have a son, ma'am," he said, becoming conscious that -the landlady was looking at him in mute and melancholy surprise. -"I did my best to help him forward in the world, and he has -behaved very badly to me." - -"Did he, now?" rejoined the landlady, with an appearance of the -greatest interest. "Behaved badly to you--almost broke your -heart, didn't he? Ah, it will come home to him, sooner or later. -Don't you fear! 'Honor your father and mother,' wasn't put on -Moses's tables of stone for nothing, Mr. Bashwood. Where may he -be, and what is he doing now, sir?" - -The question was in effect almost the same as the question which -Midwinter had put when the circumstances had been described to -him. As Mr. Bashwood had answered it on the former occasion, so -(in nearly the same words) he answered it now. - -"My son is in London, ma'am, for all I know to the contrary. He -was employed, when I last heard of him, in no very creditable -way, at the Private Inquiry Office--" - -At those words he suddenly checked himself. His face flushed, his -eyes brightened; he pushed away the cup which had just been -filled for him, and rose from his seat. The landlady started back -a step. There was something in her lodger's face that she had -never seen in it before. - -"I hope I've not offended you, sir," said the woman, recovering -her self-possession, and looking a little too ready to take -offense on her side, at a moment's notice. - -"Far from it, ma'am, far from it!" he rejoined, in a strangely -eager, hurried way. "I have just remembered something--something -very important. I must go upstairs--it's a letter, a letter, a -letter. I'll come back to my tea, ma'am. I beg your pardon, I'm -much obliged to you, you've been very kind--I'll say good-by, if -you'll allow me, for the present." To the landlady's amazement, -he cordially shook hands with her, and made for the door, leaving -tea and tea-pot to take care of themselves. - -The moment he reached his own room, he locked himself in. For a -little while he stood holding by the chimney-piece, waiting to -recover his breath. The moment he could move again, he opened his -writing-desk on the table. "That for you, Mr. Pedgift and Son!" -he said, with a snap of his fingers as he sat down. "I've got a -son too!" - -There was a knock at the door--a knock, soft, considerate, and -confidential. The anxious landlady wished to know whether Mr. -Bashwood was ill, and begged to intimate for the second time that -she earnestly trusted she had given him no offense. - -"No! no!" he called through the door. "I'm quite well--I'm -writing, ma'am, I'm writing--please to excuse me. She's a good -woman; she's an excellent woman," he thought, when the landlady -had retired. "I'll make her a little present. My mind's so -unsettled, I might never have thought of it but for her. Oh, if -my boy is at the office still! Oh, if I can only write a letter -that will make him pity me!" - -He took up his pen, and sat thinking anxiously, thinking long, -before he touched the paper. Slowly, with many patient pauses to -think and think again, and with more than ordinary care to make -his writing legible, he traced these lines: - - -"MY DEAR JAMES--You will be surprised, I am afraid, to see my -handwriting. Pray don't suppose I am going to ask you for money, -or to reproach you for having sold me out of house and home when -you forfeited your security, and I had to pay. I am willing and -anxious to let by-gones be by-gones, and to forget the past. - -"It is in your power (if you are still at the Private Inquiry -Office) to do me a great service. I am in sore anxiety and -trouble on the subject of a person in whom I am interested. The -person is a lady. Please don't make game of me for confessing -this, if you can help it. If you knew what I am now suffering, I -think you would be more inclined to pity than to make game of me. - -"I would enter into particulars, only I know your quick temper, -and I fear exhausting your patience. Perhaps it may be enough to -say that I have reason to believe the lady's past life has not -been a very creditable one, and that I am interested--more -interested than words can tell--in finding out what her life has -really been, and in making the discovery within a fortnight from -the present time. - -"Though I know very little about the ways of business in an -office like yours, I can understand that, without first having -the lady's present address, nothing can be done to help me. -Unfortunately, I am not yet acquainted with her present address. -I only know that she went to town to-day, accompanied by a -gentleman, in whose employment I now am, and who (as I believe) -will be likely to write to me for money before many days more are -over his head. - -"Is this circumstance of a nature to help us? I venture to say -'us,' because I count already, my dear boy, on your kind -assistance and advice. Don't let money stand between us; I have -saved a little something, and it is all freely at your disposal. -Pray, pray write to me by return of post! If you will only try -your best to end the dreadful suspense under which I am now -suffering, you will atone for all the grief and disappointment -you caused me in times that are past, and you will confer an -obligation that he will never forget on - -"Your affectionate father, - -"FELIX BASHWOOD." - - -After waiting a little, to dry his eyes, Mr. Bashwood added the -date and address, and directed the letter to his son, at "The -Private Inquiry Office, Shadyside Place, London." That done, he -went out at once, and posted his letter with his own hands. It -was then Monday; and, if the answer was sent by return of post, -the answer would be received on Wednesday morning. - -The interval day, the Tuesday, was passed by Mr. Bashwood in the -steward's office at the great house. He had a double motive for -absorbing himself as deeply as might be in the various -occupations connected with the management of the estate. In the -first place, employment helped him to control the devouring -impatience with which he looked for the coming of the next day. -In the second place, the more forward he was with the business of -the office, the more free he would be to join his son in London, -without attracting suspicion to himself by openly neglecting the -interests placed under his charge. - -Toward the Tuesday afternoon, vague rumors of something wrong at -the cottage found their way (through Major Milroy's servants) to -the servants at the great house, and attempted ineffectually -through this latter channel to engage the attention of Mr. -Bashwood, impenetrably fixed on other things. The major and Miss -Neelie had been shut up together in mysterious conference; and -Miss Neelie's appearance after the close of the interview plainly -showed that she had been crying. This had happened on the Monday -afternoon; and on the next day (that present Tuesday) the major -had startled the household by announcing briefly that his -daughter wanted a change to the air of the seaside, and that he -proposed taking her himself, by the next train, to Lowestoft. The -two had gone away together, both very serious and silent, but -both, apparently, very good friends, for all that. Opinions at -the great house attributed this domestic revolution to the -reports current on the subject of Allan and Miss Gwilt. Opinions -at the cottage rejected that solution of the difficulty, on -practical grounds. Miss Neelie had remained inaccessibly shut up -in her own room, from the Monday afternoon to the Tuesday morning -when her father took her away. The major, during the same -interval, had not been outside the door, and had spoken to nobody -And Mrs. Milroy, at the first attempt of her new attendant to -inform her of the prevailing scandal in the town, had sealed the -servant's lips by flying into one of her terrible passions the -instant Miss Gwilt's name was mentioned. Something must have -happened, of course, to take Major Milroy and his daughter so -suddenly from home; but that something was certainly not Mr. -Armadale's scandalous elopement, in broad daylight, with Miss -Gwilt. - -The afternoon passed, and the evening passed, and no other event -happened but the purely private and personal event which had -taken place at the cottage. Nothing occurred (for nothing in the -nature of things _could_ occur) to dissipate the delusion on -which Miss Gwilt had counted--the delusion which all Thorpe -Ambrose now shared with Mr. Bashwood, that she had gone privately -to London with Allan in the character of Allan's future wife. - -On the Wednesday morning, the postman, entering the street in -which Mr. Bashwood lived, was encountered by Mr. Bashwood -himself, so eager to know if there was a letter for him that he -had come out without his hat. There _was_ a letter for him--the -letter that he longed for from his vagabond son. - -These were the terms in which Bashwood the younger answered his -father's supplication for help--after having previously ruined -his father's prospects for life: - - -"Shadyside Place. Tuesday, July 29th. - -"MY DEAR DAD--We have some little practice in dealing with -mysteries at this office; but the mystery of your letter beats me -altogether. Are you speculating on the interesting hidden -frailties of some charming woman? Or, after _your_ experience of -matrimony, are you actually going to give me a stepmother at this -time of day? Whichever it is, upon my life your letter interests -me. - -"I am not joking, mind--though the temptation is not an easy one -to resist. On the contrary, I have given you a quarter of an hour -of my valuable time already. The place you date from sounded -somehow familiar to me. I referred back to the memorandum book, -and found that I was sent down to Thorpe Ambrose to make private -inquiries not very long since. My employer was a lively old lady, -who was too sly to give us her right name and address. As a -matter of course, we set to work at once, and found out who she -was. Her name is Mrs. Oldershaw; and, if you think of _her_ for -my stepmother, I strongly recommend you to think again before you -make her Mrs. Bashwood. - -"If it is not Mrs. Oldershaw, then all I can do, so far, is to -tell you how you may find out the unknown lady's address. Come to -town yourself as soon as you get the letter you expect from the -gentleman who has gone away with her (I hope he is not a handsome -young man, for your sake) and call here. I will send somebody to -help you in watching his hotel or lodgings; and if he -communicates with the lady, or the lady with him, you may -consider her address discovered from that moment. Once let me -identify her, and know where she is, and you shall see all her -charming little secrets as plainly as you see the paper on which -your affectionate son is now writing to you. - -"A word more about the terms. I am as willing as you are to be -friends again; but, though I own you were out of pocket by me -once, I can't afford to be out of pocket by you. It must be -understood that you are answerable for all the expenses of the -inquiry. We may have to employ some of the women attached to this -office, if your lady is too wideawake or too nice-looking to be -dealt with by a man. There will be cab hire, and -postage-stamps--admissions to public amusements, if she is -inclined that way--shillings for pew-openers, if she is serious, -and takes our people into churches to hear popular preachers, and -so on. My own professional services you shall have gratis; but I -can't lose by you as well. Only remember that, and you shall have -your way. By-gones shall be by-gones, and we will forget the -past. - -"Your affectionate son, - -"JAMES BASHWOOD." - - -In the ecstasy of seeing help placed at last within his reach, -the father put his son's atrocious letter to his lips. "My good -boy!" he murmured, tenderly--"my dear, good boy!" - -He put the letter down, and fell into a new train of thought. The -next question to face was the serious question of time. Mr. -Pedgift had told him Miss Gwilt might be married in a fortnight. -One day of the fourteen had passed already, and another was -passing. He beat his hand impatiently on the table at his side, -wondering how soon the want of money would force Allan to write -to him from London. "To-morrow?" he asked himself. "Or next day?" - -The morrow passed, and nothing happened. The next day came, and -the letter arrived! It was on business, as he had anticipated; it -asked for money, as he had anticipated; and there, at the end of -it, in a postscript, was the address added, concluding with the -words, "You may count on my staying here till further notice." - -He gave one deep gasp of relief, and instantly busied -himself--though there were nearly two hours to spare before the -train started for London--in packing his bag. The last thing he -put in was his blue satin cravat. "She likes bright colors," he -said, "and she may see me in it yet!" - -CHAPTER XIV. - -MISS GWILT'S DIARY. - -"All Saints' Terrace, New Road, London, July 28th, Monday -night.--I can hardly hold my head up, I am so tired. But in my -situation, I dare not trust anything to memory. Before I go to -bed, I must write my customary record of the events of the day. - -"So far, the turn of luck in my favor (it was long enough before -it took the turn!) seems likely to continue. I succeeded in -forcing Armadale--the brute required nothing short of -forcing!--to leave Thorpe Ambrose for London, alone in the same -carriage with me, before all the people in the station. There was -a full attendance of dealers in small scandal, all staring hard -at us, and all evidently drawing their own conclusions. Either I -knew nothing of Thorpe Ambrose--or the town gossip is busy enough -by this time with Mr. Armadale and Miss Gwilt. - -"I had some difficulty with him for the first half-hour after we -left the station. The guard (delightful man! I felt so grateful -to him!) had shut us up together, in expectation of half a crown -at the end of the journey. Armadale was suspicious of me, and he -showed it plainly. Little by little I tamed my wild beast--partly -by taking care to display no curiosity about his journey to town, -and partly by interesting him on the subject of his friend -Midwinter; dwelling especially on the opportunity that now -offered itself for a reconciliation between them. I kept harping -on this string till I set his tongue going, and made him amuse me -as a gentleman is bound to do when he has the honor of escorting -a lady on a long railway journey. - -"What little mind he has was full, of course, of his own affairs -and Miss Milroy's. No words can express the clumsiness he showed -in trying to talk about himself, without taking me into his -confidence or mentioning Miss Milroy's name. - -"He was going to London, he gravely informed me, on a matter of -indescribable interest to him. It was a secret for the present, -but he hoped to tell it me soon; it had made a great difference -already in the way in which he looked at the sl anders spoken of -him in Thorpe Ambrose; he was too happy to care what the -scandal-mongers said of him now, and he should soon stop their -mouths by appearing in a new character that would surprise them -all. So he blundered on, with the firm persuasion that he was -keeping me quite in the dark. It was hard not to laugh, when I -thought of my anonymous letter on its way to the major; but I -managed to control myself--though, I must own, with some -difficulty. As the time wore on, I began to feel a terrible -excitement; the position was, I think, a little too much for me. -There I was, alone with him, talking in the most innocent, easy, -familiar manner, and having it in my mind all the time to brush -his life out of my way, when the moment comes, as I might brush a -stain off my gown. It made my blood leap, and my checks flush. I -caught myself laughing once or twice much louder than I ought; -and long before we got to London I thought it desirable to put my -face in hiding by pulling down my veil. - -"There was no difficulty, on reaching the terminus, in getting -him to come in the cab with me to the hotel where Midwinter is -staying. He was all eagerness to be reconciled with his dear -friend--principally, I have no doubt, because he wants the dear -friend to lend a helping hand to the elopement. The real -difficulty lay, of course, with Midwinter. My sudden journey to -London had allowed me no opportunity of writing to combat his -superstitious conviction that he and his former friend are better -apart. I thought it wise to leave Armadale in the cab at the -door, and to go into the hotel by myself to pave the way for him. - -"Fortunately, Midwinter had not gone out. His delight at seeing -me some days sooner than he had hoped had something infectious in -it, I suppose. Pooh! I may own the truth to my own diary! There -was a moment when _I_ forgot everything in the world but our two -selves as completely as he did. I felt as if I was back in my -teens--until I remembered the lout in the cab at the door. And -then I was five-and-thirty again in an instant. - -"His face altered when he heard who was below, and what it was I -wanted of him; he looked not angry, but distressed. He yielded, -however, before long, not to my reasons, for I gave him none, but -to my entreaties. His old fondness for his friend might possibly -have had some share in persuading him against his will; but my -own opinion is that he acted entirely under the influence of his -fondness for Me. - -"I waited in the sitting-room while he went down to the door; so -I knew nothing of what passed between them when they first saw -each other again. But oh, the difference between the two men when -the interval had passed, and they came upstairs together and -joined me. - -"They were both agitated, but in such different ways! The hateful -Armadale, so loud and red and clumsy; the dear, lovable -Midwinter, so pale and quiet, with such a gentleness in his voice -when he spoke, and such tenderness in his eyes every time they -turned my way. Armadale overlooked me as completely as if I had -not been in the room. _He_ referred to me over and over again in -the conversation; _he_ constantly looked at me to see what I -thought, while I sat in my corner silently watching them; _he_ -wanted to go with me and see me safe to my lodgings, and spare me -all trouble with the cabman and the luggage. When I thanked him -and declined, Armadale looked unaffectedly relieved at the -prospect of seeing my back turned, and of having his friend all -to himself. I left him, with his awkward elbows half over the -table, scrawling a letter (no doubt to Miss Milroy), and shouting -to the waiter that he wanted a bed at the hotel. I had calculated -on his staying, as a matter of course, where he found his friend -staying. It was pleasant to find my anticipations realized, and -to know that I have as good as got him now under my own eye. - -"After promising to let Midwinter know where he could see me -to-morrow, I went away in the cab to hunt for lodgings by myself. - -"With some difficulty I have succeeded in getting an endurable -sitting-room and bedroom in this house, where the people are -perfect strangers to me. Having paid a week's rent in advance -(for I naturally preferred dispensing with a reference), I find -myself with exactly three shillings and ninepence left in my -purse. It is impossible to ask Midwinter for money, after he has -already paid Mrs. Oldershaw's note of hand. I must borrow -something to-morrow on my watch and chain at the pawnbroker's. -Enough to keep me going for a fortnight is all, and more than -all, that I want. In that time, or in less than that time, -Midwinter will have married me. - - -"July 29th.--Two o'clock.--Early in the morning I sent a line to -Midwinter, telling him that he would find me here at three this -afternoon. That done, I devoted the morning to two errands of my -own. One is hardly worth mentioning--it was only to raise money -on my watch and chain. I got more than I expected; and more (even -supposing I buy myself one or two little things in the way of -cheap summer dress) than I am at all likely to spend before the -wedding-day. - -"The other errand was of a far more serious kind. It led me into -an attorney's office. - -"I was well aware last night (though I was too weary to put it -down in my diary), that I could not possibly see Midwinter this -morning--in the position he now occupies toward me--without at -least _appearing_ to take him into my confidence on the subject -of myself and my circumstances. Excepting one necessary -consideration which I must be careful not to overlook. there is -not the least difficulty in my drawing on my invention, and -telling him any story I please--for thus far I have told no story -to anybody. Midwinter went away to London before it was possible -to approach the subject. As to the Milroys (having provided them -with the customary reference), I could fortunately keep them at -arms-length on all questions relating purely to myself. And -lastly, when I affected my reconciliation with Armadale on the -drive in front of the house, he was fool enough to be too -generous to let me defend my character. When I had expressed my -regret for having lost my temper and threatened Miss Milroy, and -when I had accepted his assurance that my pupil had never done or -meant to do me any injury, he was too magnanimous to hear a word -on the subject of my private affairs. Thus I am quite unfettered -by any former assertions of my own; and I may tell any story I -please--with the one drawback hinted at already in the shape of a -restraint. Whatever I may invent in the way of pure fiction, I -must preserve the character in which I have appeared at Thorpe -Ambrose; for, with the notoriety that is attached to _my other -name,_ I have no other choice but to marry Midwinter in my maiden -name as 'Miss Gwilt.' - -"This was the consideration that took me into the lawyer's -office. I felt that I must inform myself, before I saw Midwinter -later in the day, of any awkward consequences that may follow the -marriage of a widow if she conceals her widow's name. - -"Knowing of no other professional person whom I could trust, I -went boldly to the lawyer who had my interests in his charge, at -that terrible past time in my life, which I have more reason than -ever to shrink from thinking of now. He was astonished, and, as I -could plainly detect, by no means pleased to see me. I had hardly -opened my lips before he said he hoped I was not consulting him -_again_ (with a strong emphasis on the word) on my own account. I -took the hint, and put the question I had come to ask, in the -interests of that accommodating personage on such occasions--an -absent friend. The lawyer evidently saw through it at once; but -he was sharp enough to turn my 'friend' to good account on his -side. He said he would answer the question as a matter of -courtesy toward a lady represented by myself; but he must make it -a condition that this consultation of him by deputy should go no -further. - -"I accepted his terms; for I really respected the clever manner -in which he contrived to keep me at arms-length without violating -the laws of good-breeding. In two minutes I heard what he had to -say, mastered it in my own mi nd, and went out. - -"Short as it was, the consultation told me everything I wanted to -know. I risk nothing by marrying Midwinter in my maiden instead -of my widow's name. The marriage is a good marriage in this way: -that it can only be set aside if my husband finds out the -imposture, and takes proceedings to invalidate our marriage in my -lifetime. That is the lawyer's answer in the lawyer's own words. -It relieves me at once--in this direction, at any rate--of all -apprehension about the future. The only imposture my husband will -ever discover--and then only if he happens to be on the spot--is -the imposture that puts me in the place, and gives me the income, -of Armadale's widow; and by that time I shall have invalidated my -own marriage forever. - -"Half-past two! Midwinter will be here in half an hour. I must go -and ask my glass how I look. I must rouse my invention, and make -up my little domestic romance. Am I feeling nervous about it? -Something flutters in the place where my heart used to be. At -five-and-thirty, too! and after such a life as mine! - - -Six o'clock.--He has just gone. The day for our marriage is a day -determined on already. - -"I have tried to rest and recover myself. I can't rest. I have -come back to these leaves. There is much to be written in them -since Midwinter has been here, that concerns me nearly. - -"Let me begin with what I hate most to remember, and so be the -sooner done with it--let me begin with the paltry string of -falsehoods which I told him about my family troubles. - -"What _can_ be the secret of this man's hold on me? How is it -that he alters me so that I hardly know myself again? I was like -myself in the railway carriage yesterday with Armadale. It was -surely frightful to be talking to the living man, through the -whole of that long journey, with the knowledge in me all the -while that I meant to be his widow--and yet I was only excited -and fevered. Hour after hour I never shrunk once from speaking to -Armadale; but the first trumpery falsehood I told Midwinter -turned me cold when I saw that he believed it! I felt a dreadful -hysterical choking in the throat when he entreated me not to -reveal my troubles. And once--I am horrified when I think of -it--once, when he said, 'If I _could_ love you more dearly, I -should love you more dearly now,' I was within a hair-breadth of -turning traitor to myself. I was on the very point of crying out -to him, 'Lies! all lies! I'm a fiend in human shape! Marry the -wretchedest creature that prowls the streets, and you will marry -a better woman than me!' Yes! the seeing his eyes moisten, the -hearing his voice tremble, while I was deceiving him, shook me in -that way. I have seen handsomer men by hundreds, cleverer men by -dozens. What can this man have roused in me? Is it Love? I -thought I _had_ loved, never to love again. Does a woman not love -when the man's hardness to her drives her to drown herself? A man -drove _me_ to that last despair in days gone by. Did all my -misery at that time come from something which was not Love? Have -I lived to be five-and-thirty, and am I only feeling now what -Love really is?--now, when it is too late? Ridiculous! Besides, -what is the use of asking? What do I know about it? What does any -woman ever know? The more we think of it, the more we deceive -ourselves. I wish I had been born an animal. My beauty might have -been of some use to me then--it might have got me a good master. - -"Here is a whole page of my diary filled; and nothing written yet -that is of the slightest use to me! My miserable made-up story -must be told over again here, while the incidents are fresh in my -memory--or how am I to refer to it consistently on -after-occasions when I may be obliged to speak of it again? - -"There was nothing new in what I told him; it was the commonplace -rubbish of the circulating libraries. A dead father; a lost -fortune; vagabond brothers, whom I dread ever seeing again; a -bedridden mother dependent on my exertions--No! I can't write it -down! I hate myself, I despise myself, when I remember that _he_ -believed it because I said it--that _he_ was distressed by it -because it was my story! I will face the chances of contradicting -myself--I will risk discovery and ruin--anything rather than -dwell on that contemptible deception of him a moment longer. - -"My lies came to an end at last. And then he talked to me of -himself and of his prospects. Oh, what a relief it was to turn to -that at the time! What a relief it is to come to it now! - -"He has accepted the offer about which he wrote to me at Thorpe -Ambrose; and he is now engaged as occasional foreign -correspondent to the new newspaper. His first destination is -Naples. I wish it had been some other place, for I have certain -past associations with Naples which I am not at all anxious to -renew. It has been arranged that he is to leave England not later -than the eleventh of next month. By that time, therefore, I, who -am to go with him, must go with him as his wife. - -"There is not the slightest difficulty about the marriage. All -this part of it is so easy that I begin to dread an accident. - -"The proposal to keep the thing strictly private--which it might -have embarrassed me to make--comes from Midwinter. Marrying me in -his own name--the name that he has kept concealed from every -living creature but myself and Mr. Brock--it is his interest that -not a soul who knows him should be present at the ceremony; his -friend Armadale least of all. He has been a week in London -already. When another week has passed, he proposes to get the -License, and to be married in the church belonging to the parish -in which the hotel is situated. These are the only necessary -formalities. I had but to say 'Yes' (he told me), and to feel no -further anxiety about the future. I said 'Yes' with such a -devouring anxiety about the future that I was afraid he would see -it. What minutes the next few minutes were, when he whispered -delicious words to me, while I hid my face on his breast! - -"I recovered myself first, and led him back to the subject of -Armadale, having my own reasons for wanting to know what they -said to each other after I had left them yesterday. - -"The manner in which Midwinter replied showed me that he was -speaking under the restraint of respecting a confidence placed in -him by his friend. Long before he had done, I detected what the -confidence was. Armadale had been consulting him (exactly as I -anticipated) on the subject of the elopement. Although he appears -to have remonstrated against taking the girl secretly away from -her home, Midwinter seems to have felt some delicacy about -speaking strongly, remembering (widely different as the -circumstances are) that he was contemplating a private marriage -himself. I gathered, at any rate, that he had produced very -little effect by what he had said; and that Armadale had already -carried out his absurd intention of consulting the head-clerk in -the office of his London lawyers. - -"Having got as far as this, Midwinter put the question which I -felt must come sooner or later. He asked if I objected to our -engagement being mentioned, in the strictest secrecy, to his -friend. - -" 'I will answer,' he said, 'for Allan's respecting any -confidence that I place in him. And I will undertake, when the -time comes, so to use my influence over him as to prevent his -being present at the marriage, and discovering (what he must -never know) that my name is the same as his own. It would help -me,' he went on, 'to speak more strongly about the object that -has brought him to London, if I can requite the frankness with -which he has spoken of his private affairs to me by the same -frankness on my side.' - -"I had no choice but to give the necessary permission, and I gave -it. It is of the utmost importance to me to know what course -Major Milroy takes with his daughter and Armadale after receiving -my anonymous letter; and, unless I invite Armadale's confidence -in some way, I am nearly certain to be kept in the dark. Let him -once be trusted with the knowledge that I am to be Midwinter's -wife, and what he tells his friend about his love affair he will -tell me. - -"When it had been understood between us that Armadale was to be -taken into our confid ence, we began to talk about ourselves -again. How the time flew! What a sweet enchantment it was to -forget everything in his arms! How he loves me!--ah, poor fellow, -how he loves me! - -"I have promised to meet him to-morrow morning in the Regent's -Park. The less he is seen here the better. The people in this -house are strangers to me, certainly; but it may be wise to -consult appearances, as if I was still at Thorpe Ambrose, and not -to produce the impression, even on their minds, that Midwinter is -engaged to me. If any after-inquiries are made, when I have run -my grand risk, the testimony of my London landlady might be -testimony worth having. - -"That wretched old Bashwood! Writing of Thorpe Ambrose reminds me -of him. What will he say when the town gossip tells him that -Armadale has taken me to London, in a carriage reserved for -ourselves? It really is too absurd in a man of Bashwood's age and -appearance to presume to be in love! . . . . - - -"July 30th.---News at last! Armadale has heard from Miss Milroy. -My anonymous letter has produced its effect. The girl is removed -from Thorpe Ambrose already; and the whole project of the -elopement is blown to the winds at once and forever. This was the -substance of what Midwinter had to tell me when I met him in the -Park. I affected to be excessively astonished, and to feel the -necessary feminine longing to know all the particulars. 'Not that -I expect to have my curiosity satisfied,' I added, 'for Mr. -Armadale and I are little better than mere acquaintances, after -all.' - -" 'You are far more than a mere acquaintance in Allan's eyes,' -said Midwinter. 'Having your permission to trust him, I have -already told him how near and dear you are to me.' - -"Hearing this, I thought it desirable, before I put any questions -about Miss Milroy, to attend to my own interests first, and to -find out what effect the announcement of my coming marriage had -produced on Armadale. It was possible that he might be still -suspicious of me, and that the inquiries he made in London, at -Mrs. Milroy's instigation, might be still hanging on his mind. - -" 'Did Mr. Armadale seem surprised,' I asked, 'when you told him -of our engagement, and when you said it was to be kept a secret -from everybody?' - -" 'He seemed greatly surprised,' said Midwinter, 'to hear that we -were going to be married. All he said when I told him it must be -kept a secret was that he supposed there were reasons on your -side for making the marriage a private one.' - -" 'What did you say,' I inquired, 'when he made that remark?' - -" 'I said the reasons were on my side,' answered Midwinter. 'And -I thought it right to add--considering that Allan had allowed -himself to be misled by the ignorant distrust of you at Thorpe -Ambrose--that you had confided to me the whole of your sad family -story, and that you had amply justified your unwillingness; under -any ordinary circumstances, to speak of your private affairs.' - -("I breathed freely again. He had said just what was wanted, just -in the right way.) - -" 'Thank you,' I said, 'for putting me right in your friend's -estimation. Does he wish to see me?' I added, by way of getting -back to the other subject of Miss Milroy and the elopement. - -" 'He is longing to see you,' returned Midwinter. 'He is in great -distress, poor fellow--distress which I have done my best to -soothe, but which, I believe, would yield far more readily to a -woman's sympathy than to mine.' - -" 'Where is he now?' I asked. - -"He was at the hotel; and to the hotel I instantly proposed that -we should go. It is a busy, crowded place; and (with my veil -down) I have less fear of compromising myself there than at my -quiet lodgings. Besides, it is vitally important to me to know -what Armadale does next, under this total change of -circumstances--for I must so control his proceedings as to get -him away from England if I can. We took a cab: such was my -eagerness to sympathize with the heart-broken lover, that we took -a cab! - -"Anything so ridiculous as Armadale's behavior under the double -shock of discovering that his young lady has been taken away from -him, and that I am to be married to Midwinter, I never before -witnessed in all my experience. To say that he was like a child -is a libel on all children who are not born idiots. He -congratulated me on my coming marriage, and execrated the unknown -wretch who had written the anonymous letter, little thinking that -he was speaking of one and the same person in one and the same -breath. Now he submissively acknowledged that Major Milroy had -his rights as a father, and now he reviled the major as having no -feeling for anything but his mechanics and his clock. At one -moment he started up, with the tears in his eyes, and declared -that his 'darling Neelie' was an angel on earth. At another he -sat down sulkily, and thought that a girl of her spirit might -have run away on the spot and joined him in London. After a good -half-hour of this absurd exhibition, I succeeded in quieting him; -and then a few words of tender inquiry produced what I had -expressly come to the hotel to see--Miss Milroy's letter. - -"It was outrageously long, and rambling, and confused; in short, -the letter of a fool. I had to wade through plenty of vulgar -sentiment and lamentation, and to lose time and patience over -maudlin outbursts of affection, and nauseous kisses inclosed in -circles of ink. However, I contrived to extract the information I -wanted at last; and here it is: - - -"The major, on receipt of my anonymous warning, appears to have -sent at once for his daughter, and to have shown her the letter. -'You know what a hard life I lead with your mother; don't make it -harder still, Neelie, by deceiving me.' That was all the poor old -gentleman said. I always did like the major; and, though he was -afraid to show it, I know he always liked me. His appeal to his -daughter (if _her_ account of it is to be believed) cut her to -the heart. She burst out crying (let her alone for crying at the -right moment!) and confessed everything. - -"After giving her time to recover herself (if he had given her a -good box on the ears it would have been more to the purpose!), -the major seems to have put certain questions, and to have become -convinced (as I was convinced myself) that his daughter's heart, -or fancy, or whatever she calls it, was really and truly set on -Armadale. The discovery evidently distressed as well as surprised -him. He appears to have hesitated, and to have maintained his own -unfavorable opinion of Miss Neelie's lover for some little time. -But his daughter's tears and entreaties (so like the weakness of -the dear old gentleman!) shook him at last. Though he firmly -refused to allow of any marriage engagement at present, he -consented to overlook the clandestine meetings in the park, and -to put Armadale's fitness to become his son-in-law to the test, -on certain conditions. - -"These conditions are, that for the next six months to come all -communication is to be broken off, both personally and by -writing, between Armadale and Miss Milroy. That space of time is -to be occupied by the young gentleman as he himself thinks best, -and by the young lady in completing her education at school. If, -when the six months have passed, they are both still of the same -mind, and if Armadale's conduct in the interval has been such as -to improve the major's opinion of him, he will be allowed to -present himself in the character of Miss Milroy's suitor, and, in -six months more, if all goes well, the marriage may take place. - -"I declare I could kiss the dear old major, if I was only within -reach of him! If I had been at his elbow, and had dictated the -conditions myself, I could have asked for nothing better than -this. Six months of total separation between Armadale and Miss -Milroy! In half that time--with all communication cut off between -the two--it must go hard with me, indeed, if I don't find myself -dressed in the necessary mourning, and publicly recognized as -Armadale's widow. - -"But I am forgetting the girl's letter. She gives her father's -reasons for making his conditions, in her father's own words. The -major seems to have spoken so sensibly and so feelingly that he -left his daughter no decent alternative--and he leaves Armadale -no decent alternative--but to submit. As well as I can remember, -he seems to have expressed himself to Miss Neelie in these, or -nearly in these terms: - -" 'Don't think I am behaving cruelly to you, my dear: I am merely -asking you to put Mr. Armadale to the proof. It is not only -right, it is absolutely necessary, that you should hold no -communication with him for some time to come; and I will show you -why. In the first place, if you go to school, the necessary rules -in such places--necessary for the sake of the other girls--would -not permit you to see Mr. Armadale or to receive letters from -him; and, if you are to become mistress of Thorpe Ambrose, to -school you must go, for you would be ashamed, and I should be -ashamed, if you occupied the position of a lady of station -without having the accomplishments which all ladies of station -are expected to possess. In the second place, I want to see -whether Mr. Armadale will continue to think of you as he thinks -now, without being encouraged in his attachment by seeing you, or -reminded of it by hearing from you. If I am wrong in thinking him -flighty and unreliable, and if your opinion of him is the right -one, this is not putting the young man to an unfair test--true -love survives much longer separations than a separation of six -months. And when that time is over, and well over; and when I -have had him under my own eye for another six months, and have -learned to think as highly of him as you do--even then, my dear, -after all that terrible delay, you will still be a married woman -before you are eighteen. Think of this, Neelie, and show that you -love me and trust me, by accepting my proposal. I will hold no -communication with Mr. Armadale myself. I will leave it to you to -write and tell him what has been decided on. He may write back -one letter, and one only, to acquaint you with his decision. -After that, for the sake of your reputation, nothing more is to -be said, and nothing more is to be done, and the matter is to be -kept strictly private until the six months' interval is at an -end.' - -"To this effect the major spoke. His behavior to that little slut -of a girl has produced a stronger impression on me than anything -else in the letter. It has set me thinking (me, of all the people -in the world!) of what they call 'a moral difficulty.' We are -perpetually told that there can be no possible connection between -virtue and vice. Can there not? Here is Major Milroy doing -exactly what an excellent father, at once kind and prudent, -affectionate and firm, would do under the circumstances; and by -that very course of conduct he has now smoothed the way for _me,_ -as completely as if he had been the chosen accomplice of that -abominable creature, Miss Gwilt. Only think of my reasoning in -this way! But I am in such good spirits, I can do anything -to-day. I have not looked so bright and so young as I look now -for months past! - -"To return to the letter, for the last time--it is so excessively -dull and stupid that I really can't help wandering away from it -into reflections of my own, as a mere relief. - -"After solemnly announcing that she meant to sacrifice herself to -her beloved father's wishes (the brazen assurance of her setting -up for a martyr after what has happened exceeds anything I ever -heard or read of!), Miss Neelie next mentioned that the major -proposed taking her to the seaside for change of air, during the -few days that were still to elapse before she went to school. -Armadale was to send his answer by return of post, and to address -her, under cover to her father, at Lowestoft. With this, and with -a last outburst of tender protestation, crammed crookedly into a -corner of the page, the letter ended. (N.B.--The major's object -in taking her to the seaside is plain enough. He still privately -distrusts Armadale, and he is wisely determined to prevent any -more clandestine meetings in the park before the girl is safely -disposed of at school.) - - -"When I had done with the letter--I had requested permission to -read parts of it which I particularly admired, for the second and -third time!--we all consulted together in a friendly way about -what Armadale was to do. - -"He was fool enough, at the outset, to protest against submitting -to Major Milroy's conditions. He declared, with his odious red -face looking the picture of brute health, that he should never -survive a six months' separation from his beloved Neelie. -Midwinter (as may easily be imagined) seemed a little ashamed of -him, and joined me in bringing him to his senses. We showed him, -what would have been plain enough to anybody but a booby, that -there was no honorable or even decent alternative left but to -follow the example of submission set by the young lady. 'Wait, -and you will have her for your wife,' was what I said. 'Wait, and -you will force the major to alter his unjust opinion of you,' was -what Midwinter added. With two clever people hammering common -sense into his head at that rate, it is needless to say that his -head gave way, and he submitted. - -"Having decided him to accept the major's conditions (I was -careful to warn him, before he wrote to Miss Milroy, that my -engagement to Midwinter was to be kept as strictly secret from -her as from everybody else), the next question we had to settle -related to his future proceedings. I was ready with the necessary -arguments to stop him, if he had proposed returning to Thorpe -Ambrose. But he proposed nothing of the sort. On the contrary, he -declared, of his own accord, that nothing would induce him to go -back. The place and the people were associated with everything -that was hateful to him. There would be no Miss Milroy now to -meet him in the park, and no Midwinter to keep him company in the -solitary house. 'I'd rather break stones on the road,' was the -sensible and cheerful way in which he put it, 'than go back to -Thorpe Ambrose.' - -"The first suggestion after this came from Midwinter. The sly old -clergyman who gave Mrs. Oldershaw and me so much trouble has, it -seems, been ill, but has been latterly reported better. 'Why not -go to Somersetshire,' said Midwinter, 'and see your good friend, -and my good friend, Mr. Brock?' - -"Armadale caught at the proposal readily enough. He longed, in -the first place, to see 'dear old Brock,' and he longed, in the -second place, to see his yacht. After staying a few days more in -London with Midwinter, he would gladly go to Somersetshire. But -what after that? - -"Seeing my opportunity, _I_ came to the rescue this time. 'You -have got a yacht, Mr. Armadale,' I said; 'and you know that -Midwinter is going to Italy. When you are tired of Somersetshire, -why not make a voyage to the Mediterranean, and meet your friend, -and your friend's wife, at Naples?' - -"I made the allusion to 'his friend's wife' with the most -becoming modesty and confusion. Armadale was enchanted. I had hit -on the best of all ways of occupying the weary time. He started -up, and wrung my hand in quite an ecstasy of gratitude. How I do -hate people who can only express their feelings by hurting other -people's hands! - -"Midwinter was as pleased with my proposal as Armadale; but he -saw difficulties in the way of carrying it out. He considered the -yacht too small for a cruise to the Mediterranean, and he thought -it desirable to hire a larger vessel. His friend thought -otherwise. I left them arguing the question. It was quite enough -for me to have made sure, in the first place, that Armadale will -not return to Thorpe Ambrose; and to have decided him, in the -second place, on going abroad. He may go how he likes. I should -prefer the small yacht myself; for there seems to be a chance -that the small yacht might do me the inestimable service of -drowning him. . . . - - -"Five o'clock.--The excitement of feeling that I had got -Armadale's future movements completely under my own control made -me so restless, when I returned to my lodgings, that I was -obliged to go out again, and do something. A new interest to -occupy me being what I wanted, I went to Pimlico to have it out -with Mother Oldershaw. - -"I walked; and made up my mind, on the way, that I would begin by -quarreling with her. - -"One of my notes of hand being paid already, an d Midwinter being -willing to pay the other two when they fall due, my present -position with the old wretch is as independent a one as I could -desire. I always get the better of her when it comes to a -downright battle between us, and find her wonderfully civil and -obliging the moment I have made her feel that mine is the -strongest will of the two. In my present situation, she might be -of use to me in various ways, if I could secure her assistance, -without trusting her with secrets which I am now more than ever -determined to keep to myself. That was my idea as I walked to -Pimlico. Upsetting Mother Oldershaw's nerves, in the first place, -and then twisting her round my little finger, in the second, -promised me, as I thought, an interesting occupation for the rest -of the afternoon. - -"When I got to Pimlico, a surprise was in store for we. The house -was shut up--not only on Mrs. Oldershaw's side, but on Doctor -Downward's as well. A padlock was on the shop door; and a man was -hanging about on the watch, who might have been an ordinary idler -certainly, but who looked, to my mind, like a policeman in -disguise. - -"Knowing the risks the doctor runs in his particular form of -practice, I suspected at once that something serious had -happened, and that even cunning Mrs. Oldershaw was compromised -this time. Without stopping, or making any inquiry, therefore, I -called the first cab that passed me, and drove to the post-office -to which I had desired my letters to be forwarded if any came for -me after I left my Thorpe Ambrose lodging. - -"On inquiry a letter was produced for 'Miss Gwilt.' It was in -Mother Oldershaw's handwriting, and it told me (as I had -supposed) that the doctor had got into a serious difficulty--that -she was herself most unfortunately mixed up in the matter, and -that they were both in hiding for the present. The letter ended -with some sufficiently venomous sentences about my conduct at -Thorpe Ambrose, and with a warning that I have not heard the last -of Mrs. Oldershaw yet. It relieved me to find her writing in this -way--for she would have been civil and cringing if she had had -any suspicion of what I have really got in view. I burned the -letter as soon as the candles came up. And there, for the -present, is an end of the connection between Mother Jezebel and -me. I must do all my own dirty work now; and I shall be all the -safer, perhaps, for trusting nobody's hands to do it but my own. - - -"July 31st.--More useful information for me. I met Midwinter -again in the Park (on the pretext that my reputation might suffer -if he called too often at my lodgings), and heard the last news -of Armadale since I left the hotel yesterday. - -"After he had written to Miss Milroy, Midwinter took the -opportunity of speaking to him about the necessary business -arrangements during his absence from the great house. It was -decided that the servants should be put on board wages, and that -Mr. Bashwood should be left in charge. (Somehow, I don't like -this re-appearance of Mr. Bashwood in connection with my present -interests, but there is no help for it.) The next question--the -question of money--was settled at once by Mr. Armadale himself. -All his available ready-money (a large sum) is to be lodged by -Mr. Bashwood in Coutts's Bank, and to be there deposited in -Armadale's name. This, he said, would save him the worry of any -further letter-writing to his steward, and would enable him to -get what he wanted, when he went abroad, at a moment's notice. -The plan thus proposed, being certainly the simplest and the -safest, was adopted with Midwinter's full concurrence; and here -the business discussion would have ended, if the everlasting Mr. -Bashwood had not turned up again in the conversation, and -prolonged it in an entirely new direction. - -"On reflection, it seems to have struck Midwinter that the whole -responsibility at Thorpe Ambrose ought not to rest on Mr. -Bashwood's shoulders. Without in the least distrusting him, -Midwinter felt, nevertheless, that he ought to have somebody set -over him, to apply to in case of emergency. Armadale made no -objection to this; he only asked, in his helpless way, who the -person was to be? - -"The answer was not an easy one to arrive at. - -"Either of the two solicitors at Thorpe Ambrose might have been -employed, but Armadale was on bad terms with both of them. Any -reconciliation with such a bitter enemy as the elder lawyer, Mr. -Darch, was out of the question; and reinstating Mr. Pedgift in -his former position implied a tacit sanction on Armadale's part -of the lawyer's abominable conduct toward _me,_ which was -scarcely consistent with the respect and regard that he felt for -a lady who was soon to be his friend's wife. After some further -discussion, Midwinter hit on a new suggestion which appeared to -meet the difficulty. He proposed that Armadale should write to a -respectable solicitor at Norwich, stating his position in general -terms, and requesting that gentleman to act as Mr. Bashwood's -adviser and superintendent when occasion required. Norwich being -within an easy railway ride of Thorpe Ambrose, Armadale saw no -objection to the proposal, and promised to write to the Norwich -lawyer. Fearing that he might make some mistake if he wrote -without assistance, Midwinter had drawn him out a draft of the -necessary letter, and Armadale was now engaged in copying the -draft, and also in writing to Mr. Bashwood to lodge the money -immediately in Coutts's Bank. - -"These details are so dry and uninteresting in themselves that I -hesitated at first about putting them down in my diary. But a -little reflection has convinced me that they are too important to -be passed over. Looked at from my point of view, they mean -this--that Armadale's own act is now cutting him off from all -communication with Thorpe Ambrose, even by letter. _He is as good -as dead already to everybody he leaves behind him._ The causes -which have led to such a result as that are causes which -certainly claim the best place I can give them in these pages. - - -"August 1st.--Nothing to record, but that I have had a long, -quiet, happy day with Midwinter. He hired a carriage, and we -drove to Richmond, and dined there. After to-day's experience, it -is impossible to deceive myself any longer. Come what may of it, -I love him. - -"I have fallen into low spirits since he left me. A persuasion -has taken possession of my mind that the smooth and prosperous -course of my affairs since I have been in London is too smooth -and prosperous to last. There is something oppressing me -to-night, which is more than the oppression of the heavy London -air. - - -"August 2d.--Three o'clock.--My presentiments, like other -people's, have deceived me often enough; but I am almost afraid -that my presentiment of last night was really prophetic, for once -in a way. - -"I went after breakfast to a milliner's in this neighborhood to -order a few cheap summer things, and thence to Midwinter's hotel -to arrange with him for another day in the country. I drove to -the milliner's and to the hotel, and part of the way back. Then, -feeling disgusted with the horrid close smell of the cab -(somebody had been smoking in it, I suppose), I got out to walk -the rest of the way. Before I had been two minutes on my feet, I -discovered that I was being followed by a strange man. - -"This may mean nothing but that an idle fellow has been struck by -my figure, and my appearance generally. My face could have made -no impression on him, for it was hidden as usual by my veil. -Whether he followed me (in a cab, of course) from the milliner's, -or from the hotel, I cannot say. Nor am I quite certain whether -he did or did not track me to this door. I only know that I lost -sight of him before I got back. There is no help for it but to -wait till events enlighten me. If there is anything serious in -what has happened, I shall soon discover it. - - -"Five o'clock.--It _is_ serious. Ten minutes since, I was in my -bedroom, which communicates with the sitting-room. I was just -coming out, when I heard a strange voice on the landing -outside--a woman's voice. The next instant the sitting-room door -was suddenly opened; the woman's voice said, 'Are these the -apartments you have got to let?' and though - the landlady, behind her, answered, 'No! higher up, ma'am,' the -woman came on straight to my bedroom, as if she had not heard. I -had just time to slam the door in her face before she saw me. The -necessary explanations and apologies followed between the -landlady and the stranger in the sitting-room, and then I was -left alone again. - -"I have no time to write more. It is plain that somebody has an -interest in trying to identify me, and that, but for my own -quickness, the strange woman would have accomplished this object -by taking me by surprise. She and the man who followed me in the -street are, I suspect, in league together; and there is probably -somebody in the background whose interests they are serving. Is -Mother Oldershaw attacking me in the dark? or who else can it be? -No matter who it is; my present situation is too critical to be -trifled with. I must get away from this house to-night, and leave -no trace behind me by which I can be followed to another place. - - -"August 3d.--Gary Street, Tottenham Court Road.--I got away last -night (after writing an excuse to Midwinter, in which 'my invalid -mother' figured as the all-sufficient cause of my disappearance); -and I have found refuge here. It has cost me some money; but my -object is attained! Nobody can possibly have traced me from All -Saints' Terrace to this address. - -"After paying my landlady the necessary forfeit for leaving her -without notice, I arranged with her son that he should take my -boxes in a cab to the cloak-room at the nearest railway station, -and send me the ticket in a letter, to wait my application for it -at the post-office. While he went his way in one cab, I went mine -in another, with a few things for the night in my little -hand-bag. - -"I drove straight to the milliner's shop, which I had observed, -when I was there yesterday, had a back entrance into a mews, for -the apprentices to go in and out by. I went in at once, leaving -the cab waiting for me at the door. 'A man is following me,' I -said, 'and I want to get rid of him. Here is my cab fare; wait -ten minutes before you give it to the driver, and let me out at -once by the back way!' In a moment I was out in the mews; in -another, I was in the next street; in a third, I hailed a passing -omnibus, and was a free woman again. - -"Having now cut off all communication between me and my last -lodgings, the next precaution (in case Midwinter or Armadale are -watched) is to cut off all communication, for some days to come -at least, between me and the hotel. I have written to -Midwinter--making my supposititious mother once more the -excuse--to say that I am tied to my nursing duties, and that we -must communicate by writing only for the present. Doubtful as I -still am of who my hidden enemy really is, I can do no more to -defend myself than I have done now. - - -"August 4th.--The two friends at the hotel had both written to -me. Midwinter expresses his regret at our separation, in the -tenderest terms. Armadale writes an entreaty for help under very -awkward circumstances. A letter from Major Milroy has been -forwarded to him from the great house, and he incloses it in his -letter to me. - -"Having left the seaside, and placed his daughter safely at the -school originally chosen for her (in the neighborhood of Ely), -the major appears to have returned to Thorpe Ambrose at the close -of last week; to have heard then, for the first time, the reports -about Armadale and me; and to have written instantly to Armadale -to tell him so. - -"The letter is stern and short. Major Milroy dismisses the report -as unworthy of credit, because it is impossible for him to -believe in such an act of 'cold-blooded treachery,' as the -scandal would imply, if the scandal were true. He simply writes -to warn Armadale that, if he is not more careful in his actions -for the future, he must resign all pretensions to Miss Milroy's -hand. 'I neither expect, nor wish for, an answer to this' (the -letter ends), 'for I desire to receive no mere protestations in -words. By your conduct, and by your conduct alone, I shall judge -you as time goes on. Let me also add that I positively forbid you -to consider this letter as an excuse for violating the terms -agreed on between us, by writing again to my daughter. You have -no need to justify yourself in her eyes, for I fortunately -removed her from Thorpe Ambrose before this abominable report had -time to reach her; and I shall take good care, for her sake, that -she is not agitated and unsettled by hearing it where she is -now.' - -"Armadale's petition to me, under these circumstances, entreats -(as I am the innocent cause of the new attack on his character) -that I will write to the major to absolve him of all indiscretion -in the matter, and to say that he could not, in common -politeness, do otherwise than accompany me to London. - -"I forgive the impudence of his request, in consideration of the -news that he sends me. It is certainly another circumstance in my -favor that the scandal at Thorpe Ambrose is not to be allowed to -reach Miss Milroy's ears. With her temper (if she did hear it) -she might do something desperate in the way of claiming her -lover, and might compromise me seriously. As for my own course -with Armadale, it is easy enough. I shall quiet him by promising -to write to Major Milroy; and I shall take the liberty, in my own -private interests, of not keeping my word. - -"Nothing in the least suspicious has happened to-day. Whoever my -enemies are, they have lost me, and between this and the time -when I leave England they shall not find me again. I have been to -the post-office, and have got the ticket for my luggage, inclosed -to me in a letter from All Saints' Terrace, as I directed. The -luggage itself I shall still leave at the cloak-room, until I see -the way before me more clearly than I see it now. - - -"August 5th.--Two letters again from the hotel. Midwinter writes -to remind me, in the prettiest possible manner, that he will have -lived long enough in the parish by to-morrow to be able to get -our marriage-license, and that he proposes applying for it in the -usual way at Doctors' Commons. Now, if I am ever to say it, is -the time to say No. I can't say No. There is the plain truth--and -there is an end of it! - -"Armadale's letter is a letter of farewell. He thanks me for my -kindness in consenting to write to the major, and bids me -good-by, till we meet again at Naples. He has learned from his -friend that there are private reasons which will oblige him to -forbid himself the pleasure of being present at our marriage. -Under these circumstances, there is nothing to keep him in -London. He has made all his business arrangements; he goes to -Somersetshire by to-night's train; and, after staying some time -with Mr. Brock, he will sail for the Mediterranean from the -Bristol Channel (in spite of Midwinter's objections) in his own -yacht. - -"The letter incloses a jeweler's box, with a ring in -it--Armadale's present to me on my marriage. It is a ruby--but -rather a small one, and set in the worst possible taste. He would -have given Miss Milroy a ring worth ten times the money, if it -had been _her_ marriage present. There is no more hateful -creature, in my opinion, than a miserly young man. I wonder -whether his trumpery little yacht will drown him? - -"I am so excited and fluttered, I hardly know what I am writing. -Not that I shrink from what is coming--I only feel as if I was -being hurried on faster than I quite like to go. At this rate, if -nothing happens, Midwinter will have married me by the end of the -week. And then--! - - -"August 6th.--If anything could startle me now, I should feel -startled by the news that has reached me to-day. - -"On his return to the hotel this morning, after getting the -marriage-license, Midwinter found a telegram waiting for him. It -contained an urgent message from Armadale, announcing that Mr. -Brock had had a relapse, and that all hope of his recovery was -pronounced by the doctors to be at an end. By the dying man's own -desire, Midwinter was summoned to take leave of him, and was -entreated by Armadale not to lose a moment in starting for the -rectory by the first train. - -"The hurried letter which tells me this tells me also that, by -the time I recei ve it, Midwinter will be on his way to the West. -He promises to write at greater length, after he has seen Mr. -Brock, by to-night's post. - -"This news has an interest for me, which Midwinter little -suspects. There is but one human creature, besides myself, who -knows the secret of his birth and his name; and that one is the -old man who now lies waiting for him at the point of death. What -will they say to each other at the last moment? Will some chance -word take them back to the time when I was in Mrs. Armadale's -service at Madeira? Will they speak of Me? - - -"August 7th.--The promised letter has just reached me. No parting -words have been exchanged between them: it was all over before -Midwinter reached Somersetshire. Armadale met him at the rectory -gate with the news that Mr. Brock was dead. - -"I try to struggle against it, but, coming after the strange -complication of circumstances that has been closing round me for -weeks past, there is something in this latest event of all that -shakes my nerves. But one last chance of detection stood in my -way when I opened my diary yesterday. When I open it to-day, that -chance is removed by Mr. Brock's death. It means something; I -wish I knew what. - -"The funeral is to be on Saturday morning. Midwinter will attend -it as well as Armadale. But he proposes returning to London -first; and he writes word that he will call to-night, in the hope -of seeing me, on his way from the station to the hotel. Even if -there was any risk in it, I should see him, as things are now. -But there is no risk if he comes here from the station instead of -coming from the hotel. - - -"Five o'clock.--I was not mistaken in believing that my nerves -were all unstrung. Trifles that would not have cost me a second -thought at other times weigh heavily on my mind now. - -"Two hours since, in despair of knowing how to get through the -day, I bethought myself of the milliner who is making my summer -dress. I had intended to go and try it on yesterday; but it -slipped out of my memory in the excitement of hearing about Mr. -Brock. So I went this afternoon, eager to do anything that might -help me to get rid of myself. I have returned, feeling more -uneasy and more depressed than I felt when I went out; for I have -come back fearing that I may yet have reason to repent not having -left my unfinished dress on the milliner's hands. - -"Nothing happened to me, this time, in the street. It was only in -the trying-on room that my suspicions were roused; and there it -certainly did cross my mind that the attempt to discover me, -which I defeated at All Saints' Terrace, was not given up yet, -and that some of the shop-women had been tampered with, if not -the mistress herself. - -"Can I give myself anything in the shape of a reason for this -impression? Let me think a little. - -"I certainly noticed two things which were out of the ordinary -routine, under the circumstances. In the first place, there were -twice as many women as were needed in the trying-on room. This -looked suspicious; and yet I might have accounted for it in more -ways than one. Is it not the slack time now? and don't I know by -experience that I am the sort of woman about whom other women are -always spitefully curious? I thought again, in the second place, -that one of the assistants persisted rather oddly in keeping me -turned in a particular direction, with my face toward the glazed -and curtained door that led into the work-room. But, after all, -she gave a reason when I asked for it. She said the light fell -better on me that way; and, when I looked round, there was the -window to prove her right. Still, these trifles produced such an -effect on me, at the time, that I purposely found fault with the -dress, so as to have an excuse for trying it on again, before I -told them where I lived, and had it sent home. Pure fancy, I dare -say. Pure fancy, perhaps, at the present moment. I don't care; I -shall act on instinct (as they say), and give up the dress. In -plainer words still, I won't go back. - - -"Midnight.--Midwinter came to see me as he promised. An hour has -passed since we said good-night; and here I still sit, with my -pen in my hand, thinking of him. No words of mine can describe -what has passed between us. The end of it is all I can write in -these pages; and the end of it is that he has shaken my -resolution. For the first time since I saw the easy way to -Armadale's life at Thorpe Ambrose, I feel as if the man whom I -have doomed in my own thoughts had a chance of escaping me. - -"Is it my love for Midwinter that has altered me? Or is it _his_ -love for _me_ that has taken possession not only of all I wish to -give him, but of all I wish to keep from him as well? I feel as -if I had lost myself--lost myself, I mean, in _him_--all through -the evening. He was in great agitation about what had happened in -Somersetshire; and he made me feel as disheartened and as -wretched about it as he did. Though he never confessed it in -words, I know that Mr. Brock's death has startled him as an ill -omen for our marriage--I know it, because I feel Mr. Brock's -death as an ill omen too. The superstition--_his_ -superstition--took so strong a hold on me, that when we grew -calmer and he spoke of time future--when he told me that he must -either break his engagement with his new employers or go abroad, -as he is pledged to go, on Monday next--I actually shrank at the -thought of our marriage following close on Mr. Brock's funeral; I -actually said to him, in the impulse of the moment, 'Go, and -begin your new life alone! go, and leave me here to wait for -happier times.' - -"He took me in his arms. He sighed, and kissed me with an angelic -tenderness. He said--oh, so softly and so sadly!--I have no life -now, apart from _you._' As those words passed his lips, the -thought seemed to rise in my mind like an echo, 'Why not live out -all the days that are left to me, happy and harmless in a love -like this!' I can't explain it--I can't realize it. That was the -thought in me at the time; and that is the thought in me still. I -see my own hand while I write the words--and I ask myself whether -it is really the hand of Lydia Gwilt! - -"Armadale-- - -"No! I will never write, I will never think of Armadale again. - -"Yes! Let me write once more--let me think once more of him, -because it quiets me to know that he is going away, and that the -sea will have parted us before I am married. His old home is home -to him no longer, now that the loss of his mother has been -followed by the loss of his best and earliest friend. When the -funeral is over, he has decided to sail the same day for the -foreign seas. We may, or we may not, meet at Naples. Shall I be -an altered woman if we do? I wonder; I wonder! - - -"August 8th.--A line from Midwinter. He has gone back to -Somersetshire to be in readiness for the funeral to-morrow; and -he will return here (after bidding Armadale good-by) to-morrow -evening. - -"The last forms and ceremonies preliminary to our marriage have -been complied with. I am to be his wife on Monday next. The hour -must not be later than half-past ten--which will give us just -time, when the service is over, to get from the church door to -the railway, and to start on our journey to Naples the same day. - -"To-day--Saturday--Sunday! I am not afraid of the time; the time -will pass. I am not afraid of myself, if I can only keep all -thoughts but one out of my mind. I love him! Day and night, till -Monday comes, I will think of nothing but that. I love him! - - -"Four o'clock.--Other thoughts are forced into my mind in spite -of me. My suspicions of yesterday were no mere fancies; the -milliner has been tampered with. My folly in going back to her -house has led to my being traced here. I am absolutely certain -that I never gave the woman my address; and yet my new gown was -sent home to me at two o'clock to-day! - -"A man brought it with the bill, and a civil message, to say -that, as I had not called at the appointed time to try it on -again, the dress had been finished and sent to me. He caught me -in the passage; I had no choice but to pay the bill, and dismiss -him. Any other proceeding, as events have now turned out, would -have been pure folly. The messenger (not the man who followed me -in the st reet, but another spy sent to look at me, beyond all -doubt) would have declared he knew nothing about it, if I had -spoken to him. The milliner would tell me to my face, if I went -to her, that I had given her my address. The one useful thing to -do now is to set my wits to work in the interests of my own -security, and to step out of the false position in which my own -rashness has placed me--if I can. - - -"Seven o'clock.--My spirits have risen again. I believe I am in a -fair way of extricating myself already. - -"I have just come back from a long round in a cab. First, to the -cloak-room of the Great Western, to get the luggage which I sent -there from All Saints' Terrace. Next, to the cloak-room of the -Southeastern, to leave my luggage (labeled in Midwinter's name), -to wait for me till the starting of the tidal train on Monday. -Next, to the General Post-office, to post a letter to Midwinter -at the rectory, which he will receive to-morrow morning. Lastly, -back again to this house--from which I shall move no more till -Monday comes. - -"My letter to Midwinter will, I have little doubt, lead to his -seconding (quite innocently) the precautions that I am taking for -my own safety. The shortness of the time at our disposal on -Monday will oblige him to pay his bill at the hotel and to remove -his luggage before the marriage ceremony takes place. All I ask -him to do beyond this is to take the luggage himself to the -Southeastern (so as to make any inquiries useless which may -address themselves to the servants at the hotel)--and, that done, -to meet me at the church door, instead of calling for me here. -The rest concerns nobody but myself. When Sunday night or Monday -morning comes, it will be hard, indeed--freed as I am now from -all incumbrances--if I can't give the people who are watching me -the slip for the second time. - -"It seems needless enough to have written to Midwinter to-day, -when he is coming back to me to-morrow night. But it was -impossible to ask, what I have been obliged to ask of him, -without making my false family circumstances once more the -excuse; and having this to do--I must own the truth--I wrote to -him because, after what I suffered on the last occasion, I can -never again deceive him to his face. - - -"August 9th.--Two o'clock.--I rose early this morning, more -depressed in spirits than usual. The re-beginning of one's life, -at the re-beginning of every day, has already been something -weary and hopeless to me for years past. I dreamed, too, all -through the night--not of Midwinter and of my married life, as I -had hoped to dream--but of the wretched conspiracy to discover -me, by which I have been driven from one place to another, like a -hunted animal. Nothing in the shape of a new revelation -enlightened me in my sleep. All I could guess dreaming was what I -had guessed waking, that Mother Oldershaw is the enemy who is -attacking me in the dark. - -"My restless night has, however, produced one satisfactory -result. It has led to my winning the good graces of the servant -here, and securing all the assistance she can give me when the -time comes for making my escape. - -"The girl noticed this morning that I looked pale and anxious. I -took her into my confidence, to the extent of telling her that I -was privately engaged to be married, and that I had enemies who -were trying to part me from my sweetheart. This instantly roused -her sympathy, and a present of a ten-shilling piece for her kind -services to me did the rest. In the intervals of her housework -she has been with me nearly the whole morning; and I found out, -among other things, that _her_ sweetheart is a private soldier in -the Guards, and that she expects to see him to-morrow. I have got -money enough left, little as it is, to turn the head of any -Private in the British army; and, if the person appointed to -watch me to-morrow is a man, I think it just possible that he may -find his attention disagreeably diverted from Miss Gwilt in the -course of the evening. - -"When Midwinter came here last from the railway, he came at -half-past eight. How am I to get through the weary, weary hours -between this and the evening? I think I shall darken my bedroom, -and drink the blessing of oblivion from my bottle of Drops. - - -"Eleven o'clock.--We have parted for the last time before the day -comes that makes us man and wife. - -"He has left me. as he left me before, with an absorbing subject -of interest to think of in his absence. I noticed a change in him -the moment he entered the room. When he told me of the funeral, -and of his parting with Armadale on board the yacht, though he -spoke with feelings deeply moved, he spoke with a mastery over -himself which is new to me in my experience of him. It was the -same when our talk turned next on our own hopes and prospects. He -was plainly disappointed when he found that my family -embarrassments would prevent our meeting to-morrow, and plainly -uneasy at the prospect of leaving me to find my way by myself on -Monday to the church. But there was a certain hopefulness and -composure of manner underlying it all, which produced so strong -an impression on me that I was obliged to notice it. - -" 'You know what odd fancies take possession of me sometimes,' I -said. 'Shall I tell you the fancy that has taken possession of me -now? I can't help thinking that something has happened since we -last saw each other which you have not told me yet. - -" 'Something _has_ happened,' he answered. 'And it is something -which you ought to know.' - -"With those words he took out his pocket-book, and produced two -written papers from it. One he looked at and put back. The other -he placed on the table. - -" 'Before I tell you what this is, and how it came into my -possession,' he said, 'I must own something that I have concealed -from you. It is no more serious confession than the confession of -my own weakness.' - -"He then acknowledged to me that the renewal of his friendship -with Armadale had been clouded, through the whole period of their -intercourse in London, by his own superstitious misgivings. He -had obeyed the summons which called him to the rector's bedside, -with the firm intention of confiding his previsions of coming -trouble to Mr. Brock; and he had been doubly confirmed in his -superstition when he found that Death had entered the house -before him, and had parted them, in this world, forever. More -than this, he had traveled back to be present at the funeral, -with a secret sense of relief at the prospect of being parted -from Armadale, and with a secret resolution to make the -after-meeting agreed on between us three at Naples a meeting that -should never take place. With that purpose in his heart, he had -gone up alone to the room prepared for him on his arrival at the -rectory, and had opened a letter which he found waiting for him -on the table. The letter had only that day been -discovered--dropped and lost--under the bed on which Mr. Brock -had died. It was in the rector's handwriting throughout; and the -person to whom it was addressed was Midwinter himself. - -"Having told me this, nearly in the words in which I have written -it, he gave me the written paper that lay on the table between -us. - -" 'Read it,' he said; 'and you will not need to be told that my -mind is at peace again, and that I took Allan's hand at parting -with a heart that was worthier of Allan's love.' - -"I read the letter. There was no superstition to be conquered in -_my_ mind; there were no old feelings of gratitude toward -Armadale to be roused in _my_ heart; and yet, the effect which -the letter had had on Midwinter was, I firmly believe, more than -matched by the effect that the letter now produced on Me. - -"It was vain to ask him to leave it, and to let me read it again -(as I wished) when I was left by myself. He is determined to keep -it side by side with that other paper which I had seen him take -out of his pocket-book, and which contains the written narrative -of Armadale's Dream. All I could do was to ask his leave to copy -it; and this he granted readily. I wrote the copy in his -presence; and I now place it here in my diary, to mark a day -which is one of the memorable days in my life. - -"Boscombe Rectory, August 2d. - -"MY DEAR MIDWINTER--For the first time si nce the beginning of my -illness, I found strength enough yesterday to look over my -letters. One among them is a letter from Allan, which has been -lying unopened on my table for ten days past. He writes to me in -great distress, to say that there has been dissension between -you, and that you have left him. If you still remember what -passed between us. when you first opened your heart to me in the -Isle of Man, you will be at no loss to understand how I have -thought over this miserable news, through the night that has now -passed, and you will not be surprised to hear that I have roused -myself this morning to make the effort of writing to you. - -"I want no explanation of the circumstances which have parted you -from your friend. If my estimate of your character is not founded -on an entire delusion, the one influence which can have led to -your estrangement from Allan is the influence of that evil spirit -of Superstition which I have once already cast out of your -heart--which I will once again conquer, please God, if I have -strength enough to make my pen speak my mind to you in this -letter. - -"It is no part of my design to combat the belief which I know you -to hold, that mortal creatures may be the objects of supernatural -intervention in their pilgrimage through this world. Speaking as -a reasonable man, I own that I cannot prove you to be wrong. -Speaking as a believer in the Bible, I am bound to go further, -and to admit that you possess a higher than any human warrant for -the faith that is in you. The one object which I have it at heart -to attain is to induce you to free yourself from the paralyzing -fatalism of the heathen and the savage, and to look at the -mysteries that perplex, and the portents that daunt you, from the -Christian's point of view. If I can succeed in this, I shall -clear your mind of the ghastly doubts that now oppress it, and I -shall reunite you to your friend, never to be parted from him -again. - -"I have no means of seeing and questioning you. I can only send -this letter to Allan to be forwarded, if he knows, or can -discover, your present address. Placed in this position toward -you, I am bound to assume all that _can_ be assumed in your -favor. I will take it for granted that something has happened to -you or to Allan which to your mind has not only confirmed the -fatalist conviction in which your father died, but has added a -new and terrible meaning to the warning which he sent you in his -death-bed letter. - -"On this common ground I meet you. On this common ground I appeal -to your higher nature and your better sense. - -"Preserve your present conviction that the events which have -happened (be they what they may) are not to be reconciled with -ordinary mortal coincidences and ordinary mortal laws; and view -your own position by the best and clearest light that your -superstition can throw on it. What are you? You are a helpless -instrument in the hands of Fate. You are doomed, beyond all human -capacity of resistance, to bring misery and destruction blindfold -on a man to whom you have harmlessly and gratefully united -yourself in the bonds of a brother's love. All that is morally -firmest in your will and morally purest in your aspirations -avails nothing against the hereditary impulsion of you toward -evil, caused by a crime which your father committed before you -were born. In what does that belief end? It ends in the darkness -in which you are now lost; in the self-contradictions in which -you are now bewildered; in the stubborn despair by which a man -profanes his own soul, and lowers himself to the level of the -brutes that perish. - -"Look up, my poor suffering brother--look up, my hardly tried, my -well-loved friend, higher than this! Meet the doubts that now -assail you from the blessed vantage-ground of Christian courage -and Christian hope; and your heart will turn again to Allan, and -your mind will be at peace. Happen what may, God is all-merciful, -God is all-wise: natural or supernatural, it happens through Him. -The mystery of Evil that perplexes our feeble minds, the sorrow -and the suffering that torture us in this little life, leave the -one great truth unshaken that the destiny of man is in the hands -of his Creator, and that God's blessed Son died to make us -worthier of it. Nothing that is done in unquestioning submission -to the wisdom of the Almighty is done wrong. No evil exists out -of which, in obedience to his laws, Good may not come. Be true to -what Christ tells you is true. Encourage in yourself, be the -circumstances what they may, all that is loving, all that is -grateful, all that is patient, all that is forgiving, toward your -fellow-men. And humbly and trustfully leave the rest to the God -who made you, and to the Saviour who loved you better than his -own life. - -"This is the faith in which I have lived, by the Divine help and -mercy, from my youth upward. I ask you earnestly, I ask you -confidently, to make it your faith, too. It is the mainspring of -all the good I have ever done, of all the happiness I have ever -known; it lightens my darkness, it sustains my hope; it comforts -and quiets me, lying here, to live or die, I know not which. Let -it sustain, comfort, and enlighten you. It will help you in your -sorest need, as it has helped me in mine. It will show you -another purpose in the events which brought you and Allan -together than the purpose which your guilty father foresaw. -Strange things, I do not deny it, have happened to you already. -Stranger things still may happen before long, which I may not -live to see. Remember, if that time comes, that I died firmly -disbelieving in your influence over Allan being other than an -influence for good. The great sacrifice of the Atonement--I say -it reverently--has its mortal reflections, even in this world. If -danger ever threatens Allan, you, whose father took his father's -life--YOU, and no other, may be the man whom the providence of -God has appointed to save him. - -"Come to me if I live. Go back to the friend who loves you, -whether I live or die. - -"Yours affectionately to the last, - -"DECIMUS BROCK." - -" 'YOU, and no other, may be the man whom the providence of God -has appointed to save him!' - -"Those are the words which have shaken me to the soul. Those are -the words which make me feel as if the dead man had left his -grave, and had put his hand on the place in my heart where my -terrible secret lies hidden from every living creature but -myself. One part of the letter has come true already. The danger -that it foresees threatens Armadale at this moment--and threatens -him from Me! - -"If the favoring circumstances which have driven me thus far -drive me on to the end, and if that old man's last earthly -conviction is prophetic of the truth, Armadale will escape me, do -what I may. And Midwinter will be the victim who is sacrificed to -save his life. - -"It is horrible! it is impossible! it shall never be! At the -thinking of it only, my hand trembles and my heart sinks. I bless -the trembling that unnerves me! I bless the sinking that turns me -faint! I bless those words in the letter which have revived the -relenting thoughts that first came to me two days since! Is it -hard, now that events are taking me, smoothly and safely, nearer -and nearer to the End--is it hard to conquer the temptation to go -on? No! If there is only a chance of harm coming to Midwinter, -the dread of that chance is enough to decide me--enough to -strengthen me to conquer the temptation, for his sake. I have -never loved him yet, never, never, never as I love him now! - - -"Sunday, August 10th.--The eve of my wedding-day! I close and -lock this book, never to write in it, never to open it again. - -"I have won the great victory; I have trampled my own wickedness -under foot. I am innocent; I am happy again. My love! my angel! -when to-morrow gives me to you, I will not have a thought in my -heart which is not _your_ thought, as well as mine!" - -CHAPTER XV. - -THE WEDDING-DAY. - -THE time was nine o'clock in the morning. The place was a private -room in one of the old-fashioned inns which still remain on the -Borough side of the Thames. The date was Monday, the 11th of -August. And the person was Mr. Bashwood, who had traveled to -London on a summons from his son, and had taken up his abode at -the inn on the previous day. - -He had never yet looked so pitiably old and helpless as he looked -now. The fever and chill of alternating hope and despair had -dried, and withered, and wasted him. The angles of his figure had -sharpened. The outline of his face had shrunk. His dress pointed -the melancholy change in him with a merciless and shocking -emphasis. Never, even in his youth, had he worn such clothes as -he wore now. With the desperate resolution to leave no chance -untried of producing an impression on Miss Gwilt, he had cast -aside his dreary black garments; he had even mustered the courage -to wear his blue satin cravat. His coat was a riding-coat of -light gray. He had ordered it, with a vindictive subtlety of -purpose, to be made on the pattern of a coat that he had seen -Allan wear. His waistcoat was white; his trousers were of the -gayest summer pattern, in the largest check. His wig was oiled -and scented, and brushed round, on either side, to hide the -wrinkles on his temples. He was an object to laugh at; he was an -object to weep over. His enemies, if a creature so wretched could -have had enemies, would have forgiven him, on seeing him in his -new dress. His friends--had any of his friends been left--would -have been less distressed if they had looked at him in his coffin -than if they had looked at him as he was now. Incessantly -restless, he paced the room from end to end. Now he looked at his -watch; now he looked out of the window; now he looked at the -well-furnished breakfast-table--always with the same wistful, -uneasy inquiry in his eyes. The waiter coming in, with the urn of -boiling water, was addressed for the fiftieth time in the one -form of words which the miserable creature seemed to be capable -of uttering that morning: "My son is coming to breakfast. My son -is very particular. I want everything of the best--hot things and -cold things--and tea and coffee--and all the rest of it, waiter; -all the rest of it." For the fiftieth time, he now reiterated -those anxious words. For the fiftieth time, the impenetrable -waiter had just returned his one pacifying answer, "All right, -sir; you may leave it to me"--when the sound of leisurely -footsteps was heard on the stairs; the door opened; and the -long-expected son sauntered indolently into the room, with a neat -little black leather bag in his hand. - -"Well done, old gentleman!" said Bashwood the younger, surveying -his father's dress with a smile of sardonic encouragement. -"You're ready to be married to Miss Gwilt at a moment's notice!" - -The father took the son's hand, and tried to echo the son's -laugh. - -"You have such good spirits, Jemmy," he said, using the name in -its familiar form, as he had been accustomed to use it in happier -days. "You always had good spirits, my dear, from a child. Come -and sit down; I've ordered you a nice breakfast. Everything of -the best! everything of the best! What a relief it is to see you! -Oh, dear, dear, what a relief it is to see you." He stopped and -sat down at the table, his face flushed with the effort to -control the impatience that was devouring him. "Tell me about -her!" he burst out, giving up the effort with a sudden -self-abandonment. "I shall die, Jemmy, if I wait for it any -longer. Tell me! tell me! tell me!" - -"One thing at a time," said Bashwood the younger, perfectly -unmoved by his father's impatience. "We'll try the breakfast -first, and come to the lady afterward! Gently does it, old -gentleman--gently does it!" - -He put his leather bag on a chair, and sat down opposite to his -father, composed, and smiling, and humming a little tune. - -No ordinary observation, applying the ordinary rules of analysis, -would have detected the character of Bashwood the younger in his -face. His youthful look, aided by his light hair and his plump -beardless cheeks, his easy manner and his ever-ready smile, his -eyes which met unshrinkingly the eyes of every one whom he -addressed, all combined to make the impression of him a favorable -impression in the general mind. No eye for reading character, but -such an eye as belongs to one person, perhaps, in ten thousand, -could have penetrated the smoothly deceptive surface of this man, -and have seen him for what he really was--the vile creature whom -the viler need of Society has fashioned for its own use. There he -sat--the Confidential Spy of modern times, whose business is -steadily enlarging, whose Private Inquiry Offices are steadily on -the increase. There he sat--the necessary Detective attendant on -the progress of our national civilization; a man who was, in this -instance at least, the legitimate and intelligible product of the -vocation that employed him; a man professionally ready on the -merest suspicion (if the merest suspicion paid him) to get under -our beds, and to look through gimlet-holes in our doors; a man -who would have been useless to his employers if he could have -felt a touch of human sympathy in his father's presence; and who -would have deservedly forfeited his situation if, under any -circumstances whatever, he had been personally accessible to a -sense of pity or a sense of shame. - -"Gently does it, old gentleman," he repeated, lifting the covers -from the dishes, and looking under them one after the other all -round the table. "Gently does it!" - -"Don't be angry with me, Jemmy," pleaded his father. "Try, if you -can, to think how anxious I must be. I got your letter so long -ago as yesterday morning. I have had to travel all the way from -Thorpe Ambrose--I have had to get through the dreadful long -evening and the dreadful long night--with your letter telling me -that you had found out who she is, and telling me nothing more. -Suspense is very hard to bear, Jemmy, when you come to my age. -What was it prevented you, my dear, from coming to me when I got -here yesterday evening?" - -"A little dinner at Richmond," said Bashwood the younger. "Give -me some tea." - -Mr. Bashwood tried to comply with the request; but the hand with -which he lifted the teapot trembled so unmanageably that the tea -missed the cup and streamed out on the cloth. "I'm very sorry; I -can't help trembling when I'm anxious," said the old man, as his -son took the tea-pot out of his hand. "I'm afraid you bear me -malice, Jemmy, for what happened when I was last in town. I own I -was obstinate and unreasonable about going back to Thorpe -Ambrose. I'm more sensible now. You were quite right in taking it -all on yourself, as soon as I showed you the veiled lady when we -saw her come out of the hotel; and you were quite right to send -me back the same day to my business in the steward's office at -the Great House." He watched the effect of these concessions on -his son, and ventured doubtfully on another entreaty. "If you -won't tell me anything else just yet," he said, faintly, "will -you tell me how you found her out. Do, Jemmy, do!" - -Bashwood the younger looked up from his plate. "I'll tell you -that," he said. "The reckoning up of Miss Gwilt has cost more -money and taken more time than I expected; and the sooner we come -to a settlement about it, the sooner we shall get to what you -want to know." - -Without a word of expostulation, the father laid his dingy old -pocket-book and his purse on the table before the son. Bashwood -the younger looked into the purse; observed, with a contemptuous -elevation of the eyebrows, that it held no more than a sovereign -and some silver; and returned it intact. The pocket-book, on -being opened next, proved to contain four five-pound notes. -Bashwood the younger transferred three of the notes to his own -keeping; and handed the pocket-book back to his father, with a -bow expressive of mock gratitude and sarcastic respect. - -"A thousand thanks," he said. "Some of it is for the people at -our office, and the balance is for myself. One of the few stupid -things, my dear sir, that I have done in the course of my life -was to write you word, when you first consulted me, that you -might have my services gratis. As you see, I hasten to repair the -error. An hour or two at odd times I was ready enough to give -you. But this business has taken days, and has got in the way of -other jobs. I told you I couldn't be out of pocket by you-- I put -it in my letter, as plain as words could say it." - -"Yes, yes, Jemmy. I don't complain, my dear, I don't complain. -Never mind the money--tell me how you found her out." - -"Besides," pursued Bashwood. the younger, proceeding impenetrably -with his justification of himself, "I have given you the benefit -of my experience; I've done it cheap. It would have cost double -the money if another man had taken this in hand. Another man -would have kept a watch on Mr. Armadale as well as Miss Gwilt. I -have saved you that expense. You are certain that Mr. Armadale is -bent on marrying her. Very good. In that case, while we have our -eye on _her,_ we have, for all useful purposes, got our eye on -_him._ Know where the lady is, and you know that the gentleman -can't be far off." - -"Quite true, Jemmy. But how was it Miss Gwilt came to give you so -much trouble?" - -"She's a devilish clever woman," said Bashwood the younger; -"that's how it was. She gave us the slip at a milliner's shop. We -made it all right with the milliner, and speculated on the chance -of her coming back to try on a gown she had ordered. The -cleverest women lose the use of their wits in nine cases out of -ten where there's a new dress in the case, and even Miss Gwilt -was rash enough to go back. That was all we wanted. One of the -women from our office helped to try on her new gown, and put her -in the right position to be seen by one of our men behind the -door. He instantly suspected who she was, on the strength of what -he had been told of her; for she's a famous woman in her way. Of -course, we didn't trust to that. We traced her to her new -address; and we got a man from Scotland Yard, who was certain to -know her, if our own man's idea was the right one. The man from -Scotland Yard turned milliner's lad for the occasion, and took -her gown home. He saw her in the passage, and identified her in -an instant. You're in luck, I can tell you. Miss Gwilt's a public -character. If we had had a less notorious woman to deal with, she -might have cost us weeks of inquiry, and you might have had to -pay hundreds of pounds. A day did it in Miss Gwilt's case; and -another day put the whole story of her life, in black and white, -into my hand. There it is at the present moment, old gentleman, -in my black bag." - -Bashwood the father made straight for the bag with eager eyes and -outstretched hand. Bashwood the son took a little key out of his -waistcoat pocket, winked, shook his head, and put the key back -again. - -"I haven't done breakfast yet," he said. "Gently does it, my dear -sir--gently does it." - -"I can't wait!" cried the old man, struggling vainly to preserve -his self-control. "It's past nine! It's a fortnight to-day since -she went to London with Mr. Armadale! She may be married to him -in a fortnight! She may be married to him this morning! I can't -wait! I can't wait!" - -"There's no knowing what you can do till you try," rejoined -Bashwood the younger. "Try, and you'll find you can wait. What -has become of your curiosity?" he went on, feeding the fire -ingeniously with a stick at a time. "Why don't you ask me what I -mean by calling Miss Gwilt a public character? Why don't you -wonder how I came to lay my hand on the story of her life, in -black and white? If you'll sit down again, I'll tell you. If you -won't, I shall confine myself to my breakfast." - -Mr. Bashwood sighed heavily, and went back to his chair. - -"I wish you were not so fond of your joke, Jemmy," he said. "I -wish, my dear, you were not quite so fond of your joke." - -"Joke?" repeated his son. "It would be serious enough in some -people's eyes, I can tell you. Miss Gwilt has been tried for her -life; and the papers in that black bag are the lawyer's -instructions for the Defense. Do you call that a joke?" - -The father started to his feet, and looked straight across the -table at the son with a smile of exultation that was terrible to -see. - -"She's been tried for her life!" he burst out, with a deep gasp -of satisfaction. "She's been tried for her life!" He broke into a -low, prolonged laugh, and snapped his fingers exultingly. -"Aha-ha-ha! Something to frighten Mr. Armadale in _that!_" - -Scoundrel as he was, the son was daunted by the explosion of -pent-up passion which burst on him in those words. - -"Don't excite yourself," he said, with a sullen suppression of -the mocking manner in which he had spoken thus far. - -Mr. Bashwood sat down again, and passed his handkerchief over his -forehead. "No," he said, nodding and smiling at his son. "No, -no--no excitement, as you say--I can wait now, Jemmy; I can wait -now." - -He waited with immovable patience. At intervals, he nodded, and -smiled, and whispered to himself, "Something to frighten Mr. -Armadale in _that!_" But he made no further attempt, by word, -look, or action, to hurry his son. - -Bashwood the younger finished his breakfast slowly, out of pure -bravado; lit a cigar with the utmost deliberation; looked at his -father, and, seeing him still as immovably patient as ever, -opened the black bag at last, and spread the papers on the table. - -"How will you have it?" he asked. "Long or short? I have got her -whole life here. The counsel who defended her at the trial was -instructed to hammer hard at the sympathies of the jury: he went -head over ears into the miseries of her past career, and shocked -everybody in court in the most workman-like manner. Shall I take -the same line? Do you want to know all about her, from the time -when she was in short frocks and frilled trousers? or do you -prefer getting on at once to her first appearance as a prisoner -in the dock?" - -"I want to know all about her," said his father, eagerly. "The -worst, and the best--the worst particularly. Don't spare my -feelings, Jemmy--whatever you do, don't spare my feelings! Can't -I look at the papers myself?" - -"No, you can't. They would be all Greek and Hebrew to you. Thank -your stars that you have got a sharp son, who can take the pith -out of these papers, and give it a smack of the right flavor in -serving it up. There are not ten men in England who could tell -you this woman's story as I can tell it. It's a gift, old -gentleman, of the sort that is given to very few people--and it -lodges here." - -He tapped his forehead smartly, and turned to the first page of -the manuscript before him, with an unconcealed triumph at the -prospect of exhibiting his own cleverness, which was the first -expression of a genuine feeling of any sort that had escaped him -yet. - - -"Miss Gwilt's story begins," said Bashwood the younger, "in the -market-place at Thorpe Ambrose. One day, something like a quarter -of a century ago, a traveling quack doctor, who dealt in -perfumery as well as medicines, came to the town with his cart, -and exhibited, as a living example of the excellence of his -washes and hair-oils and so on, a pretty little girl, with a -beautiful complexion and wonderful hair. His name was Oldershaw. -He had a wife, who helped him in the perfumery part of his -business, and who carried it on by herself after his death. She -has risen in the world of late years; and she is identical with -that sly old lady who employed me professionally a short time -since. As for the pretty little girl, you know who she was as -well as I do. While the quack was haranguing the mob and showing -them the child's hair, a young lady, driving through the -marketplace, stopped her carriage to hear what it was all about, -saw the little girl, and took a violent fancy to her on the spot. -The young lady was the daughter of Mr. Blanchard, of Thorpe -Ambrose. She went home, and interested her father in the fate of -the innocent little victim of the quack doctor. The same evening, -the Oldershaws were sent for to the great house and were -questioned. They declared themselves to be her uncle and aunt--a -lie, of course!--and they were quite willing to let her attend -the village school, while they stayed at Thorpe Ambrose, when the -proposal was made to them. The new arrangement was carried out -the next day. And the day after that, the Oldershaws had -disappeared, and had left the little girl on the squire's hands! -She evidently hadn't answered as they expected in the capacity of -an advertisement, and that was the way they took of providing - for her for life. There is the first act of the play for you! -Clear enough, so far, isn't it?" - -"Clear enough, Jemmy, to clever people. But I'm old and slow. I -don't understand one thing. Whose child was she?" - -"A very sensible question. Sorry to inform you that nobody can -answer it--Miss Gwilt herself included. These Instructions that -I'm refering to are founded, of course, on her own statements, -sifted by her attorney. All she could remember, on being -questioned, was that she was beaten and half starved, somewhere -in the country, by a woman who took in children at nurse. The -woman had a card with her, stating that her name was Lydia Gwilt, -and got a yearly allowance for taking care of her (paid through a -lawyer) till she was eight years old. At that time, the allowance -stopped; the lawyer had no explanation to offer; nobody came to -look after her; nobody wrote. The Oldershaws saw her, and thought -she might answer to exhibit; and the woman parted with her for a -trifle to the Oldershaws; and the Oldershaws parted with her for -good and all to the Blanchards. That's the story of her birth, -parentage, and education! She may be the daughter of a duke, or -the daughter of a costermonger. The circumstances may be highly -romantic, or utterly commonplace. Fancy anything you -like--there's nothing to stop you. When you've had your fancy -out, say the word, and I'll turn over the leaves and go on." - -"Please to go on, Jemmy--please to go on." - -"The next glimpse of Miss Gwilt," resumed Bashwood the younger, -turning over the papers, "is a glimpse at a family mystery. The -deserted child was in luck's way at last. She had taken the fancy -of an amiable young lady with a rich father, and she was petted -and made much of at the great house, in the character of Miss -Blanchard's last new plaything. Not long afterward Mr. Blanchard -and his daughter went abroad, and took the girl with them in the -capacity of Miss Blanchard's little maid. When they came back, -the daughter had married, and become a widow, in the interval; -and the pretty little maid, instead of returning with them to -Thorpe Ambrose, turns up suddenly, all alone, as a pupil at a -school in France. There she was, at a first-rate establishment, -with her maintenance and education secured until she married and -settled in life, on this understanding--that she never returned -to England. Those were all the particulars she could be prevailed -on to give the lawyer who drew up these instructions. She -declined to say what had happened abroad; she declined even, -after all the years that had passed, to mention her mistress's -married name. It's quite clear, of course, that she was in -possession of some family secret; and that the Blanchards paid -for her schooling on the Continent to keep her out of the way. -And it's equally plain that she would never have kept her secret -as she did if she had not seen her way to trading on it for her -own advantage at some future time. A clever woman, as I've told -you already! A devilish clever woman, who hasn't been knocked -about in the world, and seen the ups and downs of life abroad and -at home, for nothing." - -"Yes, yes, Jemmy; quite true. How long did she stop, please, at -the school in France?" - -Bashwood the younger referred to the papers. "She stopped at the -French school," he replied, "till she was seventeen. At that time -something happened at the school which I find mildly described in -these papers as 'something unpleasant.' The plain fact was that -the music-master attached to the establishment fell in love with -Miss Gwilt. He was a respectable middle-aged man, with a wife and -family; and, finding the circumstances entirely hopeless, he took -a pistol, and, rashly assuming that he had brains in his head, -tried to blow them out. The doctor saved his life, but not his -reason; he ended, where he had better have begun, in an asylum. -Miss Gwilt's beauty having been at the bottom of the scandal, it -was, of course, impossible--though she was proved to have been -otherwise quite blameless in the matter--for her to remain at the -school after what had happened. Her 'friends' (the Blanchards) -were communicated with. And her friends transferred her to -another school; at Brussels, this time.--What are you sighing -about? What's wrong now?" - -"I can't help feeling a little for the poor music-master, Jemmy. -Go on." - -"According to her own account of it, dad, Miss Gwilt seems to -have felt for him too. She took a serious turn; and was -'converted' (as they call it) by the lady who had charge of her -in the interval before she went to Brussels. The priest at the -Belgium school appears to have been a man of some discretion, and -to have seen that the girl's sensibilities were getting into a -dangerously excited state. Before he could quiet her down, he -fell ill, and was succeeded by another priest, who was a fanatic. -You will understand the sort of interest he took in the girl, and -the way in which he worked on her feelings, when I tell you that -she announced it as her decision, after having been nearly two -years at the school, to end her days in a convent! You may well -stare! Miss Gwilt, in the character of a Nun, is the sort of -female phenomenon you don't often set eyes on." - -"Did she go into the convent?" asked Mr. Bashwood. "Did they let -her go in, so friendless and so young, with nobody to advise her -for the best?" - -"The Blanchards were consulted, as a matter of form," pursued -Bashwood the younger. "_They_ had no objection to her shutting -herself up in a convent, as you may well imagine. The pleasantest -letter they ever had from her, I'll answer for it, was the letter -in which she solemnly took leave of them in this world forever. -The people at the convent were as careful as usual not to commit -themselves. Their rules wouldn't allow her to take the veil till -she had tried the life for a year first, and then, if she had any -doubt, for another year after that. She tried the life for the -first year, accordingly, and doubted. She tried it for the second -year, and was wise enough, by that time, to give it up without -further hesitation. Her position was rather an awkward one when -she found herself at liberty again. The sisters at the convent -had lost their interest in her; the mistress at the school -declined to take her back as teacher, on the ground that she was -too nice-looking for the place; the priest considered her to be -possessed by the devil. There was nothing for it but to write to -the Blanchards again, and ask them to start her in life as a -teacher of music on her own account. She wrote to her former -mistress accordingly. Her former mistress had evidently doubted -the genuineness of the girl's resolution to be a nun, and had -seized the opportunity offered by her entry into the convent to -cut off all further communication between her ex-waiting-maid and -herself. Miss Gwilt's letter was returned by the post-office. She -caused inquiries to be made; and found that Mr. Blanchard was -dead, and that his daughter had left the great house for some -place of retirement unknown. The next thing she did, upon this, -was to write to the heir in possession of the estate. The letter -was answered by his solicitors, who were instructed to put the -law in force at the first attempt she made to extort money from -any member of the family at Thorpe Ambrose. The last chance was -to get at the address of her mistress's place of retirement. The -family bankers, to whom she wrote, wrote back to say that they -were instructed not to give the lady's address to any one -applying for it, without being previously empowered to do so by -the lady herself. That last letter settled the question--Miss -Gwilt could do nothing more. With money at her command, she might -have gone to England and made the Blanchards think twice before -they carried things with too high a hand. Not having a half-penny -at command, she was helpless. Without money and without friends, -you may wonder how she supported herself while the correspondence -was going on. She supported herself by playing the piano-forte at -a low concert-room in Brussels. The men laid siege to her, of -course, in all directions; but they found her insensible as -adamant. One of these rejected gentlemen was a Russian; and he -was the means of making her acquainted with a countrywoman of -his, whose name is unpronounceable by English lips. Let us give -her her title, and call her the baroness. The two women liked -each other at their first introduction; and a new scene opened in -Miss Gwilt's life. She became reader and companion to the -baroness. Everything was right, everything was smooth on the -surface. Everything was rotten and everything was wrong under -it." - -"In what way, Jemmy? Please to wait a little, and tell me in what -way." - -"In this way. The baroness was fond of traveling, and she had a -select set of friends about her who were quite of her way of -thinking. They went from one city on the Continent to another, -and were such charming people that they picked up acquaintances -everywhere. The acquaintances were invited to the baroness's -receptions, and card-tables were invariably a part of the -baroness's furniture. Do you see it now? or must I tell you, in -the strictest confidence, that cards were not considered sinful -on these festive occasions, and that the luck, at the end of the -evening, turned out to be almost invariably on the side of the -baroness and her friends? Swindlers, all of them; and there isn't -a doubt on my mind, whatever there may be on yours, that Miss -Gwilt's manners and appearance made her a valuable member of the -society in the capacity of a decoy. Her own statement is that she -was innocent of all knowledge of what really went on; that she -was quite ignorant of card-playing; that she hadn't such a thing -as a respectable friend to turn to in the world; and that she -honestly liked the baroness, for the simple reason that the -baroness was a hearty good friend to her from first to last. -Believe that or not, as you please. For five years she traveled -about all over the Continent with these card-sharpers in high -life, and she might have been among them at this moment, for -anything I know to the contrary, if the baroness had not caught a -Tartar at Naples, in the shape of a rich traveling Englishman, -named Waldron. Aha! that name startles you, does it? You've read -the Trial of the famous Mrs. Waldron, like the rest of the world? -And you know who Miss Gwilt is now, without my telling you?" - -He paused, and looked at his father in sudden perplexity. Far -from being overwhelmed by the discovery which had just burst on -him, Mr. Bashwood, after the first natural movement of surprise, -faced his son with a self-possession which was nothing short of -extraordinary under the circumstances. There was a new brightness -in his eyes, and a new color in his face. If it had been possible -to conceive such a thing of a man in his position, he seemed to -be absolutely encouraged instead of depressed by what he had just -heard. "Go on, Jemmy," he said, quietly; "I am one of the few -people who didn't read the trial; I only heard of it." - -Still wondering inwardly, Bashwood the younger recovered himself, -and went on. - -"You always were, and you always will be, behind the age," he -said. "When we come to the trial, I can tell you as much about it -as you need know. In the meantime, we must go back to the -baroness and Mr. Waldron. For a certain number of nights the -Englishman let the card-sharpers have it all their own way; in -other words, he paid for the privilege of making himself -agreeable to Miss Gwilt. When he thought he had produced the -necessary impression on her, he exposed the whole confederacy -without mercy. The police interfered; the baroness found herself -in prison; and Miss Gwilt was put between the two alternatives of -accepting Mr. Waldron's protection or being thrown on the world -again. She was amazingly virtuous, or amazingly clever, which you -please. To Mr. Waldron's astonishment, she told him that she -could face the prospect of being thrown on the world; and that he -must address her honorably or leave her forever. The end of it -was what the end always is, where the man is infatuated and the -woman is determined. To the disgust of his family and friends, -Mr. Waldron made a virtue of necessity, and married her." - -"How old was he?" asked Bashwood the elder, eagerly. - -Bashwood the younger burst out laughing. "He was about old -enough, daddy, to be your son, and rich enough to have burst that -precious pocket-book of yours with thousand-pound notes! Don't -hang your head. It wasn't a happy marriage, though he _was_ so -young and so rich. They lived abroad, and got on well enough at -first. He made a new will, of course, as soon as he was married, -and provided handsomely for his wife, under the tender pressure -of the honey-moon. But women wear out, like other things, with -time; and one fine morning Mr. Waldron woke up with a doubt in -his mind whether he had not acted like a fool. He was an -ill-tempered man; he was discontented with himself; and of course -he made his wife feel it. Having begun by quarreling with her, he -got on to suspecting her, and became savagely jealous of every -male creature who entered the house. They had no incumbrances in -the shape of children, and they moved from one place to another, -just as his jealousy inclined him, till they moved back to -England at last, after having been married close on four years. -He had a lonely old house of his own among the Yorkshire moors, -and there he shut his wife and himself up from every living -creature, except his servants and his dogs. Only one result could -come, of course, of treating a high-spirited young woman in that -way. It may be her fate, or it may be chance; but, whenever a -woman is desperate, there is sure to be a man handy to take -advantage of it. The man in this case was rather a 'dark horse,' -as they say on the turf. He was a certain Captain Manuel, a -native of Cuba, and (according to his own account) an ex-officer -in the Spanish navy. He had met Mr. Waldron's beautiful wife on -the journey back to England; had contrived to speak to her in -spite of her husband's jealousy; and had followed her to her -place of imprisonment in Mr. Waldron's house on the moors. The -captain is described as a clever, determined fellow--of the -daring piratical sort--with the dash of mystery about him that -women like--" - -"She's not the same as other women!" interposed Mr. Bashwood, -suddenly interrupting his son. "Did she--?" His voice failed him, -and he stopped without bringing the question to an end. - -"Did she like the captain?" suggested Bashwood the younger, with -another laugh. "According to her own account of it, she adored -him. At the same time her conduct (as represented by herself) was -perfectly innocent. Considering how carefully her husband watched -her, the statement (incredible as it appears) is probably true. -For six weeks or so they confined themselves to corresponding -privately, the Cuban captain (who spoke and wrote English -perfectly) having contrived to make a go-between of one of the -female servants in the Yorkshire house. How it might have ended -we needn't trouble ourselves to inquire--Mr. Waldron himself -brought matters to a crisis. Whether he got wind of the -clandestine correspondence or not, doesn't appear. But this is -certain, that he came home from a ride one day in a fiercer -temper than usual; that his wife showed him a sample of that high -spirit of hers which he had never yet been able to break; and -that it ended in his striking her across the face with his -riding-whip. Ungentlemanly conduct, I am afraid we must admit; -but, to all outward appearance, the riding-whip produced the most -astonishing results. From that moment the lady submitted as she -had never submitted before. For a fortnight afterward he did what -he liked, and she never thwarted him; he said what he liked, and -she never uttered a word of protest. Some men might have -suspected this sudden reformation of hiding something dangerous -under the surface. Whether Mr. Waldron looked at it in that -light, I can't tell you. All that is known is that, before the -mark of the whip was off his wife's face, he fell ill, and that -in two days afterward he was a dead man. What do you say to -that?" - -"I say he deserved it!" answered Mr. Bashwood, striking his hand -excitedly on the table, as his son paused and looked at him. - -"The - doctor who attended the dying man was not of your way of -thinking," remarked Bashwood the younger, dryly. "He called in -two other medical men, and they all three refused to certify the -death. The usual legal investigation followed. The evidence of -the doctors and the evidence of the servants pointed irresistibly -in one and the same direction; and Mrs. Waldron was committed for -trial, on the charge of murdering her husband by poison. A -solicitor in first-rate criminal practice was sent for from -London to get up the prisoner's defense, and these 'Instructions' -took their form and shape accordingly.--What's the matter? What -do you want now?" - -Suddenly rising from his chair, Mr. Bashwood stretched across the -table, and tried to take the papers from his son. "I want to look -at them," he burst out, eagerly. "I want to see what they say -about the captain from Cuba. He was at the bottom of it, -Jemmy--I'll swear he was at the bottom of it!" - -"Nobody doubted that who was in the secret of the case at the -time," rejoined his son. "But nobody could prove it. Sit down -again, dad, and compose yourself. There's nothing here about -Captain Manuel but the lawyer's private suspicions of him, for -the counsel to act on or not, at the counsel's discretion. From -first to last she persisted in screening the captain. At the -outset of the business she volunteered two statements to the -lawyer--both of which he suspected to be false. In the first -place she declared that she was innocent of the crime. He wasn't -surprised, of course, so far; his clients were, as a general -rule, in the habit of deceiving him in that way. In the second -place, while admitting her private correspondence with the Cuban -captain, she declared that the letters on both sides related -solely to a proposed elopement, to which her husband's barbarous -treatment had induced her to consent. The lawyer naturally asked -to see the letters. 'He has burned all my letters, and I have -burned all his,' was the only answer he got. It was quite -possible that Captain Manuel might have burned _her_ letters when -he heard there was a coroner's inquest in the house. But it was -in her solicitor's experience (as it is in my experience too) -that, when a woman is fond of a man, in ninety-nine cases out of -a hundred, risk or no risk, she keeps his letters. Having his -suspicions roused in this way, the lawyer privately made some -inquiries about the foreign captain, and found that he was as -short of money as a foreign captain could be. At the same time, -he put some questions to his client about her expectations from -her deceased husband. She answered, in high indignation, that a -will had been found among her husband's papers, privately -executed only a few days before his death, and leaving her no -more, out of all his immense fortune, than five thousand pounds. -'Was there an older will, then,' says the lawyer, 'which the new -will revoked?' Yes, there was; a will that he had given into her -own possession--a will made when they were first married. -'Leaving his widow well provided for?' Leaving her just ten times -as much as the second will left her. 'Had she ever mentioned that -first will, now revoked, to Captain Manuel?' She saw the trap set -for her, and said, 'No, never!' without an instant's hesitation. -That reply confirmed the lawyer's suspicions. He tried to -frighten her by declaring that her life might pay the forfeit of -her deceiving him in this matter. With the usual obstinacy of -women, she remained just as immovable as ever. The captain, on -his side, behaved in the most exemplary manner. He confessed to -planning the elopement; he declared that he had burned all the -lady's letters as they reached him, out of regard for her -reputation; he remained in the neighborhood; and he volunteered -to attend before the magistrates. Nothing was discovered that -could legally connect him with the crime, or that could put him -into court on the day of the trial, in any other capacity than -the capacity of a witness. I don't believe myself that there's -any moral doubt (as they call it) that Manuel knew of the will -which left her mistress of fifty thousand pounds; and that he was -ready and willing, in virtue of that circumstance, to marry her -on Mr. Waldron's death. If anybody tempted her to effect her own -release from her husband by making herself a widow, the captain -must have been the man. And unless she contrived, guarded and -watched as she was, to get the poison for herself, the poison -must have come to her in one of the captain's letters." - -"I don't believe she used it, if it did come to her!" exclaimed -Mr. Bashwood. "I believe it was the captain himself who poisoned -her husband!" - -Bashwood the younger, without noticing the interruption, folded -up the Instructions for the Defense, which had now served their -purpose, put them back in his bag, and produced a printed -pamphlet in their place. - -"Here is one of the published Reports of the Trial," he said, -"which you can read at your leisure, if you like. We needn't -waste time now by going into details. I have told you already how -cleverly her counsel paved his way for treating the charge of -murder as the crowning calamity of the many that had already -fallen on an innocent woman. The two legal points relied on for -the defense (after this preliminary flourish) were: First, that -there was no evidence to connect her with the possession of -poison; and, secondly, that the medical witnesses, while -positively declaring that her husband had died by poison, -differed in their conclusions as to the particular drug that had -killed him. Both good points, and both well worked; but the -evidence on the other side bore down everything before it. The -prisoner was proved to have had no less than three excellent -reasons for killing her husband. He had treated her with almost -unexampled barbarity; he had left her in a will (unrevoked so far -as she knew) mistress of a fortune on his death; and she was, by -her own confession, contemplating an elopement with another man. -Having set forth these motives, the prosecution next showed by -evidence, which was never once shaken on any single point, that -the one person in the house who could by any human possibility -have administered the poison was the prisoner at the bar. What -could the judge and jury do, with such evidence before them as -this? The verdict was Guilty, as a matter of course; and the -judge declared that he agreed with it. The female part of the -audience was in hysterics; and the male part was not much better. -The judge sobbed, and the bar shuddered. She was sentenced to -death in such a scene as had never been previously witnessed in -an English court of justice. And she is alive and hearty at the -present moment; free to do any mischief she pleases, and to -poison, at her own entire convenience, any man, woman, or child -that happens to stand in her way. A most interesting woman! Keep -on good terms with her, my dear sir, whatever you do, for the Law -has said to her in the plainest possible English, 'My charming -friend, I have no terrors for _you!_' " - -"How was she pardoned?" asked Mr. Bashwood, breathlessly. "They -told me at the time, but I have forgotten. Was it the Home -Secretary? If it was, I respect the Home Secretary! I say the -Home Secretary was deserving of his place." - -"Quite right, old gentleman!" rejoined Bashwood the younger. "The -Home Secretary was the obedient humble servant of an enlightened -Free Press, and he _was_ deserving of his place. Is it possible -you don't know how she cheated the gallows? If you don't, I must -tell you. On the evening of the trial, two or three of the young -buccaneers of literature went down to two or three newspaper -offices, and wrote two or three heart-rending leading articles on -the subject of the proceedings in court. The next morning the -public caught light like tinder; and the prisoner was tried over -again, before an amateur court of justice, in the columns of the -newspapers. All the people who had no personal experience -whatever on the subject seized their pens, and rushed (by kind -permission of the editor) into print. Doctors who had _not_ -attended the sick man, and who had _not_ been present at the -examination - of the body, declared by dozens that he had died a natural -death. Barristers without business, who had _not_ heard the -evidence, attacked the jury who had heard it, and judged the -judge, who had sat on the bench before some of them were born. -The general public followed the lead of the barristers and the -doctors, and the young buccaneers who had set the thing going. -Here was the law that they all paid to protect them actually -doing its duty in dreadful earnest! Shocking! shocking! The -British Public rose to protest as one man against the working of -its own machinery; and the Home Secretary, in a state of -distraction, went to the judge. The judge held firm. He had said -it was the right verdict at the time, and he said so still. 'But -suppose,' says the Home Secretary, 'that the prosecution had -tried some other way of proving her guilty at the trial than the -way they did try, what would you and the jury have done then?' Of -course it was quite impossible for the judge to say. This -comforted the Home Secretary, to begin with. And, when he got the -judge's consent, after that, to having the conflict of medical -evidence submitted to one great doctor; and when the one great -doctor took the merciful view, after expressly stating, in the -first instance, that he knew nothing practically of the merits of -the case, the Home Secretary was perfectly satisfied. The -prisoner's death-warrant went into the waste-paper basket; the -verdict of the law was reversed by general acclamation; and the -verdict of the newspapers carried the day. But the best of it is -to come. You know what happened when the people found themselves -with the pet object of their sympathy suddenly cast loose on -their hands? A general impression prevailed directly that she was -not quite innocent enough, after all, to be let out of prison -then and there! Punish her a little--that was the state of the -popular feeling--punish her a little, Mr. Home Secretary, on -general moral grounds. A small course of gentle legal medicine, -if you love us, and then we shall feel perfectly easy on the -subject to the end of our days." - -"Don't joke about it!" cried his father. "Don't, don't, don't, -Jemmy! Did they try her again? They couldn't! They dursn't! -Nobody can be tried twice over for the same offense." - -"Pooh! pooh! she could be tried a second time for a second -offense," retorted Bashwood the younger-- "and tried she was. -Luckily for the pacification of the public mind, she had rushed -headlong into redressing her own grievances (as women will), when -she discovered that her husband had cut her down from a legacy of -fifty thousand pounds to a legacy of five thousand by a stroke of -his pen. The day before the inquest a locked drawer in Mr. -Waldron's dressing-room table, which contained some valuable -jewelry, was discovered to have been opened and emptied; and when -the prisoner was committed by the magistrates, the precious -stones were found torn out of their settings and sewed up in her -stays. The lady considered it a case of justifiable -self-compensation. The law declared it to be a robbery committed -on the executors of the dead man. The lighter offense--which had -been passed over when such a charge as murder was brought against -her--was just the thing to revive, to save appearances in the -eyes of the public. They had stopped the course of justice, in -the case of the prisoner, at one trial; and now all they wanted -was to set the course of justice going again, in the case of the -prisoner, at another! She was arraigned for the robbery, after -having been pardoned for the murder. And, what is more, if her -beauty and her misfortunes hadn't made a strong impression on her -lawyer. she would not only have had to stand another trial, but -would have had even the five thousand pounds, to which she was -entitled by the second will, taken away from her, as a felon, by -the Crown." - -"I respect her lawyer! I admire her lawyer!" exclaimed Mr. -Bashwood. "I should like to take his hand, and tell him so." - -"He wouldn't thank you, if you did," remarked Bashwood the -younger. "He is under a comfortable impression that nobody knows -how he saved Mrs. Waldron's legacy for her but himself." - -"I beg your pardon, Jemmy," interposed his father. "But don't -call her Mrs. Waldron. Speak of her, please, by her name when she -was innocent, and young, and a girl at school. Would you mind, -for my sake, calling her Miss Gwilt?" - -"Not I! It makes no difference to me what name I give her. Bother -your sentiment! let's go on with the facts. This is what the -lawyer did before the second trial came off. He told her she -would be found guilty _again,_ to a dead certainty. 'And this -time,' he said, 'the public will let the law take its course. -Have you got an old friend whom you can trust?' She hadn't such a -thing as an old friend in the world. 'Very well, then,' says the -lawyer, you must trust me. Sign this paper; and you will have -executed a fictitious sale of all your property to myself. When -the right time comes, I shall first carefully settle with your -husband's executors; and I shall then reconvey the money to you, -securing it properly (in case you ever marry again) in your own -possession. The Crown, in other transactions of this kind, -frequently waives its right of disputing the validity of the -sale; and, if the Crown is no harder on you than on other people, -when you come out of prison you will have your five thousand -pounds to begin the world with again.' Neat of the lawyer, when -she was going to be tried for robbing the executors, to put her -up to a way of robbing the Crown, wasn't it? Ha! ha! what a world -it is!" - -The last effort of the son's sarcasm passed unheeded by the -father. "In prison!" he said to himself. "Oh me, after all that -misery, in prison again!" - -"Yes," said Bashwood the younger, rising and stretching himself, -"that's how it ended. The verdict was Guilty; and the sentence -was imprisonment for two years. She served her time; and came -out, as well as I can reckon it, about three years since. If you -want to know what she did when she recovered her liberty, and how -she went on afterward, I may be able to tell you something about -it--say, on another occasion, when you have got an extra note or -two in your pocket-book. For the present, all you need know, you -do know. There isn't the shadow of a doubt that this fascinating -lady has the double slur on her of having been found guilty of -murder, and of having served her term of imprisonment for theft. -There's your money's worth for your money--with the whole of my -wonderful knack at stating a case clearly, thrown in for nothing. -If you have any gratitude in you, you ought to do something -handsome, one of these days, for your son. But for me, I'll tell -you what you would have done, old gentleman. If you could have -had your own way, you would have married Miss Gwilt." - -Mr. Bashwood rose to his feet, and looked his son steadily in the -face. - -"If I could have my own way," he said, "I would marry her now." - -Bashwood the younger started back a step. "After all I have told -you?" he asked, in the blankest astonishment. - -"After all you have told me." - -"With the chance of being poisoned, the first time you happened -to offend her?" - -"With the chance of being poisoned," answered Mr. Bashwood, "in -four-and-twenty hours." - -The Spy of the Private Inquiry Office dropped back into his -chair, cowed by his father's words and his father's looks. - -"Mad!" he said to himself. "Stark mad, by jingo!" - -Mr. Bashwood looked at his watch, and hurriedly took his hat from -a side-table. - -"I should like to hear the rest of it," he said. "I should like -to hear every word you have to tell me about her, to the very -last. But the time, the dreadful, galloping time, is getting on. -For all I know, they may be on their way to be married at this -very moment." - -"What are you going to do?" asked Bashwood the younger, getting -between his father and the door. - -"I am going to the hotel," said the old man, trying to pass him. -"I am going to see Mr. Armadale." - -"What for?" - -"To tell him everything you have told me." He paused after making -that reply. The terrible smile of triumph which had once already -appeared on his face overspre ad it again. "Mr. Armadale is -young; Mr. Armadale has all his life before him," he whispered, -cunningly, with his trembling fingers clutching his son's arm. -"What doesn't frighten _me_ will frighten _him!_" - -"Wait a minute," said Bashwood the younger. "Are you as certain -as ever that Mr. Armadale is the man?" - -"What man?" - -"The man who is going to marry her." - -"Yes! yes! yes! Let me go, Jemmy--let me go." - -The spy set his back against the door, and considered for a -moment. Mr. Armadale was rich--Mr. Armadale (if _he_ was not -stark mad too) might be made to put the right money-value on -information that saved him from the disgrace of marrying Miss -Gwilt. "It may be a hundred pounds in my pocket if I work it -myself," thought Bashwood the younger. "And it won't be a -half-penny if I leave it to my father." He took up his hat and -his leather bag. "Can you carry it all in your own addled old -head, daddy?" he asked, with his easiest impudence of manner. -"Not you! I'll go with you and help you. What do you think of -that?" - -The father threw his arms in an ecstasy round the son's neck. "I -can't help it, Jemmy," he said, in broken tones. "You are so good -to me. Take the other note, my dear--I'll manage without it--take -the other note." - -The son threw open the door with a flourish; and magnanimously -turned his back on the father's offered pocket-book. "Hang it, -old gentleman, I'm not quite so mercenary as _that!_" he said, -with an appearance of the deepest feeling. "Put up your -pocket-book, and let's be off.--If I took my respected parent's -last five-pound note," he thought to himself, as he led the way -downstairs, "how do I know he mightn't cry halves when he sees -the color of Mr. Armadale's money?--Come along, dad!" he resumed. -"We'll take a cab and catch the happy bridegroom before he starts -for the church!" - -They hailed a cab in the street, and started for the hotel which -had been the residence of Midwinter and Allan during their stay -in London. The instant the door of the vehicle had closed, Mr. -Bashwood returned to the subject of Miss Gwilt. - -"Tell me the rest," he said, taking his son's hand, and patting -it tenderly. "Let's go on talking about her all the way to the -hotel. Help me through the time, Jemmy--help me through the -time." - -Bashwood the younger was in high spirits at the prospect of -seeing the color of Mr. Armadale's money. He trifled with his -father's anxiety to the very last. - -"Let's see if you remember what I've told you already," he began. -"There's a character in the story that's dropped out of it -without being accounted for. Come! can you tell me who it is?" - -He had reckoned on finding his father unable to answer the -question. But Mr. Bashwood's memory, for anything that related to -Miss Gwilt, was as clear and ready as his son's. "The foreign -scoundrel who tempted her, and let her screen him at the risk of -her own life," he said, without an instant's hesitation. "Don't -speak of him, Jemmy--don't speak of him again!" - -"I _must_ speak of him," retorted the other. "You want to know -what became of Miss Gwilt when she got out of prison, don't you? -Very good--I'm in a position to tell you. She became Mrs. Manuel. -It's no use staring at me, old gentleman. I know it officially. -At the latter part of last year, a foreign lady came to our -place, with evidence to prove that she had been lawfully married -to Captain Manuel, at a former period of his career, when he had -visited England for the first time. She had only lately -discovered that he had been in this country again; and she had -reason to believe that he had married another woman in Scotland. -Our people were employed to make the necessary inquiries. -Comparison of dates showed that the Scotch marriage--if it was a -marriage at all, and not a sham--had taken place just about the -time when Miss Gwilt was a free woman again. And a little further -investigation showed us that the second Mrs. Manuel was no other -than the heroine of the famous criminal trial--whom we didn't -know then, but whom we do know now, to be identical with your -fascinating friend, Miss Gwilt." - -Mr. Bashwood's head sank on his breast. He clasped his trembling -hands fast in each other, and waited in silence to hear the rest. - -"Cheer up!" pursued his son. "She was no more the captain's wife -than you are; and what is more, the captain himself is out of -your way now. One foggy day in December last he gave us the slip; -and was off to the continent, nobody knew where. He had spent the -whole of the second Mrs. Manuel's five thousand pounds, in the -time that had elapsed (between two and three years) since she had -come out of prison; and the wonder was, where he had got the -money to pay his traveling expenses. It turned out that he had -got it from the second Mrs. Manuel herself. She had filled his -empty pockets; and there she was, waiting confidently in a -miserable London lodging, to hear from him and join him as soon -as he was safely settled in foreign parts! Where had _she_ got -the money, you may ask naturally enough? Nobody could tell at the -time. My own notion is, now, that her former mistress must have -been still living, and that she must have turned her knowledge of -the Blanchards' family secret to profitable account at last. This -is mere guess-work, of course; but there's a circumstance that -makes it likely guess-work to my mind. She had an elderly female -friend to apply to at the time, who was just the woman to help -her in ferreting out her mistress's address. Can you guess the -name of the elderly female friend? Not you! Mrs. Oldershaw, of -course!" - -Mr. Bashwood suddenly looked up. "Why should she go back," he -asked, "to the woman who had deserted her when she was a child?" - -"I can't say," rejoined his son, "unless she went back in the -interests of her own magnificent head of hair. The -prison-scissors, I needn't tell you, had made short work of it -with Miss Gwilt's love-locks, in every sense of the word; and -Mrs. Oldershaw, I beg to add, is the most eminent woman in -England, as restorer-general of the dilapidated heads and faces -of the female sex. Put two and two together; and perhaps you'll -agree with me, in this case, that they make four." - -"Yes, yes; two and two make four," repeated his father, -impatiently. "But I want to know something else. Did she hear -from him again? Did he send for her after he had gone away to -foreign parts?" - -"The captain? Why, what on earth can you be thinking of? Hadn't -he spent every farthing of her money? and wasn't he loose on the -Continent out of her reach? She waited to hear from him. I dare -say, for she persisted in believing in him. But I'll lay you any -wager you like, she never saw the sight of his handwriting again. -We did our best at the office to open her eyes; we told her -plainly that he had a first wife living, and that she hadn't the -shadow of a claim on him. She wouldn't believe us, though we met -her with the evidence. Obstinate, devilish obstinate. I dare say -she waited for months together before she gave up the last hope -of ever seeing him again." - -Mr. Bashwood looked aside quickly out of the cab window. "Where -could she turn for refuge next?" he said, not to his son, but to -himself. "What, in Heaven's name, could she do?" - -"Judging by my experience of women," remarked Bashwood the -younger, overhearing him, "I should say she probably tried to -drown herself. But that's only guess-work again: it's all -guess-work at this part of her story. You catch me at the end of -my evidence, dad, when you come to Miss Gwilt's proceedings in -the spring and summer of the present year. She might, or she -might not, have been desperate enough to attempt suicide; and she -might, or she might not, have been at the bottom of those -inquiries that I made for Mrs. Oldershaw. I dare say you'll see -her this morning; and perhaps, if you use your influence, you may -he able to make her finish her own story herself." - -Mr. Bashwood, still looking out of the cab window, suddenly laid -his hand on his son's arm. - -"Hush! hush!" he exclaimed, in violent agitation. "We have got -there at last. Oh, Jemmy, feel how my heart beats! Here is the -hotel." - -"Bother your heart," said Bashwood the younger. "Wait here while -I ma ke the inquiries." - -"I'll come with you!" cried his father. "I can't wait! I tell -you, I can't wait!" - -They went into the hotel together, and asked for "Mr. Armadale." - -The answer, after some little hesitation and delay, was that Mr. -Armadale had gone away six days since. A second waiter added that -Mr. Armadale's friend--Mr. Midwinter--had only left that morning. -Where had Mr. Armadale gone? Somewhere into the country. Where -had Mr. Midwinter gone? Nobody knew. - -Mr. Bashwood looked at his son in speechless and helpless dismay. - -"Stuff and nonsense!" said Bashwood the younger, pushing his -father back roughly into the cab. "He's safe enough. We shall -find him at Miss Gwilt's." - -The old man took his son's hand and kissed it. "Thank you, my -dear," he said, gratefully. "Thank you for comforting me." - -The cab was driven next to the second lodging which Miss Gwilt -had occupied, in the neighborhood of Tottenham Court Road. - -"Stop here," said the spy, getting out, and shutting his father -into the cab. "I mean to manage this part of the business -myself." - -He knocked at the house door. "I have got a note for Miss Gwilt," -he said, walking into the passage, the moment the door was -opened. - -"She's gone," answered the servant. "She went away last night." - -Bashwood the younger wasted no more words with the servant. He -insisted on seeing the mistress. The mistress confirmed the -announcement of Miss Gwilt's departure on the previous evening. -Where had she gone to? The woman couldn't say. How had she left? -On foot. At what hour? Between nine and ten. What had she done -with her luggage? She had no luggage. Had a gentleman been to see -her on the previous day? Not a soul, gentle or simple, had come -to the house to see Miss Gwilt. - -The father's face, pale and wild, was looking out of the cab -window as the son descended the house steps. "Isn't she there, -Jemmy?" he asked, faintly--"isn't she there?" - -"Hold your tongue," cried the spy, with the native coarseness of -his nature rising to the surface at last. "I'm not at the end of -my inquiries yet." - -He crossed the road, and entered a coffee-shop situated exactly -opposite the house he had just left. - -In the box nearest the window two men were sitting talking -together anxiously. - -"Which of you was on duty yesterday evening, between nine and ten -o'clock?" asked Bashwood the younger, suddenly joining them, and -putting his question in a quick, peremptory whisper. - -"I was, sir," said one of the men, unwillingly. - -"Did you lose sight of the house?--Yes! I see you did." - -"Only for a minute, sir. An infernal blackguard of a soldier came -in--" - -"That will do," said Bashwood the younger. "I know what the -soldier did, and who sent him to do it. She has given us the slip -again. You are the greatest ass living. Consider yourself -dismissed." With those words, and with an oath to emphasize them, -he left the coffee-shop and returned to the cab. - -"She's gone!" cried his father. "Oh, Jemmy, Jemmy, I see it in -your face!" He fell back into his own corner of the cab, with a -faint, wailing cry. "They're married," he moaned to himself; his -hands falling helplessly on his knees; his hat falling unregarded -from his head. "Stop them!" he exclaimed, suddenly rousing -himself, and seizing his son in a frenzy by the collar of the -coat. - -"Go back to the hotel," shouted Bashwood the younger to the -cabman. "Hold your noise!" he added, turning fiercely on his -father. "I want to think." - -The varnish of smoothness was all off him by this time. His -temper was roused. His pride--even such a man has his pride!--was -wounded to the quick. Twice had he matched his wits against a -woman's; and twice the woman had baffled him. - -He got out, on reaching the hotel for the second time, and -privately tried the servants with the offer of money. The result -of the experiment satisfied him that they had, in this instance, -really and truly no information to sell. After a moment's -reflection, he stopped, before leaving the hotel, to ask the way -to the parish church. "The chance may be worth trying," he -thought to himself, as he gave the address to the driver. -"Faster!" he called out, looking first at his watch, and then at -his father. "The minutes are precious this morning; and the old -one is beginning to give in." - -It was true. Still capable of hearing and of understanding, Mr. -Bashwood was past speaking by this time. He clung with both hands -to his son's grudging arm, and let his head fall helplessly on -his son's averted shoulder. - -The parish church stood back from the street, protected by gates -and railings, and surrounded by a space of open ground. Shaking -off his father's hold, Bashwood the younger made straight for the -vestry. The clerk, putting away the books, and the clerk's -assistant, hanging up a surplice, were the only persons in the -room when he entered it and asked leave to look at the marriage -register for the day. - -The clerk gravely opened the book, and stood aside from the desk -on which it lay. - -The day's register comprised three marriages solemnized that -morning; and the first two signatures on the page were "Allan -Armadale" and "Lydia Gwilt!" - -Even the spy--ignorant as he was of the truth, unsuspicious as he -was of the terrible future consequences to which the act of that -morning might lead--even the spy started, when his eye first fell -on the page. It was done! Come what might of it, it was done now. -There, in black and white, was the registered evidence of the -marriage, which was at once a truth in itself, and a lie in the -conclusion to which it led! There--through the fatal similarity -in the names--there, in Midwinter's own signature, was the proof -to persuade everybody that, not Midwinter, but Allan, was the -husband of Miss Gwilt! - -Bashwood the younger closed the book, and returned it to the -clerk. He descended the vestry steps, with his hands thrust -doggedly into his pockets, and with a serious shock inflicted on -his professional self-esteem. - -The beadle met him under the church wall. He considered for a -moment whether it was worth while to spend a shilling in -questioning the man, and decided in the affirmative. If they -could be traced and overtaken, there might be a chance of seeing -the color of Mr. Armadale's money even yet. - -"How long is it," he asked, "since the first couple married here -this morning left the church?" - -"About an hour," said the beadle. - -"How did they go away?" - -The beadle deferred answering that second question until he had -first pocketed his fee. - -"You won't trace them from here, sir," he said, when he had got -his shilling. "They went away on foot." - -"And that is all you know about it?" - -"That, sir, is all I know about it." - -Left by himself, even the Detective of the Private Inquiry Office -paused for a moment before he returned to his father at the gate. -He was roused from his hesitation by the sudden appearance, -within the church inclosure, of the driver of the cab. - -"I'm afraid the old gentleman is going to be taken ill, sir," -said the man. - -Bashwood the younger frowned angrily, and walked back to the cab. -As he opened the door and looked in, his father leaned forward -and confronted him, with lips that moved speechlessly, and with a -white stillness over all the rest of his face. - -"She's done us," said the spy. "They were married here this -morning." - -The old man's body swayed for a moment from one side to the -other. The instant after, his eyes closed and his head fell -forward toward the front seat of the cab. "Drive to the -hospital!" cried his son. "He's in a fit. This is what comes of -putting myself out of my way to please my father," he muttered, -sullenly raising Mr. Bashwood's head, and loosening his cravat. -"A nice morning's work. Upon my soul, a nice morning's work!" - -The hospital was near, and the house surgeon was at his post. - -"Will he come out of it?" asked Bashwood the younger, roughly. - -"Who are _you?_" asked the surgeon, sharply, on his side. - -"I am his son." - -"I shouldn't have thought it," rejoined the surgeon, taking the -restoratives that were handed to him by the nurse, and turning -from the son to the father with an air of relief which he was at -no pains to conceal. "Yes," he added, after a minute or two; " -your father will come out of it this time." - -"When can he be moved away from here?" - -"He can be moved from the hospital in an hour or two." - -The spy laid a card on the table. "I'll come back for him or send -for him," he said. "I suppose I can go now, if I leave my name -and address?" With those words, he put on his hat, and walked -out. - -"He's a brute!" said the nurse. - -"No," said the surgeon, quietly. "He's a man." - - * * * * * * * - -Between nine and ten o'clock that night, Mr. Bashwood awoke in -his bed at the inn in the Borough. He had slept for some hours -since he had been brought back from the hospital; and his mind -and body were now slowly recovering together. - -A light was burning on the bedside table, and a letter lay on it, -waiting for him till he was awake. It was in his son's -handwriting, and it contained these words: - - -"MY DEAR DAD--Having seen you safe out of the hospital, and back -at your hotel, I think I may fairly claim to have done my duty by -you, and may consider myself free to look after my own affairs. -Business will prevent me from seeing you to-night; and I don't -think it at all likely I shall be in your neighborhood to-morrow -morning. My advice to you is to go back to Thorpe Ambrose, and to -stick to your employment in the steward's office. Wherever Mr. -Armadale may be, he must, sooner or later, write to you on -business. I wash my hands of the whole matter, mind, so far as I -am concerned, from this time forth. But if _you_ like to go on -with it, my professional opinion is (though you couldn't hinder -his marriage), you may part him from his wife. - -"Pray take care of yourself. - -"Your affectionate son, - -"JAMES BASHWOOD." - -The letter dropped from the old man's feeble hands. "I wish Jemmy -could have come to see me to-night," he thought. "But it's very -kind of him to advise me, all the same." - -He turned wearily on the pillow, and read the letter a second -time. "Yes," he said, "there's nothing left for me but to go -back. I'm too poor and too old to hunt after them all by myself." -He closed his eyes: the tears trickled slowly over his wrinkled -cheeks. "I've been a trouble to Jemmy," he murmured, faintly; -"I've been a sad trouble, I'm afraid, to poor Jemmy!" In a minute -more his weakness overpowered him, and he fell asleep again. - -The clock of the neighboring church struck. It was ten. As the -bell tolled the hour, the tidal train--with Midwinter and his -wife among the passengers--was speeding nearer and nearer to -Paris. As the bell tolled the hour, the watch on board Allan's -outward-bound yacht had sighted the light-house off the Land's -End, and had set the course of the vessel for Ushant and -Finisterre. - -THE END OF THE THIRD BOOK. - - -BOOK THE FOURTH. - -CHAPTER I. - -MISS GWILT'S DIARY. - -"NAPLES, October 10th.--It is two months to-day since I declared -that I had closed my Diary, never to open it again. - -"Why have I broken my resolution? Why have I gone back to this -secret friend of my wretchedest and wickedest hours? Because I am -more friendless than ever; because I am more lonely than ever, -though my husband is sitting writing in the next room to me. My -misery is a woman's misery, and it _will_ speak--here, rather -than nowhere; to my second self, in this book, if I have no one -else to hear me. - -"How happy I was in the first days that followed our marriage, -and how happy I made _him!_ Only two months have passed, and that -time is a by-gone time already! I try to think of anything I -might have said or done wrongly, on my side--of anything he might -have said or done wrongly, on his; and I can remember nothing -unworthy of my husband, nothing unworthy of myself. I cannot even -lay my finger on the day when the cloud first rose between us. - -"I could bear it, if I loved him less dearly than I do. I could -conquer the misery of our estrangement, if he only showed the -change in him as brutally as other men would show it. - -"But this never has happened--never will happen. It is not in his -nature to inflict suffering on others. Not a hard word, not a -hard look, escapes him. It is only at night, when I hear him -sighing in his sleep, and sometimes when I see him dreaming in -the morning hours, that I know how hopelessly I am losing the -love he once felt for me. He hides, or tries to hide, it in the -day, for my sake. He is all gentleness, all kindness; but his -heart is not on his lips when he kisses me now; his hand tells me -nothing when it touches mine. Day after day the hours that he -gives to his hateful writing grow longer and longer; day after -day he becomes more and more silent in the hours that he gives to -Me. - -"And, with all this, there is nothing that I can complain -of--nothing marked enough to justify me in noticing it. His -disappointment shrinks from all open confession; his resignation -collects itself by such fine degrees that even my watchfulness -fails to see the growth of it. Fifty times a day I feel the -longing in me to throw my arms round his neck, and say: 'For -God's sake, do anything to me, rather than treat me like this!' -and fifty times a day the words are forced back into my heart by -the cruel considerateness of his conduct; which gives me no -excuse for speaking them. I thought I had suffered the sharpest -pain that I could feel when my first husband laid his whip across -my face. I thought I knew the worst that despair could do on the -day when I knew that the other villain, the meaner villain still, -had cast me off. Live and learn. There is sharper pain than I -felt under Waldron's whip; there is bitterer despair than the -despair I knew when Manuel deserted me. - -"Am I too old for him? Surely not yet! Have I lost my beauty? Not -a man passes me in the street but his eyes tell me I am as -handsome as ever. - -"Ah, no! no! the secret lies deeper than _that!_ I have thought -and thought about it till a horrible fancy has taken possession -of me. He has been noble and good in his past life, and I have -been wicked and disgraced. Who can tell what a gap that dreadful -difference may make between us, unknown to him and unknown to me? -It is folly, it is madness; but, when I lie awake by him in the -darkness, I ask myself whether any unconscious disclosure of the -truth escapes me in the close intimacy that now unites us? Is -there an unutterable Something left by the horror of my past -life, which clings invisibly to me still? And is he feeling the -influence of it, sensibly, and yet incomprehensibly to himself? -Oh me! is there no purifying power in such love as mine? Are -there plague-spots of past wickedness on my heart which no -after-repentance can wash out? - -"Who can tell? There is something wrong in our married life--I -can only come back to that. There is some adverse influence that -neither he nor I can trace which is parting us further and -further from each other day by day. Well! I suppose I shall be -hardened in time, and learn to bear it. - -"An open carriage has just driven by my window, with a nicely -dressed lady in it. She had her husband by her side, and her -children on the seat opposite. At the moment when I saw her she -was laughing and talking in high spirits--a sparkling, -light-hearted, happy woman. Ah, my lady, when you were a few -years younger, if you had been left to yourself, and thrown on -the world like me-- - - -"October 11th.--The eleventh day of the month was the day (two -months since) when we were married. He said nothing about it to -me when we woke, nor I to him. But I thought I would make it the -occasion, at breakfast-time, of trying to win him back. - -"I don't think I ever took such pains with my toilet before. I -don't think I ever looked better than I looked when I went -downstairs this morning. He had breakfasted by himself, and I -found a little slip of paper on the table with an apology written -on it. The post to England, he said, went out that day, and his -letter to the newspaper must be finished. In his place I would -have let fifty posts go out rather than breakfast without him. I -went into his room. There he was, immersed body and soul in his -hateful writing! 'Can't you give me a little time this morning?' -I asked. He got up with a start. 'Certainly, if you wish it.' He -never even looked at me as he s aid the words. The very sound of -his voice told me that all his interest was centered in the pen -that he had just laid down. 'I see you are occupied,' I said; 'I -don't wish it.' Before I had closed the door on him he was back -at his desk. I have often heard that the wives of authors have -been for the most part unhappy women. And now I know why. - -"I suppose, as I said yesterday, I shall learn to bear it. (What -_stuff,_ by-the-by, I seem to have written yesterday! How ashamed -I should be if anybody saw it but myself!) I hope the trumpery -newspaper he writes for won't succeed! I hope his rubbishing -letter will be well cut up by some other newspaper as soon as it -gets into print! - -"What am I to do with myself all the morning? I can't go out, -it's raining. If I open the piano, I shall disturb the -industrious journalist who is scribbling in the next room. Oh, -dear, it was lonely enough in my lodging in Thorpe Ambrose, but -how much lonelier it is here! Shall I read? No; books don't -interest me; I hate the whole tribe of authors. I think I shall -look back through these pages, and live my life over again when I -was plotting and planning, and finding a new excitement to occupy -me in every new hour of the day. - -"He might have looked at me, though he _was_ so busy with his -writing.--He might have said, 'How nicely you are dressed this -morning!' He might have remembered--never mind what! All he -remembers is the newspaper. - - -"Twelve o'clock.--I have been reading and thinking; and, thanks -to my Diary, I have got through an hour. - -"What a time it was--what a life it was, at Thorpe Ambrose! I -wonder I kept my senses. It makes my heart beat, it makes my face -flush, only to read about it now! - -"The rain still falls, and the journalist still scribbles. I -don't want to think the thoughts of that past time over again. -And yet, what else can I do? - -"Supposing--I only say supposing--I felt now, as I felt when I -traveled to London with Armadale; and when I saw my way to his -life as plainly as I saw the man himself all through the journey. -. . . ? - -"I'll go and look out of the window. I'll go and count the people -as they pass by. - -"A funeral has gone by, with the penitents in their black hoods, -and the wax torches sputtering in the wet, and the little bell -ringing, and the priests droning their monotonous chant. A -pleasant sight to meet me at the window! I shall go back to my -Diary. - -"Supposing I was not the altered woman I am--I only say, -supposing--how would the Grand Risk that I once thought of -running look now? I have married Midwinter in the name that is -really his own. And by doing that I have taken the first of those -three steps which were once to lead me, through Armadale's life, -to the fortune and the station of Armadale's widow. No matter how -innocent my intentions might have been on the wedding-day--and -they _were_ innocent--this is one of the unalterable results of -the marriage. Well, having taken the first step, then, whether I -would or no, how--supposing I meant to take the second step, -which I don't--how would present circumstances stand toward me? -Would they warn me to draw back, I wonder? or would they -encourage me to go on? - -"It will interest me to calculate the chances; and I can easily -tear the leaf out, and destroy it, if the prospect looks too -encouraging. - -"We are living here (for economy's sake) far away from the -expensive English quarter, in a suburb of the city, on the -Portici side. We have made no traveling acquaintances among our -own country people. Our poverty is against us; Midwinter's -shyness is against us; and (with the women) my personal -appearance is against us. The men from whom my husband gets his -information for the newspaper meet him at the cafe, and never -come here. I discourage his bringing any strangers to see me; -for, though years have passed since I was last at Naples, I -cannot be sure that some of the many people I once knew in this -place may not be living still. The moral of all this is (as the -children's storybooks say), that not a single witness has come to -this house who could declare, if any after-inquiry took place in -England, that Midwinter and I had been living here as man and -wife. So much for present circumstances as they affect Me. - -"Armadale next. Has any unforeseen accident led him to -communicate with Thorpe Ambrose? Has he broken the conditions -which the major imposed on him, and asserted himself in the -character of Miss Milroy's promised husband since I saw him last? - -"Nothing of the sort has taken place. No unforeseen accident has -altered his position--his tempting position--toward myself. I -know all that has happened to him since he left England, through -the letters which he writes to Midwinter, and which Midwinter -shows to me. - -"He has been wrecked, to begin with. His trumpery little yacht -has actually tried to drown him, after all, and has failed! It -happened (as Midwinter warned him it might happen with so small a -vessel) in a sudden storm. They were blown ashore on the coast of -Portugal. The yacht went to pieces, but the lives, and papers, -and so on, were saved. The men have been sent back to Bristol, -with recommendations from their master which have already got -them employment on board an outward-bound ship. And the master -himself is on his way here, after stopping first at Lisbon, and -next at Gibraltar, and trying ineffectually in both places to -supply himself with another vessel. His third attempt is to be -made at Naples, where there is an English yacht 'laid up,' as -they call it, to be had for sale or hire. He has had no occasion -to write home since the wreck; for he took away from Coutts's the -whole of the large sum of money lodged there for him, in circular -notes. And he has felt no inclination to go back to England -himself; for, with Mr. Brock dead, Miss Milroy at school, and -Midwinter here, he has not a living creature in whom he is -interested to welcome him if he returned. To see us, and to see -the new yacht, are the only two present objects he has in view. -Midwinter has been expecting him for a week past, and he may walk -into this very room in which I am writing, at this very moment, -for all I know to the contrary. - -"Tempting circumstances, these--with all the wrongs I have -suffered at his mother's hands and at his, still alive in my -memory; with Miss Milroy confidently waiting to take her place at -the head of his household; with my dream of living happy and -innocent in Midwinter's love dispelled forever, and with nothing -left in its place to help me against myself. I wish it wasn't -raining; I wish I could go out. - -"Perhaps something may happen to prevent Armadale from coming to -Naples? When he last wrote, he was waiting at Gibraltar for an -English steamer in the Mediterranean trade to bring him on here. -He may get tired of waiting before the steamer comes, or he may -hear of a yacht at some other place than this. A little bird -whispers in my ear that it may possibly be the wisest thing he -ever did in his life if he breaks his engagement to join us at -Naples. - -"Shall I tear out the leaf on which all these shocking things -have been written? No. My Diary is so nicely bound--it would be -positive barbarity to tear out a leaf. Let me occupy myself -harmlessly with something else. What shall it be? My -dressing-case--I will put my dressing-case tidy, and polish up -the few little things in it which my misfortunes have still left -in my possession. - -"I have shut up the dressing-case again. The first thing I found -in it was Armadale's shabby present to me on my marriage--the -rubbishing little ruby ring. That irritated me, to begin with. -The second thing that turned up was my bottle of Drops. I caught -myself measuring the doses with my eye, and calculating how many -of them would be enough to take a living creature over the -border-land between sleep and death. Why I should have locked the -dressing-case in a fright, before I had quite completed my -calculation, I don't know; but I did lock it. And here I am back -again at my Diary, with nothing, absolutely nothing, to write -about. Oh, the weary day! the weary day! Will nothing happen to -excite me a little in this horrible place? - - -"October 12th.--Midwinter 's all-important letter to the -newspaper was dispatched by the post last night. I was foolish -enough to suppose that I might be honored by having some of his -spare attention bestowed on me to-day. Nothing of the sort! He -had a restless night, after all his writing, and got up with his -head aching, and his spirits miserably depressed. When he is in -this state, his favorite remedy is to return to his old vagabond -habits, and go roaming away by himself nobody knows where. He -went through the form this morning (knowing I had no riding -habit) of offering to hire a little broken-kneed brute of a pony -for me, in case I wished to accompany him! I preferred remaining -at home. I will have a handsome horse and a handsome habit, or I -won't ride at all. He went away, without attempting to persuade -me to change my mind. I wouldn't have changed it, of course; but -he might have tried to persuade me all the same. - -"I can open the piano in his absence--that is one comfort. And I -am in a fine humor for playing--that is another. There is a -sonata of Beethoven's (I forget the number), which always -suggests to me the agony of lost spirits in a place of torment. -Come, my fingers and thumbs, and take me among the lost spirits -this morning! - - -"October 13th.--Our windows look out on the sea. At noon to-day -we saw a steamer coming in, with the English flag flying. -Midwinter has gone to the port, on the chance that this may be -the vessel from Gibraltar, with Armadale on board. - -"Two o'clock.--It is the vessel from Gibraltar. Armadale has -added one more to the long list of his blunders: he has kept his -engagement to join us at Naples. - -"How will it end _now?_ - -"Who knows? - - -"October 16th.--Two days missed out of my Diary! I can hardly -tell why, unless it is that Armadale irritates me beyond all -endurance. The mere sight of him takes me back to Thorpe Ambrose. -I fancy I must have been afraid of what I might write about him, -in the course of the last two days, if I indulged myself in the -dangerous luxury of opening these pages. - -"This morning I am afraid of nothing, and I take up my pen again -accordingly. - -"Is there any limit, I wonder, to the brutish stupidity of some -men? I thought I had discovered Armadale's limit when I was his -neighbor in Norfolk; but my later experience at Naples shows me -that I was wrong. He is perpetually in and out of this house -(crossing over to us in a boat from the hotel at Santa Lucia, -where he sleeps); and he has exactly two subjects of -conversation--the yacht for sale in the harbor here, and Miss -Milroy. Yes! he selects ME as the _confidante_ of his devoted -attachment to the major's daughter! 'It's so nice to talk to a -woman about it!' That is all the apology he has thought it -necessary to make for appealing to my sympathies--_my_ -sympathies!--on the subject of 'his darling Neelie,' fifty times -a day. He is evidently persuaded (if he thinks about it at all) -that I have forgotten, as completely as he has forgotten, all -that once passed between us when I was first at Thorpe Ambrose. -Such an utter want of the commonest delicacy and the commonest -tact, in a creature who is, to all appearance, possessed of a -skin, and not a hide, and who does, unless my ears deceive me, -talk, and not bray, is really quite incredible when one comes to -think of it. But it is, for all that, quite true. He asked me--he -actually asked me, last night--how many hundreds a year the wife -of a rich man could spend on her dress. 'Don't put it too low,' -the idiot added, with his intolerable grin. 'Neelie shall be one -of the best-dressed women in England when I have married her.' -And this to me, after having had him at my feet, and then losing -him again through Miss Milroy! This to me, with an alpaca gown -on, and a husband whose income must be helped by a newspaper! - -"I had better not dwell on it any longer. I had better think and -write of something else. - -"The yacht. As a relief from hearing about Miss Milroy, I declare -the yacht in the harbor is quite an interesting subject to me! -She (the men call a vessel 'She'; and I suppose, if the women -took an interest in such things, _they_ would call a vessel -'He')--she is a beautiful model; and her 'top-sides' (whatever -they may be) are especially distinguished by being built of -mahogany. But, with these merits, she has the defect, on the -other hand, of being old--which is a sad drawback--and the crew -and the sailing-master have been 'paid off,' and sent home to -England--which is additionally distressing. Still, if a new crew -and a new sailing-master can be picked up here, such a beautiful -creature (with all her drawbacks), is not to be despised. It -might answer to hire her for a cruise, and to see how she -behaves. (If she is of _my_ mind, her behavior will rather -astonish her new master!) The cruise will determine what faults -she has, and what repairs, through the unlucky circumstance of -her age, she really stands in need of. And then it will be time -to settle whether to buy her outright or not. Such is Armadale's -conversation when he is not talking of 'his darling Neelie.' And -Midwinter, who can steal no time from his newspaper work for his -wife, can steal hours for his friend, and can offer them -unreservedly to my irresistible rival, the new yacht. - -"I shall write no more to-day. If so lady-like a person as I am -could feel a tigerish tingling all over her to the very tips of -her fingers, I should suspect myself of being in that condition -at the present moment. But, with _my_ manners and -accomplishments, the thing is, of course, out of the question. We -all know that a lady has no passions. - - -"October 17th.--A letter for Midwinter this morning from the -slave-owners--I mean the newspaper people in London--which has -set him at work again harder than ever. A visit at luncheon-time -and another visit at dinner-time from Armadale. Conversation at -luncheon about the yacht. Conversation at dinner about Miss -Milroy. I have been honored, in regard to that young lady, by an -invitation to go with Armadale to-morrow to the Toledo, and help -him to buy some presents for the beloved object. I didn't fly out -at him--I only made an excuse. Can words express the astonishment -I feel at my own patience? No words can express it. - - -"October 18th.--Armadale came to breakfast this morning, by way -of catching Midwinter before he shuts himself up over his work. - -"Conversation the same as yesterday's conversation at lunch. -Armadale has made his bargain with the agent for hiring the -yacht. The agent (compassionating his total ignorance of the -language) has helped him to find an interpreter, but can't help -him to find a crew. The interpreter is civil and willing, but -doesn't understand the sea. Midwinter's assistance is -indispensable; and Midwinter is requested (and consents!) to work -harder than ever, so as to make time for helping his friend. When -the crew is found, the merits and defects of the vessel are to be -tried by a cruise to Sicily, with Midwinter on board to give his -opinion. Lastly (in case she should feel lonely), the ladies' -cabin is most obligingly placed at the disposal of Midwinter's -wife. All this was settled at the breakfast-table; and it ended -with one of Armadale's neatly-turned compliments, addressed to -myself: 'I mean to take Neelie sailing with me, when we are -married. And you have such good taste, you will be able to tell -me everything the ladies' cabin wants between that time and -this.' - -"If some women bring such men as this into the world, ought other -women to allow them to live? It is a matter of opinion. _I_ think -not. - -"What maddens me is to see, as I do see plainly, that Midwinter -finds in Armadale's company, and in Armadale's new yacht, a -refuge from me. He is always in better spirits when Armadale is -here. He forgets me in Armadale almost as completely as he -forgets me in his work. And I bear it! What a pattern wife, what -an excellent Christian I am! - - -"October 19th.--Nothing new. Yesterday over again. - - -"October 20th.--One piece of news. Midwinter is suffering from -nervous headache; and is working in spite of it, to make time for -his holiday with his friend. - - -"October 21st.--Midwinter is worse. Angry and wild and unappr -oachable, after two bad nights, and two uninterrupted days at his -desk. Under any other circumstances he would take the warning and -leave off. But nothing warns him now. He is still working as hard -as ever, for Armadale's sake. How much longer will my patience -last? - - -"October 22d.--Signs, last night, that Midwinter is taxing his -brains beyond what his brains will bear. When he did fall asleep, -he was frightfully restless; groaning and talking and grinding -his teeth. From some of the words I heard, he seemed at one time -to be dreaming of his life when he was a boy, roaming the country -with the dancing dogs. At another time he was back again with -Armadale, imprisoned all night on the wrecked ship. Toward the -early morning hours he grew quieter. I fell asleep; and, waking -after a short interval, found myself alone. My first glance round -showed me a light burning in Midwinter's dressing-room. I rose -softly, and went to look at him. - -"He was seated in the great, ugly, old-fashioned chair, which I -ordered to be removed into the dressing-room out of the way when -we first came here. His head lay back, and one of his hands hung -listlessly over the arm of the chair. The other hand was on his -lap. I stole a little nearer, and saw that exhaustion had -overpowered him while he was either reading or writing, for there -were books, pens, ink, and paper on the table before him. What -had he got up to do secretly, at that hour of the morning? I -looked closer at the papers on the table. They were all neatly -folded (as he usually keeps them), with one exception; and that -exception, lying open on the rest, was Mr. Brock's letter. - -"I looked round at him again, after making this discovery, and -then noticed for the first time another written paper, lying -under the hand that rested on his lap. There was no moving it -away without the risk of waking him. Part of the open manuscript, -however, was not covered by his hand. I looked at it to see what -he had secretly stolen away to read, besides Mr. Brock's letter; -and made out enough to tell me that it was the Narrative of -Armadale's Dream. - -"That second discovery sent me back at once to my bed--with -something serious to think of. - -"Traveling through France, on our way to this place, Midwinter's -shyness was conquered for once, by a very pleasant man--an Irish -doctor--whom we met in the railway carriage, and who quite -insisted on being friendly and sociable with us all through the -day's journey. Finding that Midwinter was devoting himself to -literary pursuits, our traveling companion warned him not to pass -too many hours together at his desk. 'Your face tells me more -than you think,' the doctor said: 'If you are ever tempted to -overwork your brain, you will feel it sooner than most men. When -you find your nerves playing you strange tricks, don't neglect -the warning--drop your pen.' - -"After my last night's discovery in the dressing-room, it looks -as if Midwinter's nerves were beginning already to justify the -doctor's opinion of them. If one of the tricks they are playing -him is the trick of tormenting him again with his old -superstitious terrors, there will be a change in our lives here -before long. I shall wait curiously to see whether the conviction -that we two are destined to bring fatal danger to Armadale takes -possession of Midwinter's mind once more. If it does, I know what -will happen. He will not stir a step toward helping his friend to -find a crew for the yacht; and he will certainly refuse to sail -with Armadale, or to let me sail with him, on the trial cruise. - - -"October 23d.--Mr. Brock's letter has, apparently, not lost its -influence yet. Midwinter is working again to-day, and is as -anxious as ever for the holiday-time that he is to pass with his -friend. - -"Two o'clock.--Armadale here as usual; eager to know when -Midwinter will be at his service. No definite answer to be given -to the question yet, seeing that it all depends on Midwinter's -capacity to continue at his desk. Armadale sat down disappointed; -he yawned, and put his great clumsy hands in his pockets. I took -up a book. The brute didn't understand that I wanted to be left -alone; he began again on the unendurable subject of Miss Milroy, -and of all the fine things she was to have when he married her. -Her own riding-horse; her own pony-carriage; her own beautiful -little sitting-room upstairs at the great house, and so on. All -that I might have had once Miss Milroy is to have now--_if I let -her._ - - -"Six o'clock.--More of the everlasting Armadale! Half an hour -since, Midwinter came in from his writing, giddy and exhausted. I -had been pining all day for a little music, and I knew they were -giving 'Norma' at the theater here. It struck me that an hour or -two at the opera might do Midwinter good, as well as me; and I -said: 'Why not take a box at the San Carlo to-night?' He -answered, in a dull, uninterested manner, that he was not rich -enough to take a box. Armadale was present, and flourished his -well-filled purse in his usual insufferable way. '_I'm_ rich -enough, old boy, and it comes to the same thing.' With those -words he took up his hat, and trampled out on his great -elephant's feet to get the box. I looked after him from the -window as he went down the street. 'Your widow, with her twelve -hundred a year,' I thought to myself, 'might take a box at the -San Carlo whenever she pleased, without being beholden to -anybody.' The empty-headed wretch whistled as he went his way to -the theater, and tossed his loose silver magnificently to every -beggar who ran after him. - - * * * * * - -"Midnight.--I am alone again at last. Have I nerve enough to -write the history of this terrible evening, just as it has -passed? I have nerve enough, at any rate, to turn to a new leaf, -and try. - - -CHAPTER II. - -THE DIARY CONTINUED. - - -"WE went to the San Carlo. Armadale's stupidity showed itself, -even in such a simple matter as taking a box. He had confounded -an opera with a play, and had chosen a box close to the stage, -with the idea that one's chief object at a musical performance is -to see the faces of the singers as plainly as possible! -Fortunately for our ears, Bellini's lovely melodies are, for the -most part, tenderly and delicately accompanied--or the orchestra -might have deafened us. - -"I sat back in the box at first, well out of sight; for it was -impossible to be sure that some of my old friends of former days -at Naples might not be in the theater. But the sweet music -gradually tempted me out of my seclusion. I was so charmed and -interested that I leaned forward without knowing it, and looked -at the stage. - -"I was made aware of my own imprudence by a discovery which, for -the moment, literally chilled my blood. One of the singers, among -the chorus of Druids, was looking at me while he sang with the -rest. His head was disguised in the long white hair, and the -lower part of his face was completely covered with the flowing -white beard proper to the character. But the eyes with which he -looked at me were the eyes of the one man on earth whom I have -most reason to dread ever seeing again--Manuel! - -"If it had not been for my smelling-bottle, I believe I should -have lost my senses. As it was, I drew back again into the -shadow. Even Armadale noticed the sudden change in me: he, as -well as Midwinter, asked if I was ill. I said I felt the heat, -but hoped I should be better presently; and then leaned back in -the box, and tried to rally my courage. I succeeded in recovering -self-possession enough to be able to look again at the stage -(without showing myself) the next time the chorus appeared. There -was the man again! But to my infinite relief he never looked -toward our box a second time. This welcome indifference, on his -part, helped to satisfy me that I had seen an extraordinary -accidental resemblance, and nothing more. I still hold to this -conclusion, after having had leisure to think; but my mind would -be more completely at ease than it is if I had seen the rest of -the man's face without the stage disguises that hid it from all -investigation. - -"When the curtain fell on the first act, there was a tiresome -ballet to be performed (according to the absurd Italian cust om), -before the opera went on. Though I had got over my first fright, -I had been far too seriously startled to feel comfortable in the -theater. I dreaded all sorts of impossible accidents; and when -Midwinter and Armadale put the question to me, I told them I was -not well enough to stay through the rest of the performance. - -"At the door of the theater Armadale proposed to say good-night. -But Midwinter--evidently dreading the evening with _me_--asked -him to come back to supper, if I had no objection. I said the -necessary words, and we all three returned together to this -house. - -"Ten minutes' quiet in my own room (assisted by a little dose of -eau-de-cologne and water) restored me to myself. I joined the men -at the supper-table. They received my apologies for taking them -away from the opera, with the complimentary assurance that I had -not cost either of them the slightest sacrifice of his own -pleasure. Midwinter declared that he was too completely worn out -to care for anything but the two great blessings, unattainable at -the theater, of quiet and fresh air. Armadale said--with an -Englishman's exasperating pride in his own stupidity wherever a -matter of art is concerned--that he couldn't make head or tail of -the performance. The principal disappointment, he was good enough -to add, was mine, for I evidently understood foreign music, and -enjoyed it. Ladies generally did. His darling little Neelie-- - -"I was in no humor to be persecuted with his 'Darling Neelie' -after what I had gone through at the theater. It might have been -the irritated state of my nerves, or it might have been the -eau-de-cologne flying to my head, but the bare mention of the -girl seemed to set me in a flame. I tried to turn Armadale's -attention in the direction of the supper-table. He was much -obliged, but he had no appetite for more. I offered him wine -next, the wine of the country, which is all that our poverty -allows us to place on the table. He was much obliged again. The -foreign wine was very little more to his taste than the foreign -music; but he would take some because I asked him; and he would -drink my health in the old-fashioned way, with his best wishes -for the happy time when we should all meet again at Thorpe -Ambrose, and when there would be a mistress to welcome me at the -great house. - -"Was he mad to persist in this way? No; his face answered for -him. He was under the impression that he was making himself -particularly agreeable to me. - -"I looked at Midwinter. He might have seen some reason for -interfering to change the conversation, if he had looked at me in -return. But he sat silent in his chair, irritable and overworked, -with his eyes on the ground, thinking. - -"I got up and went to the window. Still impenetrable to a sense -of his own clumsiness, Armadale followed me. If I had been strong -enough to toss him out of the window into the sea, I should -certainly have done it at that moment. Not being strong enough, I -looked steadily at the view over the bay, and gave him a hint, -the broadest and rudest I could think of, to go. - -" 'A lovely night for a walk,' I said, 'if you are tempted to -walk back to the hotel.' - -"I doubt if he heard me. At any rate, I produced no sort of -effect on him. He stood staring sentimentally at the moonlight; -and--there is really no other word to express it--_blew_ a sigh. -I felt a presentiment of what was coming, unless I stopped his -mouth by speaking first. - -" 'With all your fondness for England,' I said, 'you must own -that we have no such moonlight as that at home.' - -"He looked at me vacantly, and blew another sigh. - -" 'I wonder whether it is fine to-night in England as it is -here?' he said. 'I wonder whether my dear little girl at home is -looking at the moonlight, and thinking of Me?' - -"I could endure it no longer. I flew out at him at last. - -" 'Good heavens, Mr. Armadale!' I exclaimed, 'is there only one -subject worth mentioning, in the narrow little world you live in? -I'm sick to death of Miss Milroy. Do pray talk of something -else?' - -"His great, broad, stupid face colored up to the roots of his -hideous yellow hair. 'I beg your pardon,' he stammered, with a -kind of sulky surprise. 'I didn't suppose--' He stopped -confusedly, and looked from me to Midwinter. I understood what -the look meant. 'I didn't suppose she could be jealous of Miss -Milroy after marrying _you!_' That is what he would have said to -Midwinter, if I had left them alone together in the room! - -"As it was, Midwinter had heard us. Before I could speak -again--before Armadale could add another word--he finished his -friend's uncompleted sentence, in a tone that I now heard, and -with a look that I now saw, for the first time. - -" 'You didn't suppose, Allan,' he said, 'that a lady's temper -could be so easily provoked.' - -"The first bitter word of irony, the first hard look of contempt, -I had ever had from him! And Armadale the cause of it! - -"My anger suddenly left me. Something came in its place which -steadied me in an instant, and took me silently out of the room. - -"I sat down alone in the bedroom. I had a few minutes of thought -with myself, which I don't choose to put into words, even in -these secret pages. I got up, and unlocked--never mind what. I -went round to Midwinter's side of the bed, and took--no matter -what I took. The last thing I did before I left the room was to -look at my watch. It was half-past ten, Armadale's usual time for -leaving us. I went back at once and joined the two men again. - -"I approached Armadale good-humoredly, and said to him: - - -"No! On second thoughts. I won't put down what I said to him, or -what I did afterward. I'm sick of Armadale! he turns up at every -second word I write. I shall pass over what happened in the -course of the next hour--the hour between half-past ten and -half-past eleven--and take up my story again at the time when -Armadale had left us. Can I tell what took place, as soon as our -visitor's back was turned, between Midwinter and me in our own -room? Why not pass over what happened, in that case as well as in -the other? Why agitate myself by writing it down? I don't know! -Why do I keep a diary at all? Why did the clever thief the other -day (in the English newspaper) keep the very thing to convict him -in the shape of a record of everything he stole? Why are we not -perfectly reasonable in all that we do? Why am I not always on my -guard and never inconsistent with myself, like a wicked character -in a novel? Why? why? why? - -"I don't care why! I must write down what happened between -Midwinter and me to-night, _because_ I must. There's a reason -that nobody can answer--myself included. - - * * * * * * * - -"It was half-past eleven. Armadale had gone. I had put on my -dressing-gown, and had just sat down to arrange my hair for the -night, when I was surprised by a knock at the door, and Midwinter -came in. - -"He was frightfully pale. His eyes looked at me with a terrible -despair in them. He never answered when I expressed my surprise -at his coming in so much sooner than usual; he wouldn't even tell -me, when I asked the question, if he was ill. Pointing -peremptorily to the chair from which I had risen on his entering -the room, he told me to sit down again; and then, after a moment, -added these words: 'I have something serious to say to you.' - -"I thought of what I had done--or, no, of what I had tried to -do--in that interval between half-past ten and half-past eleven, -which I have left unnoticed in my diary--and the deadly sickness -of terror, which I never felt at the time, came upon me now. I -sat down again, as I had been told, without speaking to -Midwinter, and without looking at him. - -"He took a turn up and down the room, and then came and stood -over me. - -" 'If Allan comes here to-morrow,' he began, 'and if you see -him--' - -"His voice faltered, and he said no more. There was some dreadful -grief at his heart that was trying to master him. But there are -times when his will is a will of iron. He took another turn in -the room, and crushed it down. He came back, and stood over me -again. - -" 'When Allan comes here to-morrow,' he resumed, 'let him come -into my room, if he wants to see me. I shall tell him that I find -it impossi ble to finish the work I now have on hand as soon as I -had hoped, and that he must, therefore, arrange to find a crew -for the yacht without any assistance on my part. If he comes, in -his disappointment, to appeal to you, give him no hope of my -being free in time to help him if he waits. Encourage him to take -the best assistance he can get from strangers, and to set about -manning the yacht without any further delay. The more occupation -he has to keep him away from this house, and the less you -encourage him to stay here if he does come, the better I shall be -pleased. Don't forget that, and don't forget one last direction -which I have now to give you. When the vessel is ready for sea, -and when Allan invites us to sail with him, it is my wish that -you should positively decline to go. He will try to make you -change your mind; for I shall, of course, decline, on my side, to -leave you in this strange house, and in this foreign country, by -yourself. No matter what he says, let nothing persuade you to -alter your decision. Refuse, positively and finally! Refuse, I -insist on it, to set your foot on the new yacht!' - -"He ended quietly and firmly, with no faltering in his voice, and -no signs of hesitation or relenting in his face. The sense of -surprise which I might otherwise have felt at the strange words -he had addressed to me was lost in the sense of relief that they -brought to my mind. The dread of _those other words_ that I had -expected to hear from him left me as suddenly as it had come. I -could look at him, I could speak to him once more. - -" 'You may depend,' I answered, 'on my doing exactly what you -order me to do. Must I obey you blindly? Or may I know your -reason for the extraordinary directions you have just given to -me?' - -"His, face darkened, and he sat down on the other side of my -dressing-table, with a heavy, hopeless sigh. - -" 'You may know the reason,' he said, 'if you wish it.' He waited -a little, and considered. 'You have a right to know the reason,' -he resumed, 'for you yourself are concerned in it.' He waited a -little again, and again went on. 'I can only explain the strange -request I have just made to you in one way,' be said. 'I must ask -you to recall what happened in the next room, before Allan left -us to-night.' - -"He looked at me with a strange mixture of expressions in his -face. At one moment I thought he felt pity for me. At another, it -seemed more like horror of me. I began to feel frightened again; -I waited for his next words in silence. - -" 'I know that I have been working too hard lately,' he went on, -'and that my nerves are sadly shaken. It is possible, in the -state I am in now, that I may have unconsciously misinterpreted, -or distorted, the circumstances that really took place. You will -do me a favor if you will test my recollection of what has -happened by your own. If my fancy has exaggerated anything, if my -memory is playing me false anywhere, I entreat you to stop me, -and tell me of it.' - -"I commanded myself sufficiently to ask what the circumstances -were to which he referred, and in what way I was personally -concerned in them. - -" 'You were personally concerned in them in this way,' he -answered. 'The circumstances to which I refer began with your -speaking to Allan about Miss Milroy, in what I thought a very -inconsiderate and very impatient manner. I am afraid I spoke just -as petulantly on my side, and I beg your pardon for what I said -to you in the irritation of the moment. You left the room. After -a short absence, you came back again, and made a perfectly proper -apology to Allan, which he received with his usual kindness and -sweetness of temper. While this went on, you and he were both -standing by the supper-table; and Allan resumed some conversation -which had already passed between you about the Neapolitan wine. -He said he thought he should learn to like it in time, and he -asked leave to take another glass of the wine we had on the -table. Am I right so far?' - -"The words almost died on my lips; but I forced them out, and -answered him that he was right so far. - -" 'You took the flask out of Allan's hand,' he proceeded. 'You -said to him, good-humoredly, "You know you don't really like the -wine, Mr. Armadale. Let me make you something which may be more -to your taste. I have a recipe of my own for lemonade. Will you -favor me by trying it?" In those words, you made your proposal to -him, and he accepted it. Did he also ask leave to look on, and -learn how the lemonade was made? and did you tell him that he -would only confuse you, and that you would give him the recipe in -writing, if he wanted it?' - -"This time the words did really die on my lips. I could only bow -my head, and answer 'Yes' mutely in that way. Midwinter went on. - -" 'Allan laughed, and went to the window to look out at the Bay, -and I went with him. After a while Allan remarked, jocosely, that -the mere sound of the liquids you were pouring out made him -thirsty. When he said this, I turned round from the window. I -approached you, and said the lemonade took a long time to make. -You touched me, as I was walking away again, and handed me the -tumbler filled to the brim. At the same time, Allan turned round -from the window; and I, in my turn, handed the tumbler to -_him._--Is there any mistake so far?' - -"The quick throbbing of my heart almost choked me. I could just -shake my head--I could do no more. - -" 'I saw Allan raise the tumbler to his lips.--Did _you_ see it? -I saw his face turn white in an instant.--Did _you?_ I saw the -glass fall from his hand on the floor. I saw him stagger, and -caught him before he fell. Are these things true? For God's sake, -search your memory, and tell me--are these things true?' - -"The throbbing at my heart seemed, for one breathless instant, to -stop. The next moment something fiery, something maddening, flew -through me. I started to my feet, with my temper in a flame, -reckless of all consequences, desperate enough to say anything. - -" 'Your questions are an insult! Your looks are an insult!' I -burst out. '_Do you think I tried to poison him?_' - -"The words rushed out of my lips in spite of me. They were the -last words under heaven that any woman, in such a situation as -mine, ought to have spoken. And yet I spoke them! - -"He rose in alarm and gave me my smelling-bottle. 'Hush! hush!' -he said. 'You, too, are overwrought--you, too, are overexcited by -all that has happened to-night. You are talking wildly and -shockingly. Good God! how can you have so utterly misunderstood -me? Compose yourself--pray, compose yourself.' - -"He might as well have told a wild animal to compose herself. -Having been mad enough to say the words, I was mad enough next to -return to the subject of the lemonade, in spite of his entreaties -to me to be silent. - -" 'I told you what I had put in the glass, the moment Mr. -Armadale fainted,' I went on; insisting furiously on defending -myself, when no attack was made on me. 'I told you I had taken -the flask of brandy which you kept at your bedside, and mixed -some of it with the lemonade. How could I know that he had a -nervous horror of the smell and taste of brandy? Didn't he say to -me himself, when he came to his senses, It's my fault; I ought to -have warned you to put no brandy in it? Didn't he remind you -afterward of the time when you and he were in the Isle of Man -together, and when the doctor there innocently made the same -mistake with him that I made to-night?' - -["I laid a great stress on my innocence--and with some reason -too. Whatever else I may be, I pride myself on not being a -hypocrite. I _was_ innocent--so far as the brandy was concerned. -I had put it into the lemonade, in pure ignorance of Armadale's -nervous peculiarity, to disguise the taste of--never mind what! -Another of the things I pride myself on is that I never wander -from my subject. What Midwinter said next is what I ought to be -writing about now.] - -"He looked at me for a moment, as if he thought I had taken leave -of my senses. Then he came round to my side of the table and -stood over me again. - -" 'If nothing else will satisfy you that you are entirely -misinterpreting my motives,' he said, 'and that I haven't an idea -of blaming _you_ in the matter--read this.' - -" He took a paper from the breast-pocket of his coat, and spread -it open under my eyes. It was the Narrative of Armadale's Dream. - -"In an instant the whole weight on my mind was lifted off it. I -felt mistress of myself again--I understood him at last. - -" 'Do you know what this is?' he asked. 'Do you remember what I -said to you at Thorpe Ambrose about Allan's Dream? I told you -then that two out of the three Visions had already come true. I -tell you now that the third Vision has been fulfilled in this -house to-night.' - -"He turned over the leaves of the manuscript, and pointed to the -lines that he wished me to read. - -"I read these, or nearly read these words, from the Narrative of -the Dream, as Midwinter had taken it down from Armadale's own -lips: - - -" 'The darkness opened for the third time, and showed me the -Shadow of the Man and the Shadow of the Woman together. The -Man-Shade was the nearest; the Woman-Shadow stood back. From -where she slood, I heard a sound like the pouring out of a liquid -softly. I saw her touch the Shadow of the Man with one hand, and -give him a glass with the other. He took the glass and handed it -to me. At the moment when I put it to my lips, a deadly faintness -overcame me. When I recovered my senses again, the Shadows had -vanished, and the Vision was at an end.' - -"For the moment, I was as completely staggered by this -extraordinary coincidence as Midwinter himself. - -"He put one hand on the open narrative and laid the other heavily -on my arm. - -" '_Now_ do you understand my motive in coming here?' he asked. -'_Now_ do you see that the last hope I had to cling to was the -hope that your memory of the night's events might prove my memory -to be wrong? _Now_ do you know why I won't help Allan? Why I -won't sail with him? Why I am plotting and lying, and making you -plot and lie too, to keep my best and dearest friend out of the -house?' - -" 'Have you forgotten Mr. Brock's letter?' I asked. - -"He struck his hand passionately on the open manuscript. 'If Mr. -Brook had lived to see what we have seen to-night he would have -felt what I feel, he would have said what I say!' His voice sank -mysteriously, and his great black eyes glittered at me as he made -that answer. 'Thrice the Shadows of the Vision warned Allan in -his sleep,' he went on; 'and thrice those Shadows have been -embodied in the after-time by You and by Me! You, and no other, -stood in the Woman's place at the pool. I, and no other, stood in -the Man's place at the window. And you and I together, when the -last Vision showed the Shadows together, stand in the Man's place -and the Woman's place still! For Ê_this,_ the miserable day -dawned when you and I first met. For _this,_ your influence drew -me to you, when my better angel warned me to fly the sight of -your face. There is a curse on our lives! there is a fatality in -our footsteps! Allan's future depends on his separation from us -at once and forever. Drive him from the place we live in, and the -air we breathe. Force him among strangers--the worst and -wickedest of them will be more harmless, to him than we are! Let -his yacht sail, though he goes on his knees to ask us, without -You and without Me; and let him know how I loved him in another -world than this, where the wicked cease from troubling, and the -weary are at rest!' - -"His grief conquered him; his voice broke into a sob when he -spoke those last words. He took the Narrative of the Dream from -the table, and left me as abruptly as he had come in. - -"As I heard his door locked between us, my mind went back to what -he had said to me about myself. In remembering 'the miserable -day' when we first saw each other, and 'the better angel' that -had warned him to 'fly the sight of my face,' I forgot all else. -It doesn't matter what I felt--I wouldn't own it, even if I had a -friend to speak to. Who cares for the misery of such a woman as I -am? who believes in it? Besides, he spoke under the influence of -a mad superstition that has got possession of him again. There is -every excuse for _him_--there is no excuse for _me._ If I can't -help being fond of him through it all, I must take the -consequences and suffer. I deserve to suffer; I deserve neither -love nor pity from anybody.--Good heavens, what a fool I am! And -how unnatural all this would be, if it was written in a book! - -"It has struck one. I can hear Midwinter still, pacing to and fro -in his room. - -"He is thinking, I suppose? Well! I can think too. What am I to -do next? I shall wait and see. Events take odd turns sometimes; -and events may justify the fatalism of the amiable man in the -next room, who curses the day when he first saw my face. He may -live to curse it for other reasons than he has now. If I am the -Woman pointed at in the Dream, there will be another temptation -put in my way before long; and there will be no brandy in -Armadale's lemonade if I mix it for him a second time. - - -"October 24th.--Barely twelve hours have passed since I wrote my -yesterday's entry; and that other temptation has come, tried, -amid conquered me already! - -"This time there was no alternative. Instant exposure and ruin -stared me in the face: I had no choice but to yield in my own -defense. In plainer words still, it was no accidental resemblance -that startled me at the theater last night. The chorus-singer at -the opera was Manuel himself! - -"Not ten minutes after Midwinter had left the sitting-room for -his study, the woman of the house came in with a dirty little -three-cornered note in her hand. One look at the writing on the -address was enough. He had recognized me in the box; and the -ballet between the acts of the opera had given him time to trace -me home. I drew that plain conclusion in the moment that elapsed -before I opened the letter. It informed me, in two lines, that he -was waiting in a by-street leading to the beach; and that, if I -failed to make my appearance in ten minutes, he should interpret -my absence as my invitation to him to call at the house. - -"What I went through yesterday must have hardened me, I suppose. -At any rate, after reading the letter, I felt more like the woman -I once was than I have felt for months past. I put on my bonnet -and went downstairs, and left the house as if nothing had -happened. - -"He was waiting for me at the entrance to the street. - -"In the instant when we stood face to face, all my wretched life -with him came back to me. I thought of my trust that he had -betrayed; I thought of the cruel mockery of a marriage that he -had practiced on me, when he knew that he had a wife living; I -thought of the time when I had felt despair enough at his -desertion of me to attempt my own life. When I recalled all this, -and when the comparison between Midwinter and the mean, miserable -villain whom I had once believed in forced itself into my mind, I -knew for the first time what a woman feels when every atom of -respect for herself has left her. If he had personally insulted -me at that moment, I believe I should have submitted to it. - -"But he had no idea of insulting me, in the more brutal meaning -of the word. He had me at his mercy, and his way of making me -feel it was to behave with an elaborate mockery of penitence and -respect. I let him speak as he pleased, without interrupting him, -without looking at him a second time, without even allowing my -dress to touch him, as we walked together toward the quieter part -of the beach. I had noticed the wretched state of his clothes, -and the greedy glitter in his eyes, in my first look at him. And -I knew it would end--as it did end--in a demand on me for money. - -"Yes! After taking from me the last farthing I possessed of my -own, and the last farthing I could extort for him from my old -mistress, he turned on me as we stood by the margin of the sea, -and asked if I could reconcile it to my conscience to let him be -wearing such a coat as he then had on his back, and earning his -miserable living as a chorus-singer at the opera! - -"My disgust, rather than my indignation, roused me into speaking -to him at last. - -" 'You want money,' I said. 'Suppose I am too poor to give it to -you?' - -" 'In that case,' he replied, 'I shall be forced to remember that -you are a treasure in yourself. And I shall be under the p ainful -necessity of pressing my claim to you on the attention of one of -those two gentlemen whom I saw with you at the opera--the -gentleman, of course, who is now honored by your preference, and -who lives provisionally in the light of your smiles.' - -"I made him no answer, for I had no answer to give. Disputing his -right to claim me from anybody would have been a mere waste of -words. He knew as well as I did that he had not the shadow of a -claim on me. But the mere attempt to raise it would, as he was -well aware, lead necessarily to the exposure of my whole past -life. - -"Still keeping silence, I looked out over the sea. I don't know -why, except that I instinctively looked anywhere rather than look -at _him._ - -"A little sailing-boat was approaching the shore. The man -steering was hidden from me by the sail; but the boat was so near -that I thought I recognized the flag on the mast. I looked at my -watch. Yes! It was Armadale coming over from Santa Lucia at his -usual time, to visit us in his usual way. - -"Before I had put my watch back in my belt, the means of -extricating myself from the frightful position I was placed in -showed themselves to me as plainly as I see them now. - -"I turned and led the way to the higher part of the beach, where -some fishing-boats were drawn up which completely screened us -from the view of any one landing on the shore below. Seeing -probably that I had a purpose of some kind, Manuel followed me -without uttering a word. As soon as we were safely under the -shelter of the boats, I forced myself, in my own defense, to look -at him again. - -" 'What should you say,' I asked, 'if I was rich instead of poor? -What should you say if I could afford to give you a hundred -pounds?' - -"He started. I saw plainly that he had not expected so much as -half the sum I had mentioned. It is needless to add that his -tongue lied, while his face spoke the truth, and that when he -replied to me the answer was, 'Nothing like enough.' - -" 'Suppose,' I went on, without taking any notice of what he had -said, 'that I could show you a way of helping yourself to twice -as much --three times as much--five times as much as a hundred -pounds, are you bold enough to put out your hand and take it?' - -"The greedy glitter came into his eyes once more. His voice -dropped low, in breathless expectation of my next words. - -" 'Who is the person?' he asked. 'And what is the risk?' - -"I answered him at once, in the plainest terms. I threw Armadale -to him, as I might have thrown a piece of meat to a wild beast -who was pursuing me. - -" 'The person is a rich young Englishman,' I said. 'He has just -hired the yacht called the _Dorothea,_ in the harbor here; and he -stands in need of a sailing-master and a crew. You were once an -officer in the Spanish navy--you speak English and Italian -perfectly--you are thoroughly well acquainted with Naples and all -that belongs to it. The rich young Englishman is ignorant of the -language, and the interpreter who assists him knows nothing of -the sea. He is at his wits' end for want of useful help in this -strange place; he has no more knowledge of the world than that -child who is digging holes with a stick there in the sand; and he -carries all his money with him in circular notes. So much for the -person. As for the risk, estimate it for yourself.' - -"The greedy glitter in his eyes grew brighter and brighter with -every word I said. He was plainly ready to face the risk before I -had done speaking. - -" 'When can I see the Englishman?' he asked, eagerly. - -"I moved to the seaward end of the fishing-boat, and saw that -Armadale was at that moment disembarking on the shore. - -" 'You can see him now,' I answered, and pointed to the place. - -"After a long look at Armadale walking carelessly up the slope of -the beach, Manuel drew back again under the shelter of the boat. -He waited a moment, considering something carefully with himself, -and put another question to me, in a whisper this time. - -" 'When the vessel is manned,' he said, 'and the Englishman sails -from Naples, how many friends sail with him?' - -" 'He has but two friends here,' I replied; 'that other gentleman -whom you saw with me at the opera, and myself. He will invite us -both to sail with him; and when the time comes, we shall both -refuse.' - -" 'Do you answer for that?' - -" 'I answer for it positively.' - -"He walked a few steps away, and stood with his face hidden from -me, thinking again. All I could see was that he took off his hat -and passed his handkerchief over his forehead. All I could hear -was that he talked to himself excitedly in his own language. - -"There was a change in him when he came back. His face had turned -to a livid yellow, and his eyes looked at me with a hideous -distrust. - -" 'One last question,' he said, and suddenly came closer to me, -suddenly spoke with a marked emphasis on his next words: '_What -is your interest in this?_' - -"I started back from him. The question reminded me that I _had_ -an interest in the matter, which was entirely unconnected with -the interest of keeping Manuel and Midwinter apart. Thus far I -had only remembered that Midwinter's fatalism had smoothed the -way for me, by abandoning Armadale beforehand to any stranger who -might come forward to help him. Thus far the sole object I had -kept in view was to protect myself, by the sacrifice of Armadale, -from the exposure that threatened me. I tell no lies to my Diary. -I don't affect to have felt a moment's consideration for the -interests of Armadale's purse or the safety of Armadale's life. I -hated him too savagely to care what pitfalls my tongue might be -the means of opening under his feet. But I certainly did not see -(until that last question was put to me) that, in serving his own -designs, Manuel might--if he dared go all lengths for the -money--be serving my designs too. The one overpowering anxiety to -protect myself from exposure before Midwinter had (I suppose) -filled all my mind, to the exclusion of everything else. - -"Finding that I made no reply for the moment, Manuel reiterated -his question, putting it in a new form. - -" 'You have cast your Englishman at me,' he said, 'like the sop -to Cerberus. Would you have been quite so ready to do that if you -had not had a motive of your own? I repeat my question. You have -an interest in this--what is it?' - -" 'I have two interests,' I answered. 'The interest of forcing -you to respect my position here, and the interest of ridding -myself of the sight of you at once and forever!' I spoke with a -boldness he had not yet heard from me. The sense that I was -making the villain an instrument in my hands, and forcing him to -help my purpose blindly, while he was helping his own, roused my -spirits, and made me feel like myself again. - -"He laughed. 'Strong language, on certain occasions, is a lady's -privilege,' he said. 'You may, or may not, rid yourself of the -sight of me, at once and forever. We will leave that question to -be settled in the future. But your other interest in this matter -puzzles me. You have told me all I need know about the Englishman -and his yacht, and you have made no conditions before you opened -your lips. Pray, how are you to force me, as you say, to respect -your position here?' - -" 'I will tell you how,' I rejoined. 'You shall hear my -conditions first. I insist on your leaving me in five minutes -more. I insist on your never again coming near the house where I -live; and I forbid your attempting to communicate in any way -either with me or with that other gentleman whom you saw with me -at the theater--' - -" 'And suppose I say no?' he interposed. 'In that case, what will -you do?' - -" 'In that case,' I answered, 'I shall say two words in private -to the rich young Englishman, and you will find yourself back -again among the chorus at the opera.' - -" 'You are a bold woman to take it for granted that I have my -designs on the Englishman already, and that I am certain to -succeed in them. How do you know--?' - -" 'I know _you,_' I said. 'And that is enough.' - -"There was a moment's silence between us. He looked at me, and I -looked at him. We understood each other. - -"He was the first to speak. The villainous smile died out of his -face, and his voice dropped again distrustfully to its lowest -tones. - -" 'I accept your terms,' he said. 'As long as your lips are -closed, my lips shall be closed too--except in the event of my -finding that you have deceived me; in which case the bargain is -at an end, and you will see me again. I shall present myself to -the Englishman to-morrow, with the necessary credentials to -establish me in his confidence. Tell me his name?' - -"I told it. - -" 'Give me his address?' - -"I gave it, and turned to leave him. Before I had stepped out of -the shelter of the boats, I heard him behind me again. - -" 'One last word,' he said. 'Accidents sometimes happen at sea. -Have you interest enough in the Englishman--if an accident -happens in his case--to wish to know what has become of him?' - -"I stopped, and considered on my side. I had plainly failed to -persuade him that I had no secret to serve in placing Armadale's -money and (as a probable consequence) Armadale's life at his -mercy. And it was now equally clear that he was cunningly -attempting to associate himself with my private objects (whatever -they might be) by opening a means of communication between us in -the future. There could be no hesitation about how to answer him -under such circumstances as these. If the 'accident' at which he -hinted did really happen to Armadale, I stood in no need of -Manuel's intervention to give me the intelligence of it. An easy -search through the obituary columns of the English papers would -tell me the news--with the great additional advantage that the -papers might be relied on, in such a matter as this, to tell the -truth. I formally thanked Manuel, and declined to accept his -proposal. 'Having no interest in the Englishman,' I said, 'I have -no wish whatever to know what becomes of him.' - -"He looked at me for a moment with steady attention, and with an -interest in me which he had not shown yet. - -" 'What the game you are playing may be,' he rejoined, speaking -slowly and significantly, 'I don't pretend to know. But I venture -on a prophecy, nevertheless--_you will win it!_ If we ever meet -again, remember I said that.' He took off his hat, and bowed to -me gravely. 'Go your way, madam. And leave me to go mine!' - -"With those words, he released me from the sight of him. I waited -a minute alone, to recover myself in the air, and then returned -to the house. - -"The first object that met my eyes, on entering the sitting-room, -was--Armadale himself! - -"He was waiting on the chance of seeing me, to beg that I would -exert my influence with his friend. I made the needful inquiry as -to what he meant, and found that Midwinter had spoken as he had -warned me he would speak when he and Armadale next met. He had -announced that he was unable to finish his work for the newspaper -as soon as he had hoped; and he had advised Armadale to find a -crew for the yacht without waiting for any assistance on his -part. - -"All that it was necessary for me to do, on hearing this, was to -perform the promise I had made to Midwinter, when he gave me my -directions how to act in the matter. Armadale's vexation on -finding me resolved not to interfere expressed itself in the form -of all others that is most personally offensive to me. He -declined to believe my reiterated assurances that I possessed no -influence to exert in his favor. 'If I was married to Neelie,' he -said, 'she could do anything she liked with me; and I am sure, -when you choose, you can do anything you like with Midwinter.' If -the infatuated fool had actually tried to stifle the last faint -struggles of remorse and pity left stirring in my heart, he could -have said nothing more fatally to the purpose than this! I gave -him a look which effectually silenced him, so far as I was -concerned. He went out of the room grumbling and growling to -himself. 'It's all very well to talk about manning the yacht. I -don't speak a word of their gibberish here; and the interpreter -thinks a fisherman and a sailor means the same thing. Hang me if -I know what to do with the vessel, now I have got her!' - -"He will probably know by to-morrow. And if he only comes here as -usual, I shall know too! - - -"October 25th.--Ten at night.--Manuel has got him! - -"He has just left us, after staying here more than an hour, and -talking the whole time of nothing but his own wonderful luck in -finding the very help he wanted, at the time when he needed it -most. - -"At noon to-day he was on the Mole, it seems, with his -interpreter, trying vainly to make himself understood by the -vagabond population of the water-side. Just as he was giving it -up in despair, a stranger standing by (Manuel had followed him, I -suppose, to the Mole from his hotel) kindly interfered to put -things right. He said, 'I speak your language and their language, -sir. I know Naples well; and I have been professionally -accustomed to the sea. Can I help you?' The inevitable result -followed. Armadale shifted all his difficulties on to the -shoulders of the polite stranger, in his usual helpless, headlong -way. His new friend, however, insisted, in the most honorable -manner, on complying with the customary formalities before he -would consent to take the matter into his own hands. He begged -leave to wait on Mr. Armadale, with his testimonials to character -and capacity. The same afternoon he had come by appointment to -the hotel, with all his papers, and with 'the saddest story' of -his sufferings and privations as 'a political refugee' that -Armadale had ever heard. The interview was decisive. Manuel left -the hotel, commissioned to find a crew for the yacht, and to fill -the post of sailing-master on the trial cruise. - -"I watched Midwinter anxiously, while Armadale was telling us -these particulars, and afterward, when he produced the new -sailing-master's testimonials, which he had brought with him for -his friend to see. - -"For the moment, Midwinter's superstitious misgivings seemed to -be all lost in his natural anxiety for his friend. He examined -the stranger' s papers--after having told me that the sooner -Armadale was in the hands of strangers the better!--with the -closest scrutiny and the most business-like distrust. It is -needless to say that the credentials were as perfectly regular -and satisfactory as credentials could be. When Midwinter handed -them back, his color rose: he seemed to feel the inconsistency of -his conduct, and to observe for the first time that I was present -noticing it. 'There is nothing to object to in the testimonials, -Allan: I am glad you have got the help you want at last.' That -was all he said at parting. As soon as Armadale's back was -turned, I saw no more of him. He has locked himself up again for -the night, in his own room. - -"There is now--so far as I am concerned--but one anxiety left. -When the yacht is ready for sea, and when I decline to occupy the -lady's cabin, will Midwinter hold to his resolution, and refuse -to sail without me? - - -"October 26th.--Warnings already of the coming ordeal. A letter -from Armadale to Midwinter, which Midwinter has just sent in to -me. Here it is: - -" 'DEAR MID--I am too busy to come to-day. Get on with your work, -for Heaven's sake! The new sailing-master is a man of ten -thousand. He has got an Englishman whom he knows to serve as mate -on board already; and he is positively certain of getting the -crew together in three or four days' time. I am dying for a whiff -of the sea, and so are you, or you are no sailor. The rigging is -set up, the stores are coming on board, and we shall bend the -sails to-morrow or next day. I never was in such spirits in my -life. Remember me to your wife, and tell her she will be doing me -a favor if she will come at once, and order everything she wants -in the lady's cabin. Yours affectionately, A. A.' - -"Under this was written, in Midwinter's hand: 'Remember what I -told you. Write (it will break it to him more gently in that -way), and beg him to accept your apologies, and to excuse you -from sailing on the trial cruise.' - -"I have written without a moment's loss of time. The sooner -Manuel knows (which he is certain to do through Armadale) that -the promise not to sail in the yacht is performed already, so far -as I am concerned, the safer I shall feel. - - -"October 27th.--A letter from Armadale, in answer to mine. He is -full of ceremonio us regrets at the loss of my company on the -cruise; and he politely hopes that Midwinter may yet induce me to -alter my mind. Wait a little, till he finds that Midwinter won't -sail with him either! . . . . - -"October 30th.--Nothing new to record until to-day. To-day the -change in our lives here has come at last! - -"Armadale presented himself this morning, in his noisiest high -spirits, to announce that the yacht was ready for sea, and to ask -when Midwinter would be able to go on board. I told him to make -the inquiry himself in Midwinter's room. He left me, with a last -request that I would consider my refusal to sail with him. I -answered by a last apology for persisting in my resolution, and -then took a chair alone at the window to wait the event of the -interview in the next room. - -"My whole future depended now on what passed between Midwinter -and his friend! Everything had gone smoothly up to this time. The -one danger to dread was the danger of Midwinter's resolution, or -rather of Midwinter's fatalism, giving way at the last moment. If -he allowed himself to be persuaded into accompanying Armadale on -the cruise, Manuel's exasperation against me would hesitate at -nothing--he would remember that I had answered to him for -Armadale's sailing from Naples alone; and he would be capable of -exposing my whole past life to Midwinter before the vessel left -the port. As I thought of this, and as the slow minutes followed -each other, and nothing reached my ears but the hum of voices in -the next room, my suspense became almost unendurable. It was vain -to try and fix my attention on what was going on in the street. I -sat looking mechanically out of the window, and seeing nothing. - -"Suddenly--I can't say in how long or how short a time--the hum -of voices ceased; the door opened; and Armadale showed himself on -the threshold, alone. - -" 'I wish you good-by,' he said, roughly. 'And I hope, when I am -married, my wife may never cause Midwinter the disappointment -that Midwinter's wife has caused _me!_' - -"He gave me an angry look, and made me an angry bow, and, turning -sharply, left the room. - -"I saw the people in the street again! I saw the calm sea, and -the masts of the shipping in the harbor where the yacht lay! I -could think, I could breathe freely once more! The words that -saved me from Manuel--the words that might be Armadale's sentence -of death--had been spoken. The yacht was to sail without -Midwinter, as well as without Me! - -"My first feeling of exultation was almost maddening. But it was -the feeling of a moment only. My heart sank in me again when I -thought of Midwinter alone in the next room. - -"I went out into the passage to listen, and heard nothing. I -tapped gently at his door, and got no answer. I opened the door -and looked in. He was sitting at the table, with his face hidden -in his hands. I looked at him in silence, and saw the glistening -of the tears as they trickled through his fingers. - -" 'Leave me,' he said, without moving his hands. 'I must get over -it by myself.' - -"I went back into the sitting-room. Who can understand women? we -don't even understand ourselves. His sending me away from him in -that manner cut me to the heart. I don't believe the most -harmless and most gentle woman living could have felt it more -acutely than I felt it. And this, after what I have been doing! -this, after what I was thinking of, the moment before I went into -his room! Who can account for it? Nobody--I least of all! - -"Half an hour later his door opened, and I heard him hurrying -down the stairs. I ran on without waiting to think, and asked if -I might go with him. He neither stopped nor answered. I went back -to the window, and saw him pass, walking rapidly away, with his -back turned on Naples and the sea. - -"I can understand now that he might not have heard me. At the -time I thought him inexcusably and brutally unkind to me. I put -on my bonnet, in a frenzy of rage with him; I sent out for a -carriage, and told the man to take me where he liked. He took me, -as he took other strangers, to the Museum to see the statues and -the pictures. I flounced from room to room, with my face in a -flame, and the people all staring at me. I came to myself again, -I don't know how. I returned to the carriage, and made the man -drive me back in a violent hurry, I don't know why. I tossed off -my cloak and bonnet, and sat down once more at the window. The -sight of the sea cooled me. I forgot Midwinter, and thought of -Armadale and his yacht. There wasn't a breath of wind; there -wasn't a cloud in the sky; the wide waters of the Bay were as -smooth as the surface of a glass. - -"The sun sank; the short twilight came and went. I had some tea, -and sat at the table thinking and dreaming over it. When I roused -myself and went back to the window, the moon was up; but the -quiet sea was as quiet as ever. - -"I was still looking out, when I saw Midwinter in the street -below, coming back. I was composed enough by this time to -remember his habits, and to guess that he had been trying to -relieve the oppression on his mind by one of his long solitary -walks. When I heard him go into his own room, I was too prudent -to disturb him again: I waited his pleasure where I was. - -"Before long I heard his window opened, and I saw him, from my -window, step into the balcony, and, after a look at the sea, hold -up his hand to the air. I was too stupid, for the moment, to -remember that he had once been a sailor, and to know what this -meant. I waited, and wondered what would happen next. - -"He went in again; and, after an interval, came out once more, -and held up his hand as before to the air. This time he waited, -leaning on the balcony rail, and looking out steadily, with all -his attention absorbed by the sea. - -"For a long, long time he never moved. Then, on a sudden, I saw -him start. The next moment he sank on his knees, with his clasped -hands resting on the balcony rail. 'God Almighty bless and keep -you, Allan!' he said, fervently. 'Good-by, forever!' - -"I looked out to the sea. A soft, steady breeze was blowing, and -the rippled surface of the water was sparkling in the quiet -moonlight. I looked again, and there passed slowly, between me -and the track of the moon, a long black vessel with tall, -shadowy, ghostlike sails, gliding smooth and noiseless through -the water, like a snake. - -"The wind had come fair with the night; and Armadale's yacht had -sailed on the trial cruise. - -CHAPTER III. - -THE DIARY BROKEN OFF. - -"London, November 19th.--I am alone again in the Great City; -alone, for the first time since our marriage. Nearly a week since -I started on my homeward journey, leaving Midwinter behind me at -Turin. - -"The days have been so full of events since the month began, and -I have been so harassed, in mind and body both, for the greater -part of the time, that my Diary has been wretchedly neglected. A -few notes, written in such hurry and confusion that I can hardly -understand them myself, are all that I possess to remind me of -what has happened since the night when Armadale's yacht left -Naples. Let me try if I can set this right without more loss or -time; let me try if I can recall the circumstances in their order -as they have followed each other from the beginning of the month. - - -"On the 3d of November--being then still at Naples--Midwinter -received a hurried letter from Armadale, date 'Messina.' 'The -weather,' he said, 'had been lovely, and the yacht had made one -of the quickest passages on record. The crew were rather a rough -set to look at; but Captain Manuel and his English mate' (the -latter described as 'the best of good fellows') 'managed them -admirably.' After this prosperous beginning, Armadale had -arranged, as a matter of course, to prolong the cruise; and, at -the sailing-master's suggestion, he had decided to visit some of -the ports in the Adriatic, which the captain had described as -full of character, and well worth seeing. - -"A postscript followed, explaining that Armadale had written in a -hurry to catch the steamer to Naples, and that he had opened his -letter again, before sending it off, to add something that he had -forgotten. On the day before the yacht sailed, he had been at the -banker's to get 'a few hundreds in gold, ' and he believed he had -left his cigar-case there. It was an old friend of his, and he -begged that Midwinter would oblige him by endeavoring to recover -it, and keeping it for him till they met again. - -"That was the substance of the letter. - -"I thought over it carefully when Midwinter had left me alone -again, after reading it. My idea was then (and is still) that -Manuel had not persuaded Armadale to cruise in a sea like the -Adriatic, so much less frequented by ships than the -Mediterranean, for nothing. The terms, too, in which the trifling -loss of the cigar-case was mentioned struck me as being equally -suggestive of what was coming. I concluded that Armadale's -circular notes had not been transformed into those 'few hundreds -in gold' through any forethought or business knowledge of his -own. Manuel's influence, I suspected, had been exerted in this -matter also, and once more not without reason. At intervals -through the wakeful night these considerations came back again -and again to me; and time after time they pointed obstinately (so -far as my next movements were concerned) in one and the same -way--the way back to England. - -"How to get there, and especially how to get there unaccompanied -by Midwinter, was more than I had wit enough to discover that -night. I tried and tried to meet the difficulty, and fell asleep -exhausted toward the morning without having met it. - -"Some hours later, as soon as I was dressed, Midwinter came in, -with news received by that morning's post from his employers in -London. The proprietors of the newspaper had received from the -editor so favorable a report of his correspondence from Naples -that they had determined on advancing him to a place of greater -responsibility and greater emolument at Turin. His instructions -were inclosed in the letter, and he was requested to lose no time -in leaving Naples for his new post. - -"On hearing this, I relieved his mind, before he could put the -question, of all anxiety about my willingness to remove. Turin -had the great attraction, in my eyes, of being on the road to -England. I assured him at once that I was ready to travel as soon -as he pleased. - -"He thanked me for suiting myself to his plans, with more of his -old gentleness and kindness than I had seen in him for some time -past. The good news from Armadale on the previous day seemed to -have roused him a little from the dull despair in which he had -been sunk since the sailing of the yacht. And now the prospect of -advancement in his profession, and, more than that, the prospect -of leaving the fatal place in which the Third Vision of the Dream -had come true, had (as he owned himself) additionally cheered and -relieved him. He asked, before he went away to make the -arrangements for our journey, whether I expected to hear from my -'family' in England, and whether he should give instructions for -the forwarding of my letters with his own to the _poste restante_ -at Turin. I instantly thanked him, and accepted the offer. His -proposal had suggested to me, the moment he made it, that my -fictitious 'family circumstances' might be turned to good account -once more, as a reason for unexpectedly summoning me from Italy -to England. - -"On the ninth of the month we were installed at Turin. - -"On the thirteenth, Midwinter--being then very busy--asked if I -would save him a loss of time by applying for any letters which -might have followed us from Naples. I had been waiting for the -opportunity he now offered me; and I determined to snatch at it -without allowing myself time to hesitate. There were no letters -at the _poste restante_ for either of us. But when he put the -question on my return, I told him that there had been a letter -for me, with alarming news from 'home.' My 'mother' was -dangerously ill, and I was entreated to lose no time in hurrying -back to England to see her. - -"It seems quite unaccountable--now that I am away from him--but -it is none the less true, that I could not, even yet, tell him a -downright premeditated falsehood, without a sense of shrinking -and shame, which other people would think, and which I think -myself, utterly inconsistent with such a character as mine. -Inconsistent or not, I felt it. And what is stranger--perhaps I -ought to say madder--still, if he had persisted in his first -resolution to accompany me himself to England rather than allow -me to travel alone, I firmly believe I should have turned my back -on temptation for the second time, and have lulled myself to rest -once more in the old dream of living out my life happy and -harmless in my husband's love. - -"Am I deceiving myself in this? It doesn't matter--I dare say I -am. Never mind what _might_ have happened. What _did_ happen is -the only thing of any importance now. - -"It ended in Midwinter's letting me persuade him that I was old -enough to take care of myself on the journey to England, and that -he owed it to the newspaper people, who had trusted their -interests in his hands, not to leave Turin just as he was -established there. He didn't suffer at taking leave of me as he -suffered when he saw the last of his friend. I saw that, and set -down the anxiety he expressed that I should write to him at its -proper value. I have quite got over my weakness for him at last. -No man who really loved me would have put what he owed to a peck -of newspaper people before what he owed to his wife. I hate him -for letting me convince him! I believe he was glad to get rid of -me. I believe he has seen some woman whom he likes at Turin. -Well, let him follow his new fancy, if he pleases! I shall be the -widow of Mr. Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose before long; and what -will his likes or dislikes matter to me then? - -"The events on the journey were not worth mentioning, and my -arrival in London stands recorded already on the top of the new -page. - -"As for to-day, the one thing of any importance that I have done -since I got to the cheap and quiet hotel at which I am now -staying, has been to send for the landlord, and ask him to help -me to a sight of the back numbers of _The Times_ newspaper. He -has politely offered to accompany me himself to-morrow morning to -some place in the City where all the papers are kept, as he calls -it, in file. Till to-morrow, then, I must control my impatience -for news of Armadale as well as I can. And so good-night to the -pretty reflection of myself that appears in these pages! - - -"November 20th.--Not a word of news yet, either in the obituary -column or in any other part of the paper. I looked carefully -through each number in succession, dating from the day when -Armadale's letter was written at Messina to this present 20th of -the month, and I am certain, whatever may have happened, that -nothing is known in England as yet. Patience! The newspaper is to -meet me at the breakfast-table every morning till further notice; -and any day now may show me what I most want to see. - - -"November 21st.--No news again. I wrote to Midwinter to-day, to -keep up appearances. - -"When the letter was done, I fell into wretchedly low spirits--I -can't imagine why--and felt such a longing for a little company -that, in despair of knowing where else to go, I actually went to -Pimlico, on the chance that Mother Oldershaw might have returned -to her old quarters. - -"There were changes since I had seen the place during my former -stay in London. Doctor Downward's side of the house was still -empty. But the shop was being brightened up for the occupation of -a milliner and dress-maker. The people, when I went in to make -inquiries, were all strangers to me. They showed, however, no -hesitation in giving me Mrs. Oldershaw's address when I asked for -it--from which I infer that the little 'difficulty' which forced -her to be in hiding in August last is at an end, so far as she is -concerned. As for the doctor, the people at the shop either were, -or pretended to be, quite unable to tell me what had become of -him. - -"I don't know whether it was the sight of the place at Pimlico -that sickened me, or whether it was my own perversity, or what. -But now that I had got Mrs. Oldershaw's address, I felt as if she -was the very last person in the world that I wanted to see. I -took a cab, and told the man to drive to the street she lived in, - and then told him to drive back to the hotel. I hardly know what -is the matter with me--unless it is that I am getting more -impatient every hour for information about Armadale. When will -the future look a little less dark, I wonder? To-morrow is -Saturday. Will to-morrow's newspaper lift the veil? - - -"November 22d.--Saturday's newspaper _has_ lifted the veil! Words -are vain to express the panic of astonishment in which I write. I -never once anticipated it; I can't believe it or realize it, now -it has happened. The winds and waves themselves have turned my -accomplices! The yacht has foundered at sea, and every soul on -board has perished! - -"Here is the account cut out of this morning's newspaper: - - -" 'DISASTER AT SEA.--Intelligence has reached the Royal Yacht -Squadron and the insurers which leaves no reasonable doubt, we -regret to say, of the total loss, on the fifth of the present -month, of the yacht _Dorothea,_ with every soul on board. The -particulars are as follows: At daylight, on the morning of the -sixth, the Italian brig _Speranza,_ bound from Venice to Marsala -for orders, encountered some floating objects off Cape -Spartivento (at the southernmost extremity of Italy) which -attracted the curiosity of the people of the brig. The previous -day had been marked by one of the most severe of the sudden and -violent storms, peculiar to these southern seas, which has been -remembered for years. The _Speranza_ herself having been in -danger while the gale lasted, the captain and crew concluded that -they were on the traces of a wreck, and a boat was lowered for -the purpose of examining the objects in the water. A hen-coop, -some broken spars, and fragments of shattered plank were the -first evidences discovered of the terrible disaster that had -happened. Some of the lighter articles of cabin furniture, -wrenched and shattered, were found next. And, lastly, a memento -of melancholy interest turned up, in the shape of a lifebuoy, -with a corked bottle attached to it. These latter objects, with -the relics of cabin furniture, were brought on board the -_Speranza._ On the buoy the name of the vessel was painted, as -follows: "_Dorothea, R. Y. S._" (meaning Royal Yacht Squadron). -The bottle, on being uncorked, contained a sheet of note-paper, -on which the following lines were hurriedly traced in pencil: -"Off Cape Spartivento; two days out from Messina. Nov. 5th, 4 -P.M." (being the hour at which the log of the Italian brig showed -the storm to have been at its height). "Both our boats are stove -in by the sea. The rudder is gone, and we have sprung a leak -astern which is more than we can stop. The Lord help us all--we -are sinking. (Signed) John Mitchenden, Mate." On reaching -Marsala, the captain of the brig made his report to the British -consul, and left the objects discovered in that gentleman's -charge. Inquiry at Messina showed that the ill-fated vessel had -arrived there from Naples. At the latter port it was ascertained -that the _Dorothea_ had been hired from the owner's agent by an -English gentleman, Mr. Armadale, of Thorpe Ambrose, Norfolk. -Whether Mr. Armadale had any friends on board with him has not -been clearly discovered. But there is unhappily no doubt that the -ill-fated gentleman himself sailed in the yacht from Naples, and -that he was also on board of the vessel when she left Messina.' - - -"Such is the story of the wreck, as the newspaper tells it in the -plainest and fewest words. My head is in a whirl; my confusion is -so great that I think of fifty different things in trying to -think of one. I must wait--a day more or less is of no -consequence now--I must wait till I can face my new position, -without feeling bewildered by it. - - -"November 23d.--Eight in the morning.--I rose an hour ago, and -saw my way clearly to the first step that I must take under -present circumstances. - -"It is of the utmost importance to me to know what is doing at -Thorpe Ambrose; and it would be the height of rashness, while I -am quite in the dark in this matter, to venture there myself. The -only other alternative is to write to somebody on the spot for -news; and the only person I can write to is--Bashwood. - -"I have just finished the letter. It is headed 'private and -confidential,' and signed 'Lydia Armadale.' There is nothing in -it to compromise me, if the old fool is mortally offended by my -treatment of him, and if he spitefully shows my letter to other -people. But I don't believe he will do this. A man at his age -forgives a woman anything, if the woman only encourages him. I -have requested him, as a personal favor, to keep our -correspondence for the present strictly private. I have hinted -that my married life with my deceased husband has not been a -happy one; and that I feel the injudiciousness of having married -a _young_ man. In the postscript I go further still, and venture -boldly on these comforting words: 'I can explain, dear Mr. -Bashwood, what may have seemed fake and deceitful in my conduct -toward you when you give me a personal opportunity.' If he was on -the right side of sixty, I should feel doubtful of results. But -he is on the wrong side of sixty, and I believe he will give me -my personal opportunity. - - -"Ten o'clock.--I have been looking over the copy of my marriage -certificate, with which I took care to provide myself on the -wedding-day; and I have discovered, to my inexpressible dismay, -an obstacle to my appearance in the character of Armadale's widow -which I now see for the first time. - -"The description of Midwinter (under his own name) which the -certificate presents answers in every important particular to -what would have been the description of Armadale of Thorpe -Ambrose, if I had really married him. 'Name and Surname'--Allan -Armadale. 'Age'--twenty-one, instead of twenty-two, which might -easily pass for a mistake. 'Condition'--Bachelor. 'Rank or -profession'--Gentleman. 'Residence at the time of -Marriage'--Frant's Hotel, Darley Street. 'Father's Name and -Surname'--Allan Armadale. 'Rank or Profession of -Father'--Gentleman. Every particular (except the year's -difference in their two ages) which answers for the one answers -for the other. But suppose, when I produce my copy of the -certificate, that some meddlesome lawyer insists on looking at -the original register? Midwinter's writing is as different as -possible from the writing of his dead friend. The hand in which -he has written 'Allan Armadale' in the book has not a chance of -passing for the hand in which Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose was -accustomed to sign his name. - -"Can I move safely in the matter, with such a pitfall as I see -here open under my feet? How can I tell? Where can I find an -experienced person to inform me? I must shut up my diary and -think. - - -"Seven o'clock.--My prospects have changed again since I made my -last entry. I have received a warning to be careful in the future -which I shall not neglect; and I have (I believe) succeeded in -providing myself with the advice and assistance of which I stand -in need. - -"After vainly trying to think of some better person to apply to -in the difficulty which embarrassed me, I made a virtue of -necessity, and set forth to surprise Mrs. Oldershaw by a visit -from her darling Lydia! It is almost needless to add that I -determined to sound her carefully, and not to let any secret of -importance out of my own possession. - -"A sour and solemn old maid-servant admitted me into the house. -When I asked for her mistress, I was reminded with the bitterest -emphasis that I had committed the impropriety of calling on a -Sunday. Mrs. Oldershaw was at home, solely in consequence of -being too unwell to go to church! The servant thought it very -unlikely that she would see me. I thought it highly probable, on -the contrary, that she would honor me with an interview in her -own interests, if I sent in my name as 'Miss Gwilt'--and the -event proved that I was right. After being kept waiting some -minutes I was shown into the drawing-room. - -"There sat Mother Jezebel, with the air of a woman resting on the -high-road to heaven, dressed in a slate-colored gown, with gray -mittens on her hands, a severely simple cap on her head, and a -volume of sermons on her lap. She turned up the whites of her -eyes dev outly at the sight of me, and the first words she said -were--'Oh, Lydia! Lydia! why are you not at church?' - -"If I had been less anxious, the sudden presentation of Mrs. -Oldershaw in an entirely new character might have amused me. But -I was in no humor for laughing, and (my notes of hand being all -paid) I was under no obligation to restrain my natural freedom of -speech. 'Stuff and nonsense!' I said. 'Put your Sunday face in -your pocket. I have got some news for you, since I last wrote -from Thorpe Ambrose.' - -"The instant I mentioned 'Thorpe Ambrose,' the whites of the old -hypocrite's eyes showed themselves again, and she flatly refused -to hear a word more from me on the subject of my proceedings in -Norfolk. I insisted; but it was quite useless. Mother Oldershaw -only shook her head and groaned, and informed me that her -connection with the pomps and vanities of the world was at an end -forever. 'I have been born again, Lydia,' said the brazen old -wretch, wiping her eyes. 'Nothing will induce me to return to the -subject of that wicked speculation of yours on the folly of a -rich young man.' - -"After hearing this, I should have left her on the spot, but for -one consideration which delayed me a moment longer. - -"It was easy to see, by this time, that the circumstances -(whatever they might have been) which had obliged Mother -Oldershaw to keep in hiding, on the occasion of my former visit -to London, had been sufficiently serious to force her into giving -up, or appearing to give up, her old business. And it was hardly -less plain that she had found it to her advantage--everybody in -England finds it to their advantage in some way to cover the -outer side of her character carefully with a smooth varnish of -Cant. This was, however, no business of mine; and I should have -made these reflections outside instead of inside the house, if my -interests had not been involved in putting the sincerity of -Mother Oldershaw's reformation to the test--so far as it affected -her past connection with myself. At the time when she had fitted -me out for our enterprise, I remembered signing a certain -business document which gave her a handsome pecuniary interest in -my success, if I became Mrs. Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose. The -chance of turning this mischievous morsel of paper to good -account, in the capacity of a touchstone, was too tempting to be -resisted. I asked my devout friend's permission to say one last -word before I left the house. - -" 'As you have no further interest in my wicked speculation at -Thorpe Ambrose,' I said, 'perhaps you will give me back the -written paper that I signed, when you were not quite such an -exemplary person as you are now?' - -"The shameless old hypocrite instantly shut her eyes and -shuddered. - -" 'Does that mean Yes, or No'?' I asked. - -" 'On moral and religious grounds, Lydia,' said Mrs. Oldershaw, -'it means No.' - -" 'On wicked and worldly grounds,' I rejoined, 'I beg to thank -you for showing me your hand.' - -"There could, indeed, be no doubt now about the object she really -had in view. She would run no more risks and lend no more money; -she would leave me to win or lose single-handed. If I lost, she -would not be compromised. If I won, she would produce the paper I -had signed, and profit by it without remorse. In my present -situation, it was mere waste of time and words to prolong the -matter by any useless recrimination on my side. I put the warning -away privately in my memory for future use, and got up to go. - -"At the moment when I left my chair there was a sharp double -knock at the street door. Mrs. Oldershaw evidently recognized it. -She rose in a violent hurry, and rang the bell. 'I am too unwell -to see anybody,' she said, when the servant appeared. 'Wait a -moment, if you please,' she added, turning sharply on me, when -the woman had left us to answer the door. - -"It was small, very small, spitefulness on my part, I know; but -the satisfaction of thwarting Mother Jezebel, even in a trifle, -was not to be resisted. 'I can't wait,' I said; 'you reminded me -just now that I ought to be at church.' Before she could answer I -was out of the room. - -"As I put my foot on the first stair the street door was opened, -and a man's voice inquired whether Mrs. Oldershaw was at home. - -"I instantly recognized the voice. Doctor Downward! - -"The doctor repeated the servant's message in a tone which -betrayed unmistakable irritation at finding himself admitted no -further than the door. - -" 'Your mistress is not well enough to see visitors? Give her -that card,' said the doctor, 'and say I expect her, the next time -I call, to be well enough to see _me._' - -"If his voice had not told me plainly that he felt in no friendly -mood toward Mrs. Oldershaw, I dare say I should have let him go -without claiming his acquaintance; but, as things were, I felt an -impulse to speak to him or to anybody who had a grudge against -Mother Jezebel. There was more of my small spitefulness in this, -I suppose. Anyway, I slipped downstairs; and, following the -doctor out quietly, overtook him in the street. - -"I had recognized his voice, and I recognized his back as I -walked behind him. But when I called him by his name, and when he -turned round with a start and confronted me, I followed his -example, and started on my side. The doctor's face was -transformed into the face of a perfect stranger! His baldness had -hidden itself under an artfully grizzled wig. He had allowed his -whiskers to grow, and had dyed them to match his new head of -hair. Hideous circular spectacles bestrode his nose in place of -the neat double eyeglass that he used to carry in his hand; and a -black neckerchief, surmounted by immense shirt-collars, appeared -as the unworthy successor of the clerical white cravat of former -times. Nothing remained of the man I once knew but the -comfortable plumpness of his figure, and the confidential -courtesy and smoothness of his manner and his voice. - -" 'Charmed to see you again,' said the doctor, looking about him -a little anxiously, and producing his card-case in a very -precipitate manner. 'But, my dear Miss Gwilt, permit me to -rectify a slight mistake on your part. Doctor Downward of Pimlico -is dead and buried; and you will infinitely oblige me if you will -never, on any consideration, mention him again!' - -"I took the card he offered me, and discovered that I was now -supposed to be speaking to 'Doctor Le Doux, of the Sanitarium, -Fairweather Vale, Hampstead!' - -" 'You seem to have found it necessary,' I said, 'to change a -great many things since I last saw you? Your name, your -residence, your personal appearance--?' - -" 'And my branch of practice,' interposed the doctor. 'I have -purchased of the original possessor (a person of feeble -enterprise and no resources) a name, a diploma, and a partially -completed sanitarium for the reception of nervous invalids. We -are open already to the inspection of a few privileged -friends--come and see us. Are you walking my way? Pray take my -arm, and tell me to what happy chance I am indebted for the -pleasure of seeing you again?' - -"I told him the circumstances exactly as they had happened, and I -added (with a view to making sure of his relations with his -former ally at Pimlico) that I had been greatly surprised to hear -Mrs. Oldershaw's door shut on such an old friend as himself. -Cautious as he was, the doctor's manner of receiving my remark -satisfied me at once that my suspicions of an estrangement were -well founded. His smile vanished, and he settled his hideous -spectacles irritably on the bridge of his nose. - -" 'Pardon me if I leave you to draw your own conclusions,' he -said. 'The subject of Mrs. Oldershaw is, I regret to say, far -from agreeable to me under existing circumstances--a business -difficulty connected with our late partnership at Pimlico, -entirely without interest for a young and brilliant woman like -yourself. Tell me your news! Have you left your situation at -Thorpe Ambrose? Are you residing in London? Is there anything, -professional or otherwise, that I can do for you?' - -"That last question was a more important one than he supposed. -Before I answered it, I felt the necessity of parting company -with him and of getting a little time to think. - -" 'You have kindl y asked me, doctor, to pay you a visit,' I -said. 'In your quiet house at Hampstead, I may possibly have -something to say to you which I can't say in this noisy street. -When are you at home at the Sanitarium? Should I find you there -later in the day?' - -"The doctor assured me that he was then on his way back, and -begged that I would name my own hour. I said, 'Toward the -afternoon;' and, pleading an engagement, hailed the first omnibus -that passed us. 'Don't forget the address,' said the doctor, as -he handed me in. 'I have got your card,' I answered, and so we -parted. - -"I returned to the hotel, and went up into my room, and thought -over it very anxiously. - -"The serious obstacle of the signature on the marriage register -still stood in my way as unmanageably as ever. All hope of -getting assistance from Mrs. Oldershaw was at an end. I could -only regard her henceforth as an enemy hidden in the dark--the -enemy, beyond all doubt now, who had had me followed and watched -when I was last in London. To what other counselor could I turn -for the advice which my unlucky ignorance of law and business -obliged me to seek from some one more experienced than myself? -Could I go to the lawyer whom I consulted when I was about to -marry Midwinter in my maiden name? Impossible! To say nothing of -his cold reception of me when I had last seen him, the advice I -wanted this time related (disguise the facts as I might) to the -commission of a Fraud--a fraud of the sort that no prosperous -lawyer would consent to assist if he had a character to lose. Was -there any other competent person I could think of? There was one, -and one only--the doctor who had died at Pimlico, and had revived -again at Hampstead. - -"I knew him to be entirely without scruples; to have the business -experience that I wanted myself; and to be as cunning, as clever, -and as far-seeing a man as could be found in all London. Beyond -this, I had made two important discoveries in connection with him -that morning. In the first place, he was on bad terms with Mrs. -Oldershaw, which would protect me from all danger of the two -leaguing together against me if I trusted him. In the second -place, circumstances still obliged him to keep his identity -carefully disguised, which gave me a hold over him in no respect -inferior to any hold that _I_ might give him over _me._ In every -way he was the right man, the only man, for my purpose; and yet I -hesitated at going to him--hesitated for a full hour and more, -without knowing why! - -"It was two o'clock before I finally decided on paying the doctor -a visit. Having, after this, occupied nearly another hour in -determining to a hair-breadth how far I should take him into my -confidence, I sent for a cab at last, and set off toward three in -the afternoon for Hampstead. - - -"I found the Sanitarium with some little difficulty. - -"Fairweather Vale proved to be a new neighborhood, situated below -the high ground of Hampstead, on the southern side. The day was -overcast, and the place looked very dreary. We approached it by a -new road running between trees, which might once have been the -park avenue of a country house. At the end we came upon a -wilderness of open ground, with half-finished villas dotted -about, and a hideous litter of boards, wheelbarrows, and building -materials of all sorts scattered in every direction. At one -corner of this scene of desolation, stood a great overgrown -dismal house, plastered with drab-colored stucco, and surrounded -by a naked, unfinished garden, without a shrub or a flower in it, -frightful to behold. On the open iron gate that led into this -inclosure was a new brass plate, with 'Sanitarium' inscribed on -it in great black letters. The bell, when the cabman rang it, -pealed through the empty house like a knell; and the pallid, -withered old man-servant in black who answered the door looked as -if he had stepped up out of his grave to perform that service. He -let out on me a smell of damp plaster and new varnish; and he let -in with me a chilling draft of the damp November air. I didn't -notice it at the time, but, writing of it now, I remember that I -shivered as I crossed the threshold. - -"I gave my name to the servant as 'Mrs. Armadale,' and was shown -into the waiting-room. The very fire itself was dying of damp in -the grate. The only books on the table were the doctor's Works, -in sober drab covers; and the only object that ornamented the -walls was the foreign Diploma (handsomely framed and glazed), of -which the doctor had possessed himself by purchase, along with -the foreign name. - -"After a moment or two, the proprietor of the Sanitarium came in, -and held up his hands in cheerful astonishment at the sight of -me. - -" 'I hadn't an idea who "Mrs. Armadale" was!' he said. 'My dear -lady, have _you_ changed your name too? How sly of you not to -tell me when we met this morning! Come into my private -snuggery--I can't think of keeping an old and dear friend like -you in the patients' waiting-room.' - -"The doctor's private snuggery was at the back of the house, -looking out on fields and trees, doomed but not yet destroyed by -the builder. Horrible objects in brass and leather and glass, -twisted and turned as if they were sentient things writhing in -agonies of pain, filled up one end of the room. A great book-case -with glass doors extended over the whole of the opposite wall, -and exhibited on its shelves long rows of glass jars, in which -shapeless dead creatures of a dull white color floated in yellow -liquid. Above the fireplace hung a collection of photographic -portraits of men and women, inclosed in two large frames hanging -side by side with a space between them. The left-hand frame -illustrated the effects of nervous suffering as seen in the face; -the right-hand frame exhibited the ravages of insanity from the -same point of view; while the space between was occupied by an -elegantly illuminated scroll, bearing inscribed on it the -time-honored motto, 'Prevention is better than Cure.' - -" 'Here I am, with my galvanic apparatus, and my preserved -specimens, and all the rest of it,' said the doctor, placing me -in a chair by the fireside. 'And there is my System mutely -addressing you just above your head, under a form of exposition -which I venture to describe as frankness itself. This is no -mad-house, my dear lady. Let other men treat insanity, if they -like--_I_ stop it! No patients in the house as yet. But we live -in an age when nervous derangement (parent of insanity) is -steadily on the increase; and in due time the sufferers will -come. I can wait as Harvey waited, as Jenner waited. And now do -put your feet up on the fender, and tell me about yourself. You -are married, of course? And what a pretty name! Accept my best -and most heart-felt congratulations. You have the two greatest -blessings that can fall to a woman's lot; the two capital H's, as -I call them--Husband and Home.' - -"I interrupted the genial flow of the doctor's congratulations at -the first opportunity. - -" 'I am married; but the circumstances are by no means of the -ordinary kind,' I said, seriously. My present position includes -none of the blessings that are usually supposed to fall to a -woman's lot. I am already in a situation of very serious -difficulty; and before long I may be in a situation of very -serious danger as well.' - -"The doctor drew his chair a little nearer to me, and fell at -once into his old professional manner and his old confidential -tone. - -" 'If you wish to consult me,' he said, softly, 'you know that I -have kept some dangerous secrets in my time, and you also know -that I possess two valuable qualities as an adviser. I am not -easily shocked; and I can be implicitly trusted.' - -"I hesitated even now, at the eleventh hour, sitting alone with -him in his own room. It was so strange to me to be trusting to -anybody but myself! And yet, how could I help trusting another -person in a difficulty which turned on a matter of law? - -" 'Just as you please, you know,' added the doctor. 'I never -invite confidences. I merely receive them.' - -"There was no help for it; I had come there not to hesitate, but -to speak. I risked it, and spoke. - -" 'The matter on which I wish to consult you,' I said, 'is not -(as you seem to thin k) within your experience as a professional -man. But I believe you may be of assistance to me, if I trust -myself to your larger experience as a man of the world. I warn -you beforehand that I shall certainly surprise, and possibly -alarm, you before I have done.' - -"With that preface I entered on my story, telling him what I had -settled to tell him, and no more. - -"I made no secret, at the outset, of my intention to personate -Armadale's widow; and I mentioned without reserve (knowing that -the doctor could go to the office and examine the will for -himself) the handsome income that would be settled on me in the -event of my success. Some of the circumstances that followed next -in succession I thought it desirable to alter or conceal. I -showed him the newspaper account of the loss of the yacht, but I -said nothing about events at Naples. I informed him of the exact -similarity of the two names; leaving him to imagine that it was -accidental. I told him, as an important element in the matter, -that my husband had kept his real name a profound secret from -everybody but myself; but (to prevent any communication between -them) I carefully concealed from the doctor what the assumed name -under which Midwinter had lived all his life really was. I -acknowledged that I had left my husband behind me on the -Continent; but when the doctor put the question, I allowed him to -conclude--I couldn't, with all my resolution, tell him -positively!--that Midwinter knew of the contemplated Fraud, and -that he was staying away purposely, so as not to compromise me by -his presence. This difficulty smoothed over--or, as I feel it -now, this baseness committed--I reverted to myself, and came back -again to the truth. One after another I mentioned all the -circumstances connected with my private marriage, and with the -movements of Armadale and Midwinter, which rendered any discovery -of the false personation (through the evidence of other people) a -downright impossibility. 'So much,' I said, in conclusion, 'for -the object in view. The next thing is to tell you plainly of a -very serious obstacle that stands in my way.' - -"The doctor, who had listened thus far without interrupting me, -begged permission here to say a few words on his side before I -went on. - -"The 'few words' proved to be all questions--clever, searching, -suspicious questions--which I was, however, able to answer with -little or no reserve, for they related, in almost every instance, -to the circumstances under which I had been married, and to the -chances for and against my lawful husband if he chose to assert -his claim to me at any future time. - -"My replies informed the doctor, in the first place, that I had -so managed matters at Thorpe Ambrose as to produce a general -impression that Armadale intended to marry me; in the second -place, that my husband's early life had not been of a kind to -exhibit him favorably in the eyes of the world; in the third -place, that we had been married, without any witnesses present -who knew us, at a large parish church in which two other couples -had been married the same morning, to say nothing of the dozens -on dozens of other couples (confusing all remembrance of us in -the minds of the officiating people) who had been married since. -When I had put the doctor in possession of these facts--and when -he had further ascertained that Midwinter and I had gone abroad -among strangers immediately after leaving the church; and that -the men employed on board the yacht in which Armadale had sailed -from Somersetshire (before my marriage) were now away in ships -voyaging to the other end of the world--his confidence in my -prospects showed itself plainly in his face. 'So far as I can -see,' he said, 'your husband's claim to you (after you have -stepped into the place of the dead Mr. Armadale's widow) would -rest on nothing but his own bare assertion. And _that_ I think -you may safely set at defiance. Excuse my apparent distrust of -the gentleman. But there might be a misunderstanding between you -in the future, and it is highly desirable to ascertain beforehand -exactly what he could or could not do under those circumstances. -And now that we have done with the main obstacle that _I_ see in -the way of your success, let us by all means come to the obstacle -that _you_ see next!' - -"I was willing enough to come to it. The tone in which he spoke -of Midwinter, though I myself was responsible for it, jarred on -me horribly, and roused for the moment some of the old folly of -feeling which I fancied I had laid asleep forever. I rushed at -the chance of changing the subject, and mentioned the discrepancy -in the register between the hand in which Midwinter had signed -the name of Allan Armadale, and the hand in which Armadale of -Thorpe Ambrose had been accustomed to write his name, with an -eagerness which it quite diverted the doctor to see. - -" 'Is _that_ all?' he asked, to my infinite surprise and relief, -when I had done. 'My dear lady, pray set your mind at ease! If -the late Mr. Armadale's lawyers want a proof of your marriage, -they won't go to the church-register for it, I can promise you!' - -" 'What!' I exclaimed, in astonishment. 'Do you mean to say that -the entry in the register is not a proof of my marriage?' - -" 'It is a proof,' said the doctor, 'that you have been married -to somebody. But it is no proof that you have been married to Mr. -Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose. Jack Nokes or Tom Styles (excuse the -homeliness of the illustration!) might have got the license, and -gone to the church to be married to you under Mr. Armadale's -name; and the register (how could it do otherwise?) must in that -case have innocently assisted the deception. I see I surprise -you. My dear madam, when you opened this interesting business you -surprised _me_--I may own it now--by laying so much stress on the -curious similarity between the two names. You might have entered -on the very daring and romantic enterprise in which you are now -engaged, without necessarily marrying your present husband. Any -other man would have done just as well, provided he was willing -to take Mr. Armadale's name for the purpose.' - -"I felt my temper going at this. 'Any other man would _not_ have -done just as well,' I rejoined, instantly. 'But for the -similarity of the names, I should never have thought of the -enterprise at all.' - -"The doctor admitted that he had spoken too hastily. 'That -personal view of the subject had, I confess, escaped me,' he -said. 'However, let us get back to the matter in hand. In the -course of what I may term an adventurous medical life, I have -been brought more than once into contact with the gentlemen of -the law, and have had opportunities of observing their -proceedings in cases of, let us say, Domestic Jurisprudence. I am -quite sure I am correct in informing you that the proof which -will be required by Mr. Armadale's representatives will be the -evidence of a witness present at the marriage who can speak to -the identity of the bride and bridegroom from his own personal -knowledge.' - -" 'But I have already told you,' I said, 'that there was no such -person present.' - -" 'Precisely,' rejoined the doctor. 'In that case, what you now -want, before you can safely stir a step in the matter, is--if you -will pardon me the expression--a ready-made witness, possessed of -rare moral and personal resources, who can be trusted to assume -the necessary character, and to make the necessary Declaration -before a magistrate. Do you know of any such person?' asked the -doctor, throwing himself back in his chair, and looking at me -with the utmost innocence. - -" 'I only know You,' I said. - -"The doctor laughed softly. 'So like a woman!' he remarked, with -the most exasperating good humor. 'The moment she sees her -object, she dashes at it headlong the nearest way. Oh, the sex! -the sex!' - -" 'Never mind the sex!' I broke out, impatiently. 'I want a -serious answer--Yes or No?' - -"The doctor rose, and waved his hand with great gravity and -dignity all round the room. 'You see this vast establishment,' he -began; 'you can possibly estimate to some extent the immense -stake I have in its prosperity and success. Your excellent -natural sense will tell you that the Principal of this Sanitarium -must - be a man of the most unblemished character--' - -" 'Why waste so many words,' I said, 'when one word will do? You -mean No!' - -"The Principal of the Sanitarium suddenly relapsed into the -character of my confidential friend. - -" 'My dear lady,' he said, 'it isn't Yes, and it isn't No, at a -moment's notice. Give me till to-morrow afternoon. By that time I -engage to be ready to do one of two things--either to withdraw -myself from this business at once, or to go into it with you -heart and soul. Do you agree to that? Very good; we may drop the -subject, then, till to-morrow. Where can I call on you when I -have decided what to do?' - -"There was no objection to my trusting him with my address at the -hotel. I had taken care to present myself there as 'Mrs. -Armadale'; and I had given Midwinter an address at the -neighboring post-office to write to when he answered my letters. -We settled the hour at which the doctor was to call on me; and, -that matter arranged, I rose to go, resisting all offers of -refreshment, and all proposals to show me over the house. His -smooth persistence in keeping up appearances after we had -thoroughly understood each other disgusted me. I got away from -him as soon as I could, and came back to my diary and my own -room. - -"We shall see how it ends to-morrow. My own idea is that my -confidential friend will say Yes. - - -"November 24th.--The doctor has said Yes, as I supposed; but on -terms which I never anticipated. The condition on which I have -secured his services amounts to nothing less than the payment to -him, on my stepping into the place of Armadale's widow, of half -my first year's income--in other words, six hundred pounds! - -"I protested against this extortionate demand in every way I -could think of. All to no purpose. The doctor met me with the -most engaging frankness. Nothing, he said, but the accidental -embarrassment of his position at the present time would have -induced him to mix himself up in the matter at all. He would -honestly confess that he had exhausted his own resources, and the -resources of other persons whom he described as his 'backers,' in -the purchase and completion of the Sanitarium. Under those -circumstances, six hundred pounds in prospect was an object to -him. For that sum he would run the serious risk of advising and -assisting me. Not a farthing less would tempt him; and there he -left it, with his best and friendliest wishes, in my hands! - -"It ended in the only way in which it could end. I had no choice -but to accept the terms, and to let the doctor settle things on -the spot as he pleased. The arrangement once made between us, I -must do him the justice to say that he showed no disposition to -let the grass grow under his feet. He called briskly for pen, ink -and paper, and suggested opening the campaign at Thorpe Ambrose -by to-night's post. - -"We agreed on a form of letter which I wrote, and which he copied -on the spot. I entered into no particulars at starting. I simply -asserted that I was the widow of the deceased Mr. Armadale; that -I had been privately married to him; that I had returned to -England on his sailing in the yacht from Naples; and that I -begged to inclose a copy of my marriage certificate, as a matter -of form with which I presumed it was customary to comply. The -letter was addressed to 'The Representatives of the late Allan -Armadale, Esq., Thorpe Ambrose, Norfolk.' And the doctor himself -carried it away, and put it in the post. - -"I am not so excited and so impatient for results as I expected -to be, now that the first step is taken. The thought of Midwinter -haunts me like a ghost. I have been writing to him again--as -before, to keep up appearances. It will be my last letter, I -think. My courage feels shaken, my spirits get depressed, when my -thoughts go back to Turin. I am no more capable of facing the -consideration of Midwinter at this moment than I was in the -by-gone time, The day of reckoning with him, once distant and -doubtful, is a day that may come to me now, I know not how soon. -And here I am, trusting myself blindly to the chapter of -Accidents still! - - -"November 25th.--At two o'clock to-day the doctor called again by -appointment. He has been to his lawyers (of course without taking -them into our confidence) to put the case simply of proving my -marriage. The result confirms what he has already told me. The -pivot on which the whole matter will turn, if my claim is -disputed, will be the question of identity; and it may be -necessary for the witness to make his Declaration in the -magistrate's presence before the week is out. - -"In this position of affairs, the doctor thinks it important that -we should be within easy reach of each other, and proposes to -find a quiet lodging for me in his neighborhood. I am quite -willing to go anywhere; for, among the other strange fancies that -have got possession of me, I have an idea that I shall feel more -completely lost to Midwinter if I move out of the neighborhood in -which his letters are addressed to me. I was awake and thinking -of him again last night This morning I have finally decided to -write to him no more. - -"After staying half an hour, the doctor left me, having first -inquired whether I would like to accompany him to Hampstead to -look for lodgings. I informed him that I had some business of my -own which would keep me in London. He inquired what the business -was. 'You will see,' I said, 'to-morrow or next day.' - -"I had a moment's nervous trembling when I was by myself again. -My business in London, besides being a serious business in a -woman's eyes, took my mind back to Midwinter in spite of me. The -prospect of removing to my new lodging had reminded me of the -necessity of dressing in my new character. The time had come now -for getting _my widow's weeds._ - -"My first proceeding, after putting my bonnet on, was to provide -myself with money. I got what I wanted to fit me out for the -character of Armadale's widow by nothing less than the sale of -Armadale's own present to me on my marriage--the ruby ring! It -proved to be a more valuable jewel than I had supposed. I am -likely to be spared all money anxieties for some time to come. - -"On leaving the jeweler's, I went to the great mourning shop in -Regent Street. In four-and-twenty hours (if I can give them no -more) they have engaged to dress me in my widow's costume from -head to foot. I had another feverish moment when I left the shop; -and, by way of further excitement on this agitating day, I found -a surprise in store for me on my return to the hotel. An elderly -gentleman was announced to be waiting to see me. I opened my -sitting-room door, and there was old Bashwood! - -"He had got my letter that morning, and had started for London by -the next train to answer it in person. I had expected a great -deal from him, but I had certainly not expected _that._ It -flattered me. For the moment, I declare it flattered me! - -"I pass over the wretched old creature's raptures and reproaches, -and groans and tears, and weary long prosings about the lonely -months he had passed at Thorpe Ambrose, brooding over my -desertion of him. He was quite eloquent at times; but I don't -want his eloquence here. It is needless to say that I put myself -right with him, and consulted his feelings before I asked him for -his news. What a blessing a woman's vanity is sometimes! I almost -forgot my risks and responsibilities in my anxieties to be -charming. For a minute or two I felt a warm little flutter of -triumph. And it was a triumph--even with an old man! In a quarter -of an hour I had him smirking and smiling, hanging on my lightest -words in an ecstasy, and answering all the questions I put to him -like a good little child. - -"Here is his account of affairs at Thorpe Ambrose, as I gently -extracted it from him bit by bit: - -"In the first place, the news of Armadale's death has reached -Miss Milroy. It has so completely overwhelmed her that her father -has been compelled to remove her from the school. She is back at -the cottage, and the doctor is in daily attendance. Do I pity -her? Yes! I pity her exactly as much as she once pitied me! - -"In the next place, the state of affairs at the great house, -which I expected to find some difficulty in comprehending, tu rns -out to be quite intelligible, and certainly not discouraging so -far. Only yesterday, the lawyers on both sides came to an -understanding. Mr. Darch (the family solicitor of the Blanchards, -and Armadale's bitter enemy in past times) represents the -interests of Miss Blanchard, who (in the absence of any male -heir) is next heir to the estate, and who has, it appears, been -in London for some time past. Mr. Smart, of Norwich (originally -employed to overlook Bashwood), represents the deceased Armadale. -And this is what the two lawyers have settled between them. - -"Mr. Darch, acting for Miss Blanchard, has claimed the possession -of the estate, and the right of receiving the rents at the -Christmas audit, in her name. Mr. Smart, on his side, has -admitted that there is great weight in the family solicitor's -application. He cannot see his way, as things are now, to -contesting the question of Armadale's death, and he will consent -to offer no resistance to the application, if Mr. Darch will -consent, on his side, to assume the responsibility of taking -possession in Miss Blanchard's name. This Mr. Darch has already -done; and the estate is now virtually in Miss Blanchard's -possession. - -"One result of this course of proceeding will be (as Bashwood -thinks) to put Mr. Darch in the position of the person who really -decides on my claim to the widow's place and the widow's money. -The income being charged on the estate, it must come out of Miss -Blanchard's pocket; and the question of paying it would appear, -therefore, to be a question for Miss Blanchard's lawyer. -To-morrow will probably decide whether this view is the right -one, for my letter to Armadale's representatives will have been -delivered at the great house this morning. - -"So much for what old Bashwood had to tell me. Having recovered -my influence over him, and possessed myself of all his -information so far, the next thing to consider was the right use -to turn him to in the future. He was entirely at my disposal, for -his place at the steward's office has been already taken by Miss -Blanchard's man of business, and he pleaded hard to be allowed to -stay and serve my interests in London. There would not have been -the least danger in letting him stay, for I had, as a matter of -course, left him undisturbed in his conviction that I really am -the widow of Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose. But with the doctor's -resources at my command, I wanted no assistance of any sort in -London; and it occurred to me that I might make Bashwood more -useful by sending him back to Norfolk to watch events there in my -interests. - -"He looked sorely disappointed (having had an eye evidently to -paying his court to me in my widowed condition!) when I told him -of the conclusion at which I had arrived. But a few words of -persuasion, and a modest hint that he might cherish hopes in the -future if he served me obediently in the present, did wonders in -reconciling him to the necessity of meeting my wishes. He asked -helplessly for 'instructions' when it was time for him to leave -me and travel back by the evening train. I could give him none, -for I had no idea as yet of what the legal people might or might -not do. 'But suppose something happens,' he persisted, 'that I -don't understand, what am I to do, so far away from you?' I could -only give him one answer. 'Do nothing,' I said. 'Whatever it is, -hold your tongue about it, and write, or come up to London -immediately to consult me.' With those parting directions, and -with an understanding that we were to correspond regularly, I let -him kiss my hand, and sent him off to the train. - -"Now that I am alone again, and able to think calmly of the -interview between me and my elderly admirer, I find myself -recalling a certain change in old Bashwood's manner which puzzled -me at the time, and which puzzles me still. - -"Even in his first moments of agitation at seeing me, I thought -that his eyes rested on my face with a new kind of interest while -I was speaking to him. Besides this, he dropped a word or two -afterward, in telling me of his lonely life at Thorpe Ambrose, -which seemed to imply that he had been sustained in his solitude -by a feeling of confidence about his future relations with me -when we next met If he had been a younger and a bolder man (and -if any such discovery had been possible), I should almost have -suspected him of having found out something about my past life -which had made him privately confident of controlling me, if I -showed any disposition to deceive and desert him again. But such -an idea as this in connection with old Bashwood is simply absurd. -Perhaps I am overexcited by the suspense and anxiety of my -present position? Perhaps the merest fancies and suspicions are -leading me astray? Let this be as it may, I have, at any rate, -more serious subjects than the subject of old Bashwood to occupy -me now. Tomorrow's post may tell me what Armadale's -representatives think of the claim of Armadale's widow. - - -"November 26th.--The answer has arrived this morning, in the form -(as Bashwood supposed) of a letter from Mr. Darch. The crabbed -old lawyer acknowledges my letter in three lines. Before he takes -any steps, or expresses any opinion on the subject, he wants -evidence of identity as well as the evidence of the certificate; -and he ventures to suggest that it may be desirable, before we go -any further, to refer him to my legal advisers. - -"Two o'clock.--The doctor called shortly after twelve to say that -he had found a lodging for me within twenty minutes' walk of the -Sanitarium. In return for his news, I showed him Mr. Darch's -letter. He took it away at once to his lawyers, and came back -with the necessary information for my guidance. I have answered -Mr. Darch by sending him the address of my legal -advisers--otherwise, the doctor's lawyers--without making any -comment on the desire that he has expressed for additional -evidence of the marriage. This is all that can be done to-day. -To-morrow will bring with it events of greater interest, for -to-morrow the doctor is to make his Declaration before the -magistrate, and to-morrow I am to move to my new lodging in my -widow's weeds. - - -"November 27th.--Fairweather Vale Villas.--The Declaration has -been made, with all the necessary formalities. And I have taken -possession, in my widow's costume, of my new rooms. - -"I ought to be excited by the opening of this new act in the -drama, and by the venturesome part that I am playing in it -myself. Strange to say, I am quiet and depressed. The thought of -Midwinter has followed me to my new abode, and is pressing on me -heavily at this moment. I have no fear of any accident happening, -in the interval that must still pass before I step publicly into -the place of Armadale's widow. But when that time comes, and when -Midwinter finds me (as sooner or later find me he must!) figuring -in my false character, and settled in the position that I have -usurped--_then,_ I ask myself, What will happen? The answer still -comes as it first came to me this morning, when I put on my -widow's dress. Now, as then, the presentiment is fixed in my mind -that he will kill me. If it was not too late to draw back-- -Absurd! I shall shut up my journal. - - -"November 28th.--The lawyers have heard from Mr. Darch, and have -sent him the Declaration by return of post. - -"When the doctor brought me this news, I asked him whether his -lawyers were aware of my present address; and, finding that he -had not yet mentioned it to them, I begged that he would continue -to keep it a secret for the future. The doctor laughed. 'Are you -afraid of Mr. Darch's stealing a march on us, and coming to -attack you personally?' he asked. I accepted the imputation, as -the easiest way of making him comply with my request. 'Yes,' I -said, 'I am afraid of Mr. Darch.' - -"My spirits have risen since the doctor left me. There is a -pleasant sensation of security in feeling that no strangers are -in possession of my address. I am easy enough in my mind to-day -to notice how wonderfully well I look in my widow's weeds, and to -make myself agreeable to the people of the house. - -"Midwinter disturbed me a little again last night; but I have got -over the ghastly delusion which possessed me yesterday. - I know better now than to dread violence from him when he -discovers what I have done. And there is still less fear of his -stooping to assert his claim to a woman who has practiced on him -such a deception as mine. The one serious trial that I shall be -put to when the day of reckoning comes will be the trial of -preserving my false character in his presence. I shall be safe in -his loathing and contempt for me, after that. On the day when I -have denied him to his face, I shall have seen the last of him -forever. - -"Shall I be able to deny him to his face? Shall I be able to look -at him and speak to him as if he had never been more to me than a -friend? How do I know till the time comes? Was there ever such an -infatuated fool as I am, to be writing of him at all, when -writing only encourages me to think of him? I will make a new -resolution. From this time forth, his name shall appear no more -in these pages. - - -"Monday, December 1st.--The last month of the worn-out old year -1851! If I allowed myself to look back, what a miserable year I -should see added to all the other miserable years that are gone! -But I have made my resolution to look forward only, and I mean to -keep it. - -"I have nothing to record of the last two days, except that on -the twenty-ninth I remembered Bashwood, and wrote to tell him of -my new address. This morning the lawyers heard again from Mr. -Darch. He acknowledges the receipt of the Declaration, but -postpones stating the decision at which he has arrived until he -has communicated with the trustees under the late Mr. Blanchard's -will, and has received his final instructions from his client, -Miss Blanchard. The doctor's lawyers declare that this last -letter is a mere device for gaining time--with what object they -are, of course, not in a position to guess. The doctor himself -says, facetiously, it is the usual lawyer's object of making a -long bill. My own idea is that Mr. Darch has his suspicions of -something wrong, and that his purpose in trying to gain time-- - - * * * * * * * - -"Ten, at night.--I had written as far as that last unfinished -sentence (toward four in the afternoon) when I was startled by -hearing a cab drive up to the door. I went to the window, and got -there just in time to see old Bashwood getting out with an -activity of which I should never have supposed him capable. So -little did I anticipate the tremendous discovery that was going -to burst on me in another minute, that I turned to the glass, and -wondered what the susceptible old gentleman would say to me in my -widow's cap. - -"The instant he entered the room, I saw that some serious -disaster had happened. His eyes were wild, his wig was awry. He -approached me with a strange mixture of eagerness and dismay. -'I've done as you told me,' he whispered, breathlessly. 'I've -held my tongue about it, and come straight to _you!_' He caught -me by the hand before I could speak, with a boldness quite new in -my experience of him. 'Oh how can I break it to you!' he burst -out. 'I'm beside myself when I think of it!' - -" 'When you _can_ speak,' I said, putting him into a chair, -'speak out. I see in your face that you bring me news I don't -look for from Thorpe Ambrose.' - -"He put his hand into the breast-pocket of his coat, and drew out -a letter. He looked at the letter, and looked at me. -'New--new--news you don't look for,' he stammered; 'but not from -Thorpe Ambrose!' - -" 'Not from Thorpe Ambrose!' - -" 'No. From the sea!' - -"The first dawning of the truth broke on me at those words. I -couldn't speak--I could only hold out my hand to him for the -letter. - -"He still shrank from giving it to me. 'I daren't! I daren't!' he -said to himself, vacantly. 'The shock of it might be the death of -her.' - -"I snatched the letter from him. One glance at the writing on the -address was enough. My hands fell on my lap, with the letter fast -held in them. I sat petrified, without moving, without speaking, -without hearing a word of what Bashwood was saying to me, and -slowly realized the terrible truth. The man whose widow I had -claimed to be was a living man to confront me! In vain I had -mixed the drink at Naples--in vain I had betrayed him into -Manuel's hands. Twice I had set the deadly snare for him, and -twice Armadale had escaped me! "I came to my sense of outward -things again, and found Bashwood on his knees at my feet, crying. - -" 'You look angry,' he murmured, helplessly. 'Are you angry with -_me?_ Oh, if you only knew what hopes I had when we last saw each -other, and how cruelly that letter has dashed them all to the -ground!' - -"I put the miserable old creature back from me, but very gently. -'Hush!' I said. 'Don't distress me now. I want composure; I want -to read the letter.' - -"He went away submissively to the other end of the room. As soon -as my eye was off him, I heard him say to himself, with impotent -malignity, 'If the sea had been of my mind, the sea would have -drowned him!' - -"One by one I slowly opened the folds of the letter; feeling, -while I did so, the strangest incapability of fixing my attention -on the very lines that I was burning to read. But why dwell any -longer on sensations which I can't describe? It will be more to -the purpose if I place the letter itself, for future reference, -on this page of my journal. - -'Fiume, Illyria, November 21, 1851. - -"MR. BASHWOOD--The address I date from will surprise you; and you -will be more surprised still when you hear how it is that I come -to write to you from a port on the Adriatic Sea. - -"I have been the victim of a rascally attempt at robbery and -murder. The robbery has succeeded; and it is only through the -mercy of God that the murder did not succeed too. - -"I hired a yacht rather more than a month ago at Naples; and -sailed (I am glad to think now) without any friend with me, for -Messina. From Messina I went for a cruise in the Adriatic. Two -days out we were caught in a storm. Storms get up in a hurry, and -go down in a hurry, in those parts. The vessel behaved nobly: I -declare I feel the tears in my eyes now, when I think of her at -the bottom of the sea! Toward sunset it began to moderate; and by -midnight, except for a long, smooth swell, the sea was as quiet -as need be. I went below, a little tired (having helped in -working the yacht while the gale lasted), and fell asleep in five -minutes. About two hours after, I was woke by something falling -into my cabin through a chink of the ventilator in the upper part -of the door. I jumped up, and found a bit of paper with a key -wrapped in it, and with writing on the inner side, in a hand -which it was not very easy to read. - -"Up to this time I had not had the ghost of a suspicion that I -was alone at sea with a gang of murderous vagabonds (excepting -one only) who would stick at nothing. I had got on very well with -my sailing-master (the worst scoundrel of the lot), and better -still with his English mate. The sailors, being all foreigners, I -had very little to say to. They did their work, and no quarrels -and nothing unpleasant happened. If anybody had told me, before I -went to bed on the night after the storm, that the sailing-master -and the crew and the mate (who had been no better than the rest -of them at starting) were all in a conspiracy to rob me of the -money I had on board, and then to drown me in my own vessel -afterward, I should have laughed in his face. Just remember that; -and then fancy for yourself (for I'm sure I can't tell you) what -I must have thought when I opened the paper round the key, and -read what I now copy (from the mate's writing), as follows: - - -" 'SIR--Stay in your bed till you hear a boat shove off from the -starboard side, or you are a dead man. Your money is stolen; and -in five minutes' time the yacht will be scuttled, and the cabin -hatch will be nailed down on you. Dead men tell no tales; and the -sailing-master's notion is to leave proofs afloat that the vessel -has foundered with all on board. It was his doing, to begin with, -and we were all in it. I can't find it in my heart not to give -you a chance for your life. It's a bad chance, but I can do no -more. I should be murdered myself if I didn't seem to go with the -rest. The key of your cabin door is thrown back to you, inside -this. Don't be alarmed when you hear the hammer above. I shall do -it, and I shall have short nails in my hand as well as long, and -use the short ones only. Wait till you hear the boat with all of -us shove off, and then pry up the cabin hatch with your back. The -vessel will float a quarter of an hour after the holes are bored -in her. Slip into the sea on the port side, and keep the vessel -between you and the boat. You will find plenty of loose lumber, -wrenched away on purpose, drifting about to hold on by. It's a -fine night and a smooth sea, and there's a chance that a ship may -pick you up while there's life left in you. I can do no -more.--Yours truly, J. M.' - - -"As I came to those last words, I heard the hammering down of the -hatch over my head. I don't suppose I'm more of a coward than -most people, but there was a moment when the sweat poured down me -like rain. I got to be my own man again before the hammering was -done, and found myself thinking of somebody very dear to me in -England. I said to myself: 'I'll have a try for my life, for her -sake, though the chances are dead against me.' - -"I put a letter from that person I have mentioned into one of the -stoppered bottles of my dressing-case, along with the mate's -warning, in case I lived to see him again. I hung this, and a -flask of whisky, in a sling round my neck; and, after first -dressing myself in my confusion, thought better of it, and -stripped, again, for swimming, to my shirt and drawers. By the -time I had done that the hammering was over and there was such a -silence that I could hear the water bubbling into the scuttled -vessel amidships. The next noise was the noise of the boat and -the villains in her (always excepting my friend, the mate) -shoving off from the starboard side. I waited for the splash of -the oars in the water, and then got my back under the hatch. The -mate had kept his promise. I lifted it easily--crept across the -deck, under cover of the bulwarks, on all fours--and slipped into -the sea on the port side. Lots of things were floating about. I -took the first thing I came to--a hen-coop--and swam away with it -about a couple of hundred yards, keeping the yacht between me and -the boat. Having got that distance, I was seized with a shivering -fit, and I stopped (fearing the cramp next) to take a pull at my -flask. When I had closed the flask again, I turned for a moment -to look back, and saw the yacht in the act of sinking. In a -minute more there was nothing between me and the boat but the -pieces of wreck that had been purposely thrown out to float. The -moon was shining; and, if they had had a glass in the boat, I -believe they might have seen my head, though I carefully kept the -hen-coop between me and them. - -"As it was, they laid on their oars; and I heard loud voices -among them disputing. After what seemed an age to me, I -discovered what the dispute was about. The boat's head was -suddenly turned my way. Some cleverer scoundrel than the rest -(the sailing-master, I dare say) had evidently persuaded them to -row back over the place where the yacht had gone down, and make -quite sure that I had gone down with her. - -"They were more than half-way across the distance that separated -us, and I had given myself up for lost, when I heard a cry from -one of them, and saw the boat's progress suddenly checked. In a -minute or two more the boat's head was turned again; and they -rowed straight away from me like men rowing for their lives. - -"I looked on one side toward the land, and saw nothing. I looked -on the other toward the sea, and discovered what the boat's crew -had discovered before me--a sail in the distance, growing -steadily brighter and bigger in the moonlight the longer I looked -at it. In a quarter of an hour more the vessel was within hail of -me, and the crew had got me on board. - -"They were all foreigners, and they quite deafened me by their -jabber. I tried signs, but before I could make them understand me -I was seized with another shivering fit, and was carried below. -The vessel held on her course, I have no doubt, but I was in no -condition to know anything about it. Before morning I was in a -fever; and from that time I can remember nothing clearly till I -came to my senses at this place, and found myself under the care -of a Hungarian merchant, the consignee (as they call it) of the -coasting vessel that had picked me up. He speaks English as well -or better than I do; and he has treated me with a kindness which -I can find no words to praise. When he was a young man he was in -England himself, learning business, and he says he has -remembrances of our country which make his heart warm toward an -Englishman. He has fitted me out with clothes, and has lent me -the money to travel with, as soon as the doctor allows me to -start for home. Supposing I don't get a relapse, I shall be fit -to travel in a week's time from this. If I can catch the mail at -Trieste, and stand the fatigue, I shall be back again at Thorpe -Ambrose in a week or ten days at most after you get my letter. -You will agree with me that it is a terribly long letter. But I -can't help that. I seem to have lost my old knack at putting -things short, and finishing on the first page. However, I am near -the end now; for I have nothing left to mention but the reason -why I write about what has happened to me, instead of waiting -till I get home, and telling it all by word of mouth. - -"I fancy my head is still muddled by my illness. At any rate, it -only struck me this morning that there is barely a chance of some -vessel having passed the place where the yacht foundered, and -having picked up the furniture, and other things wrenched out of -her and left to float. Some false report of my being drowned may, -in that case, have reached England. If this has happened (which I -hope to God may be an unfounded fear on my part), go directly to -Major Milroy at the cottage. Show him this letter--I have written -it quite as much for his eye as for yours--and then give him the -inclosed note, and ask him if he doesn't think the circumstances -justify me in hoping he will send it to Miss Milroy. I can't -explain why I don't write directly to the major, or to Miss -Milroy, instead of to you. I can only say there are -considerations I am bound in honor to respect, which oblige me to -act in this roundabout way. - -"I don't ask you to answer this, for I shall be on my way home, I -hope, long before your letter could reach me in this -out-of-the-way place. Whatever you do, don't lose a moment in -going to Major Milroy. Go, on second thoughts, whether the loss -of the yacht is known in England or not. - -"Yours truly, ALLAN ARMADALE." - - -"I looked up when I had come to the end of the letter, and saw, -for the first time, that Bashwood had left his chair and had -placed himself opposite to me. He was intently studying my face, -with the inquiring expression of a man who was trying to read my -thoughts. His eyes fell guiltily when they met mine, and he -shrank away to his chair. Believing, as he did, that I was really -married to Armadale, was he trying to discover whether the news -of Armadale's rescue from the sea was good news or bad news in my -estimation? It was no time then for entering into explanations -with him. The first thing to be done was to communicate instantly -with the doctor. I called Bashwood back to me and gave him my -hand. - -" 'You have done me a service,' I said, 'which makes us closer -friends than ever. I shall say more about this, and about other -matters of some interest to both of us, later in the day. I want -you now to lend me Mr. Armadale's letter (which I promise to -bring back) and to wait here till I return. Will you do that for -me, Mr. Bashwood?' - -"He would do anything I asked him, he said. I went into the -bedroom and put on my bonnet and shawl. - -" 'Let me be quite sure of the facts before I leave you,' I -resumed, when I was ready to go out. 'You have not shown this -letter to anybody but me?' - -" 'Not a living soul has seen it but our two selves.' - -"'What have you done with the note inclosed to Miss Milroy?' - -"He produced it from his pocket. I ran it over rapidly--saw that -there was nothing in it of the slightest importance--and put it -in the fi re on the spot. That done, I left Bashwood in the -sitting-room, and went to the Sanitarium, with Armadale's letter -in my hand. - -"The doctor had gone out, and the servant was unable to say -positively at what time he would be back. I went into his study, -and wrote a line preparing him for the news I had brought with -me, which I sealed up, with Armadale's letter, in an envelope, to -await his return. Having told the servant I would call again in -an hour, I left the place. - -"It was useless to go back to my lodgings and speak to Bashwood, -until I knew first what the doctor meant to do. I walked about -the neighborhood, up and down new streets and crescents and -squares, with a kind of dull, numbed feeling in me, which -prevented, not only all voluntary exercise of thought, but all -sensation of bodily fatigue. I remembered the same feeling -overpowering me, years ago, on the morning when the people of the -prison came to take me into court to be tried for my life. All -that frightful scene came back again to my mind in the strangest -manner, as if it had been a scene in which some other person had -figured. Once or twice I wondered, in a heavy, senseless way, why -they had not hanged me! - -"When I went back to the Sanitarium, I was informed that the -doctor had returned half an hour since, and that he was in his -own room anxiously waiting to see me. - -"I went into the study, and found him sitting close by the fire -with his head down and his hands on his knees. On the table near -him, beside Armadale's letter and my note, I saw, in the little -circle of light thrown by the reading-lamp, an open railway -guide. Was he meditating flight? It was impossible to tell from -his face, when he looked up at me, what he was meditating, or how -the shock had struck him when he first discovered that Armadale -was a living man. - -" 'Take a seat near the fire,' he said. 'It's very raw and cold -to-day.' - -"I took a chair in silence. In silence, on his side, the doctor -sat rubbing his knees before the fire. - -" 'Have you nothing to say to me?' I asked. - -"He rose, and suddenly removed the shade from the reading-lamp, -so that the light fell on my face. - -" 'You are not looking well,' he said. 'What's the matter?' - -" 'My head feels dull, and my eyes are heavy and hot,' I replied. -'The weather, I suppose.' - -"It was strange how we both got further and further from the one -vitally important subject which we had both come together to -discuss! - -" 'I think a cup of tea would do you good,' remarked the doctor. - -"I accepted his suggestion; and he ordered the tea. While it was -coming, he walked up and down the room, and I sat by the fire, -and not a word passed between us on either side. - -"The tea revived me; and the doctor noticed a change for the -better in my face. He sat down opposite to me at the table, and -spoke out at last. - -" 'If I had ten thousand pounds at this moment,' he began, 'I -would give the whole of it never to have compromised myself in -your desperate speculation on Mr. Armadale's death!' - -"He said those words with an abruptness, almost with a violence, -which was strangely uncharacteristic of his ordinary manner. Was -he frightened himself, or was he trying to frighten me? I -determined to make him explain himself at the outset, so far as I -was concerned. 'Wait a moment, doctor,' I said. 'Do you hold me -responsible for what has happened?' - -" 'Certainly not,' he replied, stiffly. 'Neither you nor anybody -could have foreseen what has happened. When I say I would give -ten thousand pounds to be out of this business, I am blaming -nobody but myself. And when I tell you next that I, for one, -won't allow Mr. Armadale's resurrection from the sea to be the -ruin of me without a fight for it, I tell you, my dear madam, one -of the plainest truths I ever told to man or woman in the whole -course of my life. Don't suppose I am invidiously separating my -interests from yours in the common danger that now threatens us -both. I simply indicate the difference in the risk that we have -respectively run. _You_ have not sunk the whole of your resources -in establishing a Sanitarium; and _you_ have not made a false -declaration before a magistrate, which is punishable as perjury -by the law.' - -"I interrupted him again. His selfishness did me more good than -his tea: it roused my temper effectually. 'Suppose we let your -risk and my risk alone, and come to the point,' I said. 'What do -you mean by making a fight for it? I see a railway guide on your -table. Does making a fight for it mean--running away?' - -" 'Running away?' repeated the doctor. 'You appear to forget that -every farthing I have in the world is embarked in this -establishment.' - -" 'You stop here, then?' I said. - -" 'Unquestionably!' - -" 'And what do you mean to do when Mr. Armadale comes to -England?' - -"A solitary fly, the last of his race whom the winter had spared, -was buzzing feebly about the doctor's face. He caught it before -he answered me, and held it out across the table in his closed -hand. - -" 'If this fly's name was Armadale,' he said, 'and if you had got -him as I have got him now, what would _you_ do?' - -"His eyes, fixed on my face up to this time, turned -significantly, as he ended this question, to my widow's dress. I, -too, looked at it when he looked. A thrill of the old deadly -hatred and the old deadly determination ran through me again. - -" 'I should kill him,' I said. - -"The doctor started to his feet (with the fly still in his hand), -and looked at me--a little too theatrically--with an expression -of the utmost horror. - -" 'Kill him!' repeated the doctor, in a paroxysm of virtuous -alarm. 'Violence--murderous violence--in My Sanitarium! You take -my breath away!' - -"I caught his eye while he was expressing himself in this -elaborately indignant manner, scrutinizing me with a searching -curiosity which was, to say the least of it, a little at variance -with the vehemence of his language and the warmth of his tone. He -laughed uneasily when our eyes met, and recovered his smoothly -confidential manner in the instant that elapsed before he spoke -again. - -" 'I beg a thousand pardons,' he said. 'I ought to have known -better than to take a lady too literally at her word. Permit me -to remind you, however, that the circumstances are too serious -for anything in the nature of--let us say, an exaggeration or a -joke. You shall hear what I propose, without further preface.' He -paused, and resumed his figurative use of the fly imprisoned in -his hand. 'Here is Mr. Armadale. I can let him out, or keep him -in, just as I please--and he knows it. I say to him,' continued -the doctor, facetiously addressing the fly, 'Give me proper -security, Mr. Armadale, that no proceedings of any sort shall be -taken against either this lady or myself, and I will let you out -of the hollow of my hand. Refuse--and, be the risk what it may, I -will keep you in." Can you doubt, my dear madam, what Mr. -Armadale's answer is, sooner or later, certain to be? Can you -doubt,' said the doctor, suiting the action to the word, and -letting the fly go, 'that it will end to the entire satisfaction -of all parties, in this way?' - -" 'I won't say at present,' I answered, 'whether I doubt or not. -Let me make sure that I understand you first. You propose, if I -am not mistaken, to shut the doors of this place on Mr. Armadale, -and not to let him out again until he has agreed to the terms -which it is our interest to impose on him? May I ask, in that -case, how you mean to make him walk into the trap that you have -set for him here?' - -" 'I propose,' said the doctor, with his hand on the railway -guide, 'ascertaining first at what time during every evening of -this month the tidal trains from Dover and Folkestone reach the -London Bridge terminus. And I propose, next, posting a person -whom Mr. Armadale knows, and whom you and I can trust, to wait -the arrival of the trains, and to meet our man at the moment when -he steps out of the railway carriage.' - -" 'Have you thought,' I inquired, 'of who the person is to be?' - -" 'I have thought,' said the doctor, taking up Armadale's letter -'of the person to whom this letter is addressed.' - -"The answer startled me. Was it possible that he and Bashwood -knew one another? I put the questio n immediately. - -" 'Until to-day I never so much as heard of the gentleman's -name,' said the doctor. 'I have simply pursued the inductive -process of reasoning, for which we are indebted to the immortal -Bacon. How does this very important letter come into your -possession? I can't insult you by supposing it to have been -stolen. Consequently, it has come to you with the leave and -license of the person to whom it is addressed. Consequently, that -person is in your confidence. Consequently, he is the first -person I think of. You see the process? Very good. Permit me a -question or two, on the subject of Mr. Bashwood, before we go on -any further.' - -"The doctor's questions went as straight to the point as usual. -My answers informed him that Mr. Bashwood stood toward Armadale -in the relation of steward; that he had received the letter at -Thorpe Ambrose that morning, and had brought it straight to me by -the first train; that he had not shown it, or spoken of it before -leaving, to Major Milroy or to any one else; that I had not -obtained this service at his hands by trusting him with my -secret; that I had communicated with him in the character of -Armadale's widow; that he had suppressed the letter, under those -circumstances, solely in obedience to a general caution I had -given him to keep his own counsel, if anything strange happened -at Thorpe Ambrose, until he had first consulted me; and, lastly, -that the reason why he had done as I told him in this matter, was -that in this matter, and in all others, Mr. Bashwood was blindly -devoted to my interests. - -"At that point in the interrogatory, the doctor's eyes began to -look at me distrustfully behind the doctor's spectacles. - -" 'What is the secret of this blind devotion of Mr. Bashwood's to -your interests?' he asked. - -"I hesitated for a moment--in pity to Bashwood, not in pity to -myself. 'If you must know,' I answered, 'Mr. Bashwood is in love -with me.' - -" 'Ay! ay!' exclaimed the doctor, with an air of relief. 'I begin -to understand now. Is he a young man?' - -" 'He is an old man.' - -"The doctor laid himself back in his chair, and chuckled softly. -'Better and better!' he said. 'Here is the very man we want. Who -so fit as Mr. Armadale's steward to meet Mr. Armadale on his -return to London? And who so capable of influencing Mr. Bashwood -in the proper way as the charming object of Mr. Bashwood's -admiration?' - -"There could be no doubt that Bashwood was the man to serve the -doctor's purpose, and that my influence was to be trusted to make -him serve it. The difficulty was not here: the difficulty was in -the unanswered question that I had put to the doctor a minute -since. I put it to him again. - -" 'Suppose Mr. Armadale's steward meets his employer at the -terminus,' I said. 'May I ask once more how Mr. Armadale is to be -persuaded to come here?' - -"'Don't think me ungallant,' rejoined the doctor in his gentlest -manner, 'if I ask, on my side, how are men persuaded to do -nine-tenths of the foolish acts of their lives? They are -persuaded by your charming sex. The weak side of every man is the -woman's side of him. We have only to discover the woman's side of -Mr. Armadale--to tickle him on it gently--and to lead him our way -with a silken string. I observe here,' pursued the doctor, -opening Armadale's letter, 'a reference to a certain young lady, -which looks promising. Where is the note that Mr. Armadale speaks -of as addressed to Miss Milroy?' - -"Instead of answering him, I started, in a sudden burst of -excitement, to my feet. The instant he mentioned Miss Milroy's -name all that I had heard from Bashwood of her illness, and of -the cause of it, rushed back into my memory. I saw the means of -decoying Armadale into the Sanitarium as plainly as I saw the -doctor on the other side of the table, wondering at the -extraordinary change in me. What a luxury it was to make Miss -Milroy serve my interests at last! - -" 'Never mind the note,' I said. 'It's burned, for fear of -accidents. I can tell you all (and more) than the note could have -told you. Miss Milroy cuts the knot! Miss Milroy ends the -difficulty! She is privately engaged to him. She has heard the -false report of his death; and she has been seriously ill at -Thorpe Ambrose ever since. When Bashwood meets him at the -station, the very first question he is certain to ask--' - -" 'I see!' exclaimed the doctor, anticipating me. 'Mr. Bashwood -has nothing to do but to help the truth with a touch of fiction. -When he tells his master that the false report has reached Miss -Milroy, he has only to add that the shock has affected her head, -and that she is here under medical care. Perfect! perfect! We -shall have him at the Sanitarium as fast as the fastest cab-horse -in London can bring him to us. And mind! no risk--no necessity -for trusting other people. This is not a mad-house; this is not a -licensed establishment; no doctors' certificates are necessary -here! My dear lady, I congratulate you; I congratulate myself. -Permit me to hand you the railway guide, with my best compliments -to Mr. Bashwood, and with the page turned down for him, as an -additional attention, at the right place.' - -"Remembering how long I had kept Bashwood waiting for me, I took -the book at once, and wished the doctor good-evening without -further ceremony. As he politely opened the door for me, he -reverted, without the slightest necessity for doing so, and -without a word from me to lead to it, to the outburst of virtuous -alarm which had escaped him at the earlier part of our interview. - -" 'I do hope,' he said, 'that you will kindly forget and forgive -my extraordinary want of tact and perception when--in short, when -I caught the fly. I positively blush at my own stupidity in -putting a literal interpretation on a lady's little joke! -Violence in My Sanitarium!' exclaimed the doctor, with his eyes -once more fixed attentively on my face--'violence in this -enlightened nineteenth century! Was there ever anything so -ridiculous? Do fasten your cloak before you go out, it is so cold -and raw! Shall I escort you? Shall I send my servant? Ah, you -were always independent! always, if I may say so, a host in -yourself! May I call to-morrow morning, and hear what you have -settled with Mr. Bashwood?' - -"I said yes, and got away from him at last. In a quarter of an -hour more I was back at my lodgings, and was informed by the -servant that 'the elderly gentleman' was still waiting for me. - -"I have not got the heart or the patience--I hardly know -which--to waste many words on what passed between me and -Bashwood. It was so easy, so degradingly easy, to pull the -strings of the poor old puppet in any way I pleased! I met none -of the difficulties which I should have been obliged to meet in -the case of a younger man, or of a man less infatuated with -admiration for me. I left the allusions to Miss Milroy in -Armadale's letter, which had naturally puzzled him, to be -explained at a future time. I never even troubled myself to -invent a plausible reason for wishing him to meet Armadale at the -terminus, and to entrap him by a stratagem into the doctor's -Sanitarium. All that I found it necessary to do was to refer to -what I had written to Mr. Bashwood, on my arrival in London, and -to what I had afterward said to him, when he came to answer my -letter personally at the hotel. - -" 'You know already,' I said, 'that my marriage has not been a -happy one. Draw your own conclusions from that; and don't press -me to tell you whether the news of Mr. Armadale's rescue from the -sea is, or is not, the welcome news that it ought to be to his -wife!' That was enough to put his withered old face in a glow, -and to set his withered old hopes growing again. I had only to -add, 'If you will do what I ask you to do, no matter how -incomprehensible and how mysterious my request may seem to be; -and if you will accept my assurances that you shall run no risk -yourself, and that you shall receive the proper explanations at -the proper time, you will have such a claim on my gratitude and -my regard as no man living has ever had yet!' I had only to say -those words, and to point them by a look and a stolen pressure of -his hand, and I had him at my feet, blindly eager to obey me. If -he could have se en what I thought of myself; but that doesn't -matter: he saw nothing. - -"Hours have passed since I sent him away (pledged to secrecy, -possessed of his instructions, and provided with his time-table) -to the hotel near the terminus, at which he is to stay till -Armadale appears on the railway platform. The excitement of the -earlier part of the evening has all worn off; and the dull, -numbed sensation has got me again. Are my energies wearing out, I -wonder, just at the time when I most want them? Or is some -foreshadowing of disaster creeping over me which I don't yet -understand? - -"I might be in a humor to sit here for some time longer, thinking -thoughts like these, and letting them find their way into words -at their own will and pleasure, if my Diary would only let me. -But my idle pen has been busy enough to make its way to the end -of the volume. I have reached the last morsel of space left on -the last page; and whether I like it or not, I must close the -book this time for good and all, when I close it to-night. - -"Good-by, my old friend and companion of many a miserable day! -Having nothing else to be fond of, I half suspect myself of -having been unreasonably fond of _you._ - -"What a fool I am!" - -THE END OF THE FOURTH BOOK. - -BOOK THE LAST. - -CHAPTER I. - -AT THE TERMINUS. - - -ON the night of the 2d of December, Mr. Bashwood took up his post -of observation at the terminus of the South-eastern Railway for -the first time. It was an earlier date, by six days, than the -date which Allan had himself fixed for his return. But the -doctor, taking counsel of his medical experience, had considered -it just probable that "Mr. Armadale might be perverse enough, at -his enviable age, to recover sooner than his medical advisers -might have anticipated." For caution's sake, therefore, Mr. -Bashwood was instructed to begin watching the arrival of the -tidal trains on the day after he had received his employer's -letter. - -From the 2d to the 7th of December, the steward waited punctually -on the platform, saw the trains come in, and satisfied himself, -evening after evening, that the travelers were all strangers to -him. From the 2d to the 7th of December, Miss Gwilt (to return to -the name under which she is best known in these pages) received -his daily report, sometimes delivered personally, sometimes sent -by letter. The doctor, to whom the reports were communicated, -received them in his turn with unabated confidence in the -precautions that had been adopted up to the morning of the 8th. -On that date the irritation of continued suspense had produced a -change for the worse in Miss Gwilt's variable temper, which was -perceptible to every one about her, and which, strangely enough, -was reflected by an equally marked change in the doctor's manner -when he came to pay his usual visit. By a coincidence so -extraordinary that his enemies might have suspected it of not -being a coincidence at all, the morning on which Miss Gwilt lost -her patience proved to be also the morning on which the doctor -lost his confidence for the first time. - -"No news, of course," he said, sitting down with a heavy sigh. -"Well! well!" - -Miss Gwilt looked up at him irritably from her work. - -"You seem strangely depressed this morning," she said. "What are -you afraid of now?" - -"The imputation of being afraid, madam," answered the doctor, -solemnly, "is not an imputation to cast rashly on any man--even -when he belongs to such an essentially peaceful profession as -mine. I am not afraid. I am (as you more correctly put it in the -first instance) strangely depressed. My nature is, as you know, -naturally sanguine, and I only see to-day what but for my -habitual hopefulness I might have seen, and ought to have seen, a -week since." - -Miss Gwilt impatiently threw down her work. "If words cost -money," she said, "the luxury of talking would be rather an -expensive luxury in your case!" - -"Which I might have seen, and ought to have seen," reiterated the -doctor, without taking the slightest notice of the interruption, -"a week since. To put it plainly, I feel by no means so certain -as I did that Mr. Armadale will consent, without a struggle, to -the terms which it is my interest (and in a minor degree yours) -to impose on him. Observe! I don't question our entrapping him -successfully into the Sanitarium: I only doubt whether he will -prove quite as manageable as I originally anticipated when we -have got him there. Say," remarked the doctor, raising his eyes -for the first time, and fixing them in steady inquiry on Miss -Gwilt--"say that he is bold, obstinate, what you please; and that -he holds out--holds out for weeks together, for months together, -as men in similar situations to his have held out before him. -What follows? The risk of keeping him forcibly in concealment--of -suppressing him, if I may so express myself--increases at -compound interest, and becomes Enormous! My house is at this -moment virtually ready for patients. Patients may present -themselves in a week's time. Patients may communicate with Mr. -Armadale, or Mr. Armadale may communicate with patients. A note -may be smuggled out of the house, and may reach the Commissioners -in Lunacy. Even in the case of an unlicensed establishment like -mine, those gentlemen--no! those chartered despots in a land of -liberty--have only to apply to the Lord Chancellor for an order, -and to enter (by heavens, to enter My Sanitarium!) and search the -house from top to bottom at a moment's notice! I don't wish to -despond; I don't wish to alarm you; I don't pretend to say that -the means we are taking to secure your own safety are any other -than the best means at our disposal. All I ask you to do is to -imagine the Commissioners in the house--and then to conceive the -consequences. The consequences!" repeated the doctor, getting -sternly on his feet, and taking up his hat as if he meant to -leave the room. - -"Have you anything more to say?" asked Miss Gwilt. - -"Have you any remarks," rejoined the doctor, "to offer on your -side?" - -He stood, hat in hand, waiting. For a full minute the two looked -at each other in silence. - -Miss Gwilt spoke first. - -"I think I understand you," she said, suddenly recovering her -composure. - -"I beg your pardon," returned the doctor, with his hand to his -ear. "What did you say?" - -"Nothing." - -"Nothing?" - -"If you happened to catch another fly this morning," said Miss -Gwilt, with a bitterly sarcastic emphasis on the words, "I might -be capable of shocking you by another 'little joke.' " - -The doctor held up both hands, in polite deprecation, and looked -as if he was beginning to recover his good humor again. - -"Hard," he murmured, gently, "not to have forgiven me that -unlucky blunder of mine, even yet!" - -"What else have you to say? I am waiting for you," said Miss -Gwilt. She turned her chair to the window scornfully, and took up -her work again, as she spoke. - -The doctor came behind her, and put his hand on the back of her -chair. - -"I have a question to ask, in the first place," he said; "and a -measure of necessary precaution to suggest, in the second. If you -will honor me with your attention, I will put the question -first." - -"I am listening." - -"You know that Mr. Armadale is alive," pursued the doctor, "and -you know that he is coming back to England. Why do you continue -to wear your widow's dress?" - -She answered him without an instant's hesitation, steadily going -on with her work. - -"Because I am of a sanguine disposition, like you. I mean to -trust to the chapter of accidents to the very last. Mr. Armadale -may die yet, on his way home." - -"And suppose he gets home alive--what then?" - -"Then there is another chance still left." - -"What is it, pray?" - -"He may die in your Sanitarium." - -"Madam!" remonstrated the doctor, in the deep bass which he -reserved for his outbursts of virtuous indignation. "Wait! you -spoke of the chapter of accidents," he resumed, gliding back into -his softer conversational tones. "Yes! yes! of course. I -understand you this time. Even the healing art is at the mercy of -accidents; even such a Sanitarium as mine is liable to be -surprised by Death. Just so! just so!" said the doctor, conceding -the question with the utmost impartiality. "There _is_ the -chapter of accidents, I admit --if you choose to trust to it. -Mind! I say emphatically, _if_ you choose to trust to it." - -There was another moment of silence--silence so profound that -nothing was audible in the room but the rapid _click_ of Miss -Gwilt's needle through her work. - -"Go on," she said; "you haven't done yet." - -"True!" said the doctor. "Having put my question, I have my -measure of precaution to impress on you next. You will see, my -dear madam, that I am not disposed to trust to the chapter of -accidents on my side. Reflection has convinced me that you and I -are not (logically speaking) so conveniently situated as we might -be in case of emergency. Cabs are, as yet, rare in this rapidly -improving neighborhood. I am twenty minutes' walk from you; you -are twenty minutes' walk from me. I know nothing of Mr. -Armadale's character; you know it well. It might be -necessary--vitally necessary--to appeal to your superior -knowledge of him at a moment's notice. And how am I to do that -unless we are within easy reach of each other, under the same -roof? In both our interests, I beg to invite you, my dear madam, -to become for a limited period an inmate of My Sanitarium." - -Miss Gwilt's rapid needle suddenly stopped. "I understand you," -she said again, as quietly as before. - -"I beg your pardon," said the doctor, with another attack of -deafness, and with his hand once more at his ear. - -She laughed to herself--a low, terrible laugh, which startled -even the doctor into taking his hand off the back of her chair. - -"An inmate of your Sanitarium?" she repeated. "You consult -appearances in everything else; do you propose to consult -appearances in receiving me into your house?" - -"Most assuredly!" replied the doctor, with enthusiasm. "I am -surprised at your asking me the question! Did you ever know a man -of any eminence in my profession who set appearances at defiance? -If you honor me by accepting my invitation, you enter My -Sanitarium in the most unimpeachable of all possible -characters--in the character of a Patient." - -"When do you want my answer?" - -"Can you decide to-day?" - -"To-morrow?" - -"Yes. Have you anything more to say?" - -''Nothing more." - -"Leave me, then. _I_ don't keep up appearances. I wish to be -alone, and I say so. Good-morning." - -"Oh, the sex! the sex!" said the doctor, with his excellent -temper in perfect working order again. "So delightfully -impulsive! so charmingly reckless of what they say or how they -say it! 'Oh, woman, in our hours of ease, uncertain, coy, and -hard to please!' There! there! there! Good-morning!" - -Miss Gwilt rose and looked after him contemptuously from the -window, when the street door had closed, and he had left the -house. - -"Armadale himself drove me to it the first time," she said. -"Manuel drove me to it the second time.--You cowardly scoundrel! -shall I let _you_ drive me to it for the third time, and the -last?" - -She turned from the window, and looked thoughtfully at her -widow's dress in the glass. - -The hours of the day passed--and she decided nothing. The night -came--and she hesitated still. The new morning dawned--and the -terrible question was still unanswered. - -By the early post there came a letter for her. It was Mr. -Bashwood's usual report. Again he had watched for Allan's -arrival, and again in vain. - -"I'll have more time!" she determined, passionately. "No man -alive shall hurry me faster than I like!" - -At breakfast that morning (the morning of the 9th) the doctor was -surprised in his study by a visit from Miss Gwilt. - -"I want another day," she said, the moment the servant had closed -the door on her. - -The doctor looked at her before he answered, and saw the danger -of driving her to extremities plainly expressed in her face. - -"The time is getting on," he remonstrated, in his most persuasive -manner. "For all we know to the contrary, Mr. Armadale may be -here to-night." - -"I want another day!" she repeated, loudly and passionately. - -"Granted!" said the doctor, looking nervously toward the door. -"Don't be too loud--the servants may hear you. Mind!" he added, -"I depend on your honor not to press me for any further delay." - -"You had better depend on my despair," she said, and left him. - -The doctor chipped the shell of his egg, and laughed softly. - -"Quite right, my dear!" he thought. "I remember where your -despair led you in past times; and I think I may trust it to lead -you the same way now." - - -At a quarter to eight o'clock that night Mr. Bashwood took up his -post of observation, as usual, on the platform of the terminus at -London Bridge. He was in the highest good spirits; he smiled and -smirked in irrepressible exultation. The sense that he held in -reserve a means of influence over Miss Gwilt, in virtue of his -knowledge of her past career, had had no share in effecting the -transformation that now appeared in him. It had upheld his -courage in his forlorn life at Thorpe Ambrose, and it had given -him that increased confidence of manner which Miss Gwilt herself -had noticed; but, from the moment when he had regained his old -place in her favor, it had vanished as a motive power in him, -annihilated by the electric shock of her touch and her look. His -vanity--the vanity which in men at his age is only despair in -disguise--had now lifted him to the seventh heaven of fatuous -happiness once more. He believed in her again as he believed in -the smart new winter overcoat that he wore--as he believed in the -dainty little cane (appropriate to the dawning dandyism of lads -in their teens) that he flourished in his hand. He hummed! The -worn-out old creature, who had not sung since his childhood, -hummed, as he paced the platform, the few fragments he could -remember of a worn-out old song. - -The train was due as early as eight o'clock that night. At five -minutes past the hour the whistle sounded. In less than five -minutes more the passengers were getting out on the platform. - -Following the instructions that had been given to him, Mr. -Bashwood made his way, as well as the crowd would let him, along -the line of carriages, and, discovering no familiar face on that -first investigation, joined the passengers for a second search -among them in the custom-house waiting-room next. - -He had looked round the room, and had satisfied himself that the -persons occupying it were all strangers, when he heard a voice -behind him, exclaiming: "Can that be Mr. Bashwood!" He turned in -eager expectation, and found himself face to face with the last -man under heaven whom he had expected to see. - -The man was MIDWINTER. - - -CHAPTER II. - -IN THE HOUSE. - - -NOTICING Mr. Bashwood's confusion (after a moment's glance at the -change in his personal appearance), Midwinter spoke first. - -"I see I have surprised you," he said. "You are looking, I -suppose, for somebody else? Have you heard from Allan? Is he on -his way home again already?" - -The inquiry about Allan, though it would naturally have suggested -itself to any one in Midwinter's position at that moment, added -to Mr. Bashwood's confusion. Not knowing how else to extricate -himself from the critical position in which he was placed, he -took refuge in simple denial. - -"I know nothing about Mr. Armadale--oh dear, no, sir, I know -nothing about Mr. Armadale," he answered, with needless eagerness -and hurry. "Welcome back to England, sir," he went on, changing -the subject in his nervously talkative manner. "I didn't know you -had been abroad. It's so long since we have had the -pleasure--since I have had the pleasure. Have you enjoyed -yourself, sir, in foreign parts? Such different manners from -ours--yes, yes, yes--such different manners from ours! Do you -make a long stay in England, now you have come back?" - -"I hardly know," said Midwinter. "I have been obliged to alter my -plans, and to come to England unexpectedly." He hesitated a -little; his manner changed, and he added, in lower tones: "A -serious anxiety has brought me back. I can't say what my plans -will be until that anxiety is set at rest." - -The light of a lamp fell on his face while he spoke, and Mr. -Bashwood observed, for the first time, that he looked sadly worn -and changed. - -"I'm sorry, sir--I'm sure I'm very sorry. If I could be of any -use--" suggested Mr. Bashwood, speaking under the influence in -some degr ee of his nervous politeness, and in some degree of his -remembrance of what Midwinter had done for him at Thorpe Ambrose -in the by-gone time. - -Midwinter thanked him and turned away sadly. "I am afraid you can -be of no use, Mr. Bashwood--but I am obliged to you for your -offer, all the same." He stopped, and considered a little, -"Suppose she should _not_ be ill? Suppose some misfortune should -have happened?" he resumed, speaking to himself, and turning -again toward the steward. "If she has left her mother, some trace -of her _might_ be found by inquiring at Thorpe Ambrose." - -Mr. Bashwood's curiosity was instantly aroused. The whole sex was -interesting to him now, for the sake of Miss Gwilt. - -"A lady, sir?" he inquired. "Are you looking for a lady?" - -"I am looking," said Midwinter, simply, "for my wife." - -"Married, sir!" exclaimed Mr. Bashwood. "Married since I last had -the pleasure of seeing you! Might I take the liberty of -asking--?" - -Midwinter's eyes dropped uneasily to the ground. - -"You knew the lady in former times," he said. "I have married -Miss Gwilt." - -The steward started back as he might have started back from a -loaded pistol leveled at his head. His eyes glared as if he had -suddenly lost his senses, and the nervous trembling to which he -was subject shook him from head to foot. - -"What's the matter?" said Midwinter. There was no answer. "What -is there so very startling," he went on, a little impatiently, -"in Miss Gwilt's being my wife?" - -"_Your_ wife?" repeated Mr. Bashwood, helplessly. "Mrs. -Armadale--!" He checked himself by a desperate effort, and said -no more. - -The stupor of astonishment which possessed the steward was -instantly reflected in Midwinter's face. The name in which he had -secretly married his wife had passed the lips of the last man in -the world whom he would have dreamed of admitting into his -confidence! He took Mr. Bashwood by the arm, and led him away to -a quieter part of the terminus than the part of it in which they -had hitherto spoken to each other. - -"You referred to my wife just now," he said; "and you spoke of -_Mrs. Armadale_ in the same breath. What do you mean by that?" - -Again there was no answer. Utterly incapable of understanding -more than that he had involved himself in some serious -complication which was a complete mystery to him, Mr. Bashwood -struggled to extricate himself from the grasp that was laid on -him, and struggled in vain. - -Midwinter sternly repeated the question. "I ask you again," he -said, "what do you mean by it?" - -"Nothing, sir! I give you my word of honor, I meant nothing!" He -felt the hand on his arm tightening its grasp; he saw, even in -the obscurity of the remote corner in which they stood, that -Midwinter's fiery temper was rising, and was not to be trifled -with. The extremity of his danger inspired him with the one ready -capacity that a timid man possesses when he is compelled by main -force to face an emergency--the capacity to lie. "I only meant to -say, sir," he burst out, with a desperate effort to look and -speak confidently, "that Mr. Armadale would be surprised--" - -"You said _Mrs._ Armadale!" - -"No, sir--on my word of honor, on my sacred word of honor, you -are mistaken--you are, indeed! I said _Mr._ Armadale--how could I -say anything else? Please to let me go, sir--I'm pressed for -time. I do assure you I'm dreadfully pressed for time!" - -For a moment longer Midwinter maintained his hold, and in that -moment he decided what to do. - -He had accurately stated his motive for returning to England as -proceeding from anxiety about his wife--anxiety naturally caused -(after the regular receipt of a letter from her every other, or -every third day) by the sudden cessation of the correspondence -between them on her side for a whole week. The first vaguely -terrible suspicion of some other reason for her silence than the -reason of accident or of illness, to which he had hitherto -attributed it, had struck through him like a sudden chill the -instant he heard the steward associate the name of "Mrs. -Armadale" with the idea of his wife. Little irregularities in her -correspondence with him, which he had thus far only thought -strange, now came back on his mind, and proclaimed themselves to -be suspicions as well. He had hitherto believed the reasons she -had given for referring him, when he answered her letters, to no -more definite address than an address at a post-office. _Now_ he -suspected her reasons of being excuses, for the first time. He -had hitherto resolved, on reaching London, to inquire at the only -place he knew of at which a clew to her could be found--the -address she had given him as the address at which "her mother" -lived. _Now_ (with a motive which he was afraid to define even to -himself, but which was strong enough to overbear every other -consideration in his mind) he determined, before all things, to -solve the mystery of Mr. Bashwood's familiarity with a secret, -which was a marriage secret between himself and his wife. Any -direct appeal to a man of the steward's disposition, in the -steward's present state of mind, would be evidently useless. The -weapon of deception was, in this case, a weapon literally forced -into Midwinter's hands. He let go of Mr. Bashwood's arm, and -accepted Mr. Bashwood's explanation. - -"I beg your pardon," he said; "I have no doubt you are right. -Pray attribute my rudeness to over-anxiety and over-fatigue. I -wish you good-evening." - -The station was by this time almost a solitude, the passengers by -the train being assembled at the examination of their luggage in -the custom-house waiting-room. It was no easy matter, ostensibly -to take leave of Mr. Bashwood, and really to keep him in view. -But Midwinter's early life with the gypsy master had been of a -nature to practice him in such stratagems as he was now compelled -to adopt. He walked away toward the waiting-room by the line of -empty carriages; opened the door of one of them, as if to look -after something that he had left behind, and detected Mr. -Bashwood making for the cab-rank on the opposite side of the -platform. In an instant Midwinter had crossed, and had passed -through the long row of vehicles, so as to skirt it on the side -furthest from the platform. He entered the second cab by the -left-hand door the moment after Mr. Bashwood had entered the -first cab by the right-hand door. "Double your fare, whatever it -is," he said to the driver, "if you keep the cab before you in -view, and follow it wherever it goes." In a minute more both -vehicles were on their way out of the station. - -The clerk sat in the sentry-box at the gate, taking down the -destinations of the cabs as they passed. Midwinter heard the man -who was driving him call out "Hampstead!" as he went by the -clerk's window. - -"Why did you say 'Hampstead'?" he asked, when they had left the -station. - -"Because the man before me said 'Hampstead,' sir," answered the -driver. - -Over and over again, on the wearisome journey to the northwestern -suburb, Midwinter asked if the cab was still in sight. Over and -over again, the man answered, "Right in front of us." - -It was between nine and ten o'clock when the driver pulled up his -horse at last. Midwinter got out, and saw the cab before them -waiting at a house door. As soon as he had satisfied himself that -the driver was the man whom Mr. Bashwood had hired, he paid the -promised reward, and dismissed his own cab. - -He took a turn backward and forward before the door. The vaguely -terrible suspicion which had risen in his mind at the terminus -had forced itself by this time into a definite form which was -abhorrent to him. Without the shadow of an assignable reason for -it, he found himself blindly distrusting his wife's fidelity, and -blindly suspecting Mr. Bashwood of serving her in the capacity of -go-between. In sheer horror of his own morbid fancy, he -determined to take down the number of the house, and the name of -the street in which it stood; and then, in justice to his wife, -to return at once to the address which she had given him as the -address at which her mother lived. He had taken out his -pocket-book, and was on his way to the corner of the street, when -he observed the man who had driven Mr. Bashwood looking at him -with an express ion of inquisitive surprise. The idea of -questioning the cab-driver, while he had the opportunity, -instantly occurred to him. He took a half-crown from his pocket -and put it into the man's ready hand. - -"Has the gentleman whom you drove from the station gone into that -house?" he asked. - -"Yes, sir." - -"Did you hear him inquire for anybody when the door was opened?" - -"He asked for a lady, sir. Mrs.--" The man hesitated. "It wasn't -a common name, sir; I should know it again if I heard it." - -"Was it 'Midwinter'?" - -"No, sir. - -"Armadale?" - -"That's it, sir. Mrs. Armadale." - -"Are you sure it was 'Mrs.' and not 'Mr.'?" - -"I'm as sure as a man can be who hasn't taken any particular -notice, sir. - -The doubt implied in that last answer decided Midwinter to -investigate the matter on the spot. He ascended the house steps. -As he raised his hand to the bell at the side of the door, the -violence of his agitation mastered him physically for the moment. -A strange sensation, as of something leaping up from his heart to -his brain, turned his head wildly giddy. He held by the house -railings and kept his face to the air, and resolutely waited till -he was steady again. Then he rang the bell. - -"Is?"--he tried to ask for "Mrs. Armadale," when the maid-servant -had opened the door, but not even his resolution could force the -name to pass his lips--"is your mistress at home?" he asked. - -"Yes, sir." - -The girl showed him into a back parlor, and presented him to a -little old lady, with an obliging manner and a bright pair of -eyes. - -"There is some mistake," said Midwinter. "I wished to see--" Once -more he tried to utter the name, and once more he failed to force -it to his lips. - -"Mrs. Armadale?" suggested the little old lady, with a smile. - -"Yes." - -"Show the gentleman upstairs, Jenny." - -The girl led the way to the drawing-room floor. - -"Any name. sir?" - -"No name." - - -Mr. Bashwood had barely completed his report of what had happened -at the terminus; Mr. Bashwood's imperious mistress was still -sitting speechless under the shock of the discovery that had -burst on her--when the door of the room opened; and, without a -word of warning to proceed him, Midwinter appeared on the -threshold. He took one step into the room, and mechanically -pushed the door to behind him. He stood in dead silence, and -confronted his wife, with a scrutiny that was terrible in its -unnatural self-possession, and that enveloped her steadily in one -comprehensive look from head to foot. - -In dead silence on her side, she rose from her chair, In dead -silence she stood erect on the hearth-rug, and faced her husband -in widow's weeds. He took one step nearer to her, and stopped -again. He lifted his hand, and pointed with his lean brown finger -at her dress. - -"What does that mean?" he asked, without losing his terrible -self-possession, and without moving his outstretched hand. - -At the sound of his voice, the quick rise and fall of her -bosom--which had been the one outward betrayal thus far of the -inner agony that tortured her--suddenly stopped. She stood -impenetrably silent, breathlessly still--as if his question had -struck her dead, and his pointing hand had petrified her. - -He advanced one step nearer, and reiterated his words in a voice -even lower and quieter than the voice in which he had spoken -first. - -One moment more of silence, one moment more of inaction, might -have been the salvation of her. But the fatal force of her -character triumphed at the crisis of her destiny, and his. White -and still, and haggard and old, she met the dreadful emergency -with a dreadful courage, and spoke the irrevocable words which -renounced him to his face. - -"Mr. Midwinter," she said, in tones unnaturally hard and -unnaturally clear, "our acquaintance hardly entitles you to speak -to me in that manner." Those were her words. She never lifted her -eyes from the ground while she spoke them. When she had done, the -last faint vestige of color in her cheeks faded out. - -There was a pause. Still steadily looking at her, he set himself -to fix the language she had used to him in his mind. "She calls -me 'Mr. Midwinter,' " he said, slowly, in a whisper. "She speaks -of 'our acquaintance.' " He waited a little and looked round the -room. His wandering eyes encountered Mr. Bashwood for the first -time. He saw the steward standing near the fireplace, trembling, -and watching him. - -"I once did you a service," he said; "and you once told me you -were not an ungrateful man. Are you grateful enough to answer me -if I ask you something?" - -He waited a little again. Mr. Bashwood still stood trembling at -the fireplace, silently watching him. - -"I see you looking at me," he went on. "Is there some change in -me that I am not conscious of myself? Am I seeing things that you -don't see? Am I hearing words that you don't hear? Am I looking -or speaking like a man out of his senses?" - -Again he waited, and again the silence was unbroken. His eyes -began to glitter; and the savage blood that he had inherited from -his mother rose dark and slow in his ashy cheeks. - -"Is that woman," he asked, "the woman whom you once knew, whose -name was Miss Gwilt?" - -Once more his wife collected her fatal courage. Once more his -wife spoke her fatal words. - -"You compel me to repeat," she said, "that you are presuming on -our acquaintance, and that you are forgetting what is due to me." - -He turned upon her, with a savage suddenness which forced a cry -of alarm from Mr. Bashwood's lips. - -"Are you, or are you not, My Wife?" he asked, through his set -teeth. - -She raised her eyes to his for the first time. Her lost spirit -looked at him, steadily defiant, out of the hell of its own -despair. - -"I am _not_ your wife," she said. - -He staggered back, with his hands groping for something to hold -by, like the hands of a man in the dark. He leaned heavily -against the wall of the room, and looked at the woman who had -slept on his bosom, and who had denied him to his face. - -Mr. Bashwood stole panic-stricken to her side. "Go in there!" he -whispered, trying to draw her toward the folding-doors which led -into the next room. "For God's sake, be quick! He'll kill you!" - -She put the old man back with her hand. She looked at him with a -sudden irradiation of her blank face. She answered him with lips -that struggled slowly into a frightful smile. - -"_Let_ him kill me," she said. - -As the words passed her lips, he sprang forward from the wall, -with a cry that rang through the house. The frenzy of a maddened -man flashed at her from his glassy eyes, and clutched at her in -his threatening hands. He came on till he was within arms-length -of her--and suddenly stood still. The black flush died out of his -face in the instant when he stopped. His eyelids fell, his -outstretched hands wavered and sank helpless. He dropped, as the -dead drop. He lay as the dead lie, in the arms of the wife who -had denied him. - -She knelt on the floor, and rested his head on her knee. She -caught the arm of the steward hurrying to help her, with a hand -that closed round it like a vise. "Go for a doctor," she said, -"and keep the people of the house away till he comes." There was -that in her eye, there was that in her voice, which would have -warned any man living to obey her in silence. In silence Mr. -Bashwood submitted, and hurried out of the room. - -The instant she was alone she raised him from her knee. With both -arms clasped round him, the miserable woman lifted his lifeless -face to hers and rocked him on her bosom in an agony of -tenderness beyond all relief in tears, in a passion of remorse -beyond all expression in words. In silence she held him to her -breast, in silence she devoured his forehead, his cheeks, his -lips, with kisses. Not a sound escaped her till she heard the -trampling footsteps outside, hurrying up the stairs. Then a low -moan burst from her lips, as she looked her last at him, and -lowered his head again to her knee, before the strangers came in. - -The landlady and the steward were the first persons whom she saw -when the door was opened. The medical man (a surgeon living in -the street) followed. The horror and the beauty of her face as -she looked up at him absorbed the surgeon's attention for the -moment, to the exclusion of everything else. Sh e had to beckon -to him, she had to point to the senseless man, before she could -claim his attention for his patient and divert it from herself. - -"Is he dead?" she asked. - -The surgeon carried Midwinter to the sofa, and ordered the -windows to be opened. "It is a fainting fit," he said; "nothing -more." - -At that answer her strength failed her for the first time. She -drew a deep breath of relief, and leaned on the chimney-piece for -support. Mr. Bashwood was the only person present who noticed -that she was overcome. He led her to the opposite end of the -room, where there was an easy-chair, leaving the landlady to hand -the restoratives to the surgeon as they were wanted. - -"Are you going to wait here till he recovers?" whispered the -steward, looking toward the sofa, and trembling as he looked. - -The question forced her to a sense of her position--to a -knowledge of the merciless necessities which that position now -forced her to confront. With a heavy sigh she looked toward the -sofa, considered with herself for a moment, and answered Mr. -Bashwood's inquiry by a question on her side. - -"Is the cab that brought you here from the railway still at the -door?" - -"Yes." - -"Drive at once to the gates of the Sanitarium, and wait there -till I join you." - -Mr. Bashwood hesitated. She lifted her eyes to his, and, with a -look, sent him out of the room. - -"The gentleman is coming to, ma'am," said the landlady, as the -steward closed the door. "He has just breathed again." - -She bowed in mute reply, rose, and considered with herself once -more--looked toward the sofa for the second time--then passed -through the folding-doors into her own room. - -After a short lapse of time the surgeon drew back from the sofa -and motioned to the landlady to stand aside. The bodily recovery -of the patient was assured. There was nothing to be done now but -to wait, and let his mind slowly recall its sense of what had -happened. - -"Where is she?" were the first words he said to the surgeon, and -the landlady anxiously watching him. - -The landlady knocked at the folding-doors, and received no -answer. She went in, and found the room empty. A sheet of -note-paper was on the dressing-table, with the doctor's fee -placed on it. The paper contained these lines, evidently written -in great agitation or in great haste: "It is impossible for me to -remain here to-night, after what has happened. I will return -to-morrow to take away my luggage, and to pay what I owe you." - -"Where is she?" Midwinter asked again, when the landlady returned -alone to the drawing-room. - -"Gone, sir." - -"I don't believe it!" - -The old lady's color rose. "If you know her handwriting, sir," -she answered, handing him the sheet of note-paper, "perhaps you -may believe _that?_" - -He looked at the paper. "I beg your pardon, ma'am," he said, as -he handed it back--"I beg your pardon, with all my heart." - -There was something in his face as he spoke those words which -more than soothed the old lady's irritation: it touched her with -a sudden pity for the man who had offended her. "I am afraid -there is some dreadful trouble, sir, at the bottom of all this," -she said, simply. "Do you wish me to give any message to the lady -when she comes back?" - -Midwinter rose and steadied himself for a moment against the -sofa. "I will bring my own message to-morrow," he said. "I must -see her before she leaves your house." - -The surgeon accompanied his patient into the street. "Can I see -you home?" he said, kindly. "You had better not walk, if it is -far. You mustn't overexert yourself; you mustn't catch a chill -this cold night." - -Midwinter took his hand and thanked him. "I have been used to -hard walking and cold nights, sir," he said; "and I am not easily -worn out, even when I look so broken as I do now. If you will -tell me the nearest way out of these streets, I think the quiet -of the country and the quiet of the night will help me. I have -something serious to do to-morrow," he added, in a lower tone; -"and I can't rest or sleep till I have thought over it to-night." - -The surgeon understood that he had no common man to deal with. He -gave the necessary directions without any further remark, and -parted with his patient at his own door. - -Left by himself, Midwinter paused, and looked up at the heavens -in silence. The night had cleared, and the stars were out--the -stars which he had first learned to know from his gypsy master on -the hillside. For the first time his mind went back regretfully -to his boyish days. "Oh, for the old life!" he thought, -longingly. "I never knew till now how happy the old life was!" - -He roused himself, and went on toward the open country. His face -darkened as he left the streets behind him and advanced into the -solitude and obscurity that lay beyond. - -"She has denied her husband to-night," he said. "She shall know -her master to-morrow." - -CHAPTER III. - -THE PURPLE FLASK. - - -THE cab was waiting at the gates as Miss Gwilt approached the -Sanitarium. Mr. Bashwood got out and advanced to meet her. She -took his arm and led him aside a few steps, out of the cabman's -hearing. - -"Think what you like of me," she said, keeping her thick black -veil down over her face, "but don't speak to me to-night. Drive -back to your hotel as if nothing had happened. Meet the tidal -train to-morrow as usual, and come to me afterward at the -Sanitarium. Go without a word, and I shall believe there is one -man in the world who really loves me. Stay and ask questions, and -I shall bid you good-by at once and forever!" - -She pointed to the cab. In a minute more it had left the -Sanitarium and was taking Mr. Bashwood back to his hotel. - -She opened the iron gate and walked slowly up to the house door. -A shudder ran through her as she rang the bell. She laughed -bitterly. "Shivering again!" she said to herself. "Who would have -thought I had so much feeling left in me?" - -For once in her life the doctor's face told the truth, when the -study door opened between ten and eleven at night, and Miss Gwilt -entered the room. - -"Mercy on me!" he exclaimed, with a look of the blankest -bewilderment. "What does this mean?" - -"It means," she answered, "that I have decided to-night instead -of deciding to-morrow. You, who know women so well, ought to know -that they act on impulse. I am here on an impulse. Take me or -leave me, just as you like." - -"Take you or leave you?" repeated the doctor, recovering his -presence of mind. "My dear lady, what a dreadful way of putting -it! Your room shall be got ready instantly! Where is your -luggage? Will you let me send for it? No? You can do without your -luggage tonight? What admirable fortitude! You will fetch it -yourself to-morrow? What extraordinary independence! Do take off -your bonnet. Do draw in to the fire! What can I offer you?" - -"Offer me the strongest sleeping draught you ever made in your -life," she replied. "And leave me alone till the time comes to -take it. I shall be your patient in earnest!" she added, -fiercely, as the doctor attempted to remonstrate. "I shall be the -maddest of the mad if you irritate me to-night!" - -The Principal of the Sanitarium became gravely and briefly -professional in an instant. - -"Sit down in that dark corner," he said. "Not a soul shall -disturb you. In half an hour you will find your room ready, and -your sleeping draught on the table."--"It's been a harder -struggle for her than I anticipated," he thought, as he left the -room, and crossed to his Dispensary on the opposite side of the -hall. "Good heavens, what business has she with a conscience, -after such a life as hers has been!" - -The Dispensary was elaborately fitted up with all the latest -improvements in medical furniture. But one of the four walls of -the room was unoccupied by shelves, and here the vacant space was -filled by a handsome antique cabinet of carved wood, curiously -out of harmony, as an object, with the unornamented utilitarian -aspect of the place generally. On either side of the cabinet two -speaking-tubes were inserted in the wall, communicating with the -upper regions of the house, and labeled respectively "Resident -Dispenser" and "Head Nurse." Into the second of these tubes the -doctor spoke, on entering the room. An elderly woman appeared, -took her orders for preparing Mr s. Armadale's bed-chamber, -courtesied, and retired. - -Left alone again in the Dispensary, the doctor unlocked the -center compartment of the cabinet, and disclosed a collection of -bottles inside, containing the various poisons used in medicine. -After taking out the laudanum wanted for the sleeping draught, -and placing it on the dispensary table, he went back to the -cabinet, looked into it for a little while, shook his head -doubtfully, and crossed to the open shelves on the opposite side -of the room. - -Here, after more consideration, he took down one out of the row -of large chemical bottles before him, filled with a yellow -liquid; placing the bottle on the table, he returned to the -cabinet, and opened a side compartment, containing some specimens -of Bohemian glass-work. After measuring it with his eye, he took -from the specimens a handsome purple flask, high and narrow in -form, and closed by a glass stopper. This he filled with the -yellow liquid, leaving a small quantity only at the bottom of the -bottle, and locking up the flask again in the place from which he -had taken it The bottle was next restored to its place, after -having been filled up with water from the cistern in the -Dispensary, mixed with certain chemical liquids in small -quantities, which restored it (so far as appearances went) to the -condition in which it had been when it was first removed from the -shelf. Having completed these mysterious proceedings, the doctor -laughed softly, and went back to his speaking-tubes to summon the -Resident Dispenser next. - -The Resident Dispenser made his appearance shrouded in the -necessary white apron from his waist to his feet. The doctor -solemnly wrote a prescription for a composing draught, and handed -it to his assistant. - -"Wanted immediately, Benjamin," he said in a soft and melancholy -voice. "A lady patient--Mrs. Armadale, Room No. 1, second floor. -Ah, dear, dear!" groaned the doctor, absently; "an anxious case, -Benjamin--an anxious case." He opened the brand-new ledger of the -establishment, and entered the Case at full length, with a brief -abstract of the prescription. "Have you done with the laudanum? -Put it back, and lock the cabinet, and give me the key. Is the -draught ready? Label it, 'To be taken at bedtime,' and give it to -the nurse, Benjamin--give it to the nurse." - -While the doctor's lips were issuing these directions, the -doctor's hands were occupied in opening a drawer under the desk -on which the ledger was placed. He took out some gayly printed -cards of admission "to view the Sanitarium, between the hours of -two and four P.M.," and filled them up with the date of the next -day, "December 10th." When a dozen of the cards had been wrapped -up in a dozen lithographed letters of invitation, and inclosed in -a dozen envelopes, he next consulted a list of the families -resident in the neighborhood, and directed the envelopes from the -list. Ringing a bell this time, instead of speaking through a -tube, he summoned the man-servant, and gave him the letters, to -be delivered by hand the first thing the next morning. "I think -it will do," said the doctor, taking a turn in the Dispensary -when the servant had gone out--"I think it will do." While he was -still absorbed in his own reflections, the nurse re-appeared to -announce that the lady's room was ready; and the doctor thereupon -formally returned to the study to communicate the information to -Miss Gwilt. - -She had not moved since he left her. She rose from her dark -corner when he made his announcement, and, without speaking or -raising her veil, glided out of the room like a ghost. - -After a brief interval, the nurse came downstairs again, with a -word for her master's private ear. - -"The lady has ordered me to call her to-morrow at seven o'clock, -sir," she said. "She means to fetch her luggage herself, and she -wants to have a cab at the door as soon as she is dressed. What -am I to do?" - -"Do what the lady tells you," said the doctor. - -"She may be safely trusted to return to the Sanitarium." - -The breakfast hour at the Sanitarium was half-past eight o'clock. -By that time Miss Gwilt had settled everything at her lodgings, -and had returned with her luggage in her own possession. The -doctor was quite amazed at the promptitude of his patient. - -"Why waste so much energy?" he asked, when they met at the -breakfast-table. "Why be in such a hurry, my dear lady, when you -had all the morning before you?" - -"Mere restlessness!" she said, briefly. "The longer I live, the -more impatient I get." - -The doctor, who had noticed before she spoke that her face looked -strangely pale and old that morning, observed, when she answered -him, that her expression--naturally mobile in no ordinary -degree--remained quite unaltered by the effort of speaking. There -was none of the usual animation on her lips, none of the usual -temper in her eyes. He had never seen her so impenetrably and -coldly composed as he saw her now. "She has made up her mind at -last," he thought. "I may say to her this morning what I couldn't -say to her last night." - -He prefaced the coming remarks by a warning look at her widow's -dress. - -"Now you have got your luggage," he began, gravely, "permit me to -suggest putting that cap away, and wearing another gown." - -"Why?" - -"Do you remember what you told me a day or two since?" asked the -doctor. "You said there was a chance of Mr. Armadale's dying in -my Sanitarium?" - -"I will say it again, if you like." - -"A more unlikely chance," pursued the doctor, deaf as ever to all -awkward interruptions, "it is hardly possible to imagine! But as -long as it is a chance at all, it is worth considering. Say, -then, that he dies--dies suddenly and unexpectedly, and makes a -Coroner's Inquest necessary in the house. What is our course in -that case? Our course is to preserve the characters to which we -have committed ourselves--you as his widow, and I as the witness -of your marriage--and, _in_ those characters, to court the -fullest inquiry. In the entirely improbable event of his dying -just when we want him to die, my idea--I might even say, my -resolution--is to admit that we knew of his resurrection from the -sea; and to acknowledge that we instructed Mr. Bashwood to entrap -him into this house, by means of a false statement about Miss -Milroy. When the inevitable questions follow, I propose to assert -that he exhibited symptoms of mental alienation shortly after -your marriage; that his delusion consisted in denying that you -were his wife, and in declaring that he was engaged to be married -to Miss Milroy; that you were in such terror of him on this -account, when you heard he was alive and coming back, as to be in -a state of nervous agitation that required my care; that at your -request, and to calm that nervous agitation, I saw him -professionally, and got him quietly into the house by a humoring -of his delusion, perfectly justifiable in such a case; and, -lastly, that I can certify his brain to have been affected by one -of those mysterious disorders, eminently incurable, eminently -fatal, in relation to which medical science is still in the dark. -Such a course as this (in the remotely possible event which we -are now supposing) would be, in your interests and mine, -unquestionably the right course to take; and such a dress as -_that_ is, just as certainly, under existing circumstances, the -wrong dress to wear." - -"Shall I take it off at once?" she asked, rising from the -breakfast-table, without a word of remark on what had just been -said to her. - -"Anytime before two o'clock to-day will do," said the doctor. - -She looked at him with a languid curiosity--nothing more. "Why -before two?" she inquired. - -"Because this is one of my 'Visitors' Days,' And the visitors' -time is from two to four." - -"What have I to do with your visitors?" - -"Simply this. I think it important that perfectly respectable and -perfectly disinterested witnesses should see you, in my house, in -the character of a lady who has come to consult me." - -"Your motive seems rather far-fetched, Is it the only motive you -have in the matter?" - -"My dear, dear lady!" remonstrated the doctor, "have I any -concealments from _you?_ Surely, you ought to know me better than -that?" - -"Yes," she said, with a we ary contempt. "It's dull enough of me -not to understand you by this time. Send word upstairs when I am -wanted." She left him, and went back to her room. - - -Two o'clock came; and in a quarter of an hour afterward the -visitors had arrived. Short as the notice had been, cheerless as -the Sanitarium looked to spectators from without, the doctor's -invitation had been largely accepted, nevertheless, by the female -members of the families whom he had addressed. In the miserable -monotony of the lives led by a large section of the middle -classes of England, anything is welcome to the women which offers -them any sort of harmless refuge from the established tyranny of -the principle that all human happiness begins and ends at home. -While the imperious needs of a commercial country limited the -representatives of the male sex, among the doctor's visitors, to -one feeble old man and one sleepy little boy, the women, poor -souls, to the number of no less than sixteen--old and young, -married and single--had seized the golden opportunity of a plunge -into public life. Harmoniously united by the two common objects -which they all had in view--in the first place, to look at each -other, and, in the second place, to look at the Sanitarium--they -streamed in neatly dressed procession through the doctor's dreary -iron gates, with a thin varnish over them of assumed superiority -to all unladylike excitement, most significant and most pitiable -to see! - -The proprietor of the Sanitarium received his visitors in the -hall with Miss Gwilt on his arm. The hungry eyes of every woman -in the company overlooked the doctor as if no such person had -existed; and, fixing on the strange lady, devoured her from head -to foot in an instant. - -"My First Inmate," said the doctor, presenting Miss Gwilt. "This -lady only arrived late last night; and she takes the present -opportunity (the only one my morning's engagements have allowed -me to give her) of going over the Sanitarium.--Allow me, ma'am," -he went on, releasing Miss Gwilt, and giving his arm to the -eldest lady among the visitors. "Shattered nerves--domestic -anxiety," he whispered, confidentially. "Sweet woman! sad case!" -He sighed softly, and led the old lady across the hall. - -The flock of visitors followed, Miss Gwilt accompanying them in -silence, and walking alone--among them, but not of them--the last -of all. - -"The grounds, ladies and gentlemen," said the doctor, wheeling -round, and addressing his audience from the foot of the stairs, -"are, as you have seen, in a partially unfinished condition. -Under any circumstances, I should lay little stress on the -grounds, having Hampstead Heath so near at hand, and carriage -exercise and horse exercise being parts of my System. In a lesser -degree, it is also necessary for me to ask your indulgence for -the basement floor, on which we now stand. The waiting-room and -study on that side, and the Dispensary on the other (to which I -shall presently ask your attention), are completed. But the large -drawing-room is still in the decorator's hands. In that room -(when the walls are dry--not a moment before) my inmates will -assemble for cheerful society. Nothing will be spared that can -improve, elevate, and adorn life at these happy little -gatherings. Every evening, for example, there will be music for -those who like it." - -At this point there was a faint stir among the visitors. A mother -of a family interrupted the doctor. She begged to know whether -music "every evening" included Sunday evening; and, if so, what -music was performed? - -"Sacred music, of course, ma'am," said the doctor. "Handel on -Sunday evening--and Haydn occasionally, when not too cheerful. -But, as I was about to say, music is not the only entertainment -offered to my nervous inmates. Amusing reading is provided for -those who prefer books." - -There was another stir among the visitors. Another mother of a -family wished to know whether amusing reading meant novels. - -"Only such novels as I have selected and perused myself, in the -first instance," said the doctor. "Nothing painful, ma'am! There -may be plenty that is painful in real life; but for that very -reason, we don't want it in books. The English novelist who -enters my house (no foreign novelist will be admitted) must -understand his art as the healthy-minded English reader -understands it in our time. He must know that our purer modern -taste, our higher modern morality, limits him to doing exactly -two things for us, when he writes us a book. All we want of him -is--occasionally to make us laugh; and invariably to make us -comfortable." - -There was a third stir among the visitors--caused plainly this -time by approval of the sentiments which they had just heard. The -doctor, wisely cautious of disturbing the favorable impression -that he had produced, dropped the subject of the drawing-room, -and led the way upstairs. As before, the company followed; and, -as before, Miss Gwilt walked silently behind them, last of all. -One after another the ladies looked at her with the idea of -speaking, and saw something in her face, utterly unintelligible -to them, which checked the well-meant words on their lips. The -prevalent impression was that the Principal of the Sanitarium had -been delicately concealing the truth, and that his first inmate -was mad. - -The doctor led the way--with intervals of breathing-time accorded -to the old lady on his arm--straight to the top of the house. -Having collected his visitors in the corridor, and having waved -his hand indicatively at the numbered doors opening out of it on -either side, he invited the company to look into any or all of -the rooms at their own pleasure. - -"Numbers one to four, ladies and gentlemen," said the doctor, -"include the dormitories of the attendants. Numbers four to eight -are rooms intended for the accommodation of the poorer class of -patients, whom I receive on terms which simply cover my -expenditure--nothing more. In the cases of these poorer persons -among my suffering fellow creatures, personal piety and the -recommendation of two clergymen are indispensable to admission. -Those are the only conditions I make; but those I insist on. Pray -observe that the rooms are all ventilated, and the bedsteads all -iron and kindly notice, as we descend again to the second floor, -that there is a door shutting off all communication between the -second story and the top story when necessary. The rooms on the -second floor, which we have now reached, are (with the exception -of my own room) entirely devoted to the reception of -lady-inmates--experience having convinced me that the greater -sensitiveness of the female constitution necessitates the higher -position of the sleeping apartment, with a view to the greater -purity and freer circulation of the air. Here the ladies are -established immediately under my care, while my -assistant-physician (whom I expect to arrive in a week's time) -looks after the gentlemen on the floor beneath. Observe, again, -as we descend to this lower, or first floor, a second door, -closing all communication at night between the two stories to -every one but the assistant physician and myself. And now that we -have reached the gentleman's part of the house, and that you have -observed for yourselves the regulations of the establishment, -permit me to introduce you to a specimen of my system of -treatment next. I can exemplify it practically, by introducing -you to a room fitted up, under my own direction, for the -accommodation of the most complicated cases of nervous suffering -and nervous delusion that can come under my care." - -He threw open the door of a room at one extremity of the -corridor, numbered Four. "Look in, ladies and gentlemen," he -said; "and, if you see anything remarkable, pray mention it." - -The room was not very large, but it was well lit by one broad -window. Comfortably furnished as a bedroom, it was only -remarkable among other rooms of the same sort in one way. It had -no fireplace. The visitors having noticed this, were informed -that the room was warmed in winter by means of hot water; and -were then invited back again into the corridor, to make the -discoveries, under professional direction, which they were unable -to make for themselves. - -"A word, ladi es and gentlemen," said the doctor; "literally a -word, on nervous derangement first. What is the process of -treatment, when, let us say, mental anxiety has broken you down, -and you apply to your doctor? He sees you, hears you, and gives -you two prescriptions. One is written on paper, and made up at -the chemist's. The other is administered by word of mouth, at the -propitious moment when the fee is ready; and consists in a -general recommendation to you to keep your mind easy. That -excellent advice given, your doctor leaves you to spare yourself -all earthly annoyances by your own unaided efforts, until he -calls again. Here my System steps in and helps you! When _I_ see -the necessity of keeping your mind easy, I take the bull by the -horns and do it for you. I place you in a sphere of action in -which the ten thousand trifles which must, and do, irritate -nervous people at home are expressly considered and provided -against. I throw up impregnable moral intrenchments between Worry -and You. Find a door banging in _this_ house, if you can! Catch a -servant in _this_ house rattling the tea-things when he takes -away the tray! Discover barking dogs, crowing cocks, hammering -workmen, screeching children _here_--and I engage to close My -Sanitarium to-morrow! Are these nuisances laughing matters to -nervous people? Ask them! Can they escape these nuisances at -home? Ask them! Will ten minutes' irritation from a barking dog -or a screeching child undo every atom of good done to a nervous -sufferer by a month's medical treatment? There isn't a competent -doctor in England who will venture to deny it! On those plain -grounds my System is based. I assert the medical treatment of -nervous suffering to be entirely subsidiary to the moral -treatment of it. That moral treatment of it you find here. That -moral treatment, sedulously pursued throughout the day, follows -the sufferer into his room at night; and soothes, helps and cures -him, without his own knowledge--you shall see how." - -The doctor paused to take breath and looked, for the first time -since the visitors had entered the house, at Miss Gwilt. For the -first time, on her side, she stepped forward among the audience, -and looked at him in return. After a momentary obstruction in the -shape of a cough, the doctor went on. - -"Say, ladies and gentlemen," he proceeded, "that my patient has -just come in. His mind is one mass of nervous fancies and -caprices, which his friends (with the best possible intentions) -have been ignorantly irritating at home. They have been afraid of -him, for instance, at night. They have forced him to have -somebody to sleep in the room with him, or they have forbidden -him, in case of accidents, to lock his door. He comes to me the -first night, and says: 'Mind, I won't have anybody in my -room!'--'Certainly not!'--'I insist on locking my door.'--'By all -means!' In he goes, and locks his door; and there he is, soothed -and quieted, predisposed to confidence, predisposed to sleep, by -having his own way. 'This is all very well,' you may say; 'but -suppose something happens, suppose he has a fit in the night, -what then?' You shall see! Hallo, my young friend!" cried the -doctor, suddenly addressing the sleepy little boy. "Let's have a -game. You shall be the poor sick man, and I'll be the good -doctor. Go into that room and lock the door. There's a brave boy! -Have you locked it? Very good! Do you think I can't get at you if -I like? I wait till you're asleep--I press this little white -button, hidden here in the stencilled pattern of the outer -wall--the mortise of the lock inside falls back silently against -the door-post--and I walk into the room whenever I like. The same -plan is pursued with the window. My capricious patient won't open -it at night, when he ought. I humor him again. 'Shut it, dear -sir, by all means!' As soon as he is asleep, I pull the black -handle hidden here, in the corner of the wall. The window of the -room inside noiselessly opens, as you see. Say the patient's -caprice is the other way--he persists in opening the window when -he ought to shut it. Let him! by all means, let him! I pull a -second handle when he is snug in his bed, and the window -noiselessly closes in a moment. Nothing to irritate him, ladies -and gentlemen--absolutely nothing to irritate him! But I haven't -done with him yet. Epidemic disease, in spite of all my -precautions, may enter this Sanitarium, and may render the -purifying of the sick-room necessary. Or the patient's case may -be complicated by other than nervous malady--say, for instance, -asthmatic difficulty of breathing. In the one case, fumigation is -necessary; in the other, additional oxygen in the air will give -relief. The epidemic nervous patient says, 'I won't be smoked -under my own nose!' The asthmatic nervous patient gasps with -terror at the idea of a chemical explosion in his room. I -noiselessly fumigate one of them; I noiselessly oxygenize the -other, by means of a simple Apparatus fixed outside in the corner -here. It is protected by this wooden casing; it is locked with my -own key; and it communicates by means of a tube with the interior -of the room. Look at it!" - -With a preliminary glance at Miss Gwilt, the doctor unlocked the -lid of the wooden casing, and disclosed inside nothing more -remarkable than a large stone jar, having a glass funnel, and a -pipe communicating with the wall, inserted in the cork which -closed the mouth of it. With another look at Miss Gwilt, the -doctor locked the lid again, and asked, in the blandest manner, -whether his System was intelligible now? - -"I might introduce you to all sorts of other contrivances of the -same kind," he resumed, leading the way downstairs; "but it would -be only the same thing over and over again. A nervous patient who -always has his own way is a nervous patient who is never worried; -and a nervous patient who is never worried is a nervous patient -cured. There it is in a nutshell! Come and see the Dispensary, -ladies; the Dispensary and the kitchen next!" - -Once more, Miss Gwilt dropped behind the visitors, and waited -alone--looking steadfastly at the Room which the doctor had -opened, and at the apparatus which the doctor had unlocked. -Again, without a word passing between them, she had understood -him. She knew, as well as if he had confessed it, that he was -craftily putting the necessary temptation in her way, before -witnesses who could speak to the superficially innocent acts -which they had seen, if anything serious happened. The apparatus, -originally constructed to serve the purpose of the doctor's -medical crotchets, was evidently to be put to some other use, of -which the doctor himself had probably never dreamed till now. And -the chances were that, before the day was over, that other use -would be privately revealed to her at the right moment, in the -presence of the right witness. "Armadale will die this time," she -said to herself, as she went slowly down the stairs. "The doctor -will kill him, by my hands." - -The visitors were in the Dispensary when she joined them. All the -ladies were admiring the beauty of the antique cabinet; and, as a -necessary consequence, all the ladies were desirous of seeing -what was inside. The doctor--after a preliminary look at Miss -Gwilt--good-humoredly shook his head. "There is nothing to -interest you inside," he said. "Nothing but rows of little shabby -bottles containing the poisons used in medicine which I keep -under lock and key. Come to the kitchen, ladies, and honor me -with your advice on domestic matters below stairs." He glanced -again at Miss Gwilt as the company crossed the hall, with a look -which said plainly, "Wait here." - -In another quarter of an hour the doctor had expounded his views -on cookery and diet, and the visitors (duly furnished with -prospectuses) were taking leave of him at the door. "Quite an -intellectual treat!" they said to each other, as they streamed -out again in neatly dressed procession through the iron gates. -"And what a very superior man!" - -The doctor turned back to the Dispensary, humming absently to -himself, and failing entirely to observe the corner of the hall -in which Miss Gwilt stood retired. After an instant's hesitation, -she followed him. The as sistant was in the room when she entered -it--summoned by his employer the moment before. - -"Doctor," she said, coldly and mechanically, as if she was -repeating a lesson, "I am as curious as the other ladies about -that pretty cabinet of yours. Now they are all gone, won't you -show the inside of it to _me?_" - -The doctor laughed in his pleasantest manner. - -"The old story," he said. "Blue-Beard's locked chamber, and -female curiosity! (Don't go, Benjamin, don't go.) My dear lady, -what interest can you possibly have in looking at a medical -bottle, simply because it happens to be a bottle of poison?" - -She repeated her lesson for the second time. - -"I have the interest of looking at it," she said, "and of -thinking, if it got into some people's hands, of the terrible -things it might do." - -The doctor glanced at his assistant with a compassionate smile. - -"Curious, Benjamin," he said, "the romantic view taken of these -drugs of ours by the unscientific mind! My dear lady," he added, -turning to Miss Gwilt, "if _that_ is the interest you attach to -looking at poisons, you needn't ask me to unlock my cabinet--you -need only look about you round the shelves of this room. There -are all sorts of medical liquids and substances in those -bottles--most innocent, most useful in themselves--which, in -combination with other substances and other liquids, become -poisons as terrible and as deadly as any that I have in my -cabinet under lock and key." - -She looked at him for a moment, and creased to the opposite side -of the room. - -"Show me one," she said, - -Still smiling as good-humoredly as ever, the doctor humored his -nervous patient. He pointed to the bottle from which he had -privately removed the yellow liquid on the previous day, and -which he had filled up again with a carefully-colored imitation -in the shape of a mixture of his own. - -"Do you see that bottle," he said--"that plump, round, -comfortable-looking bottle? Never mind the name of what is beside -it; let us stick to the bottle, and distinguish it, if you like, -by giving it a name of our own. Suppose we call it 'our Stout -Friend'? Very good. Our Stout Friend, by himself, is a most -harmless and useful medicine. He is freely dispensed every day to -tens of thousands of patients all over the civilized world. He -has made no romantic appearances in courts of law; he has excited -no breathless interest in novels; he has played no terrifying -part on the stage. There he is, an innocent, inoffensive -creature, who troubles nobody with the responsibility of locking -him up! _But_ bring him into contact with something -else--introduce him to the acquaintance of a certain common -mineral substance, of a universally accessible kind, broken into -fragments; provide yourself with (say) six doses of our Stout -Friend, and pour those doses consecutively on the fragments I -have mentioned, at intervals of not less than five minutes. -Quantities of little bubbles will rise at every pouring; collect -the gas in those bubbles, and convey it into a closed -chamber--and let Samson himself be in that closed chamber; our -stout Friend will kill him in half an hour! Will kill him slowly, -without his seeing anything, without his smelling anything, -without his feeling anything but sleepiness. Will kill him, and -tell the whole College of Surgeons nothing, if they examine him -after death, but that he died of apoplexy or congestion of the -lungs! What do you think of _that,_ my dear lady, in the way of -mystery and romance? Is our harmless Stout Friend as interesting -_now_ as if he rejoiced in the terrible popular fame of the -Arsenic and the Strychnine which I keep locked up there? Don't -suppose I am exaggerating! Don't suppose I'm inventing a story to -put you off with, as the children say. Ask Benjamin there," said -the doctor, appealing to his assistant, with his eyes fixed on -Miss Gwilt. "Ask Benjamin," he repeated, with the steadiest -emphasis on the next words, "if six doses from that bottle, at -intervals of five minutes each, would not, under the conditions I -have stated, produce the results I have described?" - -The Resident Dispenser, modestly admiring Miss Gwilt at a -distance, started and colored up. He was plainly gratified by the -little attention which had included him in the conversation. - -"The doctor is quite right, ma'am," he said, addressing Miss -Gwilt, with his best bow; "the production of the gas, extended -over half an hour, would be quite gradual enough. And," added the -Dispenser, silently appealing to his employer to let him exhibit -a little chemical knowledge on his own account, "the volume of -the gas would be sufficient at the end of the time--if I am not -mistaken, sir?--to be fatal to any person entering the room in -less than five minutes." - -"Unquestionably, Benjamin," rejoined the doctor. "But I think we -have had enough of chemistry for the present," he added, turning -to Miss Gwilt. "With every desire, my dear lady, to gratify every -passing wish you may form, I venture to propose trying a more -cheerful subject. Suppose we leave the Dispensary, before it -suggests any more inquiries to that active mind of yours? No? You -want to see an experiment? You want to see how the little bubbles -are made? Well, well! there is no harm in that. We will let Mrs. -Armadale see the bubbles," continued the doctor, in the tone of a -parent humoring a spoiled child. "Try if you can find a few of -those fragments that we want, Benjamin. I dare say the workmen -(slovenly fellows!) have left something of the sort about the -house or the grounds." - -The Resident Dispenser left the room. - -As soon as his back was turned, the doctor began opening and -shutting drawers in various parts of the Dispensary, with the air -of a man who wants something in a hurry, and does not know where -to find it. "Bless my soul!" he exclaimed, suddenly stopping at -the drawer from which he had taken his cards of invitation on the -previous day, "what's this? A key? A duplicate key, as I'm alive, -of my fumigating apparatus upstairs! Oh dear, dear, how careless -I get," said the doctor, turning round briskly to Miss Gwilt. "I -hadn't the least idea that I possessed this second key. I should -never have missed it. I do assure you I should never have missed -it if anybody had taken it out of the drawer!" He bustled away to -the other end of the room--without closing the drawer, and -without taking away the duplicate key. - -In silence, Miss Gwilt listened till he had done. In silence, she -glided to the drawer. In silence, she took the key and hid it in -her apron pocket. - -The Dispenser came back, with the fragments required of him, -collected in a basin. "Thank you, Benjamin," said the doctor. -"Kindly cover them with water, while I get the bottle down." - -As accidents sometimes happen in the most perfectly regulated -families, so clumsiness sometimes possesses itself of the most -perfectly disciplined hands. In the process of its transfer from -the shelf to the doctor, the bottle slipped and fell smashed to -pieces on the floor. - -"Oh, my fingers and thumbs!" cried the doctor, with an air of -comic vexation, "what in the world do you mean by playing me such -a wicked trick as that? Well, well, well--it can't be helped. -Have we got any more of it, Benjamin?" - -"Not a drop, sir." - -"Not a drop!" echoed the doctor. "My dear madam, what excuses can -I offer you? My clumsiness has made our little experiment -impossible for to-day. Remind me to order some more to-morrow, -Benjamin, and don't think of troubling yourself to put that mess -to rights. I'll send the man here to mop it all up. Our Stout -Friend is harmless enough now, my dear lady--in combination with -a boarded floor and a coming mop! I'm so sorry; I really am so -sorry to have disappointed you." With those soothing words, he -offered his arm, and led Miss Gwilt out of the Dispensary. - -"Have you done with me for the present?" she asked, when they -were in the hall. - -"Oh, dear, dear, what a way of putting it!" exclaimed the doctor. -"Dinner at six," he added, with his politest emphasis, as she -turned from him in disdainful silence, and slowly mounted the -stairs to her own room. - - -A clock of the noiseless sort--incapable of offending irritable -nerves--was fixed in the wall, a bove the first-floor landing, at -the Sanitarium. At the moment when the hands pointed to a quarter -before six, the silence of the lonely upper regions was softly -broken by the rustling of Miss Gwilt's dress. She advanced along -the corridor of the first floor--paused at the covered apparatus -fixed outside the room numbered Four--listened for a moment--and -then unlocked the cover with the duplicate key. - -The open lid cast a shadow over the inside of the casing. All she -saw at first was what she had seen already--the jar, and the pipe -and glass funnel inserted in the cork. She removed the funnel; -and, looking about her, observed on the window-sill close by a -wax-tipped wand used for lighting the gas. She took the wand, -and, introducing it through the aperture occupied by the funnel, -moved it to and fro in the jar. The faint splash of some liquid, -and the grating noise of certain hard substances which she was -stirring about, were the two sounds that caught her ear. She drew -out the wand, and cautiously touched the wet left on it with the -tip of her tongue. Caution was quite needless in this case. The -liquid was--water. - -In putting the funnel back in its place, she noticed something -faintly shining in the obscurely lit vacant space at the side of -the jar. She drew it out, and produced a Purple Flask. The liquid -with which it was filled showed dark through the transparent -coloring of the glass; and fastened at regular intervals down one -side of the Flask were six thin strips of paper, which divided -the contents into six equal parts. - -There was no doubt now that the apparatus had been secretly -prepared for her--the apparatus of which she alone (besides the -doctor) possessed the key. - -She put back the Flask, and locked the cover of the casing. For a -moment she stood looking at it, with the key in her hand. On a -sudden, her lost color came back. On a sudden, its natural -animation returned, for the first time that day, to her face. She -turned and hurried breathlessly upstairs to her room on the -second floor. With eager hands she snatched her cloak out of the -wardrobe, and took her bonnet from the box. "I'm not in prison!" -she burst out, impetuously. "I've got the use of my limbs! I can -go--no matter where, as long as I am out of this house!" - -With her cloak on her shoulders, with her bonnet in her hand, she -crossed the room to the door. A moment more--and she would have -been out in the passage. In that moment the remembrance flashed -back on her of the husband whom she had denied to his face. She -stopped instantly, and threw the cloak and bonnet from her on the -bed. "No!" she said; "the gulf is dug between us--the worst is -done!" - -There was a knock at the door. The doctor's voice outside -politely reminded her that it was six o'clock. - -She opened the door, and stopped him on his way downstairs. - -"What time is the train due to-night?" she asked, in a whisper. - -"At ten," answered the doctor, in a voice which all the world -might hear, and welcome. - -"What room is Mr. Armadale to have when he comes?" - -"What room would you like him to have?" - -"Number Four." - -The doctor kept up appearances to the very last. - -"Number Four let it be," he said, graciously. "Provided, of -course, that Number Four is unoccupied at the time." - - * * * * * - -The evening wore on, and the night came. - -At a few minutes before ten, Mr. Bashwood was again at his post, -once more on the watch for the coming of the tidal train. - -The inspector on duty, who knew him by sight, and who had -personally ascertained that his regular attendance at the -terminus implied no designs on the purses and portmanteaus of the -passengers, noticed two new circumstances in connection with Mr. -Bashwood that night. In the first place, instead of exhibiting -his customary cheerfulness, he looked anxious and depressed. In -the second place, while he was watching for the train, he was to -all appearance being watched in his turn, by a slim, dark, -undersized man, who had left his luggage (marked with the name of -Midwinter) at the custom-house department the evening before, and -who had returned to have it examined about half an hour since. - -What had brought Midwinter to the terminus? And why was he, too, -waiting for the tidal train? - -After straying as far as Hendon during his lonely walk of the -previous night, he had taken refuge at the village inn, and had -fallen asleep (from sheer exhaustion) toward those later hours of -the morning which were the hours that his wife's foresight had -turned to account. When he returned to the lodging, the landlady -could only inform him that her tenant had settled everything with -her, and had left (for what destination neither she nor her -servant could tell) more than two hours since. - -Having given some little time to inquiries, the result of which -convinced him that the clew was lost so far, Midwinter had -quitted the house, and had pursued his way mechanically to the -busier and more central parts of the metropolis. With the light -now thrown on his wife's character, to call at the address she -had given him as the address at which her mother lived would be -plainly useless. He went on through the streets, resolute to -discover her, and trying vainly to see the means to his end, till -the sense of fatigue forced itself on him once more. Stopping to -rest and recruit his strength at the first hotel he came to, a -chance dispute between the waiter and a stranger about a lost -portmanteau reminded him of his own luggage, left at the -terminus, and instantly took his mind back to the circumstances -under which he and Mr. Bashwood had met. In a moment more, the -idea that he had been vainly seeking on his way through the -streets flashed on him. In a moment more, he had determined to -try the chance of finding the steward again on the watch for the -person whose arrival he had evidently expected by the previous -evening's train. - -Ignorant of the report of Allan's death at sea; uninformed, at -the terrible interview with his wife, of the purpose which her -assumption of a widow's dress really had in view, Midwinter's -first vague suspicions of her fidelity had now inevitably -developed into the conviction that she was false. He could place -but one interpretation on her open disavowal of him, and on her -taking the name under which he had secretly married her. Her -conduct forced the conclusion on him that she was engaged in some -infamous intrigue; and that she had basely secured herself -beforehand in the position of all others in which she knew it -would be most odious and most repellent to him to claim his -authority over her. With that conviction he was now watching Mr. -Bashwood, firmly persuaded that his wife's hiding-place was known -to the vile servant of his wife's vices; and darkly suspecting, -as the time wore on, that the unknown man who had wronged him, -and the unknown traveler for whose arrival the steward was -waiting, were one and the same. - -The train was late that night, and the carriages were more than -usually crowded when they arrived at last. Midwinter became -involved in the confusion on the platform, and in the effort to -extricate himself he lost sight of Mr. Bashwood for the first -time. - -A lapse of some few minutes had passed before he again discovered -the steward talking eagerly to a man in a loose shaggy coat, -whose back was turned toward him. Forgetful of all the cautions -and restraints which he had imposed on himself before the train -appeared, Midwinter instantly advanced on them. Mr. Bashwood saw -his threatening face as he came on, and fell back in silence. The -man in the loose coat turned to look where the steward was -looking, and disclosed to Midwinter, in the full light of the -station-lamp, Allan's face! - -For the moment they both stood speechless, hand in hand, looking -at each other. Allan was the first to recover himself. - -"Thank God for this!" he said, fervently. "I don't ask how you -came here: it's enough for me that you have come. Miserable news -has met me already, Midwinter. Nobody but you can comfort me, and -help me to bear it." His voice faltered over those last words, -and he said no more. - -The tone in which he had spoken roused Midwinter to meet the -circums tances as they were, by appealing to the old grateful -interest in his friend which had once been the foremost interest -of his life. He mastered his personal misery for the first time -since it had fallen on him, and gently taking Allan aside, asked -what had happened. - -The answer--after informing him of his friend's reported death at -sea--announced (on Mr. Bashwood's authority) that the news had -reached Miss Milroy, and that the deplorable result of the shock -thus inflicted had obliged the major to place his daughter in the -neighborhood of London, under medical care. - -Before saying a word on his side, Midwinter looked distrustfully -behind him. Mr. Bashwood had followed them. Mr. Bashwood was -watching to see what they did next. - -"Was he waiting your arrival here to tell you this about Miss -Milroy?" asked Midwinter, looking again from the steward to -Allan. - -"Yes," said Allan. "He has been kindly waiting here, night after -night, to meet me, and break the news to me." - -Midwinter paused once more. The attempt to reconcile the -conclusion he had drawn from his wife's conduct with the -discovery that Allan was the man for whose arrival Mr. Bashwood -had been waiting was hopeless. The one present chance of -discovering a truer solution of the mystery was to press the -steward on the one available point in which he had laid himself -open to attack. He had positively denied on the previous evening -that he knew anything of Allan's movements, or that he had any -interest in Allan's return to England. Having detected Mr. -Bashwood in one lie told to himself. Midwinter instantly -suspected him of telling another to Allan. He seized the -opportunity of sifting the statement about Miss Milroy on the -spot. - -"How have you become acquainted with this sad news?" he inquired, -turning suddenly on Mr. Bashwood. - -"Through the major, of course," said Allan, before the steward -could answer. - -"Who is the doctor who has the care of Miss Milroy?" persisted -Midwinter, still addressing Mr. Bashwood. - -For the second time the steward made no reply. For the second -time, Allan answered for him. - -"He is a man with a foreign name," said Allan. "He keeps a -Sanitarium near Hampstead. What did you say the place was called, -Mr. Bashwood?" - -"Fairweather Vale, sir," said the steward, answering his -employer, as a matter of necessity, but answering very -unwillingly. - -The address of the Sanitarium instantly reminded Midwinter that -he had traced his wife to Fairweather Vale Villas the previous -night. He began to see light through the darkness, dimly, for the -first time. The instinct which comes with emergency, before the -slower process of reason can assert itself, brought him at a leap -to the conclusion that Mr. Bashwood--who had been certainly -acting under his wife's influence the previous day--might be -acting again under his wife's influence now. He persisted in -sifting the steward's statement, with the conviction growing -firmer and firmer in his mind that the statement was a lie, and -that his wife was concerned in it. - -"Is the major in Norfolk?" he asked, "or is he near his daughter -in London?" - -"In Norfolk," said Mr. Bashwood. Having answered Allan's look of -inquiry, instead of Midwinter's spoken question, in those words, -he hesitated, looked Midwinter in the face for the first time, -and added, suddenly: "I object, if you please, to be -cross-examined, sir. I know what I have told Mr. Armadale, and I -know no more." - -The words, and the voice in which they were spoken, were alike at -variance with Mr. Bashwood's usual language and Mr. Bashwood's -usual tone. There was a sullen depression in his face--there was -a furtive distrust and dislike in his eyes when they looked at -Midwinter, which Midwinter himself now noticed for the first -time. Before he could answer the steward's extraordinary -outbreak, Allan interfered. - -"Don't think me impatient," he said; "but it's getting late; it's -a long way to Hampstead. I'm afraid the Sanitarium will be shut -up." - -Midwinter started. "You are not going to the Sanitarium -to-night!" he exclaimed. - -Allan took his friend's hand and wrung it hard. "If you were as -fond of her as I am," he whispered, "you would take no rest, you -could get no sleep, till you had seen the doctor, and heard the -best and the worst he had to tell you. Poor dear little soul! who -knows, if she could only see me alive and well--" The tears came -into his eyes, and he turned away his head in silence. - -Midwinter looked at the steward. "Stand back," he said. "I want -to speak to Mr. Armadale." There was something in his eye which -it was not safe to trifle with. Mr. Bashwood drew back out of -hearing, but not out of sight. Midwinter laid his hand fondly on -his friend's shoulder. - -"Allan," he said, "I have reasons--" He stopped. Could the -reasons be given before he had fairly realized them himself; at -that time, too, and under those circumstances? Impossible! "I -have reasons," he resumed, "for advising you not to believe too -readily what Mr. Bashwood may say. Don't tell him this, but take -the warning." - -Allan looked at his friend in astonishment. "It was you who -always liked Mr. Bashwood!" he exclaimed. "It was you who trusted -him, when he first came to the great house!" - -"Perhaps I was wrong, Allan, and perhaps you were right. Will you -only wait till we can telegraph to Major Milroy and get his -answer? Will you only wait over the night?" - -"I shall go mad if I wait over the night," said Allan. "You have -made me more anxious than I was before. If I am not to speak -about it to Bashwood, I must and will go to the Sanitarium, and -find out whether she is or is not there, from the doctor -himself." - -Midwinter saw that it was useless. In Allan's interests there was -only one other course left to take. "Will you let me go with -you?" he asked. - -Allan's face brightened for the first time. "You dear, good -fellow!" he exclaimed. "It was the very thing I was going to beg -of you myself." - -Midwinter beckoned to the steward. "Mr. Armadale is going to the -Sanitarium," he said, "and I mean to accompany him. Get a cab and -come with us." - -He waited, to see whether Mr. Bashwood would comply. Having been -strictly ordered, when Allan did arrive, not to lose sight of -him, and having, in his own interests, Midwinter's unexpected -appearance to explain to Miss Gwilt, the steward had no choice -but to comply. In sullen submission he did as he had been told. -The keys of Allan's baggage was given to the foreign traveling -servant whom he had brought with him, and the man was instructed -to wait his master's orders at the terminus hotel. In a minute -more the cab was on its way out of the station--with Midwinter -and Allan inside, and Mr. Bashwood by the driver on the box. - - * * * * * * - -Between eleven and twelve o'clock that night, Miss Gwilt, -standing alone at the window which lit the corridor of the -Sanitarium on the second floor, heard the roll of wheels coming -toward her. The sound, gathering rapidly in volume through the -silence of the lonely neighborhood, stopped at the iron gates. In -another minute she saw the cab draw up beneath her, at the house -door. - -The earlier night had been cloudy, but the sky was clearing now -and the moon was out. She opened the window to see and hear more -clearly. By the light of the moon she saw Allan get out of the -cab, and turn round to speak to some other person inside. The -answering voice told her, before he appeared in his turn, that -Armadale's companion was her husband. - -The same petrifying influence that had fallen on her at the -interview with him of the previous day fell on her now. She stood -by the window, white and still, and haggard and old--as she had -stood when she first faced him in her widow's weeds. - -Mr. Bashwood, stealing up alone to the second floor to make his -report, knew, the instant he set eyes on her, that the report was -needless. "It's not my fault," was all he said, as she slowly -turned her head and looked at him. "They met together, and there -was no parting them." - -She drew a long breath, and motioned him to be silent. "Wait a -little," she said; "I know all about it." - -Turning from him at those words, she slowly paced the corridor to -its furthest en d; turned, and slowly came back to him with -frowning brow and drooping head--with all the grace and beauty -gone from her, but the inbred grace and beauty in the movement of -her limbs. - -"Do you wish to speak to me?" she asked; her mind far away from -him, and her eyes looking at him vacantly as she put the -question. - -He roused his courage as he had never roused it in her presence -yet. - -"Don't drive me to despair!" he cried, with a startling -abruptness. "Don't look at me in that way, now I have found it -out!" - -"What have you found out?" she asked, with a momentary surprise -on her face, which faded from it again before he could gather -breath enough to go on. - -"Mr. Armadale is not the man who took you away from me," he -answered. "Mr. Midwinter is the man. I found it out in your face -yesterday. I see it in your face now. Why did you sign your name -'Armadale' when you wrote to me? Why do you call yourself 'Mrs. -Armadale' still?" - -He spoke those bold words at long intervals, with an effort to -resist her influence over him, pitiable and terrible to see. - -She looked at him for the first time with softened eyes. "I wish -I had pitied you when we first met," she said, gently, "as I pity -you now." - -He struggled desperately to go on and say the words to her which -he had strung himself to the pitch of saying on the drive from -the terminus. They were words which hinted darkly at his -knowledge of her past life; words which warned her--do what else -she might, commit what crimes she pleased--to think twice before -she deceived and deserted him again. In those terms he had vowed -to himself to address her. He had the phrases picked and chosen; -he had the sentences ranged and ordered in his mind; nothing was -wanting but to make the one crowning effort of speaking -them--and, even now, after all he had said and all he had dared, -the effort was more than he could compass! In helpless gratitude, -even for so little as her pity, he stood looking at her, and wept -the silent, womanish tears that fall from old men's eyes. - -She took his hand and spoke to him--with marked forbearance, but -without the slightest sign of emotion on her side. - -"You have waited already at my request," she said. "Wait till -to-morrow, and you will know all. If you trust nothing else that -I have told you, you may trust what I tell you now. _It will end -to-night._" - -As she said the words, the doctor's step was heard on the stairs. -Mr. Bashwood drew back from her, with his heart beating fast in -unutterable expectation. "It will end to-night!" he repeated to -himself, under his breath, as he moved away toward the far end of -the corridor. - -"Don't let me disturb you, sir," said the doctor, cheerfully, as -they met. "I have nothing to say to Mrs. Armadale but what you or -anybody may hear." - -Mr. Bashwood went on, without answering, to the far end of the -corridor, still repeating to himself: "It will end to-night!" The -doctor, passing him in the opposite direction, joined Miss Gwilt. - -"You have heard, no doubt," he began, in his blandest manner and -his roundest tones, "that Mr. Armadale has arrived. Permit me to -add, my dear lady, that there is not the least reason for any -nervous agitation on your part. He has been carefully humored, -and he is as quiet and manageable as his best friends could wish. -I have informed him that it is impossible to allow him an -interview with the young lady to-night; but that he may count on -seeing her (with the proper precautions) at the earliest -propitious hour, after she is awake to-morrow morning. As there -is no hotel near, and as the propitious hour may occur at a -moment's notice, it was clearly incumbent on me, under the -peculiar circumstances, to offer him the hospitality of the -Sanitarium. He has accepted it with the utmost gratitude; and has -thanked me in a most gentlemanly and touching manner for the -pains I have taken to set his mind at ease. Perfectly gratifying, -perfectly satisfactory, so far! But there has been a little -hitch--now happily got over---which I think it right to mention -to you before we all retire for the night." - -Having paved the way in those words (and in Mr. Bashwood's -hearing) for the statement which he had previously announced his -intention of making, in the event of Allan's dying in the -Sanitarium, the doctor was about to proceed, when his attention -was attracted by a sound below like the trying of a door. - -He instantly descended the stairs, and unlocked the door of -communication between the first and second floors, which he had -locked behind him on his way up. But the person who had tried the -door--if such a person there really had been--was too quick for -him. He looked along the corridor, and over the staircase into -the hall, and, discovering nothing, returned to Miss Gwilt, after -securing the door of communication behind him once more. - -"Pardon me," he resumed, "I thought I heard something downstairs. -With regard to the little hitch that I adverted to just now, -permit me to inform you that Mr. Armadale has brought a friend -here with him, who bears the strange name of Midwinter. Do you -know the gentleman at all?" asked the doctor, with a suspicious -anxiety in his eyes, which strangely belied the elaborate -indifference of his tone. - -"I know him to be an old friend of Mr. Armadale's," she said. -"Does he--?" Her voice failed her, and her eyes fell before the -doctor's steady scrutiny. She mastered the momentary weakness, -and finished her question. "Does he, too, stay here to-night?" - -"Mr. Midwinter is a person of coarse manners and suspicious -temper," rejoined the doctor, steadily watching her. "He was rude -enough to insist on staying here as soon as Mr. Armadale had -accepted my invitation." - -He paused to note the effect of those words on her. Left utterly -in the dark by the caution with which she had avoided mentioning -her husband's assumed name to him at their first interview, the -doctor's distrust of her was necessarily of the vaguest kind. He -had heard her voice fail her--he had seen her color change. He -suspected her of a mental reservation on the subject of -Midwinter--and of nothing more. - -"Did you permit him to have his way?" she asked. "In your place, -I should have shown him the door." - -The impenetrable composure of her tone warned the doctor that her -self-command was not to be further shaken that night. He resumed -the character of Mrs. Armadale's medical referee on the subject -of Mr. Armadale's mental health. - -"If I had only had my own feelings to consult," he said, "I don't -disguise from you that I should (as you say) have shown Mr. -Midwinter the door. But on appealing to Mr. Armadale, I found he -was himself anxious not to be parted from his friend. Under those -circumstances, but one alternative was left--the alternative of -humoring him again. The responsibility of thwarting him--to say -nothing," added the doctor, drifting for a moment toward the -truth, "of my natural apprehension, with such a temper as his -friend's, of a scandal and disturbance in the house--was not to -be thought of for a moment. Mr. Midwinter accordingly remains -here for the night; and occupies (I ought to say, insists on -occupying) the next room to Mr. Armadale. Advise me, my dear -madam, in this emergency," concluded the doctor, with his loudest -emphasis. "What rooms shall we put them in, on the first floor?" - -"Put Mr. Armadale in Number Four." - -"And his friend next to him, in Number Three?" said the doctor. -"Well! well! well! perhaps they _are_ the most comfortable rooms. -I'll give my orders immediately. Don't hurry away, Mr. Bashwood," -he called out, cheerfully, as he reached the top of the -staircase. "I have left the assistant physician's key on the -windowsill yonder, and Mrs. Armadale can let you out at the -staircase door whenever she pleases. Don't sit up late, Mrs. -Armadale! Yours is a nervous system that requires plenty of -sleep. 'Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep.' Grand line! -God bless you--good-night!" - -Mr. Bashwood came back from the far end of the corridor--still -pondering, in unutterable expectation, on what was to come with -the night. - -"Am I to go now?" he asked. - -"No. You are to stay. I said you should know all if you waited -till the morning. Wait here." - -He hesitated, and looked about him. "The doctor," he faltered. "I -thought the doctor said--" - -"The doctor will interfere with nothing that I do in this house -to-night. I tell you to stay. There are empty rooms on the floor -above this. Take one of them." - -Mr. Bashwood felt the trembling fit coming on him again as he -looked at her. "May I ask--?" he began. - -"Ask nothing. I want you." - -"Will you please to tell me--?" - -"I will tell you nothing till the night is over and the morning -has come." - -His curiosity conquered his fear. He persisted. - -"Is it something dreadful?" he whispered. "Too dreadful to tell -me?" - -She stamped her foot with a sudden outbreak of impatience. "Go!" -she said, snatching the key of the staircase door from the -window-sill. "You do quite right to distrust me--you do quite -right to follow me no further in the dark. Go before the house is -shut up. I can do without you." She led the way to the stairs, -with the key in one hand, and the candle in the other. - -Mr. Bashwood followed her in silence. No one, knowing what he -knew of her earlier life, could have failed to perceive that she -was a woman driven to the last extremity, and standing -consciously on the brink of a Crime. In the first terror of the -discovery, he broke free from the hold she had on him: he thought -and acted like a man who had a will of his own again. - -She put the key in the door, and turned to him before she opened -it, with the light of the candle on her face. "Forget me, and -forgive me," she said. "We meet no more." - -She opened the door, and, standing inside it, after he had passed -her, gave him her hand. He had resisted her look, he had resisted -her words, but the magnetic fascination of her touch conquered -him at the final moment. "I can't leave you!" he said, holding -helplessly by the hand she had given him. "What must I do?" - -"Come and see," she answered, without allowing him an instant to -reflect. - -Closing her hand firmly on his, she led him along the first floor -corridor to the room numbered Four. "Notice that room," she -whispered. After a look over the stairs to see that they were -alone, she retraced her steps with him to the opposite extremity -of the corridor. Here, facing the window which lit the place at -the other end, was one little room, with a narrow grating in the -higher part of the door, intended for the sleeping apartment of -the doctor's deputy. From the position of this room, the grating -commanded a view of the bed-chambers down each side of the -corridor, and so enabled the deputy-physician to inform himself -of any irregular proceedings on the part of the patients under -his care, with little or no chance of being detected in watching -them. Miss Gwilt opened the door and led the way into the empty -room. - -"Wait here," she said, "while I go back upstairs; and lock -yourself in, if you like. You will be in the dark, but the gas -will be burning in the corridor. Keep at the grating, and make -sure that Mr. Armadale goes into the room I have just pointed out -to you, and that he doesn't leave it afterward. If you lose sight -of the room for a single moment before I come back, you will -repent it to the end of your life. If you do as I tell you, you -shall see me to-morrow, and claim your own reward. Quick with -your answer! Is it Yes or No?" - -He could make no reply in words. He raised her hand to his lips, -and kissed it rapturously. She left him in the room. From his -place at the grating he saw her glide down the corridor to the -staircase door. She passed through it, and locked it. Then there -was silence. - -The next sound was the sound of the women-servants' voices. Two -of them came up to put the sheets on the beds in Number Three and -Number Four. The women were in high good-humor, laughing and -talking to each other through the open doors of the rooms. The -master's customers were coming in at last, they said, with a -vengeance; the house would soon begin to look cheerful, if things -went on like this. - -After a little, the beds were got ready and the women returned to -the kitchen floor, on which the sleeping-rooms of the domestic -servants were all situated. Then there was silence again. - -The next sound was the sound of the doctor's voice. He appeared -at the end of the corridor, showing Allan and Midwinter the way -to their rooms. They all went together into Number Four. After a -little, the doctor came out first. He waited till Midwinter -joined him, and pointed with a formal bow to the door of Number -Three. Midwinter entered the room without speaking, and shut -himself in. The doctor, left alone, withdrew to the staircase -door and unlocked it, then waited in the corridor, whistling to -himself softly, under his breath. - -Voices pitched cautiously low became audible in a minute more in -the hall. The Resident Dispenser and the Head Nurse appeared, on -their way to the dormitories of the attendants at the top of the -house. The man bowed silently, and passed the doctor; the woman -courtesied silently, and followed the man. The doctor -acknowledged their salutations by a courteous wave of his hand; -and, once more left alone, paused a moment, still whistling -softly to himself, then walked to the door of Number Four, and -opened the case of the fumigating apparatus fixed near it in the -corner of the wall. As he lifted the lid and looked in, his -whistling ceased. He took a long purple bottle out, examined it -by the gas-light, put it back, and closed the case. This done, he -advanced on tiptoe to the open staircase door, passed through it, -and secured it on the inner side as usual. - -Mr. Bashwood had seen him at the apparatus; Mr. Bashwood had -noticed the manner of his withdrawal through the staircase door. -Again the sense of an unutterable expectation throbbed at his -heart. A terror that was slow and cold and deadly crept into his -hands, and guided them in the dark to the key that had been left -for him in the inner side of the door. He turned it in vague -distrust of what might happen next, and waited. - -The slow minutes passed, and nothing happened. The silence was -horrible; the solitude of the lonely corridor was a solitude of -invisible treacheries. He began to count to keep his mind -employed--to keep his own growing dread away from him. The -numbers, as he whispered them, followed each other slowly up to a -hundred, and still nothing happened. He had begun the second -hundred; he had got on to twenty--when, without a sound to betray -that he had been moving in his room, Midwinter suddenly appeared -in the corridor. - -He stood for a moment and listened; he went to the stairs and -looked over into the hall beneath. Then, for the second time that -night, he tried the staircase door, and for the second time found -it fast. After a moment's reflection, he tried the doors of the -bedrooms on his right hand next, looked into one after the other, -and saw that they were empty, then came to the door of the end -room in which the steward was concealed. Here, again, the lock -resisted him. He listened, and looked up at the grating. No sound -was to be heard, no light was to be seen inside. "Shall I break -the door in," he said to himself, "and make sure? No; it would be -giving the doctor an excuse for turning me out of the house." He -moved away, and looked into the two empty rooms in the row -occupied by Allan and himself, then walked to the window at the -staircase end of the corridor. Here the case of the fumigating -apparatus attracted his attention. After trying vainly to open -it, his suspicion seemed to be aroused. He searched back along -the corridor, and observed that no object of a similar kind -appeared outside any of the other bed-chambers. Again at the -window, he looked again at the apparatus, and turned away from it -with a gesture which plainly indicated that he had tried, and -failed, to guess what it might be. - -Baffled at all points, he still showed no sign of returning to -his bed-chamber. He stood at the window, with his eyes fixed on -the door of Allan's room, thinking. If Mr. Bashwood, furtively -watching him through the grating, could have seen him at that -moment in the mind as well as in the body, Mr. Bashwood's heart -might have throbbed even faster than it was throbbing now, i n -expectation of the next event which Midwinter's decision of the -next minute was to bring forth. - -On what was his mind occupied as he stood alone, at the dead of -night, in the strange house? - -His mind was occupied in drawing its disconnected impressions -together, little by little, to one point. Convinced from the -first that some hidden danger threatened Allan in the Sanitarium, -his distrust--vaguely associated, thus far, with the place -itself; with his wife (whom he firmly believed to be now under -the same roof with him); with the doctor, who was as plainly in -her confidence as Mr. Bashwood himself--now narrowed its range, -and centered itself obstinately in Allan's room. Resigning all -further effort to connect his suspicion of a conspiracy against -his friend with the outrage which had the day before been offered -to himself--an effort which would have led him, if he could have -maintained it, to a discovery of the fraud really contemplated by -his wife--his mind, clouded and confused by disturbing -influences, instinctively took refuge in its impressions of facts -as they had shown themselves since he had entered the house. -Everything that he had noticed below stairs suggested that there -was some secret purpose to be answered by getting Allan to sleep -in the Sanitarium. Everything that he had noticed above stairs -associated the lurking-place in which the danger lay hid with -Allan's room. To reach this conclusion, and to decide on baffling -the conspiracy. whatever it might be, by taking Allan's place, -was with Midwinter the work of an instant. Confronted by actual -peril, the great nature of the man intuitively freed itself from -the weaknesses that had beset it in happier and safer times. Not -even the shadow of the old superstition rested on his mind -now--no fatalist suspicion of himself disturbed the steady -resolution that was in him. The one last doubt that troubled him, -as he stood at the window thinking, was the doubt whether he -could persuade Allan to change rooms with him, without involving -himself in an explanation which might lead Allan to suspect the -truth. - -In the minute that elapsed, while he waited with his eyes on the -room, the doubt was resolved--he found the trivial, yet -sufficient, excuse of which he was in search. Mr. Bashwood saw -him rouse himself and go to the door. Mr. Bashwood heard him -knock softly, and whisper, "Allan, are you in bed?" - -"No," answered the voice inside; "come in." - -He appeared to be on the point of entering the room, when he -checked himself as if he had suddenly remembered something. "Wait -a minute," he said, through the door, and, turning away, went -straight to the end room. "If there is anybody watching us in -there," he said aloud, "let him watch us through this!" He took -out his handkerchief, and stuffed it into the wires of the -grating, so as completely to close the aperture. Having thus -forced the spy inside (if there was one) either to betray himself -by moving the handkerchief, or to remain blinded to all view of -what might happen next, Midwinter presented himself in Allan's -room. - -"You know what poor nerves I have," he said, "and what a wretched -sleeper I am at the best of times. I can't sleep to-night. The -window in my room rattles every time the wind blows. I wish it -was as fast as your window here." - -"My dear fellow!" cried Allan, "I don't mind a rattling window. -Let's change rooms. Nonsense! Why should you make excuses to -_me?_ Don't I know how easily trifles upset those excitable -nerves of yours? Now the doctor has quieted my mind about my poor -little Neelie, I begin to feel the journey; and I'll answer for -sleeping anywhere till to-morrow comes." He took up his -traveling-bag. "We must be quick about it," he added, pointing to -his candle. "They haven't left me much candle to go to bed by." - -"Be very quiet, Allan," said Midwinter, opening the door for him. -"We mustn't disturb the house at this time of night." - -"Yes, yes," returned Allan, in a whisper. "Good-night; I hope -you'll sleep as well as I shall." - -Midwinter saw him into Number Three, and noticed that his own -candle (which he had left there) was as short as Allan's. -"Good-night," he said, and came out again into the corridor. - -He went straight to the grating, and looked and listened once -more. The handkerchief remained exactly as he had left it, and -still there was no sound to be heard within. He returned slowly -along the corridor, and thought of the precautions he had taken, -for the last time. Was there no other way than the way he was -trying now? There was none. Any openly avowed posture of -defense--while the nature of the danger, and the quarter from -which it might come, were alike unknown--would be useless in -itself, and worse than useless in the consequences which it might -produce by putting the people of the house on their guard. -Without a fact that could justify to other minds his distrust of -what might happen with the night, incapable of shaking Allan's -ready faith in the fair outside which the doctor had presented to -him, the one safeguard in his friend's interests that Midwinter -could set up was the safeguard of changing the rooms--the one -policy he could follow, come what might of it, was the policy of -waiting for events. "I can trust to one thing," he said to -himself, as he looked for the last time up and down the -corridor--"I can trust myself to keep awake." - -After a glance at the clock on the wall opposite, he went into -Number Four. The sound of the closing door was heard, the sound -of the turning lock followed it. Then the dead silence fell over -the house once more. - -Little by little, the steward's horror of the stillness and the -darkness overcame his dread of moving the handkerchief. He -cautiously drew aside one corner of it, waited, looked, and took -courage at last to draw the whole handkerchief through the wires -of the grating. After first hiding it in his pocket, he thought -of the consequences if it was found on him, and threw it down in -a corner of the room. He trembled when he had cast it from him, -as he looked at his watch and placed himself again at the grating -to wait for Miss Gwilt. - -It was a quarter to one. The moon had come round from the side to -the front of the Sanitarium. From time to time her light gleamed -on the window of the corridor when the gaps in the flying clouds -let it through. The wind had risen, and sung its mournful song -faintly, as it swept at intervals over the desert ground in front -of the house. - -The minute hand of the clock traveled on halfway round the circle -of the dial. As it touched the quarter-past one, Miss Gwilt -stepped noiselessly into the corridor. "Let yourself out," she -whispered through the grating, "and follow me." She returned to -the stairs by which she had just descended, pushed the door to -softly after Mr. Bashwood had followed her and led the way up to -the landing of the second floor. There she put the question to -him which she had not ventured to put below stairs. - -"Was Mr. Armadale shown into Number Four?" she asked. - -He bowed his head without speaking. - -"Answer me in words. Has Mr. Armadale left the room since?" - -He answered, "No." - -"Have you never lost sight of Number Four since I left you?" - -He answered, "_Never!_" - -Something strange in his manner, something unfamiliar in his -voice, as he made that last reply, attracted her attention. She -took her candle from a table near, on which she had left it, and -threw its light on him. His eyes were staring, his teeth -chattered. There was everything to betray him to her as a -terrified man; there was nothing to tell her that the terror was -caused by his consciousness of deceiving her, for the first time -in his life, to her face. If she had threatened him less openly -when she placed him on the watch; if she had spoken less -unreservedly of the interview which was to reward him in the -morning, he might have owned the truth. As it was, his strongest -fears and his dearest hopes were alike interested in telling her -the fatal lie that he had now told--the fatal lie which he -reiterated when she put her question for the second time. - -She looked at him, deceived by the last man on earth whom she -would have suspected of deception--the man w hom she had deceived -herself. - -"You seem to be overexcited," she said quietly. "The night has -been too much for you. Go upstairs, and rest. You will find the -door of one of the rooms left open. That is the room you are to -occupy. Good-night." - -She put the candle (which she had left burning for him) on the -table, and gave him her hand. He held her back by it desperately -as she turned to leave him. His horror of what might happen when -she was left by herself forced the words to his lips which he -would have feared to speak to her at any other time. - -"Don't," he pleaded, in a whisper; "oh, don't, don't, don't go -downstairs to-night!" - -She released her hand, and signed to him to take the candle. "You -shall see me to-morrow," she said. "Not a word more now!" - -Her stronger will conquered him at that last moment, as it had -conquered him throughout. He took the candle and waited, -following her eagerly with his eyes as she descended the stairs. -The cold of the December night seemed to have found its way to -her through the warmth of the house. She had put on a long, heavy -black shawl, and had fastened it close over her breast. The -plaited coronet in which she wore her hair seemed to have weighed -too heavily on her head. She had untwisted it, and thrown it back -over her shoulders. The old man looked at her flowing hair, as it -lay red over the black shawl--at her supple, long-fingered hand, -as it slid down the banisters--at the smooth, seductive grace of -every movement that took her further and further away from him. -"The night will go quickly," he said to himself, as she passed -from his view; "I shall dream of her till the morning comes!" - - -She secured the staircase door, after she had passed through -it--listened, and satisfied herself that nothing was -stirring--then went on slowly along the corridor to the window. -Leaning on the window-sill, she looked out at the night. The -clouds were over the moon at that moment; nothing was to be seen -through the darkness but the scattered gas-lights in the suburb. -Turning from the window, she looked at the clock. It was twenty -minutes past one. - -For the last time, the resolution that had come to her in the -earlier night, with the knowledge that her husband was in the -house, forced itself uppermost in her mind. For the last time, -the voice within her said, "Think if there is no other way!" - -She pondered over it till the minute-hand of the clock pointed to -the half-hour. "No!" she said, still thinking of her husband. -"The one chance left is to go through with it to the end. He will -leave the thing undone which he has come here to do; he will -leave the words unspoken which he has come here to say--when he -knows that the act may make me a public scandal, and that the -words may send me to the scaffold!" Her color rose, and she -smiled with a terrible irony as she looked for the first time at -the door of the Room. "I shall be your widow," she said, "in half -an hour!" - -She opened the case of the apparatus and took the Purple Flask in -her hand. After marking the time by a glance at the clock, she -dropped into the glass funnel the first of the six separate -Pourings that were measured for her by the paper slips. - -When she had put the Flask back, she listened at the mouth of the -funnel. Not a sound reached her ear: the deadly process did its -work in the silence of death itself. When she rose and looked up, -the moon was shining in at the window, and the moaning wind was -quiet. - -Oh, the time! the time! If it could only have been begun and -ended with the first Pouring! - -She went downstairs into the hall; she walked to and fro, and -listened at the open door that led to the kitchen stairs. She -came up again; she went down again. The first of the intervals of -five minutes was endless. The time stood still. The suspense was -maddening. - -The interval passed. As she took the Flask for the second time, -and dropped in the second Pouring, the clouds floated over the -moon, and the night view through the window slowly darkened. - -The restlessness that had driven her up and down the stairs, and -backward and forward in the hall, left her as suddenly as it had -come. She waited through the second interval, leaning on the -window-sill, and staring, without conscious thought of any kind, -into the black night. The howling of a belated dog was borne -toward her on the wind, at intervals, from some distant part of -the suburb. She found herself following the faint sound as it -died away into silence with a dull attention, and listening for -its coming again with an expectation that was duller still. Her -arms lay like lead on the window-sill; her forehead rested -against the glass without feeling the cold. It was not till the -moon struggled out again that she was startled into sudden -self-remembrance. She turned quickly, and looked at the clock; -seven minutes had passed since the second Pouring. - -As she snatched up the Flask, and fed the funnel for the third -time, the full consciousness of her position came back to her. -The fever-heat throbbed again in her blood, and flushed fiercely -in her cheeks. Swift, smooth, and noiseless, she paced from end -to end of the corridor, with her arms folded in her shawl and her -eye moment after moment on the clock. - -Three out of the next five minutes passed, and again the suspense -began to madden her. The space in the corridor grew too confined -for the illimitable restlessness that possessed her limbs. She -went down into the hall again, and circled round and round it -like a wild creature in a cage. At the third turn, she felt -something moving softly against her dress. The house-cat had come -up through the open kitchen door--a large, tawny, companionable -cat that purred in high good temper, and followed her for -company. She took the animal up in her arms--it rubbed its sleek -head luxuriously against her chin as she bent her face over it. -"Armadale hates cats," she whispered in the creature's ear. "Come -up and see Armadale killed!" The next moment her own frightful -fancy horrified her. She dropped the cat with a shudder; she -drove it below again with threatening hands. For a moment after, -she stood still, then in headlong haste suddenly mounted the -stairs. Her husband had forced his way back again into her -thoughts; her husband threatened her with a danger which had -never entered her mind till now. What if he were not asleep? What -if he came out upon her, and found her with the Purple Flask in -her hand? - -She stole to the door of Number Three and listened. The slow, -regular breathing of a sleeping man was just audible. After -waiting a moment to let the feeling of relief quiet her, she took -a step toward Number Four, and checked herself. It was needless -to listen at _that_ door. The doctor had told her that Sleep came -first, as certainly as Death afterward, in the poisoned air. She -looked aside at the clock. The time had come for the fourth -Pouring. - -Her hand began to tremble violently as she fed the funnel for the -fourth time. The fear of her husband was back again in her heart. -What if some noise disturbed him before the sixth Pouring? What -if he woke on a sudden (as she had often seen him wake) without -any noise at all? She looked up and down the corridor. The end -room, in which Mr. Bashwood had been concealed, offered itself to -her as a place of refuge. "I might go in there!" she thought. -"Has he left the key?" She opened the door to look, and saw the -handkerchief thrown down on the floor. Was it Mr. Bashwood's -handkerchief, left there by accident? She examined it at the -corners. In the second corner she found her husband's name! - -Her first impulse hurried her to the staircase door, to rouse the -steward and insist on an explanation. The next moment she -remembered the Purple Flask, and the danger of leaving the -corridor. She turned, and looked at the door of Number Three. Her -husband, on the evidence of the handkerchief, had unquestionably -been out of his room--and Mr. Bashwood had not told her. Was he -in his room now? In the violence of her agitation, as the -question passed through her mind, she forgot the discovery which -she had herself made not a minute before. Again she listened at -the door; again she heard the slow, - regular breathing of the sleeping man. The first time the -evidence of her ears had been enough to quiet her; _this_ time, -in the tenfold aggravation of her suspicion and her alarm, she -was determined to have the evidence of her eyes as well. "All the -doors open softly in this house," she said to herself; "there's -no fear of my waking him." Noiselessly, by an inch at a time, she -opened the unlocked door, and looked in the moment the aperture -was wide enough. In the little light she had let into the room, -the sleeper's head was just visible on the pillow. Was it quite -as dark against the white pillow as her husband's head looked -when he was in bed? Was the breathing as light as her husband's -breathing when he was asleep? - -She opened the door more widely, and looked in by the clearer -light. - -There lay the man whose life she had attempted for the third -time, peacefully sleeping in the room that had been given to her -husband, and in the air that could harm nobody! - -The inevitable conclusion overwhelmed her on the instant. With a -frantic upward action of her hands she staggered back into the -passage. The door of Allan's room fell to, but not noisily enough -to wake him. She turned as she heard it close. For one moment she -stood staring at it like a woman stupefied. The next, her -instinct rushed into action, before her reason recovered itself. -In two steps she was at the door of Number Four. - -The door was locked. - -She felt over the wall with both hands, wildly and clumsily, for -the button which she had seen the doctor press when he was -showing the room to the visitors. Twice she missed it. The third -time her eyes helped her hands; she found the button and pressed -on it. The mortise of the lock inside fell back, and the door -yielded to her. - -Without an instant's hesitation she entered the room. Though the -door was open--though so short a time had elapsed since the -fourth Pouring that but little more than half the contemplated -volume of gas had been produced as yet--the poisoned air seized -her, like the grasp of a hand at her throat, like the twisting of -a wire round her head. She found him on the floor at the foot of -the bed: his head and one arm were toward the door, as if he had -risen under the first feeling of drowsiness, and had sunk in the -effort to leave the room. With the desperate concentration of -strength of which women are capable in emergencies, she lifted -him and dragged him out into the corridor. Her brain reeled as -she laid him down, and crawled back on her knees to the room to -shut out the poisoned air from pursuing them into the passage. -After closing the door, she waited, without daring to look at him -the while, for strength enough to rise and get to the window over -the stairs. When the window was opened, when the keen air of the -early winter morning blew steadily in, she ventured back to him -and raised his head, and looked for the first time closely at his -face. - -Was it death that spread the livid pallor over his forehead and -his cheeks, and the dull leaden hue on his eyelids and his lips? - -She loosened his cravat and opened his waistcoat, and bared his -throat and breast to the air. With her hand on his heart, with -her bosom supporting his head, so that he fronted the window, she -waited the event. A time passed: a time short enough to be -reckoned by minutes on the clock; and yet long enough to take her -memory back over all her married life with him--long enough to -mature the resolution that now rose in her mind as the one result -that could come of the retrospect. As her eyes rested on him, a -strange composure settled slowly on her face. She bore the look -of a woman who was equally resigned to welcome the chance of his -recovery, or to accept the certainty of his death. - -Not a cry or a tear had escaped her yet. Not a cry or a tear -escaped her when the interval had passed, and she felt the first -faint fluttering of his heart, and heard the first faint catching -of the breath of his lips. She silently bent over him and kissed -his forehead. When she looked up again, the hard despair had -melted from her face. There was something softly radiant in her -eyes, which lit her whole countenance as with an inner light, and -made her womanly and lovely once more. - -She laid him down, and, taking off her shawl, made a pillow of it -to support his head. "It might have been hard, love," she said, -as she felt the faint pulsation strengthening at his heart. "You -have made it easy now." - -She rose, and, turning from him, noticed the Purple Flask in the -place where she had left it since the fourth Pouring. "Ah," she -thought, quietly, "I had forgotten my best friend--I had -forgotten that there is more to pour in yet." - -With a steady hand, with a calm, attentive face, she fed the -funnel for the fifth time. "Five minutes more," she said, when -she had put the Flask back, after a look at the clock. - -She fell into thought--thought that only deepened the grave and -gentle composure of her face. "Shall I write him a farewell -word?" she asked herself. "Shall I tell him the truth before I -leave him forever?" - -Her little gold pencil-case hung with the other toys at her -watch-chain. After looking about her for a moment, she knelt over -her husband and put her hand into the breast-pocket of his coat. - -His pocket-book was there. Some papers fell from it as she -unfastened the clasp. One of them was the letter which had come -to him from Mr. Brock's death-bed. She turned over the two sheets -of note-paper on which the rector had written the words that had -now come true, and found the last page of the last sheet a blank. -On that page she wrote her farewell words, kneeling at her -husband's side. - - -"I am worse than the worst you can think of me. You have saved -Armadale by changing rooms with him to-night; and you have saved -him from Me. You can guess now whose widow I should have claimed -to be, if you had not preserved his life; and you will know what -a wretch you married when you married the woman who writes these -lines. Still, I had some innocent moments, and then I loved you -dearly. Forget me, my darling, in the love of a better woman than -I am. I might, perhaps, have been that better woman myself, if I -had not lived a miserable life before you met with me. It matters -little now. The one atonement I can make for all the wrong I have -done you is the atonement of my death. It is not hard for me to -die, now I know you will live. Even my wickedness has one -merit--it has not prospered. I have never been a happy woman." - - -She folded the letter again, and put it into his hand, to attract -his attention in that way when he came to himself. As she gently -closed his fingers on the paper and looked up, the last minute of -the last interval faced her, recorded on the clock. - -She bent over him, and gave him her farewell kiss. - -"Live, my angel, live!" she murmured, tenderly, with her lips -just touching his. "All your life is before you--a happy life, -and an honored life, if you are freed from _me!_" - -With a last, lingering tenderness, she parted the hair back from -his forehead. "It is no merit to have loved you," she said. "You -are one of the men whom women all like." She sighed and left him. -It was her last weakness. She bent her head affirmatively to the -clock, as if it had been a living creature speaking to her; and -fed the funnel for the last time, to the last drop left in the -Flask. - -The waning moon shone in faintly at the window. With her hand on -the door of the room, she turned and looked at the light that was -slowly fading out of the murky sky. - -"Oh, God, forgive me!" she said. "Oh, Christ, bear witness that I -have suffered!" - -One moment more she lingered on the threshold; lingered for her -last look in this world-- and turned that look on _him._ - -"Good-by!" she said, softly. - -The door of the room opened, and closed on her. There was an -interval of silence. - -Then a sound came dull and sudden, like the sound of a fall. - -Then there was silence again. - - * * * * * - -The hands of the clock, following their steady course, reckoned -the minutes of the morning as one by one they lapsed away. It was -the tenth minute since the door of the room had opened and closed -, before Midwinter stirred on his pillow, and, struggling to -raise himself, felt the letter in his hand. - -At the same moment a key was turned in the staircase door. And -the doctor, looking expectantly toward the fatal room, saw the -Purple Flask on the window-sill, and the prostrate man trying to -raise himself from the floor. - - -EPILOGUE. - - -CHAPTER I. - -NEWS FROM NORFOLK. - -_From Mr. Pedgift, Senior (Thorpe Ambrose), to Mr. Pedgift, -Junior (Paris)._ - -"High Street, December 20th. - -"MY DEAR AUGUSTUS--Your letter reached me yesterday. You seem to -be making the most of your youth (as you call it) with a -vengeance. Well! enjoy your holiday. I made the most of my youth -when I was your age; and, wonderful to relate, I haven't -forgotten it yet! - -"You ask me for a good budget of news, and especially for more -information about that mysterious business at the Sanitarium. - -"Curiosity, my dear boy, is a quality which (in our profession -especially) sometimes leads to great results. I doubt, however, -if you will find it leading to much on this occasion. All I know -of the mystery of the Sanitarium, I know from Mr. Armadale: and -he is entirely in the dark on more than one point of importance. -I have already told you how they were entrapped into the house, -and how they passed the night there. To this I can now add that -something did certainly happen to Mr. Midwinter, which deprived -him of consciousness; and that the doctor, who appears to have -been mixed up in the matter, carried things with a high hand, and -insisted on taking his own course in his own Sanitarium. There is -not the least doubt that the miserable woman (however she might -have come by her death) was found dead--that a coroner's inquest -inquired into the circumstances--that the evidence showed her to -have entered the house as a patient--and that the medical -investigation ended in discovering that she had died of apoplexy. -My idea is that Mr. Midwinter had a motive of his own for not -coming forward with the evidence that he might have given. I have -also reason to suspect that Mr. Armadale, out of regard for him, -followed his lead, and that the verdict at the inquest (attaching -no blame to anybody) proceeded, like many other verdicts of the -same kind, from an entirely superficial investigation of the -circumstances. - -"The key to the whole mystery is to be found, I firmly believe, -in that wretched woman's attempt to personate the character of -Mr. Armadale's widow when the news of his death appeared in the -papers. But what first set her on this, and by what inconceivable -process of deception she can have induced Mr. Midwinter to marry -her (as the certificate proves) under Mr. Armadale's name, is -more than Mr. Armadale himself knows. The point was not touched -at the inquest, for the simple reason that the inquest only -concerned itself with the circumstances attending her death. Mr. -Armadale, at his friend's request, saw Miss Blanchard, and -induced her to silence old Darch on the subject of the claim that -had been made relating to the widow's income. As the claim had -never been admitted, even our stiff-necked brother practitioner -consented for once to do as he was asked. The doctor's statement -that his patient was the widow of a gentleman named Armadale was -accordingly left unchallenged, and so the matter has been hushed -up. She is buried in the great cemetery, near the place where she -died. Nobody but Mr. Midwinter and Mr. Armadale (who insisted on -going with him) followed her to the grave; and nothing has been -inscribed on the tombstone but the initial letter of her -Christian name and the date of her death. So, after all the harm -she has done, she rests at last; and so the two men whom she has -injured have forgiven her. - -"Is there more to say on this subject before we leave it? On -referring to your letter, I find you have raised one other point, -which may be worth a moment's notice. - -"You ask if there is reason to suppose that the doctor comes out -of the matter with hands which are really as clean as they look? -My dear Augustus, I believe the doctor to have been at the bottom -of more of this mischief than we shall ever find out; and to have -profited by the self-imposed silence of Mr. Midwinter and Mr. -Armadale, as rogues perpetually profit by the misfortunes and -necessities of honest men. It is an ascertained fact that he -connived at the false statement about Miss Milroy, which -entrapped the two gentlemen into his house; and that one -circumstance (after my Old Bailey experience) is enough for _me._ -As to evidence against him, there is not a jot; and as to -Retribution overtaking him, I can only say I heartily hope -Retribution may prove, in the long run, to be the more cunning -customer of the two. There is not much prospect of it at present. -The doctor's friends and admirers are, I understand, about to -present him with a Testimonial, 'expressive of their sympathy -under the sad occurrence which has thrown a cloud over the -opening of his Sanitarium, and of their undiminished confidence -in his integrity and ability as a medical man.' We live, -Augustus, in an age eminently favorable to the growth of all -roguery which is careful enough to keep up appearances. In this -enlightened nineteenth century, I look upon the doctor as one of -our rising men. - -"To turn now to pleasanter subjects than Sanitariums, I may tell -you that Miss Neelie is as good as well again, and is, in my -humble opinion, prettier than ever. She is staying in London -under the care of a female relative; and Mr. Armadale satisfies -her of the fact of his existence (in case she should forget it) -regularly every day. They are to be married in the spring, unless -Mrs. Milroy's death causes the ceremony to be postponed. The -medical men are of opinion that the poor lady is sinking at last. -It may be a question of weeks or a question of months, they can -say no more. She is greatly altered--quiet and gentle, and -anxiously affectionate with her husband and her child. But in her -case this happy change is, it seems, a sign of approaching -dissolution, from the medical point of view. There is a -difficulty in making the poor old, major understand this. He only -sees that she has gone back to the likeness of her better self -when he first married her; and he sits for hours by her bedside -now, and tells her about his wonderful clock. - -"Mr. Midwinter, of whom you will next expect me to say something, -is improving rapidly. After causing some anxiety at first to the -medical men (who declared that he was suffering from a serious -nervous shock, produced by circumstances about which their -patient's obstinate silence kept them quite in the dark), he has -rallied, as only men of his sensitive temperament (to quote the -doctors again) can rally. He and Mr. Armadale are together in a -quiet lodging. I saw him last week when I was in London. His face -showed signs of wear and tear, very sad to see in so young a man. -But he spoke of himself and his future with a courage and -hopefulness which men of twice his years (if he has suffered as I -suspect him to have suffered) might have envied. If I know -anything of humanity, this is no common man; and we shall hear of -him yet in no common way. - -"You will wonder how I came to be in London. I went up, with a -return ticket (from Saturday to Monday), about that matter in -dispute at our agent's. We had a tough fight; but, curiously -enough, a point occurred to me just as I got up to go; and I went -back to my chair, and settled the question in no time. Of course -I stayed at Our Hotel in Covent Garden. William, the waiter, -asked after you with the affection of a father; and Matilda, the -chamber-maid, said you almost persuaded her that last time to -have the hollow tooth taken out of her lower jaw. I had the -agent's second son (the young chap you nicknamed Mustapha, when -he made that dreadful mess about the Turkish Securities) to dine -with me on Sunday. A little incident happened in the evening -which may be worth recording, as it connected itself with a -certain old lady who was not 'at home' when you and Mr. Armadale -blundered on that house in Pimlico in the bygone time. - -"Mustapha was like all the rest of you young men of the present -day--he go t restless after dinner. 'Let's go to a public -amusement, Mr. Pedgift,' says he. 'Public amusement? Why, it's -Sunday evening!' says I. 'All right, sir,' says Mustapha. 'They -stop acting on the stage, I grant you, on Sunday evening--but -they don't stop acting in the pulpit. Come and see the last new -Sunday performer of our time.' As he wouldn't have any more wine, -there was nothing else for it but to go. - -"We went to a street at the West End, and found it blocked up -with carriages. If it hadn't been Sunday night, I should have -thought we were going to the opera. 'What did I tell you?' says -Mustapha, taking me up to an open door with a gas star outside -and a bill of the performance. I had just time to notice that I -was going to one of a series of 'Sunday Evening Discourses on the -Pomps and Vanities of the World, by A Sinner Who Has Served -Them,' when Mustapha jogged my elbow, and whispered, 'Half a -crown is the fashionable tip.' I found myself between two demure -and silent gentlemen, with plates in their hands, uncommonly well -filled already with the fashionable tip. Mustapha patronized one -plate, and I the other. We passed through two doors into a long -room, crammed with people. And there, on a platform at the -further end, holding forth to the audience, was--not a man, as I -had expected-- but a Woman, and that woman, MOTHER OLDERSHAW! You -never listened to anything more eloquent in your life. As long as -I heard her she was never once at a loss for a word anywhere. I -shall think less of oratory as a human accomplishment, for the -rest of my days, after that Sunday evening. As for the matter of -the sermon, I may describe it as a narrative of Mrs. Oldershaw's -experience among dilapidated women, profusely illustrated in the -pious and penitential style. You will ask what sort of audience -it was. Principally Women, Augustus--and, as I hope to be saved, -all the old harridans of the world of fashion whom Mother -Oldershaw had enameled in her time, sitting boldly in the front -places, with their cheeks ruddled with paint, in a state of -devout enjoyment wonderful to see! I left Mustapha to hear the -end of it. And I thought to myself, as I went out, of what -Shakespeare says somewhere, 'Lord, what fools we mortals be!' - -"Have I anything more to tell you before I leave off? Only one -thing that I can remember. - -"That wretched old Bashwood has confirmed the fears I told you I -had about him when he was brought back here from London. There is -no kind of doubt that he has really lost all the little reason he -ever had. He is perfectly harmless, and perfectly happy. And he -would do very well if we could only prevent him from going out in -his last new suit of clothes, smirking and smiling and inviting -everybody to his approaching marriage with the handsomest woman -in England. It ends of course in the boys pelting him, and in his -coming here crying to me, covered with mud. The moment his -clothes are cleaned again he falls back into his favorite -delusion, and struts about before the church gates, in the -character of a bridegroom, waiting for Miss Gwilt. We must get -the poor wretch taken care of somewhere for the rest of the -little time he has to live. Who would ever have thought of a man -at his age falling in love? And who would ever have believed that -the mischief that woman's beauty has done could have reached as -far in the downward direction as our superannuated old clerk? - -"Good-by, for the present, my dear boy. If you see a particularly -handsome snuff-box in Paris, remember--though your father scorns -Testimonials--he doesn't object to receive a present from his -son. - -"Yours affectionately, - -A. PEDGIFT, Sen. - -"POSTSCRIPT.--I think it likely that the account you mention in -the French papers, of a fatal quarrel among some foreign sailors -in one of the Lipari Islands, and of the death of their captain, -among others, may really have been a quarrel among the scoundrels -who robbed Mr. Armadale and scuttled his yacht. _Those_ fellows, -luckily for society, can't always keep up appearances; and, in -their case, Rogues and Retribution do occasionally come into -collision with each other." - - - -CHAPTER II. - -MIDWINTER. - -THE spring had advanced to the end of April. It was the eve of -Allan's wedding-day. Midwinter and he had sat talking together at -the great house till far into the night--till so far that it had -struck twelve long since, and the wedding day was already some -hours old. - -For the most part the conversation had turned on the bridegroom's -plans and projects. It was not till the two friends rose to go to -rest that Allan insisted on making Midwinter speak of himself. - -"We have had enough, and more than enough, of _my_ future," he -began, in his bluntly straightforward way. "Let's say something -now, Midwinter, about yours. You have promised me, I know, that, -if you take to literature, it shan't part us, and that, if you go -on a sea-voyage, you will remember, when you come back, that my -house is your home. But this is the last chance we have of being -together in our old way; and I own I should like to know--" His -voice faltered, and his eyes moistened a little. He left the -sentence unfinished. - -Midwinter took his hand and helped him, as he had often helped -him to the words that he wanted in the by-gone time. - -"You would like to know, Allan," he said, "that I shall not bring -an aching heart with me to your wedding day? If you will let me -go back for a moment to the past, I think I can satisfy you." - -They took their chairs again. Allan saw that Midwinter was moved. -"Why distress yourself?" he asked, kindly--"why go back to the -past?" - -"For two reasons, Allan. I ought to have thanked you long since -for the silence you have observed, for my sake, on a matter that -must have seemed very strange to you. You know what the name is -which appears on the register of my marriage, and yet you have -forborne to speak of it, from the fear of distressing me. Before -you enter on your new life, let us come to a first and last -understanding about this. I ask you--as one more kindness to -me--to accept my assurance (strange as the thing may seem to you) -that I am blameless in this matter; and I entreat you to believe -that the reasons I have for leaving it unexplained are reasons -which, if Mr. Brock was living, Mr. Brook himself would approve." -In those words he kept the secret of the two names; and left the -memory of Allan's mother, what he had found it, a sacred memory -in the heart of her son. - -"One word more," he went on--"a word which will take us, this -time, from past to future. It has been said, and truly said, that -out of Evil may come Good. Out of the horror and the misery of -that night you know of has come the silencing of a doubt which -once made my life miserable with groundless anxiety about you and -about myself. No clouds raised by my superstition will ever come -between us again. I can't honestly tell you that I am more -willing now than I was when we were in the Isle of Man to take -what is called the rational view of your Dream. Though I know -what extraordinary coincidences are perpetually happening in the -experience of all of us, still I cannot accept coincidences as -explaining the fulfillment of the Visions which our own eyes have -seen. All I can sincerely say for myself is, what I think it will -satisfy you to know, that I have learned to view the purpose of -the Dream with a new mind. I once believed that it was sent to -rouse your distrust of the friendless man whom you had taken as a -brother to your heart. I now _know_ that it came to you as a -timely warning to take him closer still. Does this help to -satisfy you that I, too, am standing hopefully on the brink of a -new life, and that while we live, brother, your love and mine -will never be divided again?" - -They shook hands in silence. Allan was the first to recover -himself. He answered in the few words of kindly assurance which -were the best words that he could address to his friend. - -"I have heard all I ever want to hear about the past," he said; -"and I know what I most wanted to know about the future. -Everybody says, Midwinter, you have a career before you, and I -believe that everybody is right. Who knows what great things may - happen before you and I are many years older?" - -"Who _need_ know?" said Midwinter, calmly. "Happen what may, God -is all-merciful, God is all-wise. In those words your dear old -friend once wrote to me. In that faith I can look back without -murmuring at the years that are past, and can look on without -doubting to the years that are to come." - -He rose, and walked to the window. While they had been speaking -together the darkness had passed. The first light of the new day -met him as he looked out, and rested tenderly on his face. - - -APPENDIX. - - -NOTE--My readers will perceive that I have purposely left them, -with reference to the Dream in this story, in the position which -they would occupy in the case of a dream in real life: they are -free to interpret it by the natural or the supernatural theory, -as the bent of their own minds may incline them. Persons disposed -to take the rational view may, under these circumstances, be -interested in hearing of a coincidence relating to the present -story, which actually happened, and which in the matter of -"extravagant improbability" sets anything of the same kind that a -novelist could imagine at flat defiance. - -In November, 1865, that is to say, when thirteen monthly parts of -"Armadale" had been published, and, I may add, when more than a -year and a half had elapsed since the end of the story, as it now -appears, was first sketched in my notebook--a vessel lay in the -Huskisson Dock at Liverpool which was looked after by one man, -who slept on board, in the capacity of shipkeeper. On a certain -day in the week this man was found dead in the deck-house. On the -next day a second man, who had taken his place, was carried dying -to the Northern Hospital. On the third day a third ship-keeper -was appointed, and was found dead in the deck-house which had -already proved fatal to the other two. _The name of that ship was -"The Armadale."_ And the proceedings at the Inquest proved that -the three men had been all suffocated _by sleeping in poisoned -air!_ - -I am indebted for these particulars to the kindness of the -reporters at Liverpool, who sent me their statement of the facts. -The case found its way into most of the newspapers. It was -noticed--to give two instances in which I can cite the dates--in -the _Times_ of November 30th, 1865, and was more fully described -in the _Daily News_ of November 28th, in the same year. - -Before taking leave of "Armadale," I may perhaps be allowed to -mention, for the benefit of any readers who may be curious on -such points, that the "Norfolk Broads" are here described after -personal investigation of them. In this, as in other cases, I -have spared no pains to instruct myself on matters of fact. -Wherever the story touches on questions connected with Law, -Medicine, or Chemistry, it has been submitted before publication -to the experience of professional men. The kindness of a friend -supplied me with a plan of the doctor's apparatus, and I saw the -chemical ingredients at work before I ventured on describing the -action of them in the closing scenes of this book. - - - - - -End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Armadale, by Wilkie Collins - diff --git a/old/armdl10.zip b/old/armdl10.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 4f1d95c..0000000 --- a/old/armdl10.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/armdl11.txt b/old/armdl11.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 487e3cf..0000000 --- a/old/armdl11.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,33138 +0,0 @@ -***The Project Gutenberg Etext of Armadale, by Wilkie Collins*** -#20 in our series by Wilkie Collins - - -Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check -the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! - -Please take a look at the important information in this header. -We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an -electronic path open for the next readers. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* - - - - - -Prepared by James Rusk (jrusk@cyberramp.net) -Italics are indicated by underscores. - - - - - -Armadale - -by Wilkie Collins - - - - -TO - -JOHN FORSTER. - -In acknowledgment of the services which he has rendered to -the cause of literature by his "Life of Goldsmith;" and in -affectionate remembrance of a friendship which is associated -with some of the happiest years of my life. - - - -Readers in general--on whose friendly reception experience has -given me some reason to rely--will, I venture to hope, appreciate -whatever merit there may be in this story without any prefatory -pleading for it on my part. They will, I think, see that it has -not been hastily meditated or idly wrought out. They will judge -it accordingly, and I ask no more. - -Readers in particular will, I have some reason to suppose, be -here and there disturbed, perhaps even offended, by finding that -"Armadale" oversteps, in more than one direction, the narrow -limits within which they are disposed to restrict the development -of modern fiction--if they can. - -Nothing that I could say to these persons here would help me with -them as Time will help me if my work lasts. I am not afraid of my -design being permanently misunderstood, provided the execution -has done it any sort of justice. Estimated by the clap-trap -morality of the present day, this may be a very daring book. -Judged by the Christian morality which is of all time, it is only -a book that is daring enough to speak the truth. - -LONDON, April, 1866. - - - -ARMADALE. - -PROLOGUE. - -CHAPTER I. - -THE TRAVELERS. - -It was the opening of the season of eighteen hundred and -thirty-two, at the Baths of Wildbad. - -The evening shadows were beginning to gather over the quiet -little German town, and the diligence was expected every minute. -Before the door of the principal inn, waiting the arrival of the -first visitors of the year, were assembled the three notable -personages of Wildbad, accompanied by their wives--the mayor, -representing the inhabitants; the doctor, representing the -waters; the landlord, representing his own establishment. Beyond -this select circle, grouped snugly about the trim little square -in front of the inn, appeared the towns-people in general, mixed -here and there with the country people, in their quaint German -costume, placidly expectant of the diligence--the men in short -black jackets, tight black breeches, and three-cornered beaver -hats; the women with their long light hair hanging in one thickly -plaited tail behind them, and the waists of their short woolen -gowns inserted modestly in the region of their shoulder-blades. -Round the outer edge of the assemblage thus formed, flying -detachments of plump white-headed children careered in perpetual -motion; while, mysteriously apart from the rest of the -inhabitants, the musicians of the Baths stood collected in one -lost corner, waiting the appearance of the first visitors to play -the first tune of the season in the form of a serenade. The light -of a May evening was still bright on the tops of the great wooded -hills watching high over the town on the right hand and the left; -and the cool breeze that comes before sunset came keenly fragrant -here with the balsamic odor of the first of the Black Forest. - -"Mr. Landlord," said the mayor's wife (giving the landlord his -title), "have you any foreign guests coming on this first day of -the season?" - -"Madame Mayoress," replied the landlord (returning the -compliment), "I have two. They have written--the one by the hand -of his servant, the other by his own hand apparently--to order -their rooms; and they are from England, both, as I think by their -names. If you ask me to pronounce those names, my tongue -hesitates; if you ask me to spell them, here they are, letter by -letter, first and second in their order as they come. First, a -high-born stranger (by title Mister) who introduces himself in -eight letters, A, r, m, a, d, a, l, e--and comes ill in his own -carriage. Second, a high-born stranger (by title Mister also), -who introduces himself in four letters--N, e, a, l--and comes ill -in the diligence. His excellency of the eight letters writes to -me (by his servant) in French; his excellency of the four letters -writes to me in German. The rooms of both are ready. I know no -more." - -"Perhaps," suggested the mayor's wife, "Mr. Doctor has heard from -one or both of these illustrious strangers?" - -"From one only, Madam Mayoress; but not, strictly speaking, from -the person himself. I have received a medical report of his -excellency of the eight letters, and his case seems a bad one. -God help him!" - -"The diligence!" cried a child from the outskirts of the crowd. - -The musicians seized their instruments, and silence fell on the -whole community. From far away in the windings of the forest -gorge, the ring of horses' bells came faintly clear through the -evening stillness. Which carriage was approaching--the private -carriage with Mr. Armadale, or the public carriage with Mr. Neal? - -"Play, my friends!" cried the mayor to the musicians. "Public or -private, here are the first sick people of the season. Let them -find us cheerful." - -The band played a lively dance tune, and the children in the -square footed it merrily to the music. At the same moment, their -elders near the inn door drew aside, and disclosed the first -shadow of gloom that fell over the gayety and beauty of the -scene. Through the opening made on either hand, a little -procession of stout country girls advanced, each drawing after -her an empty chair on wheels; each in waiting (and knitting while -she waited) for the paralyzed wretches who came helpless by -hundreds then--who come helpless by thousands now--to the waters -of Wildbad for relief. - -While the band played, while the children danced, while the buzz -of many talkers deepened, while the strong young nurses of the -coming cripples knitted impenetrably, a woman's insatiable -curiosity about other women asserted itself in the mayor's wife. -She drew the landlady aside, and whispered a question to her on -the spot. - -"A word more, ma'am," said the mayor's wife, "about the two -strangers from England. Are their letters explicit? Have they got -any ladies with them?" - -"The one by the diligence--no," replied the landlady. "But the -one by the private carriage--yes. He comes with a child; he comes -with a nurse; and," concluded the landlady, skillfully keeping -the main point of interest till the last, "he comes with a Wife." - -The mayoress brightened; the doctoress (assisting at the -conference) brightened; the landlady nodded significantly. In the -minds of all three the same thought started into life at the same -moment--"We shall see the Fashions! " - -In a minute more, there was a sudden movement in the crowd; and -a chorus of voices proclaimed that the travelers were at hand. - -By this time the coming vehicle was in sight, and all further -doubt was at an end. It was the diligence that now approached by -the long street leading into the square--the diligence (in a -dazzling new coat of yellow paint) that delivered the first -visitors of the season at the inn door. Of the ten travelers -released from the middle compartment and the back compartment -of the carriage--all from various parts of Germany--three were -lifted out helpless, and were placed in the chairs on wheels to -be drawn to their lodgings in the town. The front compartment -contained two passengers only--Mr. Neal and his traveling -servant. With an arm on either side to assist him, the stranger -(whose malady appeared to be locally confined to a lameness in -one of his feet) succeeded in descending the steps of the -carriage easily enough. While he steadied himself on the pavement -by the help of his stick--looking not over-patiently toward the -musicians who were serenading him with the waltz in "Der -Freischutz"--his personal appearance rather damped the enthusiasm -of the friendly little circle assembled to welcome him. He was -a lean, tall, serious, middle-aged man, with a cold gray eye and -a long upper lip, with overhanging eyebrows and high cheek-bones; -a man who looked what he was--every inch a Scotchman. - -"Where is the proprietor of this hotel?" he asked, speaking in -the German language, with a fluent readiness of expression, and -an icy coldness of manner. "Fetch the doctor," he continued, -when the landlord had presented himself, "I want to see him -immediately." - -"I am here already, sir," said the doctor, advancing from the -circle of friends, "and my services are entirely at your -disposal." - -"Thank you," said Mr. Neal, looking at the doctor, as the rest of -us look at a dog when we have whistled and the dog has come. "I -shall be glad to consult you to-morrow morning, at ten o'clock, -about my own case. I only want to trouble you now with a message -which I have undertaken to deliver. We overtook a traveling -carriage on the road here with a gentleman in it--an Englishman, -I believe--who appeared to be seriously ill. A lady who was with -him begged me to see you immediately on my arrival, and to secure -your professional assistance in removing the patient from the -carriage. Their courier has met with an accident, and has been -left behind on the road, and they are obliged to travel very -slowly. If you are here in an hour, you will be here in time -to receive them. That is the message. Who is this gentleman who -appears to be anxious to speak to me? The mayor? If you wish -to see my passport, sir, my servant will show it to you. No? You -wish to welcome me to the place, and to offer your services? I am -infinitely flattered. If you have any authority to shorten the -performances of your town band, you would be doing me a kindness -to exert it. My nerves are irritable, and I dislike music. Where -is the landlord? No; I want to see my rooms. I don't want your -arm; I can get upstairs with the help of my stick. Mr. Mayor and -Mr. Doctor, we need not detain one another any longer. I wish you -good-night." - -Both mayor and doctor looked after the Scotchman as he limped -upstairs, and shook their heads together in mute disapproval of -him. The ladies, as usual, went a step further, and expressed -their opinions openly in the plainest words. The case under -consideration (so far as _they_ were concerned) was the -scandalous case of a man who had passed them over entirely -without notice. Mrs. Mayor could only attribute such an outrage -to the native ferocity of a savage. Mrs. Doctor took a stronger -view still, and considered it as proceeding from the inbred -brutality of a hog. - -The hour of waiting for the traveling-carriage wore on, and -the creeping night stole up the hillsides softly. One by one -the stars appeared, and the first lights twinkled in the windows -of the inn. As the darkness came, the last idlers deserted the -square; as the darkness came, the mighty silence of the forest -above flowed in on the valley, and strangely and suddenly hushed -the lonely little town. - -The hour of waiting wore out, and the figure of the doctor, -walking backward and forward anxiously, was still the only -living figure left in the square. Five minutes, ten minutes, -twenty minutes, were counted out by the doctor's watch, before -the first sound came through the night silence to warn him of -the approaching carriage. Slowly it emerged into the square, -at the walking pace of the horses, and drew up, as a hearse -might have drawn up, at the door of the inn. - -"Is the doctor here?" asked a woman's voice, speaking, out of -the darkness of the carriage, in the French language. - -"I am here, madam," replied the doctor, taking a light from -the landlord's hand and opening the carriage door. - -The first face that the light fell on was the face of the lady -who had just spoken--a young, darkly beautiful woman, with the -tears standing thick and bright in her eager black eyes. The -second face revealed was the face of a shriveled old negress, -sitting opposite the lady on the back seat. The third was the -face of a little sleeping child in the negress's lap. With a -quick gesture of impatience, the lady signed to the nurse to -leave the carriage first with the child. "Pray take them out -of the way," she said to the landlady; "pray take them to their -room." She got out herself when her request had been complied -with. Then the light fell clear for the first time on the further -side of the carriage, and the fourth traveler was disclosed to -view. - -He lay helpless on a mattress, supported by a stretcher; his -hair, long and disordered, under a black skull-cap; his eyes wide -open, rolling to and fro ceaselessly anxious; the rest of his -face as void of all expression of the character within him, and -the thought within him, as if he had been dead. There was no -looking at him now, and guessing what he might once have been. -The leaden blank of his face met every question as to his age, -his rank, his temper, and his looks which that face might once -have answered, in impenetrable silence. Nothing spoke for him -now but the shock that had struck him with the death-in-life -of paralysis. The doctor's eye questioned his lower limbs, and -Death-in-Life answered, _I am here_. The doctor's eye, rising -attentively by way of his hands and arms, questioned upward and -upward to the muscles round his mouth, and Death-in-Life -answered, _I am coming_. - -In the face of a calamity so unsparing and so dreadful, there was -nothing to be said. The silent sympathy of help was all that -could be offered to the woman who stood weeping at the carriage -door. - -As they bore him on his bed across the hall of the hotel, -his wandering eyes encountered the face of his wife. They rested -on her for a moment, and in that moment he spoke. - -"The child?" he said in English, with a slow, thick, laboring -articulation. - -"The child is safe upstairs," she answered, faintly. - -"My desk?" - -"It is in my hands. Look! I won't trust it to anybody; I am -taking care of it for you myself." - -He closed his eyes for the first time after that answer, and said -no more. Tenderly and skillfully he was carried up the stairs, -with his wife on one side of him, and the doctor (ominously -silent) on the other. The landlord and the servants following saw -the door of his room open and close on him; heard the lady burst -out crying hysterically as soon as she was alone with the doctor -and the sick man; saw the doctor come out, half an hour later, -with his ruddy face a shade paler than usual; pressed him eagerly -for information, and received but one answer to all their -inquiries--"Wait till I have seen him to-morrow. Ask me nothing -to-night." They all knew the doctor's ways, and they augured ill -when he left them hurriedly with that reply. - -So the two first English visitors of the year came to the Baths -of Wildbad in the season of eighteen hundred and thirty-two. - -CHAPTER II. - -THE SOLID SIDE OF THE SCOTCH CHARACTER. - -AT ten o'clock the next morning, Mr. Neal--waiting for the -medical visit which he had himself appointed for that -hour--looked at his watch, and discovered, to his amazement, -that he was waiting in vain. It was close on eleven when the -door opened at last, and the doctor entered the room. - -"I appointed ten o'clock for your visit," said Mr. Neal. "In -my country, a medical man is a punctual man." - -"In my country," returned the doctor, without the least -ill-humor, "a medical man is exactly like other men--he is at -the mercy of accidents. Pray grant me your pardon, sir, for being -so long after my time; I have been detained by a very distressing -case--the case of Mr. Armadale, whose traveling-carriage you -passed on the road yesterday." - -Mr. Neal looked at his medical attendant with a sour surprise. -There was a latent anxiety in the doctor's eye, a latent -preoccupation in the doctor's manner, which he was at a loss -to account for. For a moment the two faces confronted each other -silently, in marked national contrast--the Scotchman's, long -and lean, hard and regular; the German's, plump and florid, soft -and shapeless. One face looked as if it had never been young; -the other, as if it would never grow old. - -"Might I venture to remind you," said Mr. Neal, "that the case -now under consideration is MY case, and not Mr. Armadale's?" - -"Certainly," replied the doctor, still vacillating between the -case he had come to see and the case he had just left. "You -appear to be suffering from lameness; let me look at your foot." - -Mr. Neal's malady, however serious it might be in his own -estimation, was of no extraordinary importance in a medical -point of view. He was suffering from a rheumatic affection of -the ankle-joint. The necessary questions were asked and answered -and the necessary baths were prescribed. In ten minutes the -consultation was at an end, and the patient was waiting in -significant silence for the medical adviser to take his leave. - -"I cannot conceal from myself," said the doctor, rising, and -hesitating a little, "that I am intruding on you. But I am -compelled to beg your indulgence if I return to the subject -of Mr. Armadale." - -"May I ask what compels you?" - -"The duty which I owe as a Christian," answered the doctor, -"to a dying man." - -Mr. Neal started. Those who touched his sense of religious duty -touched the quickest sense in his nature. - -"You have established your claim on my attention," he said, -gravely. "My time is yours." - -"I will not abuse your kindness," replied the doctor, resuming -his chair. "I will be as short as I can. Mr. Armadale's case is -briefly this: He has passed the greater part of his life in the -West Indies--a wild life, and a vicious life, by his own -confession. Shortly after his marriage--now some three years -since--the first symptoms of an approaching paralytic affection -began to show themselves, and his medical advisers ordered him -away to try the climate of Europe. Since leaving the West Indies -he has lived principally in Italy, with no benefit to his health. -From Italy, before the last seizure attacked him, he removed to -Switzerland, and from Switzerland he has been sent to this place. -So much I know from his doctor's report; the rest I can tell you -from my own personal experience. Mr. Armadale has been sent to -Wildbad too late: he is virtually a dead man. The paralysis is -fast spreading upward, and disease of the lower part of the spine -has already taken place. He can still move his hands a little, -but he can hold nothing in his fingers. He can still articulate, -but he may wake speechless to-morrow or next day. If I give him -a week more to live, I give him what I honestly believe to be -the utmost length of his span. At his own request I told him, as -carefully and as tenderly as I could, what I have just told you. -The result was very distressing; the violence of the patient's -agitation was a violence which I despair of describing to you. -I took the liberty of asking him whether his affairs were -unsettled. Nothing of the sort. His will is in the hands of -is executor in London, and he leaves his wife and child well -provided for. My next question succeeded better; it hit the mark: -'Have you something on your mind to do before you die which is -not done yet?' He gave a great gasp of relief, which said, as no -words could have said it, Yes. 'Can I help you?' 'Yes. I have -something to write that I _must_ write; can you make me hold -a pen?' - -"He might as well have asked me if I could perform a miracle. -I could only say No. 'If I dictate the words,' he went on, 'can -you write what I tell you to write?' Once more I could only say -No I understand a little English, but I can neither speak it nor -write it. Mr. Armadale understands French when it is spoken -(as I speak it to him) slowly, but he cannot express himself -in that language; and of German he is totally ignorant. In this -difficulty, I said, what any one else in my situation would have -said: 'Why ask _me_? there is Mrs. Armadale at your service in -the next room.' Before I could get up from my chair to fetch her, -he stopped me--not by words, but by a look of horror which fixed -me, by main force of astonishment, in my place. 'Surely,' I said, -'your wife is the fittest person to write for you as you desire?' -'The last person under heaven!' he answered. 'What!' I said, 'you -ask me, a foreigner and a stranger, to write words at your -dictation which you keep a secret from your wife!' Conceive my -astonishment when he answered me, without a moment's hesitation, -'Yes!' I sat lost; I sat silent. 'If _you_ can't write English,' -he said, 'find somebody who can.' I tried to remonstrate. He -burst into a dreadful moaning cry--a dumb entreaty, like the -entreaty of a dog. 'Hush! hush!' I said, 'I will find somebody.' -'To-day!' he broke out, 'before my speech fails me, like my -hand.' 'To-day, in an hour's time.' He shut his eyes; he quieted -himself instantly. 'While I am waiting for you,' he said, 'let me -see my little boy.' He had shown no tenderness when he spoke of -his wife, but I saw the tears on his cheeks when he asked for his -child. My profession, sir, has not made me so hard a man as you -might think; and my doctor's heart was as heavy, when I went out -to fetch the child, as if I had not been a doctor at all. I am -afraid you think this rather weak on my part?" - -The doctor looked appealingly at Mr. Neal. He might as well have -looked at a rock in the Black Forest. Mr. Neal entirely declined -to be drawn by any doctor in Christendom out of the regions of -plain fact. - -"Go on," he said. "I presume you have not told me all that you -have to tell me, yet?" - -"Surely you understand my object in coming here, now?" returned -the other - -"Your object is plain enough, at last. You invite me to connect -myself blindfold with a matter which is in the last degree -suspicious, so far. I decline giving you any answer until I know -more than I know now. Did you think it necessary to inform this -man's wife of what had passed between you, and to ask her for an -explanation?" - -"Of course I thought it necessary!" said the doctor, indignant -at the reflection on his humanity which the question seemed to -imply. "If ever I saw a woman fond of her husband, and sorry for -her husband, it is this unhappy Mrs. Armadale. As soon as we were -left alone together, I sat down by her side, and I took her hand -in mine. Why not? I am an ugly old man, and I may allow myself -such liberties as these!" - -"Excuse me," said the impenetrable Scotchman. "I beg to suggest -that you are losing the thread of the narrative." - -"Nothing more likely," returned the doctor, recovering his good -humor. "It is in the habit of my nation to be perpetually losing -the thread; and it is evidently in the habit of yours, sir, to be -perpetually finding it. What an example here of the order of -the universe, and the everlasting fitness of things!" - -"Will you oblige me, once for all, by confining yourself to the -facts," persisted Mr. Neal, frowning impatiently. "May I inquire, -for my own information, whether Mrs. Armadale could tell you what -it is her husband wishes me to write, and why it is that he -refuses to let her write for him?" - -"There is my thread found--and thank you for finding it!" said -the doctor. "You shall hear what Mrs. Armadale had to tell me, -in Mrs. Armadale's own words. 'The cause that now shuts me out of -his confidence,' she said, 'is, I firmly believe, the same cause -that has always shut me out of his heart. I am the wife he has -wedded, but I am not the woman he loves. I knew when he married -me that another man had won from him the woman he loved. I -thought I could make him forget her. I hoped when I married him; -I hoped again when I bore him a son. Need I tell you the end of -my hopes--you have seen it for yourself.' (Wait, sir, I entreat -you! I have not lost the thread again; I am following it inch by -inch.) 'Is this all you know?' I asked. 'All I knew,' she said, -'till a short time since. It was when we were in Switzerland, and -when his illness was nearly at its worst, that news came to him -by accident of that other woman who has been the shadow and the -poison of my life--news that she (like me) had borne her husband -a son. On the instant of his making that discovery--a trifling -discovery, if ever there was one yet--a mortal fear seized on -him: not for me, not for himself; a fear for his own child. The -same day (without a word to me) he sent for the doctor. I was -mean, wicked, what you please--I listened at the door. I heard -him say: _I have something to tell my son, when my son grows old -enough to understand me. Shall I live to tell it_? The doctor -would say nothing certain. The same night (still without a word -to me) he locked himself into his room. What would any woman, -treated as I was, have done in my place? She would have done as -I did--she would have listened again. I heard him say to himself: -_I shall not live to tell it: I must; write it before I die_. -I heard his pen scrape, scrape, scrape over the paper; I heard -him groaning and sobbing as he wrote; I implored him for God's -sake to let me in. The cruel pen went scrape, scrape, scrape; -the cruel pen was all the answer he gave me. I waited at the -door--hours--I don't know how long. On a sudden, the pen stopped; -and I heard no more. I whispered through the keyhole softly; I -said I was cold and weary with waiting; I said, Oh, my love, let -me in! Not even the cruel pen answered me now: silence answered -me. With all the strength of my miserable hands I beat at -the door. The servants came up and broke it in. We were too late; -the harm was done. Over that fatal letter, the stroke had struck -him--over that fatal letter, we found him paralyzed as you see -him now. Those words which he wants you to write are the words he -would have written himself if the stroke had spared him till the -morning. From that time to this there has been a blank place left -in the letter; and it is that blank place which he has just asked -you to fill up.'--In those words Mrs. Armadale spoke to me; in -those words you have the sum and substance of all the information -I can give. Say, if you please, sir, have I kept the thread at -last? Have I shown you the necessity which brings me here from -your countryman's death-bed?" - -"Thus far," said Mr. Neal, "you merely show me that you are -exciting yourself. This is too serious a matter to be treated -as you are treating it now. You have involved Me in the business, -and I insist on seeing my way plainly. Don't raise your hands; -your hands are not a part of the question. If I am to be -concerned in the completion of this mysterious letter, it is only -an act of justifiable prudence on my part to inquire what the -letter is about. Mrs. Armadale appears to have favored you with -an infinite number of domestic particulars--in return, I presume, -for your polite attention in taking her by the hand. May I ask -what she could tell you about her husband's letter, so far as -her husband has written it?" - -"Mrs. Armadale could tell me nothing," replied the doctor, with a -sudden formality in his manner, which showed that his forbearance -was at last failing him. "Before she was composed enough to think -of the letter, her husband had asked for it, and had caused it to -be locked up in his desk. She knows that he has since, time after -time, tried to finish it, and that, time after time, the pen has -dropped from his fingers. She knows, when all other hope of his -restoration was at an end, that his medical advisers encouraged -him to hope in the famous waters of this place. And last, she -knows how that hope has ended; for she knows what I told her -husband this morning." - -The frown which had been gathering latterly on Mr. Neal's face -deepened and darkened. He looked at the doctor as if the doctor -had personally offended him. - -"The more I think of the position you are asking me to take," -he said, "the less I like it. Can you undertake to say positively -that Mr. Armadale is in his right mind?" - -"Yes; as positively as words can say it." - -"Does his wife sanction your coming here to request my -interference?" - -"His wife sends me to you--the only Englishman in Wildbad--to -write for your dying countryman what he cannot write for himself; -and what no one else in this place but you can write for him." - -That answer drove Mr. Neal back to the last inch of ground left -him to stand on. Even on that inch the Scotchman resisted still. - -"Wait a little!" he said. "You put it strongly; let us be quite -sure you put it correctly as well. Let us be quite sure there is -nobody to take this responsibility but myself. There is a mayor -in Wildbad, to begin with--a man who possesses an official -character to justify his interference." - -"A man of a thousand," said the doctor. "With one fault--he knows -no language but his own." - -"There is an English legation at Stuttgart," persisted Mr. Neal. - -"And there are miles on miles of the forest between this and -Stuttgart," rejoined the doctor. "If we sent this moment, we -could get no help from the legation before to-morrow; and it is -as likely as not, in the state of this dying man's articulation, -that to-morrow may find him speechless. I don't know whether -his last wishes are wishes harmless to his child and to others, -wishes hurtful to his child and to others; but I _do_ know that -they must be fulfilled at once or never, and that you are the -only man that can help him." - -That open declaration brought the discussion to a close. It fixed -Mr. Neal fast between the two alternatives of saying Yes, and -committing an act of imprudence, or of saying No, and committing -an act of inhumanity. There was a silence of some minutes. The -Scotchman steadily reflected; and the German steadily watched -him. - -The responsibility of saying the next words rested on Mr. Neal, -and in course of time Mr. Neal took it. He rose from his chair -with a sullen sense of injury lowering on his heavy eyebrows, -and working sourly in the lines at the corners of his mouth. - -"My position is forced on me," he said. "I have no choice but -to accept it." - -The doctor's impulsive nature rose in revolt against the -merciless brevity and gracelessness of that reply. "I wish to -God," he broke out fervently, "I knew English enough to take -your place at Mr. Armadale's bedside!" - -"Bating your taking the name of the Almighty in vain," answered -the Scotchman, "I entirely agree with you. I wish you did." - -Without another word on either side, they left the room -together--the doctor leading the way. - -CHAPTER III. - -THE WRECK OF THE TIMBER SHIP. - -NO one answered the doctor's knock when he and his companion -reached the antechamber door of Mr. Armadale's apartments. They -entered unannounced; and when they looked into the sitting-room, -the sitting-room was empty. - -"I must see Mrs. Armadale," said Mr. Neal. "I decline acting in -the matter unless Mrs. Armadale authorizes my interference with -her own lips." - -"Mrs. Armadale is probably with her husband," replied the doctor. -He approached a door at the inner end of the sitting-room while -he spoke--hesitated--and, turning round again, looked at his sour -companion anxiously. "I am afraid I spoke a little harshly, sir, -when we were leaving your room," he said. "I beg your pardon for -it, with all my heart. Before this poor afflicted lady comes in, -will you--will you excuse my asking your utmost gentleness and -consideration for her?" - -"No, sir," retorted the other harshly; "I won't excuse you. What -right have I given you to think me wanting in gentleness and -consideration toward anybody?" - -The doctor saw it was useless. "I beg your pardon again," he -said, resignedly, and left the unapproachable stranger to -himself. - -Mr. Neal walked to the window, and stood there, with his eyes -mechanically fixed on the prospect, composing his mind for the -coming interview. - -It was midday; the sun shone bright and warm; and all the little -world of Wildbad was alive and merry in the genial springtime. -Now and again heavy wagons, with black-faced carters in charge, -rolled by the window, bearing their precious lading of charcoal -from the forest. Now and again, hurled over the headlong current -of the stream that runs through the town, great lengths of -timber, loosely strung together in interminable series--with -the booted raftsmen, pole in hand, poised watchful at either -end--shot swift and serpent-like past the houses on their course -to the distant Rhine. High and steep above the gabled wooden -buildings on the river-bank, the great hillsides, crested black -with firs, shone to the shining heavens in a glory of lustrous -green. In and out, where the forest foot-paths wound from the -grass through the trees, from the trees over the grass, the -bright spring dresses of women and children, on the search for -wild flowers, traveled to and fro in the lofty distance like -spots of moving light. Below, on the walk by the stream side, -the booths of the little bazar that had opened punctually with -the opening season showed all their glittering trinkets, and -fluttered in the balmy air their splendor of many-colored flags. -Longingly, here the children looked at the show; patiently the -sunburned lasses plied their knitting as they paced the walk; -courteously the passing townspeople, by fours and fives, and the -passing visitors, by ones and twos, greeted each other, hat in -hand; and slowly, slowly, the cripple and the helpless in their -chairs on wheels came out in the cheerful noontide with the rest, -and took their share of the blessed light that cheers, of the -blessed sun that shines for all. - -On this scene the Scotchman looked, with eyes that never noted -its beauty, with a mind far away from every lesson that it -taught. One by one he meditated the words he should say when the -wife came in. One by one he pondered over the conditions he might -impose before he took the pen in hand at the husband's bedside. - -"Mrs. Armadale is here," said the doctor's voice, interposing -suddenly between his reflections and himself. - -He turned on the instant, and saw before him, with the pure -midday light shining full on her, a woman of the mixed blood of -the European and the African race, with the Northern delicacy in -the shape of her face, and the Southern richness in its color--a -woman in the prime of her beauty, who moved with an inbred grace, -who looked with an inbred fascination, whose large, languid black -eyes rested on him gratefully, whose little dusky hand offered -itself to him in mute expression of her thanks, with the welcome -that is given to the coming of a friend. For the first time -in his life the Scotchman was taken by surprise. Every -self-preservative word that he had been meditating but an instant -since dropped out of his memory. His thrice impenetrable armor -of habitual suspicion, habitual self-discipline, and habitual -reserve, which had never fallen from him in a woman's presence -before, fell from him in this woman's presence, and brought him -to his knees, a conquered man. He took the hand she offered him, -and bowed over it his first honest homage to the sex, in silence. - -She hesitated on her side. The quick feminine perception which, -in happier circumstances, would have pounced on the secret of -his embarrassment in an instant, failed her now. She attributed -his strange reception of her to pride, to reluctance--to any -cause but the unexpected revelation of her own beauty. "I have no -words to thank you," she said, faintly, trying to propitiate him. -"I should only distress you if I tried to speak." Her lip began -to tremble, she drew back a little, and turned away her head in -silence. - -The doctor, who had been standing apart, quietly observant in -a corner, advanced before Mr. Neal could interfere, and led Mrs. -Armadale to a chair. "Don't be afraid of him," whispered the good -man, patting her gently on the shoulder. "He was hard as iron in -my hands, but I think, by the look of him, he will be soft as wax -in yours. Say the words I told you to say, and let us take him to -your husband's room, before those sharp wits of his have time to -recover themselves." - -She roused her sinking resolution, and advanced half-way to the -window to meet Mr. Neal. "My kind friend, the doctor, has told -me, sir, that your only hesitation in coming here is a hesitation -on my account," she said, her head drooping a little, and her -rich color fading away while she spoke. "I am deeply grateful, -but I entreat you not to think of _me_. What my husband wishes--" -Her voice faltered; she waited resolutely, and recovered herself. -"What my husband wishes in his last moments, I wish too." - -This time Mr. Neal was composed enough to answer her. In low, -earnest tones, he entreated her to say no more. "I was only -anxious to show you every consideration," he said. "I am only -anxious now to spare you every distress." As he spoke, something -like a glow of color rose slowly on his sallow face. Her eyes -were looking at him, softly attentive; and he thought guiltily -of his meditations at the window before she came in. - -The doctor saw his opportunity. He opened the door that led into -Mr. Armadale's room, and stood by it, waiting silently. Mrs. -Armadale entered first. In a minute more the door was closed -again; and Mr. Neal stood committed to the responsibility that -had been forced on him--committed beyond recall. - -The room was decorated in the gaudy continental fashion, and -the warm sunlight was shining in joyously. Cupids and flowers -were painted on the ceiling; bright ribbons looped up the white -window-curtains; a smart gilt clock ticked on a velvet-covered -mantelpiece; mirrors gleamed on the walls, and flowers in all the -colors of the rainbow speckled the carpet. In the midst of the -finery, and the glitter, and the light, lay the paralyzed man, -with his wandering eyes, and his lifeless lower face--his head -propped high with many pillows; his helpless hands laid out over -the bed-clothes like the hands of a corpse. By the bed head -stood, grim, and old, and silent, the shriveled black nurse; and -on the counter-pane, between his father's outspread hands, lay -the child, in his little white frock, absorbed in the enjoyment -of a new toy. When the door opened, and Mrs. Armadale led -the way in, the boy was tossing his plaything--a soldier on -horseback--backward and forward over the helpless hands on either -side of him; and the father's wandering eyes were following -the toy to and fro, with a stealthy and ceaseless vigilance--a -vigilance as of a wild animal, terrible to see. - -The moment Mr. Neal appeared in the doorway, those restless eyes -stopped, looked up, and fastened on the stranger with a fierce -eagerness of inquiry. Slowly the motionless lips struggled into -movement. With thick, hesitating articulation, they put the -question which the eyes asked mutely, into words: "Are you the -man?" - -Mr. Neal advanced to the bedside, Mrs. Armadale drawing back from -it as he approached, and waiting with the doctor at the further -end of the room. The child looked up, toy in hand, as the -stranger came near, opened his bright brown eyes in momentary -astonishment, and then went on with his game. - -"I have been made acquainted with your sad situation, sir," -said Mr. Neal; "and I have come here to place my services at -your disposal--services which no one but myself, as your medical -attendant informs me, is in a position to render you in this -strange place. My name is Neal. I am a writer to the signet -in Edinburgh; and I may presume to say for myself that any -confidence you wish to place in me will be confidence not -improperly bestowed." - -The eyes of the beautiful wife were not confusing him now. He -spoke to the helpless husband quietly and seriously, without his -customary harshness, and with a grave compassion in his manner -which presented him at his best. The sight of the death-bed had -steadied him. - -"You wish me to write something for you?" he resumed, after -waiting for a reply, and waiting in vain. - -"Yes!" said the dying man, with the all-mastering impatience -which his tongue was powerless to express, glittering angrily -in his eye. "My hand is gone, and my speech is going. Write!" - -Before there was time to speak again, Mr. Neal heard the rustling -of a woman's dress, and the quick creaking of casters on the -carpet behind him. Mrs. Armadale was moving the writing-table -across the room to the foot of the bed. If he was to set up those -safeguards of his own devising that were to bear him harmless -through all results to come, now was the time, or never. He, kept -his back turned on Mrs. Armadale, and put his precautionary -question at once in the plainest terms. - -"May I ask, sir, before I take the pen in hand, what it is you -wish me to write?" - -The angry eyes of the paralyzed man glittered brighter and -brighter. His lips opened and closed again. He made no reply. - -Mr. Neal tried another precautionary question, in a new -direction. - -"When I have written what you wish me to write," he asked, "what -is to be done with it?" - -This time the answer came: - -"Seal it up in my presence, and post it to my ex--" - -His laboring articulation suddenly stopped and he looked -piteously in the questioner's face for the next word. - -"Do you mean your executor?" - -"Yes." - -"It is a letter, I suppose, that I am to post?" There was no -answer. "May I ask if it is a letter altering your will?" - -"Nothing of the sort." - -Mr. Neal considered a little. The mystery was thickening. The one -way out of it, so far, was the way traced faintly through that -strange story of the unfinished letter which the doctor had -repeated to him in Mrs. Armadale's words. The nearer he -approached his unknown responsibility, the more ominous it seemed -of something serious to come. Should he risk another question -before he pledged himself irrevocably? As the doubt crossed his -mind, he felt Mrs. Armadale's silk dress touch him on the side -furthest from her husband. Her delicate dark hand was laid gently -on his arm; her full deep African eyes looked at him in -submissive entreaty. "My husband is very anxious," she whispered. -"Will you quiet his anxiety, sir, by taking your place at the -writing-table?" - -It was from _her_ lips that the request came--from the lips of -the person who had the best right to hesitate, the wife who was -excluded from the secret! Most men in Mr. Neal's position would -have given up all their safeguards on the spot. The Scotchman -gave them all up but one. - -"I will write what you wish me to write," he said, addressing Mr. -Armadale. "I will seal it in your presence; and I will post it to -your executor myself. But, in engaging to do this, I must beg you -to remember that I am acting entirely in the dark; and I must ask -you to excuse me, if I reserve my own entire freedom of action, -when your wishes in relation to the writing and the posting of -the letter have been fulfilled." - -"Do you give me your promise?" - -"It you want my promise, sir, I will give it--subject to the -condition I have just named." - -"Take your condition, and keep your promise. My desk," he added, -looking at his wife for the first time. - -She crossed the room eagerly to fetch the desk from a chair -in a corner. Returning with it, she made a passing sign to -the negress, who still stood, grim and silent, in the place that -she had occupied from the first. The woman advanced, obedient to -the sign, to take the child from the bed. At the instant when -she touched him, the father's eyes--fixed previously on the -desk--turned on her with the stealthy quickness of a cat. "No!" -he said. "No!" echoed the fresh voice of the boy, still charmed -with his plaything, and still liking his place on the bed. The -negress left the room, and the child, in high triumph, trotted -his toy soldier up and down on the bedclothes that lay rumpled -over his father's breast. His mother's lovely face contracted -with a pang of jealousy as she looked at him. - -"Shall I open your desk?" she asked, pushing back the child's -plaything sharply while she spoke. An answering look from her -husband guided her hand to the place under his pillow where the -key was hidden. She opened the desk, and disclosed inside some -small sheets of manuscript pinned together. "These?" she -inquired, producing them. - -"Yes," he said. "You can go now." - -The Scotchman sitting at the writing-table, the doctor stirring -a stimulant mixture in a corner, looked at each other with an -anxiety in both their faces which they could neither of them -control. The words that banished the wife from the room were -spoken. The moment had come. - -"You can go now," said Mr. Armadale, for the second time. - -She looked at the child, established comfortably on the bed, and -an ashy paleness spread slowly over her face. She looked at the -fatal letter which was a sealed secret to her, and a torture of -jealous suspicion--suspicion of that other woman who had been the -shadow and the poison of her life--wrung her to the heart. After -moving a few steps from the bedside, she stopped, and came back -again. Armed with the double courage of her love and her despair, -she pressed her lips on her dying husband's cheek, and pleaded -with him for the last time. Her burning tears dropped on his face -as she whispered to him: "Oh, Allan, think how I have loved you! -think how hard I have tried to make you happy! think how soon -I shall lose you! Oh, my own love! don't, don't send me away!" - -The words pleaded for her; the kiss pleaded for her; the -recollection of the love that had been given to him, and never -returned, touched the heart of the fast-sinking man as nothing -had touched it since the day of his marriage. A heavy sigh broke -from him. He looked at her, and hesitated. - -"Let me stay," she whispered, pressing her face closer to his. - -"It will only distress you," he whispered back. - -"Nothing distresses me, but being sent away from _you_!" - -He waited. She saw that he was thinking, and waited too. - -"If I let you stay a little--?" - -"Yes! yes!" - -"Will you go when I tell you?" - -"I will." - -"On your oath?" - -The fetters that bound his tongue seemed to be loosened for -a moment in the great outburst of anxiety which forced that -question to his lips. He spoke those startling words as he had -spoken no words yet. - -"On my oath!" she repeated, and, dropping on her knees at the -bedside, passionately kissed his hand. The two strangers in the -room turned their heads away by common consent. In the silence -that followed, the one sound stirring was the small sound of -the child's toy, as he moved it hither and thither on the bed. - -The doctor was the first who broke the spell of stillness which -had fallen on all the persons present. He approached the patient, -and examined him anxiously. Mrs. Armadale rose from her knees; -and, first waiting for her husband's permission, carried -the sheets of manuscript which she had taken out of the desk -to the table at which Mr. Neal was waiting. Flushed and eager, -more beautiful than ever in the vehement agitation which still -possessed her, she stooped over him as she put the letter into -his hands, and, seizing on the means to her end with a woman's -headlong self-abandonment to her own impulses, whispered to him, -"Read it out from the beginning. I must and will hear it!" Her -eyes flashed their burning light into his; her breath beat on -his cheek. Before he could answer, before he could think, she was -back with her husband. In an instant she had spoken, and in that -instant her beauty had bent the Scotchman to her will. Frowning -in reluctant acknowledgment of his own inability to resist her, -he turned over the leaves of the letter; looked at the blank -place where the pen had dropped from the writer's hand and had -left a blot on the paper; turned back again to the beginning, -and said the words, in the wife's interest, which the wife -herself had put into his lips. - -"Perhaps, sir, you may wish to make some corrections," he began, -with all his attention apparently fixed on the letter, and with -every outward appearance of letting his sour temper again get the -better of him. "Shall I read over to you what you have already -written?" - -Mrs. Armadale, sitting at the bed head on one side, and the -doctor, with his fingers on the patient's pulse, sitting on -the other, waited with widely different anxieties for the answer -to Mr. Neal's question. Mr. Armadale's eyes turned searchingly -from his child to his wife. - -"You _will_ hear it?" he said. Her breath came and went quickly; -her hand stole up and took his; she bowed her head in silence. -Her husband paused, taking secret counsel with his thoughts, and -keeping his eyes fixed on his wife. At last he decided, and gave -the answer. "Read it," he said, "and stop when I tell you." - -It was close on one o'clock, and the bell was ringing which -summoned the visitors to their early dinner at the inn. The quick -beat of footsteps, and the gathering hum of voices outside, -penetrated gayly into the room, as Mr. Neal spread the manuscript -before him on the table, and read the opening sentences in these -words: - - -"I address this letter to my son, when my son is of an age to -understand it. Having lost all hope of living to see my boy grow -up to manhood, I have no choice but to write here what I would -fain have said to him at a future time with my own lips. - -"I have three objects in writing. First, to reveal the -circumstances which attended the marriage of an English lady of -my acquaintance, in the island of Madeira. Secondly, to throw the -true light on the death of her husband a short time afterward, on -board the French timber ship _La Grace de Dieu_. Thirdly, to warn -my son of a danger that lies in wait for him--a danger that will -rise from his father's grave when the earth has closed over his -father's ashes. - -"The story of the English lady's marriage begins with my -inheriting the great Armadale property, and my taking the fatal -Armadale name. - -"I am the only surviving son of the late Mathew Wrentmore, of -Barbadoes. I was born on our family estate in that island, and -I lost my father when I was still a child. My mother was blindly -fond of me; she denied me nothing, she let me live as I pleased. -My boyhood and youth were passed in idleness and self-indulgence, -among people--slaves and half-castes mostly--to whom my will was -law. I doubt if there is a gentleman of my birth and station in -all England as ignorant as I am at this moment. I doubt if there -was ever a young man in this world whose passions were left so -entirely without control of any kind as mine were in those early -days. - -"My mother had a woman's romantic objection to my father's homely -Christian name. I was christened Allan, after the name of a -wealthy cousin of my father's--the late Allan Armadale--who -possessed estates in our neighborhood, the largest and most -productive in the island, and who consented to be my godfather by -proxy. Mr. Armadale had never seen his West Indian property. He -lived in England; and, after sending me the customary godfather's -present, he held no further communication with my parents for -years afterward. I was just twenty-one before we heard again from -Mr. Armadale. On that occasion my mother received a letter from -him asking if I was still alive, and offering no less (if I was) -than to make me the heir to his West Indian property. - -"This piece of good fortune fell to me entirely through the -misconduct of Mr. Armadale's son, an only child. The young man -had disgraced himself beyond all redemption; had left his home -an outlaw; and had been thereupon renounced by his father at once -and forever. Having no other near male relative to succeed him, -Mr. Armadale thought of his cousin's son and his own godson; and -he offered the West Indian estate to me, and my heirs after me, -on one condition--that I and my heirs should take his name. The -proposal was gratefully accepted, and the proper legal measures -were adopted for changing my name in the colony and in the mother -country. By the next mail information reached Mr. Armadale that -his condition had been complied with. The return mail brought -news from the lawyers. The will had been altered in my favor, -and in a week afterward the death of my benefactor had made me -the largest proprietor and the richest man in Barbadoes. - -"This was the first event in the chain. The second event followed -it six weeks afterward. - -"At that time there happened to be a vacancy in the clerk's -office on the estate, and there came to fill it a young man about -my own age who had recently arrived in the island. He announced -himself by the name of Fergus Ingleby. My impulses governed me in -everything; I knew no law but the law of my own caprice, and I -took a fancy to the stranger the moment I set eyes on him. He had -the manners of a gentleman, and he possessed the most attractive -social qualities which, in my small experience, I had ever met -with. When I heard that the written references to character which -he had brought with him were pronounced to be unsatisfactory, -I interfered, and insisted that he should have the place. My will -was law, and he had it. - -"My mother disliked and distrusted Ingleby from the first. When -she found the intimacy between us rapidly ripening; when she -found me admitting this inferior to the closest companionship -and confidence (I had lived with my inferiors all my life, and -I liked it), she made effort after effort to part us, and failed -in one and all. Driven to her last resources, she resolved to try -the one chance left--the chance of persuading me to take a voyage -which I had often thought of--a voyage to England. - -"Before she spoke to me on the subject, she resolved to interest -me in the idea of seeing England, as I had never been interested -yet. She wrote to an old friend and an old admirer of hers, the -late Stephen Blanchard, of Thorpe Ambrose, in Norfolk--a -gentleman of landed estate, and a widower with a grown-up family. -After-discoveries informed me that she must have alluded to their -former attachment (which was checked, I believe, by the parents -on either side); and that, in asking Mr. Blanchard's welcome for -her son when he came to England, she made inquiries about his -daughter, which hinted at the chance of a marriage uniting the -two families, if the young lady and I met and liked one another. -We were equally matched in every respect, and my mother's -recollection of her girlish attachment to Mr. Blanchard made the -prospect of my marrying her old admirer's daughter the brightest -and happiest prospect that her eyes could see. Of all this I knew -nothing until Mr. Blanchard's answer arrived at Barbadoes. Then -my mother showed me the letter, and put the temptation which was -to separate me from Fergus Ingleby openly in my way. - -"Mr. Blanchard's letter was dated from the Island of Madeira. He -was out of health, and he had been ordered there by the doctors -to try the climate. His daughter was with him. After heartily -reciprocating all my mother's hopes and wishes, he proposed (if I -intended leaving Barbadoes shortly) that I should take Madeira on -my way to England, and pay him a visit at his temporary residence -in the island. If this could not be, he mentioned the time at -which he expected to be back in England, when I might be sure -of finding a welcome at his own house of Thorpe Ambrose. In -conclusion, he apologized for not writing at greater length; -explaining that his sight was affected, and that he had disobeyed -the doctor's orders by yielding to the temptation of writing to -his old friend with his own hand. - -"Kindly as it was expressed, the letter itself might have had -little influence on me. But there was something else besides the -letter; there was inclosed in it a miniature portrait of Miss -Blanchard. At the back of the portrait, her father had written, -half-jestingly, half-tenderly, 'I can't ask my daughter to spare -my eyes as usual, without telling her of your inquiries, and -putting a young lady's diffidence to the blush. So I send her -in effigy (without her knowledge) to answer for herself. It is -a good likeness of a good girl. If she likes your son--and if -I like him, which I am sure I shall--we may yet live, my good -friend, to see our children what we might once have been -ourselves--man and wife.' My mother gave me the miniature with -the letter. The portrait at once struck me--I can't say why, I -can't say how--as nothing of the kind had ever struck me before. - -"Harder intellects than mine might have attributed the -extraordinary impression produced on me to the disordered -condition of my mind at that time; to the weariness of my own -base pleasures which had been gaining on me for months past, -to the undefined longing which that weariness implied for newer -interests and fresher hopes than any that had possessed me yet. -I attempted no such sober self-examination as this: I believed -in destiny then, I believe in destiny now. It was enough for me -to know--as I did know--that the first sense I had ever felt of -something better in my nature than my animal self was roused by -that girl's face looking at me from her picture as no woman's -face had ever looked at me yet. In those tender eyes--in the -chance of making that gentle creature my wife--I saw my destiny -written. The portrait which had come into my hands so strangely -and so unexpectedly was the silent messenger of happiness close -at hand, sent to warn, to encourage, to rouse me before it was -too late. I put the miniature under my pillow at night; I looked -at it again the next morning. My conviction of the day before -remained as strong as ever; my superstition (if you please to -call it so) pointed out to me irresistibly the way on which -I should go. There was a ship in port which was to sail for -England in a fortnight, touching at Madeira. In that ship I took -my passage." - - -Thus far the reader had advanced with no interruption to disturb -him. But at the last words the tones of another voice, low and -broken, mingled with his own. - -"Was she a fair woman," asked the voice, "or dark, like me?" - -Mr. Neal paused, and looked up. The doctor was still at the bed -head, with his fingers mechanically on the patient's pulse. The -child, missing his midday sleep, was beginning to play languidly -with his new toy. The father's eyes were watching him with a rapt -and ceaseless attention. But one great change was visible in -the listeners since the narrative had begun. Mrs. Armadale had -dropped her hold of her husband's hand, and sat with her face -steadily turned away from him The hot African blood burned red -in her dusky cheeks as she obstinately repeated the question: -"Was she a fair woman, or dark, like me?" - -"Fair," said her husband, without looking at her. - -Her hands, lying clasped together in her lap, wrung each other -hard--she said no more. Mr. Neal's overhanging eyebrows lowered -ominously as he returned to the narrative. He had incurred his -own severe displeasure--he had caught himself in the act of -secretly pitying her. - - -"I have said"--the letter proceeded--"that Ingleby was admitted -to my closest confidence. I was sorry to leave him; and I was -distressed by his evident surprise and mortification when he -heard that I was going away. In my own justification, I showed -him the letter and the likeness, and told him the truth. His -interest in the portrait seemed to be hardly inferior to my own. -He asked me about Miss Blanchard's family and Miss Blanchard's -fortune with the sympathy of a true friend; and he strengthened -my regard for him, and my belief in him, by putting himself out -of the question, and by generously encouraging me to persist in -my new purpose. When we parted, I was in high health and spirits. -Before we met again the next day, I was suddenly struck by an -illness which threatened both my reason and my life. - -"I have no proof against Ingleby. There was more than one woman -on the island whom I had wronged beyond all forgiveness, and -whose vengeance might well have reached me at that time. I can -accuse nobody. I can only say that my life was saved by my old -black nurse; and that the woman afterward acknowledged having -used the known negro antidote to a known negro poison in those -parts. When my first days of convalescence came, the ship in -which my passage had been taken had long since sailed. When -I asked for Ingleby, he was gone. Proofs of his unpardonable -misconduct in his situation were placed before me, which not even -my partiality for him could resist. He had been turned out of -the office in the first days of my illness, and nothing more was -known of him but that he had left the island. - -"All through my sufferings the portrait had been under my pillow. -All through my convalescence it was my one consolation when I -remembered the past, and my one encouragement when I thought of -the future. No words can describe the hold that first fancy had -now taken of me--with time and solitude and suffering to help it. -My mother, with all her interest in the match, was startled by -the unexpected success of her own project. She had written to -tell Mr. Blanchard of my illness, but had received no reply. She -now offered to write again, if I would promise not to leave her -before my recovery was complete. My impatience acknowledged no -restraint. Another ship in port gave me another chance of leaving -for Madeira. Another examination of Mr. Blanchard's letter of -invitation assured me that I should find him still in the island, -if I seized my opportunity on the spot. In defiance of my -mother's entreaties, I insisted on taking my passage in the -second ship--and this time, when the ship sailed, I was on board. - -"The change did me good; the sea-air made a man of me again. -After an unusually rapid voyage, I found myself at the end of -my pilgrimage. On a fine, still evening which I can never forget, -I stood alone on the shore, with her likeness in my bosom, and -saw the white walls of the house where I knew that she lived. - -"I strolled round the outer limits of the grounds to compose -myself before I went in. Venturing through a gate and a -shrubbery, I looked into the garden, and saw a lady there, -loitering alone on the lawn. She turned her face toward me--and I -beheld the original of my portrait, the fulfillment of my dream! -It is useless, and worse than useless, to write of it now. Let me -only say that every promise which the likeness had made to my -fancy the living woman kept to my eyes in the moment when they -first looked on her. Let me say this--and no more. - -"I was too violently agitated to trust myself in her presence. -I drew back undiscovered, and, making my way to the front door of -the house, asked for her father first. Mr. Blanchard had retired -to his room, and could see nobody. Upon that I took courage, and -asked for Miss Blanchard. The servant smiled. 'My young lady is -not Miss Blanchard any longer, sir,' he said. 'She is married.' -Those words would have struck some men, in my position, to -the earth. They fired my hot blood, and I seized the servant -by the throat, in a frenzy of rage 'It's a lie!' I broke out, -speaking to him as if he had been one of the slaves on my own -estate. 'It's the truth,' said the man, struggling with me; -'her husband is in the house at this moment.' 'Who is he, you -scoundrel?'The servant answered by repeating my own name, to -my own face: '_Allan Armadale_.' - -"You can now guess the truth. Fergus Ingleby was the outlawed son -whose name and whose inheritance I had taken. And Fergus Ingleby -was even with me for depriving him of his birthright. - -"Some account of the manner in which the deception had been -carried out is necessary to explain--I don't say to justify--the -share I took in the events that followed my arrival at Madeira. - -"By Ingleby's own confession, he had come to Barbadoes--knowing -of his father's death and of my succession to the estates--with -the settled purpose of plundering and injuring me. My rash -confidence put such an opportunity into his hands as he could -never have hoped for. He had waited to possess himself of -the letter which my mother wrote to Mr. Blanchard at the outset -of my illness--had then caused his own dismissal from his -situation--and had sailed for Madeira in the very ship that was -to have sailed with me. Arrived at the island, he had waited -again till the vessel was away once more on her voyage, and had -then presented himself at Mr. Blanchard's--not in the assumed -name by which I shall continue to speak of him here, but in the -name which was as certainly his as mine, 'Allan Armadale.' The -fraud at the outset presented few difficulties. He had only an -ailing old man (who had not seen my mother for half a lifetime) -and an innocent, unsuspicious girl (who had never seen her at -all) to deal with; and he had learned enough in my service to -answer the few questions that were put to him as readily as -I might have answered them myself. His looks and manners, his -winning ways with women, his quickness and cunning, did the rest. -While I was still on my sickbed, he had won Miss Blanchard's -affections. While I was dreaming over the likeness in the first -days of my convalescence, he had secured Mr. Blanchard's consent -to the celebration of the marriage before he and his daughter -left the island. - -"Thus far Mr. Blanchard's infirmity of sight had helped the -deception. He had been content to send messages to my mother, and -to receive the messages which were duly invented in return. But -when the suitor was accepted, and the wedding-day was appointed, -he felt it due to his old friend to write to her, asking her -formal consent and inviting her to the marriage. He could only -complete part of the letter himself; the rest was finished, under -his dictation, by Miss Blanchard. There was no chance of being -beforehand with the post-office this time; and Ingleby, sure of -his place in the heart of his victim, waylaid her as she came out -of her father's room with the letter, and privately told her the -truth. She was still under age, and the position was a serious -one. If the letter was posted, no resource would be left but to -wait and be parted forever, or to elope under circumstances which -made detection almost a certainty. The destination of any ship -which took them away would be known beforehand; and the -fast-sailing yacht in which Mr. Blanchard had come to Madeira was -waiting in the harbor to take him back to England. The only other -alternative was to continue the deception by suppressing the -letter, and to confess the truth when they were securely married. -What arts of persuasion Ingleby used--what base advantage he -might previously have taken of her love and her trust in him to -degrade Miss Blanchard to his own level--I cannot say. He did -degrade her. The letter never went to its destination; and, with -the daughter's privity and consent, the father's confidence was -abused to the very last. - -"The one precaution now left to take was to fabricate the answer -from my mother which Mr. Blanchard expected, and which would -arrive in due course of post before the day appointed for -the marriage. Ingleby had my mother's stolen letter with him; -but he was without the imitative dexterity which would have -enabled him to make use of it for a forgery of her handwriting. -Miss Blanchard, who had consented passively to the deception, -refused to take any active share in the fraud practiced on her -father. In this difficulty, Ingleby found an instrument ready to -his hand in an orphan girl of barely twelve years old, a marvel -of precocious ability, whom Miss Blanchard had taken a romantic -fancy to befriend and whom she had brought away with her from -England to be trained as her maid. That girl's wicked dexterity -removed the one serious obstacle left to the success of -the fraud. I saw the imitation of my mother's writing which she -had produced under Ingleby's instructions and (if the shameful -truth must be told) with her young mistress's knowledge--and -I believe I should have been deceived by it myself. I saw -the girl afterward--and my blood curdled at the sight of her. -If she is alive now, woe to the people who trust her! No creature -more innately deceitful and more innately pitiless ever walked -this earth. - -"The forged letter paved the way securely for the marriage; -and when I reached the house, they were (as the servant had -truly told me) man and wife. My arrival on the scene simply -precipitated the confession which they had both agreed to make. -Ingleby's own lips shamelessly acknowledged the truth. He had -nothing to lose by speaking out--he was married, and his wife's -fortune was beyond her father's control. I pass over all that -followed--my interview with the daughter, and my interview with -the father--to come to results. For two days the efforts of the -wife, and the efforts of the clergyman who had celebrated the -marriage, were successful in keeping Ingleby and myself apart. On -the third day I set my trap more successfully, and I and the man -who had mortally injured me met together alone, face to face. - -"Remember how my confidence had been abused; remember how the one -good purpose of my life had been thwarted; remember the violent -passions rooted deep in my nature, and never yet controlled--and -then imagine for yourself what passed between us. All I need tell -here is the end. He was a taller and a stronger man than I, and -he took his brute's advantage with a brute's ferocity. He struck -me. - -"Think of the injuries I had received at that man's hands, and -then think of his setting his mark on my face by a blow! - -"I went to an English officer who had been my fellow-passenger -on the voyage from Barbadoes. I told him the truth, and he agreed -with me that a meeting was inevitable. Dueling had its received -formalities and its established laws in those days; and he began -to speak of them. I stopped him. 'I will take a pistol in my -right hand,' I said, 'and he shall take a pistol in his: I will -take one end of a handkerchief in my left hand, and he shall take -the other end in his; and across that handkerchief the duel shall -be fought.' The officer got up, and looked at me as if I had -personally insulted him. 'You are asking me to be present at a -murder and a suicide,' he said; 'I decline to serve you.' He left -the room. As soon as he was gone I wrote down the words I had -said to the officer and sent them by a messenger to Ingleby. -While I was waiting for an answer, I sat down before the glass, -and looked at his mark on my face. 'Many a man has had blood on -his hands and blood on his conscience,' I thought, 'for less than -this.' - -"The messenger came back with Ingleby's answer. It appointed a -meeting for three o'clock the next day, at a lonely place in the -interior of the island. I had resolved what to do if he refused; -his letter released me from the horror of my own resolution. -I felt grateful to him--yes, absolutely grateful to him--for -writing it. - -"The next day I went to the place. He was not there. I waited two -hours, and he never came. At last the truth dawned on me. 'Once -a coward, always a coward,' I thought. I went back to Mr. -Blanchard's house. Before I got there, a sudden misgiving seized -me, and I turned aside to the harbor. I was right; the harbor was -the place to go to. A ship sailing for Lisbon that afternoon had -offered him the opportunity of taking a passage for himself and -his wife, and escaping me. His answer to my challenge had served -its purpose of sending me out of the way into the interior of -the island. Once more I had trusted in Fergus Ingleby, and once -more those sharp wits of his had been too much for me. - -"I asked my informant if Mr. Blanchard was aware as yet of -his daughter's departure. He had discovered it, but not until -the ship had sailed. This time I took a lesson in cunning from -Ingleby. Instead of showing myself at Mr. Blanchard's house, -I went first and looked at Mr. Blanchard's yacht. - -"The vessel told me what the vessel's master might have -concealed--the truth. I found her in the confusion of a sudden -preparation for sea. All the crew were on board, with the -exception of some few who had been allowed their leave on shore, -and who were away in the interior of the island, nobody knew -where. When I discovered that the sailing-master was trying in, -to supply their places with the best men he could pick up at -a moment's notice, my resolution was instantly taken. I knew -the duties on board a yacht well enough, having had a vessel -of my own, and having sailed her myself. Hurrying into the town, -I changed my dress for a sailor's coat and hat, and, returning -to the harbor, I offered myself as one of the volunteer crew. -I don't know what the sailing-master saw in my face. My answers -to his questions satisfied him, and yet he looked at me and -hesitated. But hands were scarce, and it ended in my being taken -on board. An hour later Mr. Blanchard joined us, and was assisted -into the cabin, suffering pitiably in mind and body both. An hour -after that we were at sea, with a starless night overhead, and -a fresh breeze behind us. - -"As I had surmised, we were in pursuit of the vessel in which -Ingleby and his wife had left the island that afternoon. The ship -was French, and was employed in the timber trade: her name was -_La Grace de Dieu_. Nothing more was known of her than that she -was bound for Lisbon; that she had been driven out of her course; -and that she had touched at Madeira, short of men and short of -provisions. The last want had been supplied, but not the first. -Sailors distrusted the sea-worthiness of the ship, and disliked -the look of the vagabond crew. When those two serious facts had -been communicated to Mr. Blanchard, the hard words he had spoken -to his child in the first shock of discovering that she had -helped to deceive him smote him to the heart. He instantly -determined to give his daughter a refuge on board his own vessel, -and to quiet her by keeping her villain of a husband out of the -way of all harm at my hands. The yacht sailed three feet and more -to the ship's one. There was no doubt of our overtaking _La Grace -de Dieu_; the only fear was that we might pass her in the -darkness. - -"After we had been some little time out, the wind suddenly -dropped, and there fell on us an airless, sultry calm. When the -order came to get the topmasts on deck, and to shift the large -sails, we all knew what to expect. In little better than an hour -more, the storm was upon us, the thunder was pealing over our -heads, and the yacht was running for it. She was a powerful -schooner-rigged vessel of three hundred tons, as strong as wood -and iron could make her; she was handled by a sailing-master who -thoroughly understood his work, and she behaved nobly. As the new -morning came, the fury of the wind, blowing still from the -southwest quarter, subsided a little, and the sea was less heavy. -Just before daybreak we heard faintly, through the howling of the -gale, the report of a gun. The men collected anxiously on deck, -looked at each other, and said: 'There she is!' - -"With the daybreak we saw the vessel, and the timber-ship it was. -She lay wallowing in the trough of the sea, her foremast and her -mainmast both gone--a water-logged wreck. The yacht carried three -boats; one amidships, and two slung to davits on the quarters; -and the sailing-master, seeing signs of the storm renewing its -fury before long, determined on lowering the quarter-boats while -the lull lasted. Few as the people were on board the wreck, they -were too many for one boat, and the risk of trying two boats at -once was thought less, in the critical state of the weather, than -the risk of making two separate trips from the yacht to the ship. -There might be time to make one trip in safety, but no man could -look at the heavens and say there would be time enough for two. - -"The boats were manned by volunteers from the crew, I being in -the second of the two. When the first boat was got alongside of -the timber-ship--a service of difficulty and danger which no -words can describe--all the men on board made a rash to leave the -wreck together. If the boat had not been pulled off again before -the whole of them had crowded in, the lives of all must have been -sacrificed. As our boat approached the vessel in its turn, we -arranged that four of us should get on board--two (I being one of -them) to see to the safety of Mr. Blanchard's daughter, and two -to beat back the cowardly remnant of the crew if they tried -to crowd in first. The other three--the coxswain and two -oarsmen--were left in the boat to keep her from being crushed by -the ship. What the others saw when they first boarded _La Grace -de Dieu_ I don't know; what I saw was the woman whom I had lost, -the woman vilely stolen from me, lying in a swoon on the deck. -We lowered her, insensible, into the boat. The remnant of the -crew--five in number--were compelled by main force to follow her -in an orderly manner, one by one, and minute by minute, as the -chance offered for safely taking them in. I was the last who -left; and, at the next roll of the ship toward us, the empty -length of the deck, without a living creature on it from stem -to stern, told the boat's crew that their work was done. With -the louder and louder howling of the fast-rising tempest to warn -them, they rowed for their lives back to the yacht. - -"A succession of heavy squalls had brought round the course of -the new storm that was coming, from the south to the north; and -the sailing-master, watching his opportunity, had wore the yacht -to be ready for it. Before the last of our men had got on board -again, it burst on us with the fury of a hurricane. Our boat was -swamped, but not a life was lost. Once more we ran before it, -due south, at the mercy of the wind. I was on deck with the rest, -watching the one rag of sail we could venture to set, and waiting -to supply its place with another, if it blew out of the -bolt-ropes, when the mate came close to me, and shouted in my ear -through the thunder of the storm: 'She has come to her senses in -the cabin, and has asked for her husband. Where is he?' Not a man -on board knew. The yacht was searched from one end to another -without finding him. The men were mustered in defiance of the -weather--he was not among them. The crews of the two boats were -questioned. All the first crew could say was that they had pulled -away from the wreck when the rush into their boat took place, and -that they knew nothing of whom they let in or whom they kept out. -All the second crew could say was that they had brought back to -the yacht every living soul left by the first boat on the deck of -the timber-ship. There was no blaming anybody; but, at the same -time, there was no resisting the fact that the man was missing. - -"All through that day the storm, raging unabatedly, never gave us -even the shadow of a chance of returning and searching the wreck. -The one hope for the yacht was to scud. Toward evening the gale, -after having carried us to the southward of Madeira, began at -last to break--the wind shifted again--and allowed us to bear up -for the island. Early the next morning we got back into port. Mr. -Blanchard and his daughter were taken ashore, the sailing-master -accompanying them, and warning us that he should have something -to say on his return which would nearly concern the whole crew. - -"We were mustered on deck, and addressed by the sailing-master as -soon as he came on board again. He had Mr. Blanchard's orders to -go back at once to the timber-ship and to search for the missing -man. We were bound to do this for his sake, and for the sake -of his wife, whose reason was despaired of by the doctors if -something was not done to quiet her. We might be almost sure of -finding the vessel still afloat, for her ladling of timber would -keep her above water as long as her hull held together. If the -man was on board--living or dead--he must be found and brought -back. And if the weather continued to be moderate, there was no -reason why the men, with proper assistance, should not bring the -ship back, too, and (their master being quite willing) earn their -share of the salvage with the officers of the yacht. - -"Upon this the crew gave three cheers, and set to work forthwith -to get the schooner to sea again. I was the only one of them who -drew back from the enterprise. I told them the storm had upset -me--I was ill, and wanted rest. They all looked me in the face as -I passed through them on my way out of the yacht, but not a man -of them spoke to me. - -"I waited through that day at a tavern on the port for the first -news from the wreck. It was brought toward night-fall by one -of the pilot-boats which had taken part in the enterprise--a -successful enterprise, as the event proved--for saving the -abandoned ship. _La Grace de Dieu_ had been discovered still -floating, and the body of Ingleby had been found on board, -drowned in the cabin. At dawn the next morning the dead man was -brought back by the yacht; and on the same day the funeral took -place in the Protestant cemetery." - - -"Stop!" said the voice from the bed, before the reader could turn -to a new leaf and begin the next paragraph. - -There was a change in the room, and there were changes in the -audience, since Mr. Neal had last looked up from the narrative. -A ray of sunshine was crossing the death-bed; and the child, -overcome by drowsiness, lay peacefully asleep in the golden -light. The father's countenance had altered visibly. Forced into -action by the tortured mind, the muscles of the lower face, which -had never moved yet, were moving distortedly now. Warned by the -damps gathering heavily on his forehead, the doctor had risen to -revive the sinking man. On the other side of the bed the wife's -chair stood empty. At the moment when her husband had interrupted -the reading, she had drawn back behind the bed head, out of his -sight. Supporting herself against the wall, she stood there in -hiding, her eyes fastened in hungering suspense on the manuscript -in Mr. Neal's hand. - -In a minute more the silence was broken again by Mr. Armadale. - -"Where is she?" he asked, looking angrily at his wife's empty -chair. The doctor pointed to the place. She had no choice but -to come forward. She came slowly and stood before him. - -"You promised to go when I told you," he said. "Go now." - -Mr. Neal tried hard to control his hand as it kept his place -between the leaves of the manuscripts but it trembled in spite -of him. A suspicion which had been slowly forcing itself on -his mind, while he was reading, became a certainty when he heard -those words. From one revelation to another the letter had gone -on, until it had now reached the brink of a last disclosure to -come. At that brink the dying man had predetermined to silence -the reader's voice, before he had permitted his wife to hear the -narrative read. There was the secret which the son was to know -in after years, and which the mother was never to approach. From -that resolution, his wife's tenderest pleadings had never moved -him an inch--and now, from his own lips, his wife knew it. - -She made him no answer. She stood there and looked at him; looked -her last entreaty--perhaps her last farewell. His eyes gave her -back no answering glance: they wandered from her mercilessly to -the sleeping boy. She turned speechless from the bed. Without -a look at the child--without a word to the two strangers -breathlessly watching her--she kept the promise she had given, -and in dead silence left the room. - -There was something in the manner of her departure which shook -the self-possession of both the men who witnessed it. When the -door closed on her, they recoiled instinctively from advancing -further in the dark. The doctor's reluctance was the first to -express itself. He attempted to obtain the patient's permission -to withdraw until the letter was completed. The patient refused. - -Mr. Neal spoke next at greater length and to more serious -purpose. - -"The doctor is accustomed in his profession," he began, "and I am -accustomed in mine, to have the secrets of others placed in our -keeping. But it is my duty, before we go further, to ask if you -really understand the extraordinary position which we now occupy -toward one another. You have just excluded Mrs. Armadale, before -our own eyes, from a place in your confidence. And you are now -offering that same place to two men who are total strangers to -you." - -"Yes," said Mr. Armadale, "_because_ you are strangers." - -Few as the words were, the inference to be drawn from them was -not of a nature to set distrust at rest. Mr. Neal put it plainly -into words. - -"You are in urgent need of my help and of the doctor's help," he -said. "Am I to understand (so long as you secure our assistance) -that the impression which the closing passages of this letter may -produce on us is a matter of indifference to you?" - -"Yes. I don't spare you. I don't spare myself. I _do_ spare my -wife." - -"You force me to a conclusion, sir, which is a very serious one," -said Mr. Neal. "If I am to finish this letter under your -dictation, I must claim permission--having read aloud the greater -part of it already--to read aloud what remains, in the hearing -of this gentleman, as a witness." - -"Read it." - -Gravely doubting, the doctor resumed his chair. Gravely doubting, -Mr. Neal turned the leaf, and read the next words: - - -"There is more to tell before I can leave the dead man to -his rest. I have described the finding of his body. But I have -not described the circumstances under which he met his death. - -"He was known to have been on deck when the yacht's boats were -seen approaching the wreck; and he was afterward missed in the -confusion caused by the panic of the crew. At that time the water -was five feet deep in the cabin, and was rising fast. There was -little doubt of his having gone down into that water of his own -accord. The discovery of his wife's jewel box, close under him, -on the floor, explained his presence in the cabin. He was known -to have seen help approaching, and it was quite likely that he -had thereupon gone below to make an effort at saving the box. It -was less probable--though it might still have been inferred--that -his death was the result of some accident in diving, which had -for the moment deprived him of his senses. But a discovery made -by the yacht's crew pointed straight to a conclusion which struck -the men, one and all, with the same horror. When the course of -their search brought them to the cabin, they found the scuttle -bolted, and the door locked on the outside. Had some one closed -the cabin, not knowing he was there? Setting the panic-stricken -condition of the crew out of the question, there was no motive -for closing the cabin before leaving the wreck. But one other -conclusion remained. Had some murderous hand purposely locked -the man in, and left him to drown as the water rose over him? - -"Yes. A murderous hand had locked him in, and left him to drown. -That hand was mine. " - - -The Scotchman started up from the table; the doctor shrank from -the bedside. The two looked at the dying wretch, mastered by the -same loathing, chilled by the same dread. He lay there, with his -child's head on his breast; abandoned by the sympathies of man, -accursed by the justice of God--he lay there, in the isolation -of Cain, and looked back at them. - -At the moment when the two men rose to their feet, the door -leading into the next room was shaken heavily on the outer side, -and a sound like the sound of a fall, striking dull on their -ears, silenced them both. Standing nearest to the door, the -doctor opened it, passed through, and closed it instantly. Mr. -Neal turned his back on the bed, and waited the event in silence. -The sound, which had failed to awaken the child, had failed also -to attract the father's notice. His own words had taken him far -from all that was passing at his deathbed. His helpless body was -back on the wreck, and the ghost of his lifeless hand was turning -the lock of the cabin door. - -A bell rang in the next room--eager voices talked; hurried -footsteps moved in it--an interval passed, and the doctor -returned. "Was she listening?" whispered Mr. Neal, in German. -"The women are restoring her," the doctor whispered back. "She -has heard it all. In God's name, what are we to do next?" Before -it was possible to reply, Mr. Armadale spoke. The doctor's return -had roused him to a sense of present things. - -"Go on," he said, as if nothing had happened. - -"I refuse to meddle further with your infamous secret," returned -Mr. Neal. "You are a murderer on your own confession. If that -letter is to be finished, don't ask _me_ to hold the pen for -you." - -"You gave me your promise," was the reply, spoken with the same -immovable self-possession. "You must write for me, or break your -word." - -For the moment, Mr. Neal was silenced. There the man -lay--sheltered from the execration of his fellow-creatures, under -the shadow of Death--beyond the reach of all human condemnation, -beyond the dread of all mortal laws; sensitive to nothing but his -one last resolution to finish the letter addressed to his son. - -Mr. Neal drew the doctor aside. "A word with you," he said, in -German. "Do you persist in asserting that he may be speechless -before we can send to Stuttgart?" - -"Look at his lips," said the doctor, "and judge for yourself." - -His lips answered for him: the reading of the narrative had left -its mark on them already. A distortion at the corners of his -mouth, which had been barely noticeable when Mr. Neal entered the -room, was plainly visible now. His slow articulation labored more -and more painfully with every word he uttered. The position was -emphatically a terrible one. After a moment more of hesitation, -Mr. Neal made a last attempt to withdraw from it. - -"Now my eyes are open," he said, sternly, "do you dare hold me -to an engagement which you forced on me blindfold?" - -"No," answered Mr. Armadale. "I leave you to break your word." - -The look which accompanied that reply stung the Scotchman's pride -to the quick. When he spoke next, he spoke seated in his former -place at the table. - -"No man ever yet said of me that I broke my word," he retorted, -angrily; "and not even you shall say it of me now. Mind this! -If you hold me to my promise, I hold you to my condition. I have -reserved my freedom of action, and I warn you I will use it at -my own sole discretion, as soon as I am released from the sight -of you." - -"Remember he is dying," pleaded the doctor, gently. - -"Take your place, sir," said Mr. Neal, pointing to the empty -chair. "What remains to be read, I will only read in your -hearing. What remains to be written, I will only write in your -presence. _You_ brought me here. I have a right to insist--and -I do insist--on your remaining as a witness to the last." - -The doctor accepted his position without remonstrance. Mr. Neal -returned to the manuscript, and read what remained of it -uninterruptedly to the end: - - -"Without a word in my own defense, I have acknowledged my guilt. -Without a word in my own defense, I will reveal how the crime was -committed. - -"No thought of him was in my mind, when I saw his wife insensible -on the deck of the timber-ship. I did my part in lowering her -safely into the boat. Then, and not till then, I felt the thought -of him coming back. In the confusion that prevailed while the men -of the yacht were forcing the men of the ship to wait their time, -I had an opportunity of searching for him unobserved. I stepped -back from the bulwark, not knowing whether he was away in the -first boat, or whether he was still on board--I stepped back, -and saw him mount the cabin stairs empty-handed, with the water -dripping from him. After looking eagerly toward the boat (without -noticing me), he saw there was time to spare before the crew were -taken. 'Once more!' he said to himself--and disappeared again, to -make a last effort at recovering the jewel box. The devil at my -elbow whispered, 'Don't shoot him like a man: drown him like a -dog!' He was under water when I bolted the scuttle. But his head -rose to the surface before I could close the cabin door. I looked -at him, and he looked at me--and I locked the door in his face. -The next minute, I was back among the last men left on deck. -The minute after, it was too late to repent. The storm was -threatening us with destruction, and the boat's crew were pulling -for their lives from the ship. - -"My son! I have pursued you from my grave with a confession which -my love might have spared you. Read on, and you will know why. - -"I will say nothing of my sufferings; I will plead for no mercy -to my memory. There is a strange sinking at my heart, a strange -trembling in my hand, while I write these lines, which warns me -to hasten to the end. I left the island without daring to look -for the last time at the woman whom I had lost so miserably, whom -I had injured so vilely. When I left, the whole weight of the -suspicion roused by the manner of Ingleby's death rested on the -crew of the French vessel. No motive for the supposed murder -could be brought home to any of them; but they were known to be, -for the most part, outlawed ruffians capable of any crime, and -they were suspected and examined accordingly. It was not till -afterward that I heard by accident of the suspicion shifting -round at last to me. The widow alone recognized the vague -description given of the strange man who had made one of the -yacht's crew, and who had disappeared the day afterward. The -widow alone knew, from that time forth, why her husband had been -murdered, and who had done the deed. When she made that -discovery, a false report of my death had been previously -circulated in the island. Perhaps I was indebted to the report -for my immunity from all legal proceedings; perhaps (no eye but -Ingleby's having seen me lock the cabin door) there was not -evidence enough to justify an inquiry; perhaps the widow shrank -from the disclosures which must have followed a public charge -against me, based on her own bare suspicion of the truth. However -it might be, the crime which I had committed unseen has remained -a crime unpunished from that time to this. - -"I left Madeira for the West Indies in disguise. The first news -that met me when the ship touched at Barbadoes was the news of -my mother's death. I had no heart to return to the old scenes. -The prospect of living at home in solitude, with the torment -of my own guilty remembrances gnawing at me day and night, -was more than I had the courage to confront. Without landing, -or discovering myself to any one on shore, I went on as far -as the ship would take me--to the island of Trinidad. - -"At that place I first saw your mother. It was my duty to tell -her the truth--and I treacherously kept my secret. It was my duty -to spare her the hopeless sacrifice of her freedom and her -happiness to such an existence as mine--and I did her the injury -of marrying her. If she is alive when you read this, grant her -the mercy of still concealing the truth. The one atonement I can -make to her is to keep her unsuspicious to the last of the man -she has married. Pity her, as I have pitied her. Let this letter -be a sacred confidence between father and son. - -"The time when you were born was the time when my health began -to give way. Some months afterward, in the first days of my -recovery, you were brought to me; and I was told that you had -been christened during my illness. Your mother had done as other -loving mothers do--she had christened her first-born by his -father's name. You, too, were Allan Armadale. Even in that early -time--even while I was happily ignorant of what I have discovered -since--my mind misgave me when I looked at you, and thought of -that fatal name. - -"As soon as I could be moved, my presence was required at my -estates in Barbadoes. It crossed my mind--wild as the idea may -appear to you--to renounce the condition which compelled my son -as well as myself to take the Armadale name, or lose the -succession to the Armadale property. But, even in those days, -the rumor of a contemplated emancipation of the slaves--the -emancipation which is now close at hand--was spreading widely -in the colony. No man could tell how the value of West Indian -property might be affected if that threatened change ever took -place. No man could tell--if I gave you back my own paternal -name, and left you without other provision in the future than -my own paternal estate--how you might one day miss the broad -Armadale acres, or to what future penury I might be blindly -condemning your mother and yourself. Mark how the fatalities -gathered one on the other! Mark how your Christian name came -to you, how your surname held to you, in spite of me! - -"My health had improved in my old home--but it was for a time -only. I sank again, and the doctors ordered me to Europe. -Avoiding England (why, you may guess), I took my passage, with -you and your mother, for France. From France we passed into -Italy. We lived here; we lived there. It was useless. Death had -got met and Death followed me, go where I might. I bore it, for -I had an alleviation to turn to which I had not deserved. You may -shrink in horror from the very memory of me now. In those days, -you comforted me. The only warmth I still felt at my heart was -the warmth you brought to it. My last glimpses of happiness in -this world were the glimpses given me by my infant son. - -"We removed from Italy, and went next to Lausanne--the place -from which I am now writing to you. The post of this morning has -brought me news, later and fuller than any I had received thus -far, of the widow of the murdered man. The letter lies before me -while I write. It comes from a friend of my early days, who has -seen her, and spoken to her--who has been the first to inform her -that the report of my death in Madeira was false. He writes, at -a loss to account for the violent agitation which she showed on -hearing that I was still alive, that I was married, and that I -had an infant son. He asks me if I can explain it. He speaks in -terms of sympathy for her--a young and beautiful woman, buried -in the retirement of a fishing-village on the Devonshire coast; -her father dead; her family estranged from her, in merciless -disapproval of her marriage. He writes words which might have cut -me to the heart, but for a closing passage in his letter, which -seized my whole attention the instant I came to it, and which has -forced from me the narrative that these pages contain. - -"I now know what never even entered my mind as a suspicion till -the letter reached me. I now know that the widow of the man whose -death lies at my door has borne a posthumous child. That child -is a boy--a year older than my own son. Secure in her belief in -my death, his mother has done what my son's mother did: she has -christened her child by his father's name. Again, in the second -generation, there are two Allan Armadales as there were in the -first. After working its deadly mischief with the fathers, the -fatal resemblance of names has descended to work its deadly -mischief with the sons. - -"Guiltless minds may see nothing thus far but the result of -a series of events which could lead no other way. I--with that -man's life to answer for--I, going down into my grave, with my -crime unpunished and unatoned, see what no guiltless minds can -discern. I see danger in the future, begotten of the danger in -the past--treachery that is the offspring of _his_ treachery, -and crime that is the child of _my_ crime. Is the dread that now -shakes me to the soul a phantom raised by the superstition of a -dying man? I look into the Book which all Christendom venerates, -and the Book tells me that the sin of the father shall be visited -on the child. I look out into the world, and I see the living -witnesses round me to that terrible truth. I see the vices which -have contaminated the father descending, and contaminating -the child; I see the shame which has disgraced the father's name -descending, and disgracing the child's. I look in on myself, and -I see my crime ripening again for the future in the self-same -circumstance which first sowed the seeds of it in the past, -and descending, in inherited contamination of evil, from me -to my son." - - -At those lines the writing ended. There the stroke had struck -him, and the pen had dropped from his hand. - -He knew the place; he remembered the words. At the instant when -the reader's voice stopped, he looked eagerly at the doctor. -"I have got what comes next in my mind," he said, with slower -and slower articulation. "Help me to speak it." - -The doctor administered a stimulant, and signed to Mr. Neal to -give him time. After a little delay, the flame of the sinking -spirit leaped up in his eyes once more. Resolutely struggling -with his failing speech, he summoned the Scotchman to take the -pen, and pronounced the closing sentences of the narrative, as -his memory gave them back to him, one by one, in these words: - - -"Despise my dying conviction if you will, but grant me, I -solemnly implore you, one last request. My son! the only hope -I have left for you hangs on a great doubt--the doubt whether we -are, or are not, the masters of our own destinies. It may be that -mortal free-will can conquer mortal fate; and that going, as we -all do, inevitably to death, we go inevitably to nothing that is -before death. If this be so, indeed, respect--though you respect -nothing else--the warning which I give you from my grave. Never, -to your dying day, let any living soul approach you who is -associated, directly or indirectly, with the crime which your -father has committed. Avoid the widow of the man I killed--if -the widow still lives. Avoid the maid whose wicked hand smoothed -the way to the marriage--if the maid is still in her service. And -more than all, avoid the man who bears the same name as your own. -Offend your best benefactor, if that benefactor's influence has -connected you one with the other. Desert the woman who loves you, -if that woman is a link between you and him. Hide yourself from -him under an assumed name. Put the mountains and the seas between -you; be ungrateful, be unforgiving; be all that is most repellent -to your own gentler nature, rather than live under the same roof, -and breathe the same air, with that man. Never let the two Allan -Armadales meet in this world: never, never, never! - -"There lies the way by which you may escape--if any way there be. -Take it, if you prize your own innocence and your own happiness, -through all your life to come! - -"I have done. If I could have trusted any weaker influence than -the influence of this confession to incline you to my will, -I would have spared you the disclosure which these pages contain. -You are lying on my breast, sleeping the innocent sleep of a -child, while a stranger's hand writes these words for you as they -fall from my lips. Think what the strength of my conviction must -be, when I can find the courage, on my death-bed, to darken all -your young life at its outset with the shadow of your father's -crime. Think, and be warned. Think, and forgive me if you can." - - -There it ended. Those were the father's last words to the son. - -Inexorably faithful to his forced duty, Mr. Neal laid aside the -pen, and read over aloud the lines he had just written. "Is there -more to add?" he asked, with his pitilessly steady voice. There -was no more to add. - -Mr. Neal folded the manuscript, inclosed it in a sheet of paper, -and sealed it with Mr. Armadale's own seal. "The address?" he -said, with his merciless business formality. "To Allan Armadale, -junior," he wrote, as the words were dictated from the bed. "Care -of Godfrey Hammick, Esq., Offices of Messrs. Hammick and Ridge, -Lincoln's Inn Fields, London." Having written the address, he -waited, and considered for a moment. "Is your executor to open -this?" he asked. - -"No! he is to give it to my son when my son is of an age to -understand it." - -"In that case," pursued Mr. Neal, with all his wits in -remorseless working order, "I will add a dated note to the -address, repeating your own words as you have just spoken them, -and explaining the circumstances under which my handwriting -appears on the document." He wrote the note in the briefest and -plainest terms, read it over aloud as he had read over what went -before, signed his name and address at the end, and made the -doctor sign next, as witness of the proceedings, and as medical -evidence of the condition in which Mr. Armadale then lay. This -done, he placed the letter in a second inclosure, sealed it as -before, and directed it to Mr. Hammick, with the superscription -of "private" added to the address. "Do you insist on my posting -this?" he asked, rising with the letter in his hand. - -"Give him time to think," said the doctor. "For the child's sake, -give him time to think! A minute may change him." - -"I will give him five minutes," answered Mr. Neal, placing -his watch on the table, implacable just to the very last. - -They waited, both looking attentively at Mr. Armadale. The signs -of change which had appeared in him already were multiplying -fast. The movement which continued mental agitation had -communicated to the muscles of his face was beginning, under -the same dangerous influence, to spread downward. His once -helpless hands lay still no longer; they struggled pitiably on -the bedclothes. At sight of that warning token, the doctor turned -with a gesture of alarm, and beckoned Mr. Neal to come nearer. -"Put the question at once," he said; "if you let the five minutes -pass, you may be too late." - -Mr. Neal approached the bed. He, too, noticed the movement of -the hands. "Is that a bad sign?" he asked. - -The doctor bent his head gravely. "Put your question at once," -he repeated, "or you may be too late." - -Mr. Neal held the letter before the eyes of the dying man "Do you -know what this is?" - -"My letter." - -"Do you insist on my posting it?" - -He mastered his failing speech for the last time, and gave the -answer: "Yes!" - -Mr. Neal moved to the door, with the letter in his hand. The -German followed him a few steps, opened his lips to plead for a -longer delay, met the Scotchman's inexorable eye, and drew back -again in silence. The door closed and parted them, without a word -having passed on either side. - -The doctor went back to the bed and whispered to the sinking man: -"Let me call him back; there is time to stop him yet!" It was -useless. No answer came; nothing showed that he heeded, or even -heard. His eyes wandered from the child, rested for a moment on -his own struggling hand, and looked up entreatingly in the -compassionate face that bent over him. The doctor lifted the -hand, paused, followed the father's longing eyes back to the -child, and, interpreting his last wish, moved the hand gently -toward the boy's head. The hand touched it, and trembled -violently. In another instant the trembling seized on the arm, -and spread over the whole upper part of the body. The face turned -from pale to red, from red to purple, from purple to pale again. -Then the toiling hands lay still, and the shifting color changed -no more. - - -The window of the next room was open, when the doctor entered it -from the death chamber, with the child in his arms. He looked out -as he passed by, and saw Mr. Neal in the street below, slowly -returning to the inn. - -"Where is the letter?" he asked. - -Three words sufficed for the Scotchman's answer. - -"In the post." - -THE END OF THE PROLOGUE. - - - -THE STORY. - -_BOOK THE FIRST_. - -CHAPTER I. - -THE MYSTERY OF OZIAS MIDWINTER. - -ON a warm May night, in the year eighteen hundred and fifty-one, -the Reverend Decimus Brock--at that time a visitor to the Isle of -Man--retired to his bedroom at Castletown, with a serious -personal responsibility in close pursuit of him, and with no -distinct idea of the means by which he might relieve himself from -the pressure of his present circumstances. - -The clergyman had reached that mature period of human life at -which a sensible man learns to decline (as often as his temper -will let him) all useless conflict with the tyranny of his own -troubles. Abandoning any further effort to reach a decision in -the emergency that now beset him, Mr. Brock sat down placidly in -his shirt sleeves on the side of his bed, and applied his mind to -consider next whether the emergency itself was as serious as he -had hitherto been inclined to think it. Following this new way -out of his perplexities, Mr. Brock found himself unexpectedly -traveling to the end in view by the least inspiriting of all -human journeys--a journey through the past years of his own life. - -One by one the events of those years--all connected with the same -little group of characters, and all more or less answerable for -the anxiety which was now intruding itself between the clergyman -and his night's rest--rose, in progressive series, on Mr. Brock's -memory. The first of the series took him back, through a period -of fourteen years, to his own rectory on the Somersetshire shores -of the Bristol Channel, and closeted him at a private interview -with a lady who had paid him a visit in the character of a total -stranger to the parson and the place. - - -The lady's complexion was fair, the lady's figure was well -preserved; she was still a young woman, and she looked even -younger than her age. There was a shade of melancholy in her -expression, and an undertone of suffering in her voice--enough, -in each case, to indicate that she had known trouble, but not -enough to obtrude that trouble on the notice of others. She -brought with her a fine, fair-haired boy of eight years old, whom -she presented as her son, and who was sent out of the way, at the -beginning of the interview, to amuse himself in the rectory -garden. Her card had preceded her entrance into the study, and -had announced her under the name of "Mrs. Armadale." Mr. Brock -began to feel interested in her before she had opened her lips; -and when the son had been dismissed, he awaited with some anxiety -to hear what the mother had to say to him. - -Mrs. Armadale began by informing the rector that she was a widow. -Her husband had perished by shipwreck a short time after their -union, on the voyage from Madeira to Lisbon. She had been brought -to England, after her affliction, under her father's protection; -and her child--a posthumous son--had been born on the family -estate in Norfolk. Her father's death, shortly afterward, had -deprived her of her only surviving parent, and had exposed her -to neglect and misconstruction on the part of her remaining -relatives (two brothers), which had estranged her from them, she -feared, for the rest of her days. For some time past she had -lived in the neighboring county of Devonshire, devoting herself -to the education of her boy, who had now reached an age at which -he required other than his mother's teaching. Leaving out of the -question her own unwillingness to part with him, in her solitary -position, she was especially anxious that he should not be thrown -among strangers by being sent to school. Her darling project was -to bring him up privately at home, and to keep him, as he -advanced in years, from all contact with the temptations and the -dangers of the world. - -With these objects in view, her longer sojourn in her own -locality (where the services of the resident clergyman, in the -capacity of tutor, were not obtainable) must come to an end. She -had made inquiries, had heard of a house that would suit her in -Mr. Brock's neighborhood, and had also been told that Mr. Brock -himself had formerly been in the habit of taking pupils. -Possessed of this information, she had ventured to present -herself, with references that vouched for her respectability, but -without a formal introduction; and she had now to ask whether (in -the event of her residing in the neighborhood) any terms that -could be offered would induce Mr. Brock to open his doors once -more to a pupil, and to allow that pupil to be her son. - -If Mrs. Armadale had been a woman of no personal attractions, or -if Mr. Brock had been provided with an intrenchment to fight -behind in the shape of a wife, it is probable that the widow's -journey might have been taken in vain. As things really were, the -rector examined the references which were offered to him, and -asked time for consideration. When the time had expired, he did -what Mrs. Armadale wished him to do--he offered his back to the -burden, and let the mother load him with the responsibility of -the son. - -This was the first event of the series; the date of it being the -year eighteen hundred and thirty-seven. Mr. Brock's memory, -traveling forward toward the present from that point, picked up -the second event in its turn, and stopped next at the year -eighteen hundred and forty-five. - -------------- - -The fishing-village on the Somersetshire coast was still the -scene, and the characters were once again--Mrs. Armadale and her -son. - -Through the eight years that had passed, Mr. Brock's -responsibility had rested on him lightly enough. The boy had -given his mother and his tutor but little trouble. He was -certainly slow over his books, but more from a constitutional -inability to fix his attention on his tasks than from want of -capacity to understand them. His temperament, it could not be -denied, was heedless to the last degree: he acted recklessly on -his first impulses, and rushed blindfold at all his conclusions. -On the other hand, it was to be said in his favor that his -disposition was open as the day; a more generous, affectionate, -sweet-tempered lad it would have been hard to find anywhere. A -certain quaint originality of character, and a natural -healthiness in all his tastes, carried him free of most of the -dangers to which his mother's system of education inevitably -exposed him. He had a thoroughly English love of the sea and of -all that belongs to it; and as he grew in years, there was no -luring him away from the water-side, and no keeping him out of -the boat-builder's yard. In course of time his mother caught him -actually working there, to her infinite annoyance and surprise, -as a volunteer. He acknowledged that his whole future ambition -was to have a yard of his own, and that his one present object -was to learn to build a boat for himself. Wisely foreseeing that -such a pursuit as this for his leisure hours was exactly what was -wanted to reconcile the lad to a position of isolation from -companions of his own rank and age, Mr. Brock prevailed on Mrs. -Armadale, with no small difficulty, to let her son have his way. -At the period of that second event in the clergyman's life with -his pupil which is now to be related, young Armadale had -practiced long enough in the builder's yard to have reached the -summit of his wishes, by laying with his own hands the keel of -his own boat. - -Late on a certain summer day, not long after Allan had completed -his sixteenth year, Mr. Brock left his pupil hard at work in the -yard, and went to spend the evening with Mrs. Armadale, taking -the _Times_ newspaper with him in his hand. - -The years that had passed since they had first met had long since -regulated the lives of the clergyman and his neighbor. The first -advances which Mr. Brock's growing admiration for the widow had -led him to make in the early days of their intercourse had been -met on her side by an appeal to his forbearance which had closed -his lips for the future. She had satisfied him, at once and -forever, that the one place in her heart which he could hope to -occupy was the place of a friend. He loved her well enough to -take what she would give him: friends they became, and friends -they remained from that time forth. No jealous dread of another -man's succeeding where he had failed imbittered the clergyman's -placid relations with the woman whom he loved. Of the few -resident gentlemen in the neighborhood, none were ever admitted -by Mrs. Armadale to more than the merest acquaintance with her. -Contentedly self-buried in her country retreat, she was proof -against every social attraction that would have tempted other -women in her position and at her age. Mr. Brock and his -newspaper, appearing with monotonous regularity at her tea-table -three times a week, told her all she knew or cared to know of the -great outer world which circled round the narrow and changeless -limits of her daily life. - -On the evening in question Mr. Brock took the arm-chair in which -he always sat, accepted the one cup of tea which he always drank, -and opened the newspaper which he always read aloud to Mrs. -Armadale, who invariably listened to him reclining on the same -sofa, with the same sort of needle-work everlastingly in her -hand. - -"Bless my soul!" cried the rector, with his voice in a new -octave, and his eyes fixed in astonishment on the first page of -the newspaper. - -No such introduction to the evening readings as this had ever -happened before in all Mrs. Armadale's experience as a listener. -She looked up from the sofa in a flutter of curiosity, and -besought her reverend friend to favor her with an explanation. - -"I can hardly believe my own eyes," said Mr. Brock. "Here is an -advertisement, Mrs. Armadale, addressed to your son." - -Without further preface, he read the advertisement as follows: - - -IF this should meet the eye of ALLAN ARMADALE, he is desired to -communicate, either personally or by letter, with Messrs. Hammick -and Ridge (Lincoln's Inn Fields, London), on business of -importance which seriously concerns him. Any one capable of -informing Messrs. E. and R. where the person herein advertised -can be found would confer a favor by doing the same. To prevent -mistakes, it is further notified that the missing Allan Armadale -is a youth aged fifteen years, and that this advertisement is -inserted at the instance of his family and friends. - - -"Another family, and other friends," said Mrs. Armadale. "The -person whose name appears in that advertisement is not my son." - -The tone in which she spoke surprised Mr. Brock. The change in -her face, when he looked up, shocked him. Her delicate complexion -had faded away to a dull white; her eyes were averted from her -visitor with a strange mixture of confusion and alarm; she looked -an older woman than she was, by ten good years at least. - -"The name is so very uncommon," said Mr. Brock, imagining he had -offended her, and trying to excuse himself. "It really seemed -impossible there could be two persons--" - -"There _are_ two," interposed Mrs. Armadale. "Allan, as you know, -is sixteen years old. If you look back at the advertisement, you -will find the missing person described as being only fifteen. -Although he bears the same surname and the same Christian name, -he is, I thank God, in no way whatever related to my son. As long -as I live, it will be the object of my hopes and prayers that -Allan may never see him, may never even hear of him. My kind -friend, I see I surprise you: will you bear with me if I leave -these strange circumstances unexplained? There is past misfortune -and misery in my early life too painful for me to speak of, even -to _you_. Will you help me to bear the remembrance of it, by -never referring to this again? Will you do even more--will you -promise not to speak of it to Allan, and not to let that -newspaper fall in his way?" - -Mr. Brock gave the pledge required of him, and considerately left -her to herself. - -The rector had been too long and too truly attached to Mrs. -Armadale to be capable of regarding her with any unworthy -distrust. But it would be idle to deny that he felt disappointed -by her want of confidence in him, and that he looked -inquisitively at the advertisement more than once on his way back -to his own house. - -It was clear enough, now, that Mrs. Armadale's motives for -burying her son as well as herself in the seclusion of a remote -country village was not so much to keep him under her own eye as -to keep him from discovery by his namesake. Why did she dread the -idea of their ever meeting? Was it a dread for herself, or a -dread for her son? Mr. Brock's loyal belief in his friend -rejected any solution of the difficulty which pointed at some -past misconduct of Mrs. Armadale's. That night he destroyed the -advertisement with his own hand; that night he resolved that the -subject should never be suffered to enter his mind again. There -was another Allan Armadale about the world, a stranger to his -pupil's blood, and a vagabond advertised in the public -newspapers. So much accident had revealed to him. More, for Mrs. -Armadale's sake, he had no wish to discover--and more he would -never seek to know. - -This was the second in the series of events which dated from the -rector's connection with Mrs. Armadale and her son. Mr. Brock's -memory, traveling on nearer and nearer to present circumstances, -reached the third stage of its journey through the by-gone time, -and stopped at the year eighteen hundred and fifty, next. - -The five years that had passed had made little if any change in -Allan's character. He had simply developed (to use his tutor's -own expression) from a boy of sixteen to a boy of twenty-one. He -was just as easy and open in his disposition as ever; just as -quaintly and inveterately good-humored; just as heedless in -following his own impulses, lead him where they might. His bias -toward the sea had strengthened with his advance to the years of -manhood. From building a boat, he had now got on--with two -journeymen at work under him--to building a decked vessel of -five-and-thirty tons. Mr. Brock had conscientiously tried to -divert him to higher aspirations; had taken him to Oxford, to see -what college life was like; had taken him to London, to expand -his mind by the spectacle of the great metropolis. The change had -diverted Allan, but had not altered him in the least. He was as -impenetrably superior to all worldly ambition as Diogenes -himself. "Which is best," asked this unconscious philosopher, "to -find out the way to be happy for yourself, or to let other people -try if they can find it out for you?" From that moment Mr. Brock -permitted his pupil's character to grow at its own rate of -development, and Allan went on uninterruptedly with the work of -his yacht. - -Time, which had wrought so little change in the son, had not -passed harmless over the mother. - -Mrs. Armadale's health was breaking fast. As her strength failed, -her temper altered for the worse: she grew more and more fretful, -more and more subject to morbid fears and fancies, more and more -reluctant to leave her own room. Since the appearance of the -advertisement five years since, nothing had happened to force her -memory back to the painful associations connected with her early -life. No word more on the forbidden topic had passed between the -rector and herself; no suspicion had ever been raised in Allan's -mind of the existence of his namesake; and yet, without the -shadow of a reason for any special anxiety, Mrs. Armadale had -become, of late years, obstinately and fretfully uneasy on the -subject of her son. More than once Mr. Brock dreaded a serious -disagreement between them; but Allan's natural sweetness of -temper, fortified by his love for his mother, carried him -triumphantly through all trials. Not a hard word or a harsh look -ever escaped him in her presence; he was unchangeably loving and -forbearing with her to the very last. - -Such were the positions of the son, the mother, and the friend, -when the next notable event happened in the lives of the three. -On a dreary afternoon, early in the month of November, Mr. Brock -was disturbed over the composition of his sermon by a visit from -the landlord of the village inn. - -After making his introductory apologies, the landlord stated the -urgent business on which he had come to the rectory clearly -enough. - -A few hours since a young man had been brought to the inn by some -farm laborers in the neighborhood, who had found him wandering -about one of their master's fields in a disordered state of mind, -which looked to their eyes like downright madness. The landlord -had given the poor creature shelter while he sent for medical -help; and the doctor, on seeing him, had pronounced that he was -suffering from fever on the brain, and that his removal to the -nearest town at which a hospital or a work-house infirmary could -be found to receive him would in all probability be fatal to his -chances of recovery. After hearing this expression of opinion, -and after observing for himself that the stranger's only luggage -consisted of a small carpet-bag which had been found in the field -near him, the landlord had set off on the spot to consult the -rector, and to ask, in this serious emergency, what course he was -to take next. - -Mr. Brock was the magistrate as well as the clergyman of the -district, and the course to be taken, in the first instance, was -to his mind clear enough. He put on his hat, and accompanied the -landlord back to the inn. - -At the inn door they were joined by Allan, who had heard the news -through another channel, and who was waiting Mr. Brock's arrival, -to follow in the magistrate's train, and to see what the stranger -was like. The village surgeon joined them at the same moment, and -the four went into the inn together. - -They found the landlord's son on one side, and the hostler on the -other, holding the man down in his chair. Young, slim, and -undersized, he was strong enough at that moment to make it a -matter of difficulty for the two to master him. His tawny -complexion, his large, bright brown eyes, and his black beard -gave him something of a foreign look. His dress was a little -worn, but his linen was clean. His dusky hands were wiry and -nervous, and were lividly discolored in more places than one by -the scars of old wounds. The toes of one of his feet, off which -he had kicked the shoe, grasped at the chair rail through his -stocking, with the sensitive muscular action which is only seen -in those who have been accustomed to go barefoot. In the frenzy -that now possessed him, it was impossible to notice, to any -useful purpose, more than this. After a whispered consultation -with Mr. Brock, the surgeon personally superintended the -patient's removal to a quiet bedroom at the back of the house. -Shortly afterward his clothes and his carpet-bag were sent -downstairs, and were searched, on the chance of finding a clew by -which to communicate with his friends, in the magistrate's -presence. - -The carpet- bag contained nothing but a change of clothing, and -two books--the Plays of Sophocles, in the original Greek, and the -"Faust" of Goethe, in the original German. Both volumes were much -worn by reading, and on the fly-leaf of each were inscribed the -initials O. M. So much the bag revealed, and no more. - -The clothes which the man wore when he was discovered in the -field were tried next. A purse (containing a sovereign and a few -shillings), a pipe, a tobacco pouch, a handkerchief, and a little -drinking-cup of horn were produced in succession. The next -object, and the last, was found crumpled up carelessly in the -breast-pocket of the coat. It was a written testimonial to -character, dated and signed, but without any address. - -So far as this document could tell it, the stranger's story was a -sad one indeed. He had apparently been employed for a short time -as usher at a school, and had been turned adrift in the world, at -the outset of his illness, from the fear that the fever might be -infectious, and that the prosperity of the establishment might -suffer accordingly. Not the slightest imputation of any -misbehavior in his employment rested on him. On the contrary, the -schoolmaster had great pleasure in testifying to his capacity and -his character, and in expressing a fervent hope that he might -(under Providence) succeed in recovering his health in somebody -else's house. The written testimonial which afforded this glimpse -at the man's story served one purpose more: it connected him with -the initials on the books, and identified him to the magistrate -and the landlord under the strangely uncouth name of Ozias -Midwinter. - -Mr. Brock laid aside the testimonial, suspecting that the -schoolmaster had purposely abstained from writing his address on -it, with the view of escaping all responsibility in the event of -his usher's death. In any case, it was manifestly useless, under -existing circumstances, to think of tracing the poor wretch's -friends, if friends he had. To the inn he had been brought, and, -as a matter of common humanity, at the inn he must remain for the -present. The difficulty about expenses, if it came to the worst, -might possibly be met by charitable contributions from the -neighbors, or by a collection after a sermon at church. Assuring -the landlord that he would consider this part of the question and -would let him know the result, Mr. Brock quitted the inn, without -noticing for the moment that he had left Allan there behind him. - -Before he had got fifty yards from the house his pupil overtook -him. Allan had been most uncharacteristically silent and serious -all through the search at the inn; but he had now recovered his -usual high spirits. A stranger would have set him down as wanting -in common feeling. - -"This is a sad business," said the rector. "I really don't know -what to do for the best about that unfortunate man." - -"You may make your mind quite easy, sir," said young Armadale, in -his off-hand way. "I settled it all with the landlord a minute -ago." - -"You!" exclaimed Mr. Brock, in the utmost astonishment. - -"I have merely given a few simple directions," pursued Allan. -"Our friend the usher is to have everything he requires, and is -to be treated like a prince; and when the doctor and the landlord -want their money they are to come to me." - -"My dear Allan," Mr. Brock gently remonstrated, "when will you -learn to think before you act on those generous impulses of -yours? You are spending more money already on your yacht-building -than you can afford--" - -"Only think! we laid the first planks of the deck the day before -yesterday," said Allan, flying off to the new subject in his -usual bird-witted way. "There's just enough of it done to walk -on, if you don't feel giddy. I'll help you up the ladder, Mr. -Brock, if you'll only come and try." - -"Listen to me," persisted the rector. "I'm not talking about the -yacht now; that is to say, I am only referring to the yacht as -an illustration--" - -"And a very pretty illustration, too," remarked the incorrigible -Allan. "Find me a smarter little vessel of her size in all -England, and I'll give up yacht-building to-morrow. Whereabouts -were we in our conversation, sir? I'm rather afraid we have lost -ourselves somehow." - -"I am rather afraid one of us is in the habit of losing himself -every time he opens his lips," retorted Mr. Brock. "Come, come, -Allan, this is serious. You have been rendering yourself liable -for expenses which you may not be able to pay. Mind, I am far -from blaming you for your kind feeling toward this poor -friendless man--" - -"Don't be low-spirited about him, sir. He'll get over it--he'll -be all right again in a week or so. A capital fellow, I have not -the least doubt!" continued Allan, whose habit it was to believe -in everybody and to despair of nothing. "Suppose you ask him to -dinner when he gets well, Mr. Brock? I should like to find out -(when we are all three snug and friendly together over our wine, -you know) how he came by that extraordinary name of his. Ozias -Midwinter! Upon my life, his father ought to be ashamed of -himself." - -"Will you answer me one question before I go in?" said the -rector, stopping in despair at his own gate. "This man's bill for -lodging and medical attendance may mount to twenty or thirty -pounds before he gets well again, if he ever does get well. How -are you to pay for it?" - -"What's that the Chancellor of the Exchequer says when he finds -himself in a mess with his accounts, and doesn't see his way out -again?" asked Allan. "He always tells his honorable friend he is -quite willing to leave a something or other--" - -"A margin?" suggested Mr. Brock. - -"That's it," said Allan. "I'm like the Chancellor of the -Exchequer. I'm quite willing to leave a margin. The yacht (bless -her heart!) doesn't eat up everything. If I'm short by a pound or -two, don't be afraid, sir. There's no pride about me; I'll go -round with the hat, and get the balance in the neighborhood. -Deuce take the pounds, shillings, and pence! I wish they could -all three get rid of themselves, like the Bedouin brothers at the -show. Don't you remember the Bedouin brothers, Mr. Brock? 'Ali -will take a lighted torch, and jump down the throat of his -brother Muli; Muli will take a lighted torch, and jump down the -throat of his brother Hassan; and Hassan, taking a third lighted -torch, will conclude the performances by jumping down his own -throat, and leaving the spectators in total darkness.' -Wonderfully good, that--what I call real wit, with a fine strong -flavor about it. Wait a minute! Where are we? We have lost -ourselves again. Oh, I remember--money. What I can't beat into my -thick head," concluded Allan, quite unconscious that he was -preaching socialist doctrines to a clergyman; "is the meaning of -the fuss that's made about giving money away. Why can't the -people who have got money to spare give it to the people who -haven't got money to spare, and make things pleasant and -comfortable all the world over in that way? You're always telling -me to cultivate ideas, Mr. Brock There's an idea, and, upon my -life, I don't think it's a bad one." - -Mr. Brock gave his pupil a good-humored poke with the end of his -stick. "Go back to your yacht," he said. "All the little -discretion you have got in that flighty head of yours is left on -board in your tool-chest. How that lad will end," pursued the -rector, when he was left by himself, "is more than any human -being can say. I almost wish I had never taken the responsibility -of him on my shoulders." - -Three weeks passed before the stranger with the uncouth name was -pronounced to be at last on the way to recovery. - -During this period Allan had made regular inquiries at the inn, -and, as soon as the sick man was allowed to see visitors, Allan -was the first who appeared at his bedside. So far Mr. Brock's -pupil had shown no more than a natural interest in one of the few -romantic circumstances which had varied the monotony of the -village life: he had committed no imprudence, and he had exposed -himself to no blame. But as the days passed, young Armadale's -visits to the inn began to lengthen considerably, and the surgeon -(a cautious elderly man) gave the rector a private hint to bestir -himself. Mr. Brock acted on the hint immediately, and discovered -that Allan had followed his usual impulses in his usual headlong -way. He had taken a violent fancy to the castaway usher and had -invited Ozias Midwinter to reside permanently in the neighborhood -in the new and interesting character of his bosom friend. - -Before Mr. Brock could make up his mind how to act in this -emergency, he received a note from Allan's mother, begging him to -use his privilege as an old friend, and to pay her a visit in her -room. - -He found Mrs. Armadale suffering under violent nervous agitation, -caused entirely by a recent interview with her son. Allan had -been sitting with her all the morning, and had talked of nothing -but his new friend. The man with the horrible name (as poor Mrs. -Armadale described him) had questioned Allan, in a singularly -inquisitive manner, on the subject of himself and his family, but -had kept his own personal history entirely in the dark. At some -former period of his life he had been accustomed to the sea and -to sailing. Allan had, unfortunately, found this out, and a bond -of union between them was formed on the spot. With a merciless -distrust of the stranger--simply _because_ he was a -stranger--which appeared rather unreasonable to Mr. Brock, Mrs. -Armadale besought the rector to go to the inn without a moment's -loss of time, and never to rest until he had made the man give a -proper account of himself. "Find out everything about his father -and mother!" she said, in her vehement female way. "Make sure -before you leave him that he is not a vagabond roaming the -country under an assumed name." - -"My dear lady," remonstrated the rector, obediently taking his -hat, "whatever else we may doubt, I really think we may feel sure -about the man's name! It is so remarkably ugly that it must be -genuine. No sane human being would _assume_ such a name as Ozias -Midwinter." - -"You may be quite right, and I may be quite wrong; but pray go -and see him," persisted Mrs. Armadale. "Go, and don't spare him, -Mr. Brock. How do we know that this illness of his may not have -been put on for a purpose?" - -It was useless to reason with her. The whole College of -Physicians might have certified to the man's illness, and, in her -present frame of mind, Mrs. Armadale would have disbelieved the -College, one and all, from the president downward. Mr. Brock took -the wise way out of the difficulty--he said no more, and he set -off for the inn immediately. - -Ozias Midwinter, recovering from brain-fever, was a startling -object to contemplate on a first view of him. His shaven head, -tied up in an old yellow silk handkerchief; his tawny, haggard -cheeks; his bright brown eyes, preternaturally large and wild; -his rough black beard; his long, supple, sinewy fingers, wasted -by suffering till they looked like claws--all tended to -discompose the rector at the outset of the interview. When the -first feeling of surprise had worn off, the impression that -followed it was not an agreeable one. Mr. Brock could not conceal -from himself that the stranger's manner was against him. The -general opinion has settled that, if a man is honest, he is bound -to assert it by looking straight at his fellow-creatures when he -speaks to them. If this man was honest, his eyes showed a -singular perversity in looking away and denying it. Possibly they -were affected in some degree by a nervous restlessness in his -organization, which appeared to pervade every fiber in his lean, -lithe body. The rector's healthy Anglo-Saxon flesh crept -responsively at every casual movement of the usher's supple brown -fingers, and every passing distortion of the usher's haggard -yellow face. "God forgive me!" thought Mr. Brock, with his mind -running on Allan and Allan's mother, "I wish I could see my way -to turning Ozias Midwinter adrift in the world again!" - -The conversation which ensued between the two was a very guarded -one. Mr. Brock felt his way gently, and found himself, try where -he might, always kept politely, more or less, in the dark. - -From first to last, the man's real character shrank back with a -savage shyness from the rector's touch. He started by an -assertion which it was impossible to look at him and believe--he -declared that he was only twenty years of age. All he could be -persuaded to say on the subject of the school was that the bare -recollection of it was horrible to him. He had only filled the -usher's situation for ten days when the first appearance of his -illness caused his dismissal. How he had reached the field in -which he had been found was more than he could say. He remembered -traveling a long distance by railway, with a purpose (if he had a -purpose) which it was now impossible to recall, and then -wandering coastward, on foot, all through the day, or all through -the night--he was not sure which. The sea kept running in his -mind when his mind began to give way. He had been employed on the -sea as a lad. He had left it, and had filled a situation at a -bookseller's in a country town. He had left the bookseller's, and -had tried the school. Now the school had turned him out, he must -try something else. It mattered little what he tried---failure -(for which nobody was ever to blame but himself) was sure to be -the end of it, sooner or later. Friends to assist him, he had -none to apply to; and as for relations, he wished to be excused -from speaking of them. For all he knew they might be dead, and -for all _they_ knew _he_ might be dead. That was a melancholy -acknowledgment to make at his time of life, there was no denying -it. It might tell against him in the opinions of others; and it -did tell against him, no doubt, in the opinion of the gentleman -who was talking to him at that moment. - -These strange answers were given in a tone and manner far removed -from bitterness on the one side, or from indifference on the -other. Ozias Midwinter at twenty spoke of his life as Ozias -Midwinter at seventy might have spoken with a long weariness of -years on him which he had learned to bear patiently. - -Two circumstances pleaded strongly against the distrust with -which, in sheer perplexity of mind, Mr. Brock blindly regarded -him. He had written to a savings-bank in a distant part of -England, had drawn his money, and had paid the doctor and the -landlord. A man of vulgar mind, after acting in this manner, -would have treated his obligations lightly when he had settled -his bills. Ozias Midwinter spoke of his obligations--and -especially of his obligation to Allan--with a fervor of -thankfulness which it was not surprising only, but absolutely -painful to witness. He showed a horrible sincerity of -astonishment at having been treated with common Christian -kindness in a Christian land. He spoke of Allan's having become -answerable for all the expenses of sheltering, nursing, and -curing him, with a savage rapture of gratitude and surprise which -burst out of him like a flash of lightning. "So help me God!" -cried the castaway usher, "I never met with the like of him: I -never heard of the like of him before!" In the next instant, the -one glimpse of light which the man had let in on his own -passionate nature was quenched again in darkness. His wandering -eyes, returning to their old trick, looked uneasily away from Mr. -Brock, and his voice dropped back once more into its unnatural -steadiness and quietness of tone. "I beg your pardon, sir," he -said. "I have been used to be hunted, and cheated, and starved. -Everything else comes strange to me. " Half attracted by the man, -half repelled by him, Mr. Brock, on rising to take leave, -impulsively offered his hand, and then, with a sudden misgiving, -confusedly drew it back again. "You meant that kindly, sir," said -Ozias Midwinter, with his own hands crossed resolutely behind -him. "I don't complain of your thinking better of it. A man who -can't give a proper account of himself is not a man for a -gentleman in your position to take by the hand." - -Mr. Brock left the inn thoroughly puzzled. Before returning to -Mrs. Armadale he sent for her son. The chances were that the -guard had been off the stranger's tongue when he spoke to Allan, -and with Allan's frankness there was no fear of his concealing -anything that had passed between them from the rector's -knowledge. - -Here again Mr. Brock's diplomacy achieved no useful results. - -Once started on the subject of Ozias Midwinter, Allan rattled on -about his new friend in his usual easy, light-hearted way. But he -had really nothing of importance to tell, for nothing of -importance had been revealed to him. They had talked about -boat-building and sailing by the hour together, and Allan had got -some valuable hints. They had discussed (with diagrams to assist -them, and with more valuable hints for Allan) the serious -impending question of the launch of the yacht. On other occasions -they had diverged to other subjects--to more of them than Allan -could remember, on the spur of the moment. Had Midwinter said -nothing about his relations in the flow of all this friendly -talk? Nothing, except that they had not behaved well to him--hang -his relations! Was he at all sensitive on the subject of his own -odd name? Not the least in the world; he had set the example, -like a sensible fellow, of laughing at it himself. - -Mr. Brock still persisted. He inquired next what Allan had seen -in the stranger to take such a fancy to? Allan had seen in -him--what he didn't see in people in general. He wasn't like all -the other fellows in the neighborhood. All the other fellows were -cut out on the same pattern. Every man of them was equally -healthy, muscular, loud, hard-hearted, clean-skinned, and rough; -every man of them drank the same draughts of beer, smoked the -same short pipes all day long, rode the best horse, shot over the -best dog, and put the best bottle of wine in England on his table -at night; every man of them sponged himself every morning in the -same sort of tub of cold water and bragged about it in frosty -weather in the same sort of way; every man of them thought -getting into debt a capital joke and betting on horse-races one -of the most meritorious actions that a human being can perform. -They were, no doubt, excellent fellows in their way; but the -worst of them was, they were all exactly alike. It was a perfect -godsend to meet with a man like Midwinter--a man who was not cut -out on the regular local pattern, and whose way in the world had -the one great merit (in those parts) of being a way of his own. - -Leaving all remonstrances for a fitter opportunity, the rector -went back to Mrs. Armadale. He could not disguise from himself -that Allan's mother was the person really answerable for Allan's -present indiscretion. If the lad had seen a little less of the -small gentry in the neighborhood, and a little more of the great -outside world at home and abroad, the pleasure of cultivating -Ozias Midwinter's society might have had fewer attractions for -him. - -Conscious of the unsatisfactory result of his visit to the inn, -Mr. Brock felt some anxiety about the reception of his report -when he found himself once more in Mrs. Armadale's presence. His -forebodings were soon realized. Try as he might to make the best -of it, Mrs. Armadale seized on the one suspicious fact of the -usher's silence about himself as justifying the strongest -measures that could be taken to separate him from her son. If -the rector refused to interfere, she declared her intention of -writing to Ozias Midwinter with her own hand. Remonstrance -irritated her to such a pitch that she astounded Mr. Brock by -reverting to the forbidden subject of five years since, and -referring him to the conversation which had passed between them -when the advertisement had been discovered in the newspaper. -She passionately declared that the vagabond Armadale of that -advertisement, and the vagabond Midwinter at the village inn, -might, for all she know to the contrary, be one and the same. -Foreboding a serious disagreement between the mother and son -if the mother interfered, Mr. Brock undertook to see Midwinter -again, and to tell him plainly that he must give a proper account -of himself, or that his intimacy with Allan must cease. The two -concessions which he exacted from Mrs. Armadale in return were -that she should wait patiently until the doctor reported the man -fit to travel, and that she should be careful in the interval not -to mention the matter in any way to her son. - -In a week's time Midwinter was able to drive out (with Allan for -his coachman) in the pony chaise belonging to the inn, and in ten -days the doctor privately reported him as fit to travel. Toward -the close of that tenth day, Mr. Brock met Allan and his new -friend enjoying the last gleams of wintry sunshine in one of the -inland lanes. He waited until the two had separated, and then -followed the usher on his way back to the inn. - -The rector's resolution to speak pitilessly to the purpose was in -some danger of failing him as he drew nearer and nearer to the -friendless man, and saw how feebly he still walked, how loosely -his worn coat hung about him, and how heavily he leaned on his -cheap, clumsy stick. Humanely reluctant to say the decisive words -too precipitately, Mr. Brock tried him first with a little -compliment on the range of his reading, as shown by the volume of -Sophocles and the volume of Goethe which had been found in his -bag, and asked how long he had been acquainted with German and -Greek. The quick ear of Midwinter detected something wrong in the -tone of Mr. Brock's voice. He turned in the darkening twilight, -and looked suddenly and suspiciously in the rector's face. - -"You have something to say to me," he answered; "and it is not -what you are saying now." - -There was no help for it but to accept the challenge. Very -delicately, with many preparatory words, to which the other -listened in unbroken silence, Mr. Brock came little by little -nearer and nearer to the point. Long before he had really reached -it--long before a man of no more than ordinary sensibility would -have felt what was coming--Ozias Midwinter stood still in the -lane, and told the rector that he need say no more. - -"I understand you, sir," said the usher. "Mr. Armadale has an -ascertained position in the world; Mr. Armadale has nothing to -conceal, and nothing to be ashamed of. I agree with you that I am -not a fit companion for him. The best return I can make for his -kindness is to presume on it no longer. You may depend on my -leaving this place to-morrow morning." - -He spoke no word more; he would hear no word more. With a -self-control which, at his years and with his temperament, was -nothing less than marvelous, he civilly took off his hat, bowed, -and returned to the inn by himself - -Mr. Brock slept badly that night. The issue of the interview in -the lane had made the problem of Ozias Midwinter a harder problem -to solve than ever. - -Early the next morning a letter was brought to the rector from -the inn, and the messenger announced that the strange gentleman -had taken his departure. The letter inclosed an open note -addressed to Allan, and requested Allan's tutor (after first -reading it himself) to forward it or not at his own sole -discretion. The note was a startlingly short one; it began and -ended in a dozen words: "Don't blame Mr. Brock; Mr. Brock is -right. Thank you, and good-by.--O. M." - -The rector forwarded the note to its proper destination, as a -matter of course, and sent a few lines to Mrs. Armadale at the -same time to quiet her anxiety by the news of the usher's -departure. This done, he waited the visit from his pupil, which -would probably follow the delivery of the note, in no very -tranquil frame of mind. There might or might not be some deep -motive at the bottom of Midwinter's conduct; but thus far it was -impossible to deny that he had behaved in such a manner as to -rebuke the rector's distrust, and to justify Allan's good opinion -of him. - -The morning wore on, and young Armadale never appeared. After -looking for him vainly in the yard where the yacht was building, -Mr. Brock went to Mrs. Armadale's house, and there heard news -from the servant which turned his steps in the direction of the -inn. The landlord at once acknowledged the truth: young Mr. -Armadale had come there with an open letter in his hand, and -had insisted on being informed of the road which his friend had -taken. For the first time in the landlord's experience of him, -the young gentleman was out of temper; and the girl who waited -on the customers had stupidly mentioned a circumstance which had -added fuel to the fire. She had acknowledged having heard Mr. -Midwinter lock himself into his room overnight, and burst into -a violent fit of crying. That trifling particular had set Mr. -Armadale's face all of a flame; he had shouted and sworn; he had -rushed into the stables; and forced the hostler to saddle him a -horse, and had set off full gallop on the road that Ozias -Midwinter had taken before him. - -After cautioning the landlord to keep Allan's conduct a secret if -any of Mrs. Armadale's servants came that morning to the inn, Mr. -Brock went home again, and waited anxiously to see what the day -would bring forth. - -To his infinite relief his pupil appeared at the rectory late in -the afternoon. - -Allan looked and spoke with a dogged determination which was -quite new in his old friend's experience of him. Without waiting -to be questioned, he told his story in his usual straightforward -way. He had overtaken Midwinter on the road; and--after trying -vainly first to induce him to return, then to find out where he -was going to--had threatened to keep company with him for the -rest of the day, and had so extorted the confession that he was -going to try his luck in London. Having gained this point, Allan -had asked next for his friend's address in London, had been -entreated by the other not to press his request, had pressed it, -nevertheless, with all his might, and had got the address at last -by making an appeal to Midwinter's gratitude, for which (feeling -heartily ashamed of himself) he had afterward asked Midwinter's -pardon. "I like the poor fellow, and I won't give him up," -concluded Allan, bringing his clinched fist down with a thump on -the rectory table. "Don't be afraid of my vexing my mother; I'll -leave you to speak to her, Mr. Brock, at your own time and in -your own way; and I'll just say this much more by way of bringing -the thing to an end. Here is the address safe in my pocket-book, -and here am I, standing firm for once on a resolution of my own. -I'll give you and my mother time to reconsider this; and, when -the time is up, if my friend Midwinter doesn't come to _me_, I'll -go to my friend Midwinter." - -So the matter rested for the present; and such was the result of -turning the castaway usher adrift in the world again. - -------------- - -A month passed, and brought in the new year--'51. Overleaping -that short lapse of time, Mr. Brock paused, with a heavy heart, -at the next event; to his mind the one mournful, the one -memorable event of the series--Mrs. Armadale's death. - -The first warning of the affliction that was near at hand had -followed close on the usher's departure in December, and had -arisen out of a circumstance which dwelt painfully on the -rector's memory from that time forth. - -But three days after Midwinter had left for London, Mr. Brock was -accosted in the village by a neatly dressed woman, wearing a gown -and bonnet of black silk and a red Paisley shawl, who was a total -stranger to him, and who inquired the way to Mrs. Armadale's -house. She put the question without raising the thick black veil -that hung over her face. Mr. Brock, in giving her the necessary -directions, observed that she was a remarkably elegant and -graceful woman, and looked after her as she bowed and left him, -wondering who Mrs. Armadale's visitor could possibly be. - -A quarter of an hour later the lady, still veiled as before, -passed Mr. Brock again close to the inn. She entered the house, -and spoke to the landlady. Seeing the landlord shortly afterward -hurrying round to the stables, Mr. Brock asked him if the lady -was going away. Yes; she had come from the railway in the -omnibus, but she was going back again more creditably in a -carriage of her own hiring, supplied by the inn. - -The rector proceeded on his walk, rather surprised to find his -thoughts running inquisitively on a woman who was a stranger to -him. When he got home again, he found the village surgeon waiting -his return with an urgent message from Allan's mother. About an -hour since, the surgeon had been sent for in great haste to see -Mrs. Armadale. He had found her suffering from an alarming -nervous attack, brought on (as the servants suspected) by an -unexpected, and, possibly, an unwelcome visitor, who had called -that morning. The surgeon had done all that was needful, and had -no apprehension of any dangerous results. Finding his patient -eagerly desirous, on recovering herself, to see Mr. Brock -immediately, he had thought it important to humor her, and had -readily undertaken to call at the rectory with a message to that -effect. - -Looking at Mrs. Armadale with a far deeper interest in her than -the surgeon's interest, Mr. Brock saw enough in her face, when it -turned toward him on his entering the room, to justify instant -and serious alarm. She allowed him no opportunity of soothing -her; she heeded none of his inquiries. Answers to certain -questions of her own were what she wanted, and what she was -determined to have: Had Mr. Brock seen the woman who had presumed -to visit her that morning? Yes. Had Allan seen her? No; Allan had -been at work since breakfast, and was at work still, in his yard -by the water-side. - -This latter reply appeared to quiet Mrs. Armadale for the moment; -she put her next question--the most extraordinary question of the -three--more composedly: Did the rector think Allan would object -to leaving his vessel for the present, and to accompanying his -mother on a journey to look out for a new house in some other -part of England? In the greatest amazement Mr. Brock asked what -reason there could possibly be for leaving her present residence? -Mrs. Armadale's reason, when she gave it, only added to his -surprise. The woman's first visit might be followed by a second; -and rather than see her again, rather than run the risk of -Allan's seeing her and speaking to her, Mrs. Armadale would leave -England if necessary, and end her days in a foreign land. Taking -counsel of his experience as a magistrate, Mr. Brock inquired if -the woman had come to ask for money. Yes; respectably as she was -dressed, she had described herself as being "in distress"; had -asked for money, and had got it. But the money was of no -importance; the one thing needful was to get away before the -woman came again. More and more surprised, Mr. Brock ventured on -another question: Was it long since Mrs. Armadale and her visitor -had last met? Yes; longer than all Allan's lifetime--as long ago -as the year before Allan was born. - -At that reply, the rector shifted his ground, and took counsel -next of his experience as a friend. - -"Is this person," he asked, "connected in any way with the -painful remembrances of your early life?" - -"Yes; with the painful remembrance of the time when I was -married," said Mrs. Armadale. "She was associated, as a mere -child, with a circumstance which I must think of with shame and -sorrow to my dying day." - -Mr. Brock noticed the altered tone in which his old friend spoke, -and the unwillingness with which she gave her answer. - -"Can you tell me more about her without referring to yourself?" -he went on. "I am sure I can protect you, if you will only help -me a little. Her name, for instance--you can tell me her name?" - -Mrs. Armadale shook her head, "The name I knew her by," she said, -"would be of no use to you. She has been married since then; she -told me so herself." - -"And without telling you her married name?" - -"She refused to tell it." - -"Do you know anything of her friends?" - -"Only of her friends when she was a child. They called themselves -her uncle and aunt. They were low people, and they deserted her -at the school on my father's estate. We never heard any more of -them." - -"Did she remain under your father's care?" - -"She remained under my care; that is to say, she traveled with -us. We were leaving England, just as that time, for Madeira. I -had my father's leave to take her with me, and to train the -wretch to be my maid--" - -At those words Mrs. Armadale stopped confusedly. Mr. Brock tried -gently to lead her on. It was useless; she started up in violent -agitation, and walked excitedly backward and forward in the room. - -"Don't ask me any more!" she cried out, in loud, angry tones. "I -parted with her when she was a girl of twelve years old. I never -saw her again, I never heard of her again, from that time to -this. I don't know how she has discovered me, after all the years -that have passed; I only know that she _has_ discovered me. She -will find her way to Allan next; she will poison my son's mind -against me. Help me to get away from her! help me to take Allan -away before she comes back!" - -The rector asked no more questions; it would have been cruel to -press her further. The first necessity was to compose her by -promising compliance with all that she desired. The second was to -induce her to see another medical man. Mr. Brock contrived to -reach his end harmlessly in this latter case by reminding her -that she wanted strength to travel, and that her own medical -attendant might restore her all the more speedily to herself if -he were assisted by the best professional advice. Having overcome -her habitual reluctance to seeing strangers by this means, the -rector at once went to Allan; and, delicately concealing what -Mrs. Armadale had said at the interview, broke the news to him -that his mother was seriously ill. Allan would hear of no -messengers being sent for assistance: he drove off on the spot to -the railway, and telegraphed himself to Bristol for medical help. - -On the next morning the help came, and Mr. Brock's worst fears -were confirmed. The village surgeon had fatally misunderstood -the case from the first, and the time was past now at which his -errors of treatment might have been set right. The shock of the -previous morning had completed the mischief. Mrs. Armadale's days -were numbered. - -The son who dearly loved her, the old friend to whom her life -was precious, hoped vainly to the last. In a month from the -physician's visit all hope was over; and Allan shed the first -bitter tears of his life at his mother's grave. - -She had died more peacefully than Mr. Brock had dared to hope, -leaving all her little fortune to her son, and committing him -solemnly to the care of her one friend on earth. The rector had -entreated her to let him write and try to reconcile her brothers -with her before it was too late. She had only answered sadly that -it was too late already. But one reference escaped her in her -last illness to those early sorrows which had weighed heavily on -all her after-life, and which had passed thrice already, like -shadows of evil, between the rector and herself. Even on her -deathbed she had shrunk from letting the light fall clearly on -the story of the past. She had looked at Allan kneeling by the -bedside, and had whispered to Mr. Brock: "_Never let his Namesake -come near him! Never let that Woman find him out_!" No word more -fell from her that touched on the misfortunes which had tried her -in the past, or on the dangers which she dreaded in the future. -The secret which she had kept from her son and from her friend -was a secret which she carried with her to the grave. - -When the last offices of affection and respect had been -performed, Mr. Brock felt it his duty, as executor to the -deceased lady, to write to her brothers, and to give them -information of her death. Believing that he had to deal with -two men who would probably misinterpret his motives if he left -Allan's position unexplained, he was careful to remind them that -Mrs. Armadale's son was well provided for, and that the object of -his letter was simply to communicate the news of their sister's -decease. The two letters were dispatched toward the middle of -January, and by return of post the answers were received. The -first which the rector opened was written not by the elder -brother, but by the elder brother's only son. The young man had -succeeded to the estates in Norfolk on his father's death, some -little time since. He wrote in a frank and friendly spirit, -assuring Mr. Brock that, however strongly his father might have -been prejudiced against Mrs. Armadale, the hostile feeling had -never extended to her son. For himself, he had only to add that -he would be sincerely happy to welcome his cousin to Thorpe -Ambrose whenever his cousin came that way. - -The second letter was a far less agreeable reply to receive -than the first. The younger brother was still alive, and still -resolute neither to forget nor forgive. He informed Mr. Brock -that his deceased sister's choice of a husband, and her conduct -to her father at the time of her marriage, had made any relations -of affection or esteem impossible, on his side, from that time -forth. Holding the opinions he did, it would be equally painful -to his nephew and himself if any personal intercourse took place -between them. He had adverted, as generally as possible, to the -nature of the differences which had kept him apart from his late -sister, in order to satisfy Mr. Brock's mind that a personal -acquaintance with young Mr. Armadale was, as a matter of -delicacy, quite out of the question and, having done this, he -would beg leave to close the correspondence. - -Mr. Brock wisely destroyed the second letter on the spot, and, -after showing Allan his cousin's invitation, suggested that he -should go to Thorpe Ambrose as soon as he felt fit to present -himself to strangers. - -Allan listened to the advice patiently enough; but he declined -to profit by it. "I will shake hands with my cousin willingly if -I ever meet him," he said; "but I will visit no family, and be -a guest in no house, in which my mother has been badly treated." -Mr. Brock remonstrated gently, and tried to put matters in their -proper light. Even at that time--even while he was still ignorant -of events which were then impending--Allan's strangely isolated -position in the world was a subject of serious anxiety to his old -friend and tutor. The proposed visit to Thorpe Ambrose opened the -very prospect of his making friends and connections suited to him -in rank and age which Mr. Brock most desired to see; but Allan -was not to be persuaded; he was obstinate and unreasonable; and -the rector had no alternative but to drop the subject. - -One on another the weeks passed monotonously, and Allan showed -but little of the elasticity of his age and character in bearing -the affliction that had made him motherless. He finished and -launched his yacht; but his own journeymen remarked that the work -seemed to have lost its interest for him. It was not natural to -the young man to brood over his solitude and his grief as he was -brooding now. As the spring advanced, Mr. Brock began to feel -uneasy about the future, if Allan was not roused at once by -change of scene. After much pondering, the rector decided on -trying a trip to Paris, and on extending the journey southward -if his companion showed an interest in Continental traveling. -Allan's reception of the proposal made atonement for his -obstinacy in refusing to cultivate his cousin's acquaintance; -he was willing to go with Mr. Brock wherever Mr. Brock pleased. -The rector took him at his word, and in the middle of March the -two strangely assorted companions left for London on their way -to Paris. - -Arrived in London, Mr. Brock found himself unexpectedly face to -face with a new anxiety. The unwelcome subject of Ozias -Midwinter, which had been buried in peace since the beginning of -December, rose to the surface again, and confronted the rector at -the very outset of his travels, more unmanageably than ever. - -Mr. Brock's position in dealing with this difficult matter had -been hard enough to maintain when he had first meddled with it. -He now found himself with no vantage-ground left to stand on. -Events had so ordered it that the difference of opinion between -Allan and his mother on the subject of the usher was entirely -disassociated with the agitation which had hastened Mrs. -Armadale's death. Allan's resolution to say no irritating words, -and Mr. Brock's reluctance to touch on a disagreeable topic, had -kept them both silent about Midwinter in Mrs. Armadale's presence -during the three days which had intervened between that person's -departure and the appearance of the strange woman in the village. -In the period of suspense and suffering that had followed no -recurrence to the subject of the usher had been possible, and -none had taken place. Free from all mental disquietude on this -score, Allan had stoutly preserved his perverse interest in his -new friend. He had written to tell Midwinter of his affliction, -and he now proposed (unless the rector formally objected to it) -paying a visit to his friend before he started for Paris the next -morning. - -What was Mr. Brock to do? There was no denying that Midwinter's -conduct had pleaded unanswerably against poor Mrs. Armadale's -unfounded distrust of him. If the rector, with no convincing -reason to allege against it, and with no right to interfere but -the right which Allan's courtesy gave him, declined to sanction -the proposed visit, then farewell to all the old sociability and -confidence between tutor and pupil on the contemplated tour. -Environed by difficulties, which might have been possibly worsted -by a less just and a less kind-hearted man, Mr. Brock said a -cautious word or two at parting, and (with more confidence in -Midwinter's discretion and self-denial than he quite liked to -acknowledge, even to himself) left Allan free to take his own -way. - -After whiling away an hour, during the interval of his pupil's -absence, by a walk in the streets, the rector returned to his -hotel, and, finding the newspaper disengaged in the coffee-room, -sat down absently to look over it. His eye, resting idly on the -title-page, was startled into instant attention by the very first -advertisement that it chanced to light on at the head of the -column. There was Allan's mysterious namesake again, figuring in -capital letters, and associated this time (in the character of a -dead man) with the offer of a pecuniary reward. Thus it ran: - - -SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD.--To parish clerks, sextons, and others. -Twenty Pounds reward will be paid to any person who can produce -evidence of the death of ALLAN ARMADALE, only son of the late -Allan Armadale, of Barbadoes, and born in Trinidad in the year -1830. Further particulars on application to Messrs. Hammick and -Ridge, Lincoln's Inn Fields, London. - - -Even Mr. Brock's essentially unimaginative mind began to stagger -superstitiously in the dark as he laid the newspaper down again. -Little by little a vague suspicion took possession of him that -the whole series of events which had followed the first -appearance of Allan's namesake in the newspaper six years since -was held together by some mysterious connection, and was tending -steadily to some unimaginable end. Without knowing why, he began -to feel uneasy at Allan's absence. Without knowing why, he became -impatient to get his pupil away from England before anything else -happened between night and morning. - -In an hour more the rector was relieved of all immediate anxiety -by Allan's return to the hotel. The young man was vexed and out -of spirits. He had discovered Midwinter's lodgings, but he had -failed to find Midwinter himself. The only account his landlady -could give of him was that he had gone out at his customary time -to get his dinner at the nearest eating-house, and that he had -not returned, in accordance with his usual regular habits, at his -usual regular hour. Allan had therefore gone to inquire at the -eating-house, and had found, on describing him, that Midwinter -was well known there. It was his custom, on other days, to take -a frugal dinner, and to sit half an hour afterward reading the -newspaper. On this occasion, after dining, he had taken up the -paper as usual, had suddenly thrown it aside again, and had gone, -nobody knew where, in a violent hurry. No further information -being attainable, Allan had left a note at the lodgings, giving -his address at the hotel, and begging Midwinter to come and say -good-by before his departure for Paris. - -The evening passed, and Allan's invisible friend never appeared. -The morning came, bringing no obstacles with it, and Mr. Brock -and his pupil left London. So far Fortune had declared herself at -last on the rector's side. Ozias Midwinter, after intrusively -rising to the surface, had conveniently dropped out of sight -again. What was to happen next? - -------------- - -Advancing once more, by three weeks only, from past to present, -Mr. Brock's memory took up the next event on the seventh of -April. To all appearance, the chain was now broken at last. The -new event had no recognizable connection (either to his mind or -to Allan's) with any of the persons who had appeared, or any of -the circumstances that had happened, in the by-gone time. - -The travelers had as yet got no further than Paris. Allan's -spirits had risen with the change; and he had been made all the -readier to enjoy the novelty of the scene around him by receiving -a letter from Midwinter, containing news which Mr. Brock himself -acknowledged promised fairly for the future. The ex-usher had -been away on business when Allan had called at his lodgings, -having been led by an accidental circumstance to open -communications with his relatives on that day. The result had -taken him entirely by surprise: it had unexpectedly secured to -him a little income of his own for the rest of his life. His -future plans, now that this piece of good fortune had fallen to -his share, were still unsettled. But if Allan wished to hear what -he ultimately decided on, his agent in London (whose direction he -inclosed) would receive communications for him, and would furnish -Mr. Armadale at all future times with his address. - -On receipt of this letter, Allan had seized the pen in his usual -headlong way, and had insisted on Midwinter's immediately joining -Mr. Brock and himself on their travels. The last days of March -passed, and no answer to the proposal was received. The first -days of April came, and on the seventh of the month there was a -letter for Allan at last on the breakfast-table. He snatched it -up, looked at the address, and threw the letter down again -impatiently. The handwriting was not Midwinter's. Allan finished -his breakfast before he cared to read what his correspondent had -to say to him. - -The meal over, young Armadale lazily opened the letter. He began -it with an expression of supreme indifference. He finished it -with a sudden leap out of his chair, and a loud shout of -astonishment. Wondering, as he well might, at this extraordinary -outbreak, Mr. Brock took up the letter which Allan had tossed -across the table to him. Before he had come to the end of it, his -hands dropped helplessly on his knees, and the blank bewilderment -of his pupil's expression was accurately reflected on his own -face. - -If ever two men had good cause for being thrown completely off -their balance, Allan and the rector were those two. The letter -which had struck them both with the same shock of astonishment -did, beyond all question, contain an announcement which, on a -first discovery of it, was simply incredible. The news was from -Norfolk, and was to this effect. In little more than one week's -time death had mown down no less than three lives in the family -at Thorpe Ambrose, and Allan Armadale was at that moment heir to -an estate of eight thousand a year! - -A second perusal of the letter enabled the rector and his -companion to master the details which had escaped them on a -first reading. - -The writer was the family lawyer at Thorpe Ambrose. After -announcing to Allan the deaths of his cousin Arthur at the age of -twenty-five, of his uncle Henry at the age of forty-eight, and of -his cousin John at the age of twenty-one, the lawyer proceeded to -give a brief abstract of the terms of the elder Mr. Blanchard's -will. The claims of male issue were, as is not unusual in such -cases, preferred to the claims of female issue. Failing Arthur -and his issue male, the estate was left to Henry and his issue -male. Failing them, it went to the issue male of Henry's sister; -and, in default of such issue, to the next heir male. As events -had happened, the two young men, Arthur and John, had died -unmarried, and Henry Blanchard had died, leaving no surviving -child but a daughter. Under these circumstances, Allan was the -next heir male pointed at by the will, and was now legally -successor to the Thorpe Ambrose estate. Having made this -extraordinary announcement, the lawyer requested to be favored -with Mr. Armadale's instructions, and added, in conclusion, that -he would be happy to furnish any further particulars that were -desired. - -It was useless to waste time in wondering at an event which -neither Allan nor his mother had ever thought of as even remotely -possible. The only thing to be done was to go back to England at -once. The next day found the travelers installed once more in -their London hotel, and the day after the affair was placed in -the proper professional hands. The inevitable corresponding and -consulting ensued, and one by one the all-important particulars -flowed in, until the measure of information was pronounced to be -full. - -This was the strange story of the three deaths: - -At the time when Mr. Brock had written to Mrs. Armadale's -relatives to announce the news of her decease (that is to say, in -the middle of the month of January), the family at Thorpe Ambrose -numbered five persons--Arthur Blanchard (in possession of the -estate), living in the great house with his mother; and Henry -Blanchard, the uncle, living in the neighborhood, a widower with -two children, a son and a daughter. To cement the family -connection still more closely, Arthur Blanchard was engaged to be -married to his cousin. The wedding was to be celebrated with -great local rejoicings in the coming summer, when the young lady -had completed her twentieth year. - -The month of February had brought changes with it in the family -position. Observing signs of delicacy in the health of his son, -Mr. Henry Blanchard left Norfolk, taking the young man with him, -under medical advice, to try the climate of Italy. Early in the -ensuing month of March, Arthur Blanchard also left Thorpe -Ambrose, for a few days only, on business which required his -presence in London. The business took him into the City. Annoyed -by the endless impediments in the streets, he returned westward -by one of the river steamers, and, so returning, met his death. - -As the steamer left the wharf, he noticed a woman near him who -had shown a singular hesitation in embarking, and who had been -the last of the passengers to take her place in the vessel. She -was neatly dressed in black silk, with a red Paisley shawl over -her shoulders, and she kept her face hidden behind a thick veil. -Arthur Blanchard was struck by the rare grace and elegance of her -figure, and he felt a young man's passing curiosity to see her -face. She neither lifted her veil nor turned her head his way. -After taking a few steps hesitatingly backward and forward on the -deck, she walked away on a sudden to the stern of the vessel. In -a minute more there was a cry of alarm from the man at the helm, -and the engines were stopped immediately. The woman had thrown -herself overboard. - -The passengers all rushed to the side of the vessel to look. -Arthur Blanchard alone, without an instant's hesitation, jumped -into the river. He was an excellent swimmer, and he reached the -woman as she rose again to the surface, after sinking for the -first time. Help was at hand, and they were both brought safely -ashore. The woman was taken to the nearest police station, and -was soon restored to her senses, her preserver giving his name -and address, as usual in such cases, to the inspector on duty, -who wisely recommended him to get into a warm bath, and to send -to his lodgings for dry clothes. Arthur Blanchard, who had never -known an hour's illness since he was a child, laughed at the -caution, and went back in a cab. The next day he was too ill -to attend the examination before the magistrate. A fortnight -afterward he was a dead man. - -The news of the calamity reached Henry Blanchard and his son at -Milan, and within an hour of the time when they received it they -were on their way back to England. The snow on the Alps had -loosened earlier than usual that year, and the passes were -notoriously dangerous. The father and son, traveling in their own -carriage, were met on the mountain by the mail returning, after -sending the letters on by hand. Warnings which would have -produced their effect under any ordinary circumstances were now -vainly addressed to the two Englishmen. Their impatience to be -at home again, after the catastrophe which had befallen their -family, brooked no delay. Bribes lavishly offered to the -postilions, tempted them to go on. The carriage pursued its way, -and was lost to view in the mist. When it was seen again, it was -disinterred from the bottom of a precipice--the men, the horses, -and the vehicle all crushed together under the wreck and ruin of -an avalanche. - -So the three lives were mown down by death. So, in a clear -sequence of events, a woman's suicide-leap into a river had -opened to Allan Armadale the succession to the Thorpe Ambrose -estates. - -Who was the woman? The man who saved her life never knew. The -magistrate who remanded her, the chaplain who exhorted her, the -reporter who exhibited her in print, never knew. It was recorded -of her with surprise that, though most respectably dressed, she -had nevertheless described herself as being "in distress." She -had expressed the deepest contrition, but had persisted in giving -a name which was on the face of it a false one; in telling a -commonplace story, which was manifestly an invention; and in -refusing to the last to furnish any clew to her friends. A lady -connected with a charitable institution ("interested by her -extreme elegance and beauty") had volunteered to take charge of -her, and to bring her into a better frame of mind . The first -day's experience of the penitent had been far from cheering, and -the second day's experience had been conclusive. She had left the -institution by stealth; and--though the visiting clergyman, -taking a special interest in the case, had caused special efforts -to be made--all search after her, from that time forth, had -proved fruitless. - -While this useless investigation (undertaken at Allan's express -desire) was in progress, the lawyers had settled the preliminary -formalities connected with the succession to the property. All -that remained was for the new master of Thorpe Ambrose to decide -when he would personally establish himself on the estate of which -he was now the legal possessor. - -Left necessarily to his own guidance in this matter, Allan -settled it for himself in his usual hot-headed, generous way. -He positively declined to take possession until Mrs. Blanchard -and her niece (who had been permitted thus far, as a matter of -courtesy, to remain in their old home) had recovered from the -calamity that had befallen them, and were fit to decide for -themselves what their future proceedings should be. A private -correspondence followed this resolution, comprehending, on -Allan's side, unlimited offers of everything he had to give (in -a house which he had not yet seen), and, on the ladies' side, a -discreetly reluctant readiness to profit by the young gentleman's -generosity in the matter of time. To the astonishment of his -legal advisers, Allan entered their office one morning, -accompanied by Mr. Brock, and announced, with perfect composure, -that the ladies had been good enough to take his own arrangements -off his hands, and that, in deference to their convenience, he -meant to defer establishing himself at Thorpe Ambrose till that -day two months. The lawyers stared at Allan, and Allan, returning -the compliment, stared at the lawyers. - -"What on earth are you wondering at, gentlemen?" he inquired, -with a boyish bewilderment in his good-humored blue eyes. "Why -shouldn't I give the ladies their two months, if the ladies want -them? Let the poor things take their own time, and welcome. My -rights? and my position? Oh, pooh! pooh! I'm in no hurry to be -squire of the parish; it's not in my way. What do I mean to do -for the two months? What I should have done anyhow, whether the -ladies had stayed or not; I mean to go cruising at sea. That's -what _I_ like! I've got a new yacht at home in Somersetshire--a -yacht of my own building. And I'll tell you what, sir," continued -Allan, seizing the head partner by the arm in the fervor of his -friendly intentions, "you look sadly in want of a holiday in the -fresh air, and you shall come along with me on the trial trip of -my new vessel. And your partners, too, if they like. And the head -clerk, who is the best fellow I ever met with in my life. Plenty -of room--we'll all shake down together on the floor, and we'll -give Mr. Brock a rug on the cabin table. Thorpe Ambrose be -hanged! Do you mean to say, if you had built a vessel yourself -(as I have), you would go to any estate in the three kingdoms, -while your own little beauty was sitting like a duck on the water -at home, and waiting for you to try her? You legal gentlemen are -great hands at argument. What do you think of that argument? I -think it's unanswerable--and I'm off to Somersetshire to-morrow." - -With those words, the new possessor of eight thousand a year -dashed into the head clerk's office, and invited that functionary -to a cruise on the high seas, with a smack on the shoulder which -was heard distinctly by his masters in the next room. The firm -looked in interrogative wonder at Mr. Brock. A client who could -see a position among the landed gentry of England waiting for -him, without being in a hurry to occupy it at the earliest -possible opportunity, was a client of whom they possessed no -previous experience. - -"He must have been very oddly brought up," said the lawyers to -the rector. - -"Very oddly," said the rector to the lawyers. - -A last leap over one month more brought Mr. Brock to the present -time--to the bedroom at Castletown, in which he was sitting -thinking, and to the anxiety which was obstinately intruding -itself between him and his night's rest. That anxiety was no -unfamiliar enemy to the rector's peace of mind. It had first -found him out in Somersetshire six months since, and it had now -followed him to the Isle of Man under the inveterately obtrusive -form of Ozias Midwinter. - -The change in Allan's future prospects had worked no -corresponding alteration in his perverse fancy for the castaway -at the village inn. In the midst of the consultations with the -lawyers he had found time to visit Midwinter, and on the journey -back with the rector there was Allan's friend in the carriage, -returning with them to Somersetshire by Allan's own invitation. - -The ex-usher's hair had grown again on his shaven skull, and his -dress showed the renovating influence of an accession of -pecuniary means, but in all other respects the man was unchanged. -He met Mr. Brock's distrust with the old uncomplaining -resignation to it; he maintained the same suspicious silence on -the subject of his relatives and his early life; he spoke of -Allan's kindness to him with the same undisciplined fervor of -gratitude and surprise. "I have done what I could, sir," he said -to Mr. Brock, while Allan was asleep in the railway carriage. "I -have kept out of Mr. Armadale's way, and I have not even answered -his last letter to me. More than that is more than I can do. I -don't ask you to consider my own feeling toward the only human -creature who has never suspected and never ill-treated me. I can -resist my own feeling, but I can't resist the young gentleman -himself. There's not another like him in the world. If we are to -be parted again, it must be his doing or yours--not mine. The -dog's master has whistled," said this strange man, with a -momentary outburst of the hidden passion in him, and a sudden -springing of angry tears in his wild brown eyes, "and it is hard, -sir, to blame the dog when the dog comes." - -Once more Mr. Brock's humanity got the better of Mr. Brock's -caution. He determined to wait, and see what the coming days of -social intercourse might bring forth. - -The days passed; the yacht was rigged and fitted for sea; a -cruise was arranged to the Welsh coast--and Midwinter the Secret -was the same Midwinter still. Confinement on board a little -vessel of five-and-thirty tons offered no great attraction to a -man of Mr. Brock's time of life. But he sailed on the trial trip -of the yacht nevertheless, rather than trust Allan alone with his -new friend. - -Would the close companionship of the three on their cruise tempt -the man into talking of his own affairs? No; he was ready enough -on other subjects, especially if Allan led the way to them. But -not a word escaped him about himself. Mr. Brock tried him with -questions about his recent inheritance, and was answered as he -had been answered once already at the Somersetshire inn. It was -a curious coincidence, Midwinter admitted, that Mr. Armadale's -prospects and his own prospects should both have unexpectedly -changed for the better about the same time. But there the -resemblance ended. It was no large fortune that had fallen -into his lap, though it was enough for his wants. It had not -reconciled him with his relations, for the money had not come to -him as a matter of kindness, but as a matter of right. As for the -circumstance which had led to his communicating with his family, -it was not worth mentioning, seeing that the temporary renewal of -intercourse which had followed had produced no friendly results. -Nothing had come of it but the money--and, with the money, an -anxiety which troubled him sometimes, when he woke in the small -hours of the morning. - -At those last words he became suddenly silent, as if for once his -well-guarded tongue had betrayed him. - -Mr. Brock seized the opportunity, and bluntly asked him what the -nature of the anxiety might be. Did it relate to money? No; it -related to a Letter which had been waiting for him for many -years. Had he received the letter? Not yet; it had been left -under charge of one of the partners in the firm which had managed -the business of his inheritance for him; the partner had been -absent from England; and the letter, locked up among his own -private papers, could not be got at till he returned. He was -expected back toward the latter part of that present May, and, -if Midwinter could be sure where the cruise would take them to -at the close of the month, he thought he would write and have -the letter forwarded. Had he any family reasons to be anxious -about it? None that he knew of; he was curious to see what had -been waiting for him for many years, and that was all. So he -answered the rector's questions, with his tawny face turned away -over the low bulwark of the yacht, and his fishing-line dragging -in his supple brown hands. - -Favored by wind and weather, the little vessel had done wonders -on her trial trip. Before the period fixed for the duration of -the cruise had half expired, the yacht was as high up on the -Welsh coast as Holyhead; and Allan, eager for adventure in -unknown regions, had declared boldly for an extension of the -voyage northward to the Isle of Man. Having ascertained from -reliable authority that the weather really promised well for a -cruise in that quarter, and that, in the event of any unforeseen -necessity for return, the railway was accessible by the steamer -from Douglas to Liverpool, Mr. Brock agreed to his pupil's -proposal. By that night's post he wrote to Allan's lawyers and -to his own rectory, indicating Douglas in the Isle of Man as -the next address to which letters might be forwarded. At the -post-office he met Midwinter, who had just dropped a letter into -the box. Remembering what he had said on board the yacht, Mr. -Brock concluded that they had both taken the same precaution, -and had ordered their correspondence to be forwarded to the same -place. - -Late the next day they set sail for the Isle of Man. - -For a few hours all went well; but sunset brought with it the -signs of a coming change. With the darkness the wind rose to a -gale, and the question whether Allan and his journeymen had or -had not built a stout sea-boat was seriously tested for the -first time. All that night, after trying vainly to bear up for -Holyhead, the little vessel kept the sea, and stood her trial -bravely. The next morning the Isle of Man was in view, and the -yacht was safe at Castletown. A survey by daylight of hull and -rigging showed that all the damage done might be set right again -in a week's time. The cruising party had accordingly remained at -Castletown, Allan being occupied in superintending the repairs, -Mr. Brock in exploring the neighborhood, and Midwinter in making -daily pilgrimages on foot to Douglas and back to inquire for -letters. - -The first of the cruising party who received a letter was Allan. -"More worries from those everlasting lawyers," was all he said, -when he had read the letter, and had crumpled it up in his -pocket. The rector's turn came next, before the week's sojourn at -Castletown had expired. On the fifth day he found a letter from -Somersetshire waiting for him at the hotel. It had been brought -there by Midwinter, and it contained news which entirely -overthrew all Mr. Brock's holiday plans. The clergyman who had -undertaken to do duty for him in his absence had been -unexpectedly summoned home again; and Mr. Brock had no choice -(the day of the week being Friday) but to cross the next morning -from Douglass to Liverpool, and get back by railway on Saturday -night in time for Sunday's service. - -Having read his letter, and resigned himself to his altered -circumstances as patiently as he might, the rector passed next to -a question that pressed for serious consideration in its turn. -Burdened with his heavy responsibility toward Allan, and -conscious of his own undiminished distrust of Allan's new friend, -how was he to act, in the emergency that now beset him, toward -the two young men who had been his companions on the cruise? - -Mr. Brock had first asked himself that awkward question on the -Friday afternoon, and he was still trying vainly to answer it, -alone in his own room, at one o'clock on the Saturday morning. It -was then only the end of May, and the residence of the ladies at -Thorpe Ambrose (unless they chose to shorten it of their own -accord) would not expire till the middle of June. Even if the -repairs of the yacht had been completed (which was not the case), -there was no possible pretense for hurrying Allan back to -Somersetshire. But one other alternative remained--to leave him -where he was. In other words, to leave him, at the turning-point -of his life, under the sole influence of a man whom he had first -met with as a castaway at a village inn, and who was still, to -all practical purposes, a total stranger to him. - -In despair of obtaining any better means of enlightenment to -guide his decision, Mr. Brock reverted to the impression which -Midwinter had produced on his own mind in the familiarity of the -cruise. - -Young as he was, the ex-usher had evidently lived a varied life. -He could speak of books like a man who had really enjoyed them; -he could take his turn at the helm like a sailor who knew his -duty; he could cook, and climb the rigging, and lay the cloth for -dinner, with an odd delight in the exhibition of his own -dexterity. The display of these, and other qualities like them, -as his spirits rose with the cruise, had revealed the secret of -his attraction for Allan plainly enough. But had all disclosures -rested there? Had the man let no chance light in on his character -in the rector's presence? Very little; and that little did not -set him forth in a morally alluring aspect. His way in the world -had lain evidently in doubtful places; familiarity with the small -villainies of vagabonds peeped out of him now and then; and, more -significant still, he habitually slept the light, suspicious -sleep of a man who has been accustomed to close his eyes in doubt -of the company under the same roof with him. Down to the very -latest moment of the rector's experience of him--down to that -present Friday night--his conduct had been persistently secret -and unaccountable to the very last. After bringing Mr. Brock's -letter to the hotel, he had mysterious disappeared from the house -without leaving any message for his companions, and without -letting anybody see whether he had or had not received a letter -himself. At nightfall he had come back stealthily in the -darkness, had been caught on the stairs by Allan, eager to tell -him of the change in the rector's plans, had listened to the news -without a word of remark! and had ended by sulkily locking -himself into his own room. What was there in his favor to set -against such revelations of his character as these--against his -wandering eyes, his obstinate reserve with the rector, his -ominous silence on the subject of family and friends? Little or -nothing: the sum of all his merits began and ended with his -gratitude to Allan. - - -Mr. Brock left his seat on the side of the bed, trimmed his -candle, and, still lost in his own thoughts, looked out absently -at the night. The change of place brought no new ideas with it. -His retrospect over his own past life had amply satisfied him -that his present sense of responsibility rested on no merely -fanciful grounds, and, having brought him to that point, had left -him there, standing at the window, and seeing nothing but the -total darkness in his own mind faithfully reflected by the total -darkness of the night. - -"If I only had a friend to apply to!" thought the rector. "If I -could only find some one to help me in this miserable place!" - -At the moment when the aspiration crossed his mind, it was -suddenly answered by a low knock at the door, and a voice said -softly in the passage outside, "Let me come in." - -After an instant's pause to steady his nerves, Mr. Brock opened -the door, and found himself, at one o'clock in the morning, -standing face to face on the threshold of his own bedroom with -Ozias Midwinter. - -"Are you ill?" asked the rector, as soon as his astonishment -would allow him to speak. - -"I have come here to make a clean breast of it!" was the strange -answer. "Will you let me in?" - -With those words he walked into the room, his eyes on the ground, -his lips ashy pale, and his hand holding something hidden behind -him. - -"I saw the light under your door," he went on, without looking -up, and without moving his hand, "and I know the trouble on your -mind which is keeping you from your rest. You are going away -to-morrow morning, and you don't like leaving Mr. Armadale alone -with a stranger like me." - -Startled as he was, Mr. Brock saw the serious necessity of being -plain with a man who had come at that time, and had said those -words to him. - -"You have guessed right," he answered. "I stand in the place of a -father to Allan Armadale, and I am naturally unwilling to leave -him, at his age, with a man whom I don't know." - -Ozias Midwinter took a step forward to the table. His wandering -eyes rested on the rector's New Testament, which was one of the -objects lying on it. - -"You have read that Book, in the years of a long life, to many -congregations," he said. "Has it taught you mercy to your -miserable fellow-creatures?" - -Without waiting to be answered, he looked Mr. Brock in the face -for the first time, and brought his hidden hand slowly into view. - -"Read that," he said; "and, for Christ's sake, pity me when you -know who I am." - -He laid a letter of many pages on the table. It was the letter -that Mr. Neal had posted at Wildbad nineteen years since. - -CHAPTER II. - -THE MAN REVEALED. - -THE first cool breathings of the coming dawn fluttered through -the open window as Mr. Brock read the closing lines of the -Confession. He put it from him in silence, without looking up. -The first shock of discovery had struck his mind, and had passed -away again. At his age, and with his habits of thought, his grasp -was not strong enough to hold the whole revelation that had -fallen on him. All his heart, when he closed the manuscript, was -with the memory of the woman who had been the beloved friend of -his later and happier life; all his thoughts were busy with the -miserable secret of her treason to her own father which the -letter had disclosed. - -He was startled out of the narrow limits of his own little grief -by the vibration of the table at which he sat, under a hand that -was laid on it heavily. The instinct of reluctance was strong in -him; but he conquered it, and looked up. There, silently -confronting him in the mixed light of the yellow candle flame and -the faint gray dawn, stood the castaway of the village inn--the -inheritor of the fatal Armadale name. - -Mr. Brock shuddered as the terror of the present time and the -darker terror yet of the future that might be coming rushed back -on him at the sight of the man's face. The man saw it, and spoke -first. - -"Is my father's crime looking at you out of my eyes?" he asked. -"Has the ghost of the drowned man followed me into the room?" - -The suffering and the passion that he was forcing back shook the -hand that he still kept on the table, and stifled the voice in -which he spoke until it sank to a whisper. - -"I have no wish to treat you otherwise than justly and kindly," -answered Mr. Brock. "Do me justice on my side, and believe that I -am incapable of cruelly holding you responsible for your father's -crime." - -The reply seemed to compose him. He bowed his head in silence, -and took up the confession from the table. - -"Have you read this through?" he asked, quietly. - -"Every word of it, from first to last." - -"Have I dealt openly with you so far. Has Ozias Midwinter--" - -"Do you still call yourself by that name," interrupted Mr. Brock, -"now your true name is known to me?" - -"Since I have read my father's confession," was the answer, "I -like my ugly alias better than ever. Allow me to repeat the -question which I was about to put to you a minute since: Has -Ozias Midwinter done his best thus far to enlighten Mr. Brock?" - -The rector evaded a direct reply. "Few men in your position," he -said, "would have had the courage to show me that letter." - -"Don't be too sure, sir, of the vagabond you picked up at the inn -till you know a little more of him than you know now. You have -got the secret of my birth, but you are not in possession yet of -the story of my life. You ought to know it, and you shall know -it, before you leave me alone with Mr. Armadale. Will you wait, -and rest a little while, or shall I tell it you now?" - -"Now," said Mr. Brock, still as far away as ever from knowing the -real character of the man before him. - -Everything Ozias Midwinter said, everything Ozias Midwinter did, -was against him. He had spoken with a sardonic indifference, -almost with an insolence of tone, which would have repelled the -sympathies of any man who heard him. And now, instead of placing -himself at the table, and addressing his story directly to the -rector, he withdrew silently and ungraciously to the window-seat. -There he sat, his face averted, his hands mechanically turning -the leaves of his father's letter till he came to the last. With -his eyes fixed on the closing lines of the manuscript, and with -a strange mixture of recklessness and sadness in his voice, he -began his promised narrative in these words: - - -"The first thing you know of me," he said, "is what my father's -confession has told you already. He mentions here that I was a -child, asleep on his breast, when he spoke his last words in this -world, and when a stranger's hand wrote them down for him at his -deathbed. That stranger's name, as you may have noticed, is -signed on the cover--'Alexander Neal, Writer to the Signet, -Edinburgh.' The first recollection I have is of Alexander Neal -beating me with a horsewhip (I dare say I deserved it), in the -character of my stepfather." - -"Have you no recollection of your mother at the same time?" asked -Mr. Brock. - -"Yes; I remember her having shabby old clothes made up to fit me, -and having fine new frocks bought for her two children by her -second husband. I remember the servants laughing at me in my old -things, and the horsewhip finding its way to my shoulders again -for losing my temper and tearing my shabby clothes. My next -recollection gets on to a year or two later. I remember myself -locked up in a lumber-room, with a bit of bread and a mug of -water, wondering what it was that made my mother and my -stepfather seem to hate the very sight of me. I never settled -that question till yesterday, and then I solved the mystery, -when my father's letter was put into my hands. My mother knew -what had really happened on board the French timber-ship, and my -stepfather knew what had really happened, and they were both well -aware that the shameful secret which they would fain have kept -from every living creature was a secret which would be one day -revealed to _me_. There was no help for it--the confession was in -the executor's hands, and there was I, an ill-conditioned brat, -with my mother's negro blood in my face, and my murdering -father's passions in my heart, inheritor of their secret in spite -of them! I don't wonder at the horsewhip now, or the shabby old -clothes, or the bread and water in the lumber-room. Natural -penalties all of them, sir, which the child was beginning to pay -already for the father's sin." - -Mr. Brock looked at the swarthy, secret face, still obstinately -turned away from him. "Is this the stark insensibility of a -vagabond," he asked himself, "or the despair, in disguise, of -a miserable man?" - -"School is my next recollection," the other went on--"a cheap -place in a lost corner of Scotland. I was left there, with a bad -character to help me at starting. I spare you the story of the -master's cane in the schoolroom, and the boys' kicks in the -playground. I dare say there was ingrained ingratitude in my -nature; at any rate, I ran away. The first person who met me -asked my name. I was too young and too foolish to know the -importance of concealing it, and, as a matter of course, I was -taken back to school the same evening. The result taught me a -lesson which I have not forgotten since. In a day or two more, -like the vagabond I was, I ran away for the second time. The -school watch-dog had had his instructions, I suppose: he stopped -me before I got outside the gate. Here is his mark, among the -rest, on the back of my hand. His master's marks I can't show -you; they are all on my back. Can you believe in my perversity? -There was a devil in me that no dog could worry out. I ran away -again as soon as I left my bed, and this time I got off. At -nightfall I found myself (with a pocketful of the school oatmeal) -lost on a moor. I lay down on the fine soft heather, under the -lee of a great gray rock. Do you think I felt lonely? Not I! -I was away from the master's cane, away from my schoolfellows' -kicks, away from my mother, away from my stepfather; and I lay -down that night under my good friend the rock, the happiest boy -in all Scotland!" - -Through the wretched childhood which that one significant -circumstance disclosed, Mr. Brock began to see dimly how little -was really strange, how little really unaccountable, in the -character of the man who was now speaking to him. - -"I slept soundly," Midwinter continued, "under my friend the -rock. When I woke in the morning, I found a sturdy old man with a -fiddle sitting on one side of me, and two performing dogs on the -other. Experience had made me too sharp to tell the truth when -the man put his first questions. He didn't press them; he gave me -a good breakfast out of his knapsack, and he let me romp with the -dogs. 'I'll tell you what,' he said, when he had got my -confidence in this manner, 'you want three things, my man: you -want a new father, a new family, and a new name. I'll be your -father. I'll let you have the dogs for your brothers; and, if -you'll promise to be very careful of it, I'll give you my own -name into the bargain. Ozias Midwinter, Junior, you have had a -good breakfast; if you want a good dinner, come along with me!' -He got up, the dogs trotted after him, and I trotted after the -dogs. Who was my new father? you will ask. A half-breed gypsy, -sir; a drunkard, a ruffian, and a thief--and the best friend I -ever had! Isn't a man your friend who gives you your food, your -shelter, and your education? Ozias Midwinter taught me to dance -the Highland fling, to throw somersaults, to walk on stilts, and -to sing songs to his fiddle. Sometimes we roamed the country, -and performed at fairs. Sometimes we tried the large towns, and -enlivened bad company over its cups. I was a nice, lively little -boy of eleven years old, and bad company, the women especially, -took a fancy to me and my nimble feet. I was vagabond enough to -like the life. The dogs and I lived together, ate, and drank, and -slept together. I can't think of those poor little four-footed -brothers of mine, even now, without a choking in the throat. Many -is the beating we three took together; many is the hard day's -dancing we did together; many is the night we have slept -together, and whimpered together, on the cold hill-side. I'm not -trying to distress you, sir; I'm only telling you the truth. The -life with all its hardships was a life that fitted me, and the -half-breed gypsy who gave me his name, ruffian as he was, was a -ruffian I liked." - -"A man who beat you!" exclaimed Mr. Brock, in astonishment. - -"Didn't I tell you just now, sir, that I lived with the dogs? and -did you ever hear of a dog who liked his master the worse for -beating him? Hundreds of thousands of miserable men, women, and -children would have liked that man (as I liked him) if he had -always given them what he always gave me--plenty to eat. It was -stolen food mostly, and my new gypsy father was generous with it. -He seldom laid the stick on us when he was sober; but it diverted -him to hear us yelp when he was drunk. He died drunk, and enjoyed -his favorite amusement with his last breath. One day (when I had -been two years in his service), after giving us a good dinner -out on the moor, he sat down with his back against a stone, and -called us up to divert himself with his stick. He made the dogs -yelp first, and then he called to me. I didn't go very willingly; -he had been drinking harder than usual, and the more he drank -the better he liked his after-dinner amusement. He was in high -good-humor that day, and he hit me so hard that he toppled over, -in his drunken state, with the force of his own blow. He fell -with his face in a puddle, and lay there without moving. I and -the dogs stood at a distance, and looked at him: we thought he -was feigning, to get us near and have another stroke at us. He -feigned so long that we ventured up to him at last. It took me -some time to pull him over; he was a heavy man. When I did get -him on his back, he was dead. We made all the outcry we could; -but the dogs were little, and I was little, and the place was -lonely; and no help came to us. I took his fiddle and his stick; -I said to my two brothers, 'Come along, we must get our own -living now;' and we went away heavy-hearted, and left him on the -moor. Unnatural as it may seem to you, I was sorry for him. I -kept his ugly name through all my after-wanderings, and I have -enough of the old leaven left in me to like the sound of it -still. Midwinter or Armadale, never mind my name now, we will -talk of that afterward; you must know the worst of me first." - -"Why not the best of you?" said Mr. Brock, gently. - -"Thank you, sir; but I am here to tell the truth. We will get on, -if you please, to the next chapter in my story. The dogs and I -did badly, after our master's death; our luck was against us. I -lost one of my little brothers--the best performer of the two; he -was stolen, and I never recovered him. My fiddle and my stilts -were taken from me next, by main force, by a tramp who was -stronger than I. These misfortunes drew Tommy and me--I beg your -pardon, sir, I mean the dog--closer together than ever. - -I think we had some kind of dim foreboding on both sides that we -had not done with our misfortunes yet; anyhow, it was not very -long before we were parted forever. We were neither of us thieves -(our master had been satisfied with teaching us to dance); but we -both committed an invasion of the rights of property, for all -that. Young creatures, even when they are half starved, cannot -resist taking a run sometimes on a fine morning. Tommy and I -could not resist taking a run into a gentleman's plantation; the -gentleman preserved his game; and the gentleman's keeper knew his -business. I heard a gun go off; you can guess the rest. God -preserve me from ever feeling such misery again as I felt when I -lay down by Tommy, and took him, dead and bloody, in my arms! The -keeper attempted to part us; I bit him, like the wild animal I -was. He tried the stick on me next; he might as well have tried -it on one of the trees. The noise reached the ears of two young -ladies riding near the place--daughters of the gentleman on whose -property I was a trespasser. They were too well brought up to -lift their voices against the sacred right of preserving game, -but they were kind-hearted girls, and they pitied me, and took me -home with them. I remember the gentlemen of the house (keen -sportsmen all of them) roaring with laughter as I went by the -windows, crying, with my little dead dog in my arms. Don't -suppose I complain of their laughter; it did me good service; it -roused the indignation of the two ladies. One of them took me -into her own garden, and showed me a place where I might bury my -dog under the flowers, and be sure that no other hands should -ever disturb him again. The other went to her father, and -persuaded him to give the forlorn little vagabond a chance in -the house, under one of the upper servants. Yes! you have been -cruising in company with a man who was once a foot-boy. I saw you -look at me, when I amused Mr. Armadale by laying the cloth on -board the yacht. Now you know why I laid it so neatly, and forgot -nothing. It has been my good fortune to see something of society; -I have helped to fill its stomach and black its boots. My -experience of the servants' hall was not a long one. Before I had -worn out my first suit of livery, there was a scandal in the -house. It was the old story; there is no need to tell it over -again for the thousandth time. Loose money left on a table, and -not found there again; all the servants with characters to appeal -to except the foot-boy, who had been rashly taken on trial. Well! -well! I was lucky in that house to the last; I was not prosecuted -for taking what I had not only never touched, but never even -seen: I was only turned out. One morning I went in my old clothes -to the grave where I had buried Tommy. I gave the place a kiss; -I said good-by to my little dead dog; and there I was, out in the -world again, at the ripe age of thirteen years!" - -"In that friendless state, and at that tender age," said Mr. -Brock, "did no thought cross your mind of going home again?" - -"I went home again, sir, that very night--I slept on the -hill-side. What other home had I? In a day or two's time I -drifted back to the large towns and the bad company, the great -open country was so lonely to me, now I had lost the dogs! Two -sailors picked me up next. I was a handy lad, and I got a -cabin-boy's berth on board a coasting-vessel. A cabin-boy's -berth means dirt to live in, offal to eat, a man's work on a -boy's shoulders, and the rope's-end at regular intervals. The -vessel touched at a port in the Hebrides. I was as ungrateful as -usual to my best benefactors; I ran away again. Some women found -me, half dead of starvation, in the northern wilds of the Isle of -Skye. It was near the coast and I took a turn with the fishermen -next. There was less of the rope's-end among my new masters; but -plenty of exposure to wind and weather, and hard work enough to -have killed a boy who was not a seasoned tramp like me. I fought -through it till the winter came, and then the fishermen turned me -adrift again. I don't blame them; food was scarce, and mouths -were many. With famine staring the whole community in the face, -why should they keep a boy who didn't belong to them? A great -city was my only chance in the winter-time; so I went to Glasgow, -and all but stepped into the lion's mouth as soon as I got there. -I was minding an empty cart on the Broomielaw, when I heard my -stepfather's voice on the pavement side of the horse by which I -was standing. He had met some person whom he knew, and, to my -terror and surprise, they were talking about me. Hidden behind -the horse, I heard enough of their conversation to know that I -had narrowly escaped discovery before I went on board the -coasting-vessel. I had met at that time with another vagabond boy -of my own age; we had quarreled and parted. The day after, my -stepfather's inquiries were made in that very district, and it -became a question with him (a good personal description being -unattainable in either case) which of the two boys he should -follow. One of them, he was informed, was known as "Brown," and -the other as "Midwinter." Brown was just the common name which -a cunning runaway boy would be most likely to assume; Midwinter, -just the remarkable name which he would be most likely to avoid. -The pursuit had accordingly followed Brown, and had allowed me -to escape. I leave you to imagine whether I was not doubly and -trebly determined to keep my gypsy master's name after that. -But my resolution did not stop here. I made up my mind to leave -the country altogether. After a day or two's lurking about the -outward-bound vessels in port, I found out which sailed first, -and hid myself on board. Hunger tried hard to force me out before -the pilot had left; but hunger was not new to me, and I kept my -place. The pilot was out of the vessel when I made my appearance -on deck, and there was nothing for it but to keep me or throw me -overboard. The captain said (I have no doubt quite truly) that he -would have preferred throwing me overboard; but the majesty of -the law does sometimes stand the friend even of a vagabond like -me. In that way I came back to a sea-life. In that way I learned -enough to make me handy and useful (as I saw you noticed) on -board Mr. Armadale's yacht. I sailed more than one voyage, in -more than one vessel, to more than one part of the world, and I -might have followed the sea for life, if I could only have kept -my temper under every provocation that could be laid on it. I had -learned a great deal; but, not having learned that, I made the -last part of my last voyage home to the port of Bristol in irons; -and I saw the inside of a prison for the first time in my life, -on a charge of mutinous conduct to one of my officers. You have -heard me with extraordinary patience, sir, and I am glad to tell -you, in return, that we are not far now from the end of my story. -You found some books, if I remember right, when you searched my -luggage at the Somersetshire inn?" - -Mr. Brock answered in the affirmative. - -"Those books mark the next change in my life--and the last, -before I took the usher's place at the school. My term of -imprisonment was not a long one. Perhaps my youth pleaded for me; -perhaps the Bristol magistrates took into consideration the time -I had passed in irons on board ship. Anyhow, I was just turned -seventeen when I found myself out on the world again. I had no -friends to receive me; I had no place to go to. A sailor's life, -after what had happened, was a life I recoiled from in disgust. -I stood in the crowd on the bridge at Bristol, wondering what I -should do with my freedom now I had got it back. Whether I had -altered in the prison, or whether I was feeling the change in -character that comes with coming manhood, I don't know; but the -old reckless enjoyment of the old vagabond life seemed quite worn -out of my nature. An awful sense of loneliness kept me wandering -about Bristol, in horror of the quiet country, till after -nightfall. I looked at the lights kindling in the parlor windows, -with a miserable envy of the happy people inside. A word of -advice would have been worth something to me at that time. Well! -I got it: a policeman advised me to move on. He was quite right; -what else could I do? I looked up at the sky, and there was my -old friend of many a night's watch at sea, the north star. 'All -points of the compass are alike to me,' I thought to myself; -'I'll go _your_ way.' Not even the star would keep me company -that night. It got behind a cloud, and left me alone in the rain -and darkness. I groped my way to a cart-shed, fell asleep, and -dreamed of old times, when I served my gypsy master and lived -with the dogs. God! what I would have given when I woke to have -felt Tommy's little cold muzzle in my hand! Why am I dwelling on -these things? Why don't I get on to the end? You shouldn't -encourage me, sir, by listening, so patiently. After a week more -of wandering, without hope to help me, or prospects to look to, -I found myself in the streets of Shrewsbury, staring in at the -windows of a book-seller's shop. An old man came to the shop -door, looked about him, and saw me. 'Do you want a job?' he -asked. 'And are you not above doing it cheap?' The prospect of -having something to do, and some human creature to speak a word -to, tempted me, and I did a day's dirty work in the book-seller's -warehouse for a shilling. More work followed at the same rate. -In a week I was promoted to sweep out the shop and put up the -shutters. In no very long time after, I was trusted to carry the -books out; and when quarter-day came, and the shop-man left, I -took his place. Wonderful luck! you will say; here I had found my -way to a friend at last. I had found my way to one of the most -merciless misers in England; and I had risen in the little world -of Shrewsbury by the purely commercial process of underselling -all my competitors. The job in the warehouse had been declined -at the price by every idle man in the town, and I did it. The -regular porter received his weekly pittance under weekly protest. -I took two shillings less, and made no complaint. The shop-man -gave warning on the ground that he was underfed as well as -underpaid. I received half his salary, and lived contentedly on -his reversionary scraps. Never were two men so well suited to -each other as that book-seller and I. _His_ one object in life -was to find somebody who would work for him at starvation wages. -_My_ one object in life was to find somebody who would give me an -asylum over my head. Without a single sympathy in common--without -a vestige of feeling of any sort, hostile or friendly, growing up -between us on either side--without wishing each other good-night -when we parted on the house stairs, or good-morning when we met -at the shop counter, we lived alone in that house, strangers from -first to last, for two whole years. A dismal existence for a lad -of my age, was it not? You are a clergyman and a scholar--surely -you can guess what made the life endurable to me?" - -Mr. Brock remembered the well-worn volumes which had been found -in the usher's bag. "The books made it endurable to you," he -said. - -The eyes of the castaway kindled with a new light. - -"Yes!" he said, "the books--the generous friends who met me -without suspicion--the merciful masters who never used me ill! -The only years of my life that I can look back on with something -like pride are the years I passed in the miser's house. The only -unalloyed pleasure I have ever tasted is the pleasure that I -found for myself on the miser's shelves. Early and late, through -the long winter nights and the quiet summer days, I drank at the -fountain of knowledge, and never wearied of the draught. There -were few customers to serve, for the books were mostly of the -solid and scholarly kind. No responsibilities rested on me, for -the accounts were kept by my master, and only the small sums of -money were suffered to pass through my hands. He soon found out -enough of me to know that my honesty was to be trusted, and that -my patience might be counted on, treat me as he might. The one -insight into _his_ character which I obtained, on my side, -widened the distance between us to its last limits. He was a -confirmed opium-eater in secret--a prodigal in laudanum, though a -miser in all besides. He never confessed his frailty, and I never -told him I had found it out. He had his pleasure apart from me, -and I had my pleasure apart from _him_. Week after week, month -after month, there we sat, without a friendly word ever passing -between us--I, alone with my book at the counter; he, alone with -his ledger in the parlor, dimly visible to me through the dirty -window-pane of the glass door, sometimes poring over his figures, -sometimes lost and motionless for hours in the ecstasy of his -opium trance. Time passed, and made no impression on us; the -seasons of two years came and went, and found us still unchanged. -One morning, at the opening of the third year, my master did not -appear, as usual, to give me my allowance for breakfast. I went -upstairs, and found him helpless in his bed. He refused to trust -me with the keys of the cupboard, or to let me send for a doctor. -I bought a morsel of bread, and went back to my books, with no -more feeling for _him_ (I honestly confess it) than he would have -had for _me_ under the same circumstances. An hour or two later I -was roused from my reading by an occasional customer of ours, a -retired medical man. He went upstairs. I was glad to get rid of -him and return to my books. He came down again, and disturbed me -once more. 'I don't much like you, my lad,' he said; 'but I think -it my duty to say that you will soon have to shift for yourself. -You are no great favorite in the town, and you may have some -difficulty in finding a new place. Provide yourself with a -written character from your master before it is too late.' He -spoke to me coldly. I thanked him coldly on my side, and got my -character the same day. Do you think my master let me have it for -nothing? Not he! He bargained with me on his deathbed. I was his -creditor for a month's salary, and he wouldn't write a line of my -testimonial until I had first promised to forgive him the debt. -Three days afterward he died, enjoying to the last the happiness -of having overreached his shop-man. 'Aha!' he whispered, when the -doctor formally summoned me to take leave of him, 'I got you -cheap!' Was Ozias Midwinter's stick as cruel as that? I think -not. Well! there I was, out on the world again, but surely with -better prospects this time. I had taught myself to read Latin, -Greek, and German; and I had got my written character to speak -for me. All useless! The doctor was quite right; I was not liked -in the town. The lower order of the people despised me for -selling my services to the miser at the miser's price. As for -the better classes, I did with them (God knows how!) what I have -always done with everybody except Mr. Armadale--I produced a -disagreeable impression at first sight; I couldn't mend it -afterward; and there was an end of me in respectable quarters. It -is quite likely I might have spent all my savings, my puny little -golden offspring of two years' miserable growth, but for a school -advertisement which I saw in a local paper. The heartlessly mean -terms that were offered encouraged me to apply; and I got the -place. How I prospered in it, and what became of me next, there -is no need to tell you. The thread of my story is all wound off; -my vagabond life stands stripped of its mystery; and you know the -worst of me at last." - - -A moment of silence followed those closing words. Midwinter rose -from the window-seat, and came back to the table with the letter -from Wildbad in his hand. - -"My father's confession has told you who I am; and my own -confession has told you what my life has been," he said, -addressing Mr. Brock, without taking the chair to which the -rector pointed. "I promised to make a clean breast of it when I -first asked leave to enter this room. Have I kept my word?" - -"It is impossible to doubt it," replied Mr. Brock. "You have -established your claim on my confidence and my sympathy. I should -be insensible, indeed, if I could know what I now know of your -childhood and your youth, and not feel something of Allan's -kindness for Allan's friend." - -"Thank you, sir," said Midwinter, simply and gravely. - -He sat down opposite Mr. Brook at the table for the first time. - -"In a few hours you will have left this place," he proceeded. "If -I can help you to leave it with your mind at ease, I will. There -is more to be said between us than we have said up to this time. -My future relations with Mr. Armadale are still left undecided; -and the serious question raised by my father's letter is a -question which we have neither of us faced yet." - -He paused, and looked with a momentary impatience at the candle -still burning on the table, in the morning light. The struggle to -speak with composure, and to keep his own feelings stoically out -of view, was evidently growing harder and harder to him. - -"It may possibly help your decision," he went on, "if I tell you -how I determined to act toward Mr. Armadale--in the matter of the -similarity of our names--when I first read this letter, and when -I had composed myself sufficiently to be able to think at all." -He stopped, and cast a second impatient look at the lighted -candle. "Will you excuse the odd fancy of an odd man?" he asked, -with a faint smile. "I want to put out the candle: I want to -speak of the new subject, in the new light." - -He extinguished the candle as he spoke, and let the first -tenderness of the daylight flow uninterruptedly into the room. - -"I must once more ask your patience," he resumed, "if I return -for a moment to myself and my circumstances. I have already told -you that my stepfather made an attempt to discover me some years -after I had turned my back on the Scotch school. He took that -step out of no anxiety of his own, but simply as the agent of my -father's trustees. In the exercise of their discretion, they had -sold the estates in Barbadoes (at the time of the emancipation of -the slaves, and the ruin of West Indian property) for what the -estates would fetch. Having invested the proceeds, they were -bound to set aside a sum for my yearly education. This -responsibility obliged them to make the attempt to trace me--a -fruitless attempt, as you already know. A little later (as I have -been since informed) I was publicly addressed by an advertisement -in the newspapers, which I never saw. Later still, when I was -twenty-one, a second advertisement appeared (which I did see) -offering a reward for evidence of my death. If I was alive, I had -a right to my half share of the proceeds of the estates on coming -of age; if dead, the money reverted to my mother. I went to the -lawyers, and heard from them what I have just told you. After -some difficulty in proving my identity--and after an interview -with my stepfather, and a message from my mother, which has -hopelessly widened the old breach between us--my claim was -allowed; and my money is now invested for me in the funds, under -the name that is really my own." - -Mr. Brock drew eagerly nearer to the table. He saw the end now to -which the speaker was tending - -"Twice a year," Midwinter pursued, "I must sign my own name to -get my own income. At all other times, and under all other -circumstances, I may hide my identity under any name I please. As -Ozias Midwinter, Mr. Armadale first knew me; as Ozias Midwinter -he shall know me to the end of my days. Whatever may be the -result of this interview--whether I win your confidence or -whether I lose it--of one thing you may feel sure: your pupil -shall never know the horrible secret which I have trusted to your -keeping. This is no extraordinary resolution; for, as you know -already, it costs me no sacrifice of feeling to keep my assumed -name. There is nothing in my conduct to praise; it comes -naturally out of the gratitude of a thankful man. Review the -circumstances for yourself, sir, and set my own horror of -revealing them to Mr. Armadale out of the question. If the story -of the names is ever told, there can be no limiting it to the -disclosure of my father's crime; it must go back to the story of -Mrs. Armadale's marriage. I have heard her son talk of her; I -know how he loves her memory. As God is my witness, he shall -never love it less dearly through _me_!" - -Simply as the words were spoken, they touched the deepest -sympathies in the rector's nature: they took his thoughts back to -Mrs. Armadale's deathbed. There sat the man against whom she had -ignorantly warned him in her son's interests; and that man, of -his own free-will, had laid on himself the obligation of -respecting her secret for her son's sake! The memory of his own -past efforts to destroy the very friendship out of which this -resolution had sprung rose and reproached Mr. Brock. He held out -his hand to Midwinter for the first time. "In her name, and in -her son's name," he said, warmly, "I thank you." - -Without replying, Midwinter spread the confession open before him -on the table. - -"I think I have said all that it was my duty to say," he began, -"before we could approach the consideration of this letter. -Whatever may have appeared strange in my conduct toward you and -toward Mr. Armadale may be now trusted to explain itself. You can -easily imagine the natural curiosity and surprise that I must -have felt (ignorant as I then was of the truth) when the sound of -Mr. Armadale's name first startled me as the echo of my own. You -will readily understand that I only hesitated to tell him I was -his namesake, because I hesitated to damage my position--in your -estimation, if not in his--by confessing that I had come among -you under an assumed name. And, after all that you have just -heard of my vagabond life and my low associates, you will hardly -wonder at the obstinate silence I maintained about myself, at a -time when I did not feel the sense of responsibility which my -father's confession has laid on me. We can return to these small -personal explanations, if you wish it, at another time; they -cannot be suffered to keep us from the greater interests which we -must settle before you leave this place. We may come now--" His -voice faltered, and he suddenly turned his face toward the -window, so as to hide it from the rector's view. "We may come -now," he repeated, his hand trembling visibly as it held the -page, "to the murder on board the timber-ship, and to the warning -that has followed me from my father's grave." - -Softly--as if he feared they might reach Allan, sleeping in the -neighboring room--he read the last terrible words which the -Scotchman's pen had written at Wildbad, as they fell from his -father's lips: - -"Avoid the widow of the man I killed--if the widow still lives. -Avoid the maid whose wicked hand smoothed the way to the -marriage--if the maid is still in her service. And, more than -all, avoid the man who bears the same name as your own. Offend -your best benefactor, if that benefactor's influence has -connected you one with the other. Desert the woman who loves you, -if that woman is a link between you and him. Hide yourself from -him under an assumed name. Put the mountains and the seas between -you; be ungrateful; be unforgiving; be all that is most repellent -to your own gentler nature, rather than live under the same roof -and breathe the same air with that man. Never let the two Allan -Armadales meet in this world; never, never, never!" - -After reading those sentences, he pushed the manuscript from him, -without looking up. The fatal reserve which he had been in a fair -way of conquering but a few minutes since, possessed itself of -him once more. Again his eyes wandered; again his voice sank in -tone. A stranger who had heard his story, and who saw him now, -would have said, "His look is lurking, his manner is bad; he is, -every inch of him, his father's son." - -"I have a question to ask you," said Mr. Brock, breaking the -silence between them, on his side. "Why have you just read that -passage in your father's letter?" - -"To force me into telling you the truth," was the answer. "You -must know how much there is of my father in me before you trust -me to be Mr. Armadale's friend. I got my letter yesterday, in the -morning. Some inner warning troubled me, and I went down on the -sea-shore by myself before I broke the seal. Do you believe the -dead can come back to the world they once lived in? I believe my -father came back in that bright morning light, through the glare -of that broad sunshine and the roar of that joyful sea, and -watched me while I read. When I got to the words that you have -just heard, and when I knew that the very end which he had died -dreading was the end that had really come, I felt the horror that -had crept over him in his last moments creeping over me. I -struggled against myself, as _he_ would have had me struggle. I -tried to be all that was most repellent to my own gentler nature; -I tried to think pitilessly of putting the mountains and the seas -between me and the man who bore my name. Hours passed before I -could prevail on myself to go back and run the risk of meeting -Allan Armadale in this house. When I did get back, and when he -met me at night on the stairs, I thought I was looking him in -the face as _my_ father looked _his_ father in the face when the -cabin door closed between them. Draw your own conclusions, sir. -Say, if you like, that the inheritance of my father's heathen -belief in fate is one of the inheritances he has left to me. I -won't dispute it; I won't deny that all through yesterday _his_ -superstition was _my_ superstition. The night came before I could -find my way to calmer and brighter thoughts. But I did find my -way. You may set it down in my favor that I lifted myself at last -above the influence of this horrible letter. Do you know what -helped me?" - -"Did you reason with yourself?" - -"I can't reason about what I feel." - -"Did you quiet your mind by prayer?" - -"I was not fit to pray." - -"And yet something guided you to the better feeling and the truer -view?" - -"Something did." - -"What was it?" - -"My love for Allan Armadale." - -He cast a doubting, almost a timid look at Mr. Brock as he gave -that answer, and, suddenly leaving the table, went back to the -window-seat. - -"Have I no right to speak of him in that way?" he asked, keeping -his face hidden from the rector. "Have I not known him long -enough; have I not done enough for him yet? Remember what my -experience of other men had been when I first saw his hand held -out to me--when I first heard his voice speaking to me in my -sick-room. What had I known of strangers' hands all through my -childhood? I had only known them as hands raised to threaten and -to strike me. His hand put my pillow straight, and patted me on -the shoulder, and gave me my food and drink. What had I known of -other men's voices, when I was growing up to be a man myself? I -had only known them as voices that jeered, voices that cursed, -voices that whispered in corners with a vile distrust. _His_ -voice said to me, 'Cheer up, Midwinter! we'll soon bring you -round again. You'll be strong enough in a week to go out for a -drive with me in our Somersetshire lanes.' Think of the gypsy's -stick; think of the devils laughing at me when I went by their -windows with my little dead dog in my arms; think of the master -who cheated me of my month's salary on his deathbed--and ask your -own heart if the miserable wretch whom Allan Armadale has treated -as his equal and his friend has said too much in saying that he -loves him? I do love him! It _will_ come out of me; I can't keep -it back. I love the very ground he treads on! I would give my -life--yes, the life that is precious to me now, because his -kindness has made it a happy one--I tell you I would give my -life--" - -The next words died away on his lips; the hysterical passion -rose, and conquered him. He stretched out one of his hands with -a wild gesture of entreaty to Mr. Brock; his head sank on the -window-sill and he burst into tears. - -Even then the hard discipline of the man's life asserted itself. -He expected no sympathy, he counted on no merciful human respect -for human weakness. The cruel necessity of self-suppression was -present to his mind, while the tears were pouring over his -cheeks. "Give me a minute," he said, faintly. "I'll fight it down -in a minute; I won't distress you in this way again." - -True to his resolution, in a minute he had fought it down. In a -minute more he was able to speak calmly. - -"We will get back, sir, to those better thoughts which have -brought me from my room to yours," he resumed. "I can only repeat -that I should never have torn myself from the hold which this -letter fastened on me, if I had not loved Allan Armadale with all -that I have in me of a brother's love. I said to myself, 'If the -thought of leaving him breaks my heart, the thought of leaving -him is wrong!' That was some hours since, and I am in the same -mind still. I can't believe--I won't believe--that a friendship -which has grown out of nothing but kindness on one side, and -nothing but gratitude on the other, is destined to lead to an -evil end. Judge, you who are a clergyman, between the dead -father, whose word is in these pages, and the living son, whose -word is now on his lips! What is it appointed me to do, now that -I am breathing the same air, and living under the same roof with -the son of the man whom my father killed--to perpetuate my -father's crime by mortally injuring him, or to atone for my -father's crime by giving him the devotion of my whole life? The -last of those two faiths is my faith, and shall be my faith, -happen what may. In the strength of that better conviction, I -have come here to trust you with my father's secret, and to -confess the wretched story of my own life. In the strength of -that better conviction, I can face you resolutely with the one -plain question, which marks the one plain end of all that I have -come here to say. Your pupil stands at the starting-point of his -new career, in a position singularly friendless; his one great -need is a companion of his own age on whom he can rely. The time -has come, sir, to decide whether I am to be that companion or -not. After all you have heard of Ozias Midwinter, tell me -plainly, will you trust him to be Allan Armadale's friend?" - -Mr. Brock met that fearlessly frank question by a fearless -frankness on his side. - -"I believe you love Allan," he said, "and I believe you have -spoken the truth. A man who has produced that impression on me -is a man whom I am bound to trust. I trust you." - -Midwinter started to his feet, his dark face flushing deep; his -eyes fixed brightly and steadily, at last, on the rector's face. -"A light!" he exclaimed, tearing the pages of his father's -letter, one by one, from the fastening that held them. "Let us -destroy the last link that holds us to the horrible past! Let us -see this confession a heap of ashes before we part!" - -"Wait!" said Mr. Brock. "Before you burn it, there is a reason -for looking at it once more." - -The parted leaves of the manuscript dropped from Midwinter's -hands. Mr. Brock took them up, and sorted them carefully until -he found the last page. - -"I view your father's superstition as you view it," said the -rector. "But there is a warning given you here, which you will -do well (for Allan's sake and for your own sake) not to neglect. -The last link with the past will not be destroyed when you have -burned these pages. One of the actors in this story of treachery -and murder is not dead yet. Read those words." - -He pushed the page across the table, with his finger on one -sentence. Midwinter's agitation misled him. He mistook the -indication, and read, "Avoid the widow of the man I killed, -if the widow still lives." - -"Not that sentence," said the rector. "The next." - -Midwinter read it: "Avoid the maid whose wicked hand smoothed the -way to the marriage, if the maid is still in her service." - -"The maid and the mistress parted," said Mr. Brock, "at the time -of the mistress's marriage. The maid and the mistress met again -at Mrs. Armadale's residence in Somersetshire last year. I myself -met the woman in the village, and I myself know that her visit -hastened Mrs. Armadale's death. Wait a little, and compose -yourself; I see I have startled you." - -He waited as he was bid, his color fading away to a gray paleness -and the light in his clear brown eyes dying out slowly. What the -rector had said had produced no transient impression on him; -there was more than doubt, there was alarm in his face, as he sat -lost in his own thought. Was the struggle of the past night -renewing itself already? Did he feel the horror of his hereditary -superstition creeping over him again? - -"Can you put me on my guard against her?" he asked, after a long -interval of silence. "Can you tell me her name?" - -"I can only tell you what Mrs. Armadale told me," answered Mr. -Brock. "The woman acknowledged having been married in the long -interval since she and her mistress had last met. But not a word -more escaped her about her past life. She came to Mrs. Armadale -to ask for money, under a plea of distress. She got the money, -and she left the house, positively refusing, when the question -was put to her, to mention her married name." - -"You saw her yourself in the village. What was she like?" - -"She kept her veil down. I can't tell you." - -"You can tell me what you _did_ see?" - -"Certainly. I saw, as she approached me, that she moved very -gracefully, that she had a beautiful figure, and that she was a -little over the middle height. I noticed, when she asked me the -way to Mrs. Armadale's house, that her manner was the manner of -a lady, and that the tone of her voice was remarkably soft and -winning. Lastly, I remembered afterward that she wore a thick -black veil, a black bonnet, a black silk dress, and a red Paisley -shawl. I feel all the importance of your possessing some better -means of identifying her than I can give you. But unhappily--" - -He stopped. Midwinter was leaning eagerly across the table, and -Midwinter's hand was laid suddenly on his arm. - -"Is it possible that you know the woman?" asked Mr. Brock, -surprised at the sudden change in his manner. - -"No." - -"What have I said, then, that has startled you so?" - -"Do you remember the woman who threw herself from the river -steamer?" asked the other--"the woman who caused that succession -of deaths which opened Allan Armadale's way to the Thorpe Ambrose -estate?" - -"I remember the description of her in the police report," -answered the rector. - -"_That_ woman," pursued Midwinter, "moved gracefully, and had a -beautiful figure. _That_ woman wore a black veil, a black bonnet, -a black silk gown, and a red Paisley shawl--" He stopped, -released his hold of Mr. Brock's arm, and abruptly resumed his -chair. "Can it be the same?" he said to himself in a whisper. -"_Is_ there a fatality that follows men in the dark? And is it -following _us_ in that woman's footsteps?" - -If the conjecture was right, the one event in the past which had -appeared to be entirely disconnected with the events that had -preceded it was, on the contrary, the one missing link which -made the chain complete. Mr. Brock's comfortable common sense -instinctively denied that startling conclusion. He looked at -Midwinter with a compassionate smile. - -"My young friend," he said, kindly, "have you cleared your mind -of all superstition as completely as you think? Is what you have -just said worthy of the better resolution at which you arrived -last night?" - -Midwinter's head drooped on his breast; the color rushed back -over his face; he sighed bitterly. - -"You are beginning to doubt my sincerity," he said. "I can't -blame you." - -"I believe in your sincerity as firmly as ever," answered Mr. -Brock. "I only doubt whether you have fortified the weak places -in your nature as strongly as you yourself suppose. Many a man -has lost the battle against himself far oftener than you have -lost it yet, and has nevertheless won his victory in the end. -I don't blame you, I don't distrust you. I only notice what has -happened, to put you on your guard against yourself. Come! come! -Let your own better sense help you; and you will agree with me -that there is really no evidence to justify the suspicion that -the woman whom I met in Somersetshire, and the woman who -attempted suicide in London, are one and the same. Need an old -man like me remind a young man like you that there are thousands -of women in England with beautiful figures--thousands of women -who are quietly dressed in black silk gowns and red Paisley -shawls?" - -Midwinter caught eagerly at the suggestion; too eagerly, as it -might have occurred to a harder critic on humanity than Mr. -Brock. - -"You are quite right, sir," he said, "and I am quite wrong. Tens -of thousands of women answer the description, as you say. I have -been wasting time on my own idle fancies, when I ought to have -been carefully gathering up facts. If this woman ever attempts to -find her way to Allan, I must be prepared to stop her." He began -searching restlessly among the manuscript leaves scattered about -the table, paused over one of the pages, and examined it -attentively. 'This helps me to something positive," he went on; -"this helps me to a knowledge of her age. She was twelve at the -time of Mrs. Armadale's marriage; add a year, and bring her to -thirteen; add Allan's age (twenty-two), and we make her a woman -of five-and-thirty at the present time. I know her age; and I -know that she has her own reasons for being silent about her -married life. This is something gained at the outset, and it may -lead, in time, to something more." He looked up brightly again at -Mr. Brock. "Am I in the right way now, sir? Am I doing my best to -profit by the caution which you have kindly given me?" - -"You are vindicating your own better sense," answered the rector, -encouraging him to trample down his own imagination, with an -Englishman's ready distrust of the noblest of the human -faculties. "You are paving the way for your own happier life." - -"Am I?" said the other, thoughtfully. - -He searched among the papers once more, and stopped at another of -the scattered pages. - -"The ship!" he exclaimed, suddenly, his color changing again, and -his manner altering on the instant. - -"What ship?" asked the rector. - -"The ship in which the deed was done," Midwinter answered, with -the first signs of impatience that he had shown yet. "The ship in -which my father's murderous hand turned the lock of the cabin -door." - -"What of it?" said Mr. Brock. - -He appeared not to hear the question; his eyes remained fixed -intently on the page that he was reading. - -"A French vessel, employed in the timber trade," he said, still -speaking to himself--"a French vessel, named _La Grace de Dieu_. -If my father's belief had been the right belief--if the fatality -had been following me, step by step, from my father's grave, in -one or other of my voyages, I should have fallen in with that -ship." He looked up again at Mr. Brock. "I am quite sure about -it now," he said. "Those women are two, and not one." - -Mr. Brock shook his head. - -"I am glad you have come to that conclusion," he said. "But I -wish you had reached it in some other way." - -Midwinter started passionately to his feet, and, seizing on the -pages of the manuscript with both hands, flung them into the -empty fireplace. - -"For God's sake let me burn it!" he exclaimed. "As long as there -is a page left, I shall read it. And, as long as I read it, my -father gets the better of me, in spite of myself!" - -Mr. Brock pointed to the match-box. In another moment the -confession was in flames. When the fire had consumed the last -morsel of paper, Midwinter drew a deep breath of relief. - -"I may say, like Macbeth: 'Why, so, being gone, I am a man -again!'" he broke out with a feverish gayety. "You look fatigued, -sir; and no wonder," he added, in a lower tone. "I have kept you -too long from your rest--I will keep you no longer. Depend on my -remembering what you have told me; depend on my standing between -Allan and any enemy, man or woman, who comes near him. Thank you, -Mr. Brock; a thousand thousand times, thank you! I came into this -room the most wretched of living men; I can leave it now as happy -as the birds that are singing outside!" - -As he turned to the door, the rays of the rising sun streamed -through the window, and touched the heap of ashes lying black in -the black fireplace. The sensitive imagination of Midwinter -kindled instantly at the sight. - -"Look!" he said, joyously. "The promise of the Future shining -over the ashes of the Past!" - -An inexplicable pity for the man, at the moment of his life when -he needed pity least, stole over the rector's heart when the door -had closed, and he was left by himself again. - -"Poor fellow! " he said, with an uneasy surprise at his own -compassionate impulse. "Poor fellow!" - -CHAPTER III. - -DAY AND NIGHT - -The morning hours had passed; the noon had come and gone; and Mr. -Brock had started on the first stage of his journey home. - -After parting from the rector in Douglas Harbor, the two young -men had returned to Castletown, and had there separated at the -hotel door, Allan walking down to the waterside to look after his -yacht, and Midwinter entering the house to get the rest that he -needed after a sleepless night. - -He darkened his room; he closed his eyes, but no sleep came to -him. On this first day of the rector's absence, his sensitive -nature extravagantly exaggerated the responsibility which he now -held in trust for Mr. Brock. A nervous dread of leaving Allan by -himself, even for a few hours only, kept him waking and doubting, -until it became a relief rather than a hardship to rise from the -bed again, and, following in Allan's footsteps, to take the way -to the waterside which led to the yacht. - -The repairs of the little vessel were nearly completed. It was a -breezy, cheerful day; the land was bright, the water was blue, -the quick waves leaped crisply in the sunshine, the men were -singing at their work. Descending to the cabin, Midwinter -discovered his friend busily occupied in attempting to set the -place to rights. Habitually the least systematic of mortals, -Allan now and then awoke to an overwhelming sense of the -advantages of order, and on such occasions a perfect frenzy of -tidiness possessed him. He was down on his knees, hotly and -wildly at work, when Midwinter looked in on him; and was fast -reducing the neat little world of the cabin to its original -elements of chaos, with a misdirected energy wonderful to see. - -"Here's a mess!" said Allan, rising composedly on the horizon of -his own accumulated litter. "Do you know, my dear fellow, I begin -to wish I had let well alone!" - -Midwinter smiled, and came to his friend's assistance with the -natural neat-handedness of a sailor. - -The first object that he encountered was Allan's dressing-case, -turned upside down, with half the contents scattered on the -floor, and with a duster and a hearth-broom lying among them. -Replacing the various objects which formed the furniture of the -dressing-case one by one, Midwinter lighted unexpectedly on a -miniature portrait, of the old-fashioned oval form, primly framed -in a setting of small diamonds. - -"You don't seem to set much value on this," he said. "What is -it?" - -Allan bent over him, and looked at the miniature. "It belonged to -my mother," he answered; "and I set the greatest value on it. It -is a portrait of my father." - -Midwinter put the miniature abruptly, into Allan's hands, and -withdrew to the opposite side of the cabin. - -"You know best where the things ought to be put in your own -dressing-case," he said, keeping his back turned on Allan. "I'll -make the place tidy on this side of the cabin, and you shall -make the place tidy on the other." - -He began setting in order the litter scattered about him on the -cabin table and on the floor. But it seemed as if fate had -decided that his friend's personal possessions should fall into -his hands that morning, employ them where he might. One among the -first objects which he took up was Allan's tobacco jar, with the -stopper missing, and with a letter (which appeared by the bulk of -it to contain inclosures) crumpled into the mouth of the jar in -the stopper's place. - -"Did you know that you had put this here?" he asked. "Is the -letter of any importance?" - -Allan recognized it instantly. It was the first of the little -series of letters which had followed the cruising party to the -Isle of Man--the letter which young Armadale had briefly referred -to as bringing him "more worries from those everlasting lawyers," -and had then dismissed from further notice as recklessly as -usual. - -"This is what comes of being particularly careful," said Allan; -"here is an instance of my extreme thoughtfulness. You may not -think it but I put the letter there on purpose. Every time I went -to the jar, you know, I was sure to see the letter; and every -time I saw the letter, I was sure to say to myself, 'This must be -answered.' There's nothing to laugh at; it was a perfectly -sensible arrangement, if I could only have remembered where I put -the jar. Suppose I tie a knot in my pocket-handkerchief this -time? You have a wonderful memory, my dear fellow. Perhaps you'll -remind me in the course of the day, in case I forget the knot -next." - -Midwinter saw his first chance, since Mr. Brock's departure, of -usefully filling Mr. Brock's place. - -"Here is your writing-case," he said; "why not answer the letter -at once? If you put it away again, you may forget it again." - -"Very true," returned Allan. "But the worst of it is, I can't -quite make up my mind what answer to write. I want a word of -advice. Come and sit down here, and I'll tell you all about it." - -With his loud boyish laugh--echoed by Midwinter, who caught the -infection of his gayety--he swept a heap of miscellaneous -incumbrances off the cabin sofa, and made room for his friend -and himself to take their places. In the high flow of youthful -spirits, the two sat down to their trifling consultation over a -letter lost in a tobacco jar. It was a memorable moment to both -of them, lightly as they thought of it at the time. Before they -had risen again from their places, they had taken the first -irrevocable step together on the dark and tortuous road of their -future lives. - -Reduced to plain facts, the question on which Allan now required -his friend's advice may be stated as follows: - -While the various arrangements connected with the succession to -Thorpe Ambrose were in progress of settlement, and while the new -possessor of the estate was still in London, a question had -necessarily arisen relating to the person who should be appointed -to manage the property. The steward employed by the Blanchard -family had written, without loss of time, to offer his services. -Although a perfectly competent and trustworthy man, he failed to -find favor in the eyes of the new proprietor. Acting, as usual, -on his first impulses, and resolved, at all hazards, to install -Midwinter as a permanent inmate at Thorpe Ambrose, Allan had -determined that the steward's place was the place exactly fitted -for his friend, for the simple reason that it would necessarily -oblige his friend to live with him on the estate. He had -accordingly written to decline the proposal made to him without -consulting Mr. Brock, whose disapproval he had good reason to -fear; and without telling Midwinter, who would probably (if a -chance were allowed him of choosing) have declined taking a -situation which his previous training had by no means fitted him -to fill. - -Further correspondence had followed this decision, and had raised -two new difficulties which looked a little embarrassing on the -face of them, but which Allan, with the assistance of his lawyer, -easily contrived to solve. The first difficulty, of examining the -outgoing steward's books, was settled by sending a professional -accountant to Thorpe Ambrose; and the second difficulty, of -putting the steward's empty cottage to some profitable use -(Allan's plans for his friend comprehending Midwinter's residence -under his own roof), was met by placing the cottage on the list -of an active house agent in the neighboring county town. In this -state the arrangements had been left when Allan quitted London. -He had heard and thought nothing more of the matter, until a -letter from his lawyers had followed him to the Isle of Man, -inclosing two proposals to occupy the cottage, both received on -the same day, and requesting to hear, at his earliest -convenience, which of the two he was prepared to accept. - -Finding himself, after having conveniently forgotten the subject -for some days past, placed face to face once more with the -necessity for decision, Allan now put the two proposals into -his friend's hands, and, after a rambling explanation of the -circumstances of the case, requested to be favored with a word -of advice. Instead of examining the proposals, Midwinter -unceremoniously put them aside, and asked the two very natural -and very awkward questions of who the new steward was to be, -and why he was to live in Allan's house? - -"I'll tell you who, and I'll tell you why, when we get to Thorpe -Ambrose," said Allan. "In the meantime we'll call the steward X. -Y. Z., and we'll say he lives with me, because I'm devilish -sharp, and I mean to keep him under my own eye. You needn't look -surprised. I know the man thoroughly well; he requires a good -deal of management. If I offered him the steward's place -beforehand, his modesty would get in his way, and he would say -'No.' If I pitch him into it neck and crop, without a word of -warning and with nobody at hand to relieve him of the situation, -he'll have nothing for it but to consult my interests, and say -'Yes.' X. Y. Z. is not at all a bad fellow, I can tell you. -You'll see him when we go to Thorpe Ambrose; and I rather think -you and he will get on uncommonly well together." - -The humorous twinkle in Allan's eye, the sly significance in -Allan's voice, would have betrayed his secret to a prosperous -man. Midwinter was as far from suspecting it as the carpenters -who were at work above them on the deck of the yacht. - -"Is there no steward now on the estate?" he asked, his face -showing plainly that he was far from feeling satisfied with -Allan's answer. "Is the business neglected all this time?" - -"Nothing of the sort!" returned Allan. "The business is going -with 'a wet sheet and a flowing sea, and a wind that follows -free.' I'm not joking; I'm only metaphorical. A regular -accountant has poked his nose into the books, and a steady-going -lawyer's clerk attends at the office once a week. That doesn't -look like neglect, does it? Leave the new steward alone for the -present, and just tell me which of those two tenants you would -take, if you were in my place." - -Midwinter opened the proposals, and read them attentively. - -The first proposal was from no less a person than the solicitor -at Thorpe Ambrose, who had first informed Allan at Paris of the -large fortune that had fallen into his hands. This gentleman -wrote personally to say that he had long admired the cottage, -which was charmingly situated within the limits of the Thorpe -Ambrose grounds. He was a bachelor, of studious habits, desirous -of retiring to a country seclusion after the wear and tear of -his business hours; and he ventured to say that Mr. Armadale, in -accepting him as a tenant, might count on securing an unobtrusive -neighbor, and on putting the cottage into responsible and careful -hands. - -The second proposal came through the house agent, and proceeded -from a total stranger. The tenant who offered for the cottage, in -this case, was a retired officer in the army--one Major Milroy. -His family merely consisted of an invalid wife and an only -child--a young lady. His references were unexceptionable; and he, -too, was especially anxious to secure the cottage, as the perfect -quiet of the situation was exactly what was required by Mrs. -Milroy in her feeble state of health. - -"Well, which profession shall I favor?" asked Allan. "The army or -the law?" - -"There seems to me to be no doubt about it," said Midwinter. -"The lawyer has been already in correspondence with you; and the -lawyer's claim is, therefore, the claim to be preferred." - -"I knew you would say that. In all the thousands of times I -have asked other people for advice, I never yet got the advice -I wanted. Here's this business of letting the cottage as an -instance. I'm all on the other side myself. I want to have the -major." - -"Why?" - -Young Armadale laid his forefinger on that part of the agent's -letter which enumerated Major Milroy's family, and which -contained the three words--"a young lady." - -"A bachelor of studious habits walking about my grounds," said -Allan, "is not an interesting object; a young lady is. I have not -the least doubt Miss Milroy is a charming girl. Ozias Midwinter -of the serious countenance! think of her pretty muslin dress -flitting about among your trees and committing trespasses on -your property; think of her adorable feet trotting into your -fruit-garden, and her delicious fresh lips kissing your ripe -peaches; think of her dimpled hands among your early violets, and -her little cream-colored nose buried in your blush-roses. What -does the studious bachelor offer me in exchange for the loss of -all this? He offers me a rheumatic brown object in gaiters and -a wig. No! no! Justice is good, my dear friend; but, believe me, -Miss Milroy is better." - -"Can you be serious about any mortal thing, Allan?" - -"I'll try to be, if you like. I know I ought to take the lawyer; -but what can I do if the major's daughter keeps running in my -head?" - -Midwinter returned resolutely to the just and sensible view of -the matter, and pressed it on his friend's attention with all the -persuasion of which he was master. After listening with exemplary -patience until he had done, Allan swept a supplementary -accumulation of litter off the cabin table, and produced from his -waistcoat pocket a half-crown coin. - -"I've got an entirely new idea," he said. "Let's leave it to -chance." - -The absurdity of the proposal--as coming from a landlord--was -irresistible. Midwinter's gravity deserted him. - -"I'll spin," continued Allan, "and you shall call. We must give -precedence to the army, of course; so we'll say Heads, the major; -Tails, the lawyer. One spin to decide. Now, then, look out!" - -He spun the half-crown on the cabin table. - -"Tails!" cried Midwinter, humoring what he believed to be one of -Allan's boyish jokes. - -The coin fell on the table with the Head uppermost. - -"You don't mean to say you are really in earnest!" said -Midwinter, as the other opened his writing-case and dipped his -pen in the ink. - -"Oh, but I am, though!" replied Allan. "Chance is on my side, -and Miss Milroy's; and you're outvoted, two to one. It's no use -arguing. The major has fallen uppermost, and the major shall -have the cottage. I won't leave it to the lawyers; they'll only -be worrying me with more letters. I'll write myself." - -He wrote his answers to the two proposals, literally in two -minutes. One to the house agent: "Dear sir, I accept Major -Milroy's offer; let him come in when he pleases. Yours truly, -Allan Armadale." And one to the lawyer: "Dear sir, I regret that -circumstances prevent me from accepting your proposal. Yours -truly," etc. "People make a fuss about letter-writing," Allan -remarked, when he had done. "_I_ find it easy enough." - -He wrote the addresses on his two notes, and stamped them for -the post, whistling gayly. While he had been writing, he had not -noticed how his friend was occupied. When he had done, it struck -him that a sudden silence had fallen on the cabin; and, looking -up, he observed that Midwinter's whole attention was strangely -concentrated on the half crown as it lay head uppermost on the -table. Allan suspended his whistling in astonishment. - -"What on earth are you doing?" he asked. - -"I was only wondering," replied Midwinter. - -"What about?" persisted Allan. - -"I was wondering," said the other, handing him back the -half-crown, "whether there is such a thing as chance." - -Half an hour later the two notes were posted; and Allan, whose -close superintendence of the repairs of the yacht had hitherto -allowed him but little leisure time on shore, had proposed to -while away the idle hours by taking a walk in Castletown. Even -Midwinter's nervous anxiety to deserve Mr. Brock's confidence in -him could detect nothing objectionable in this harmless proposal, -and the young men set forth together to see what they could make -of the metropolis of the Isle of Man. - -It is doubtful if there is a place on the habitable globe which, -regarded as a sight-seeing investment offering itself to the -spare attention of strangers, yields so small a percentage of -interest in return as Castletown. Beginning with the waterside, -there was an inner harbor to see, with a drawbridge to let -vessels through; an outer harbor, ending in a dwarf lighthouse; -a view of a flat coast to the right, and a view of a flat coast -to the left. In the central solitudes of the city, there was a -squat gray building called "the castle"; also a memorial pillar -dedicated to one Governor Smelt, with a flat top for a statue, -and no statue standing on it; also a barrack, holding the -half-company of soldiers allotted to the island, and exhibiting -one spirit-broken sentry at its lonely door. The prevalent color -of the town was faint gray. The few shops open were parted at -frequent intervals by other shops closed and deserted in despair. -The weary lounging of boatmen on shore was trebly weary here; the -youth of the district smoked together in speechless depression -under the lee of a dead wall; the ragged children said -mechanically: "Give us a penny," and before the charitable -hand could search the merciful pocket, lapsed away again in -misanthropic doubt of the human nature they addressed. The -silence of the grave overflowed the churchyard, and filled this -miserable town. But one edifice, prosperous to look at, rose -consolatory in the desolation of these dreadful streets. -Frequented by the students of the neighboring "College of King -William," this building was naturally dedicated to the uses of a -pastry-cook's shop. Here, at least (viewed through the friendly -medium of the window), there was something going on for a -stranger to see; for here, on high stools, the pupils of the -college sat, with swinging legs and slowly moving jaws, and, -hushed in the horrid stillness of Castletown, gorged their pastry -gravely, in an atmosphere of awful silence. - -"Hang me if I can look any longer at the boys and the tarts!" -said Allan, dragging his friend away from the pastry-cook's shop. -"Let's try if we can't find something else to amuse us in the -next street." - -The first amusing object which the next street presented was a -carver-and-gilder's shop, expiring feebly in the last stage of -commercial decay. The counter inside displayed nothing to view -but the recumbent head of a boy, peacefully asleep in the -unbroken solitude of the place. In the window were exhibited to -the passing stranger three forlorn little fly-spotted frames; a -small posting-bill, dusty with long-continued neglect, announcing -that the premises were to let; and one colored print, the last of -a series illustrating the horrors of drunkenness, on the fiercest -temperance principles. The composition--representing an empty -bottle of gin, an immensely spacious garret, a perpendicular -Scripture reader, and a horizontal expiring family--appealed to -public favor, under the entirely unobjectionable title of "The -Hand of Death." Allan's resolution to extract amusement from -Castletown by main force had resisted a great deal, but it failed -him at this stage of the investigations. He suggested trying an -excursion to some other place. Midwinter readily agreeing, they -went back to the hotel to make inquiries. - -Thanks to the mixed influence of Allan's ready gift of -familiarity, and total want of method in putting his questions, -a perfect deluge of information flowed in on the two strangers, -relating to every subject but the subject which had actually -brought them to the hotel. They made various interesting -discoveries in connection with the laws and constitution of the -Isle of Man, and the manners and customs of the natives. To -Allan's delight, the Manxmen spoke of England as of a well-known -adjacent island, situated at a certain distance from the central -empire of the Isle of Man. It was further revealed to the two -Englishmen that this happy little nation rejoiced in laws of its -own, publicly proclaimed once a year by the governor and the two -head judges, grouped together on the top of an ancient mound, -in fancy costumes appropriate to the occasion. Possessing this -enviable institution, the island added to it the inestimable -blessing of a local parliament, called the House of Keys, an -assembly far in advance of the other parliament belonging to the -neighboring island, in this respect--that the members dispensed -with the people, and solemnly elected each other. With these -and many more local particulars, extracted from all sorts and -conditions of men in and about the hotel, Allan whiled away the -weary time in his own essentially desultory manner, until the -gossip died out of itself, and Midwinter (who had been speaking -apart with the landlord) quietly recalled him to the matter in -hand. The finest coast scenery in the island was said to be to -the westward and the southward, and there was a fishing town -in those regions called Port St. Mary, with a hotel at which -travelers could sleep. If Allan's impressions of Castletown still -inclined him to try an excursion to some other place, he had only -to say so, and a carriage would be produced immediately. Allan -jumped at the proposal, and in ten minutes more he and Midwinter -were on their way to the western wilds of the island. - -With trifling incidents, the day of Mr. Brock's departure had -worn on thus far. With trifling incidents, in which not even -Midwinter's nervous watchfulness could see anything to distrust, -it was still to proceed, until the night came--a night which one -at least of the two companions was destined to remember to the -end of his life. - -Before the travelers had advanced two miles on their road, an -accident happened. The horse fell, and the driver reported that -the animal had seriously injured himself. There was no -alternative but to send for another carriage to Castletown, -or to get on to Port St. Mary on foot. - -Deciding to walk, Midwinter and Allan had not gone far before -they were overtaken by a gentleman driving alone in an open -chaise. He civilly introduced himself as a medical man, living -close to Port St. Mary, and offered seats in his carriage. Always -ready to make new acquaintances, Allan at once accepted the -proposal. He and the doctor (whose name was ascertained to be -Hawbury) became friendly and familiar before they had been five -minutes in the chaise together; Midwinter, sitting behind them, -reserved and silent, on the back seat. They separated just -outside Port St. Mary, before Mr. Hawbury's house, Allan -boisterously admiring the doctor's neat French windows and pretty -flower-garden and lawn, and wringing his hand at parting as if -they had known each other from boyhood upward. Arrived in Port -St. Mary, the two friends found themselves in a second Castletown -on a smaller scale. But the country round, wild, open, and hilly, -deserved its reputation. A walk brought them well enough on with -the day--still the harmless, idle day that it had been from the -first--to see the evening near at hand. After waiting a little to -admire the sun, setting grandly over hill, and heath, and crag, -and talking, while they waited, of Mr. Brock and his long journey -home, they returned to the hotel to order their early supper. -Nearer and nearer the night, and the adventure which the night -was to bring with it, came to the two friends; and still the only -incidents that happened were incidents to be laughed at, if they -were noticed at all. The supper was badly cooked; the -waiting-maid was impenetrably stupid; the old-fashioned bell-rope -in the coffee-room had come down in Allan's hands, and, striking -in its descent a painted china shepherdess on the chimney-piece, -had laid the figure in fragments on the floor. Events as trifling -as these were still the only events that had happened, when the -twilight faded, and the lighted candles were brought into the -room. - -Finding Midwinter, after the double fatigue of a sleepless night -and a restless day, but little inclined for conversation, Allan -left him resting on the sofa, and lounged into the passage of the -hotel, on the chance of discovering somebody to talk to. Here -another of the trivial incidents of the day brought Allan and Mr. -Hawbury together again, and helped--whether happily or not, yet -remained to be seen--to strengthen the acquaintance between them -on either side. - -The "bar" of the hotel was situated at one end of the passage, -and the landlady was in attendance there, mixing a glass of -liquor for the doctor, who had just looked in for a little -gossip. On Allan's asking permission to make a third in the -drinking and the gossiping, Mr. Hawbury civilly handed him the -glass which the landlady had just filled. It contained cold -brandy-and-water. A marked change in Allan's face, as he suddenly -drew back and asked for whisky instead, caught the doctor's -medical eye. "A case of nervous antipathy," said Mr. Hawbury, -quietly taking the glass away again. The remark obliged Allan to -acknowledge that he had an insurmountable loathing (which he was -foolish enough to be a little ashamed of mentioning) to the smell -and taste of brandy. No matter with what diluting liquid the -spirit was mixed, the presence of it, instantly detected by his -organs of taste and smell, turned him sick and faint if the drink -touched his lips. Starting from this personal confession, the -talk turned on antipathies in general; and the doctor -acknowledged, on his side, that he took a professional interest -in the subject, and that he possessed a collection of curious -cases at home, which his new acquaintance was welcome to look at, -if Allan had nothing else to do that evening, and if he would -call, when the medical work of the day was over, in an hour's -time. - -Cordially accepting the invitation (which was extended to -Midwinter also, if he cared to profit by it), Allan returned to -the coffee-room to look after his friend. Half asleep and half -awake, Midwinter was still stretched on the sofa, with the local -newspaper just dropping out of his languid hand. - -"I heard your voice in the passage," he said, drowsily. "Whom -were you talking to?" - -"The doctor," replied Allan. "I am going to smoke a cigar with -him, in an hour's time. Will you come too?" - -Midwinter assented with a weary sigh. Always shyly unwilling to -make new acquaintances, fatigue increased the reluctance he now -felt to become Mr. Hawbury's guest. As matters stood, however, -there was no alternative but to go; for, with Allan's -constitutional imprudence, there was no safely trusting him alone -anywhere, and more especially in a stranger's house. Mr. Brock -would certainly not have left his pupil to visit the doctor -alone; and Midwinter was still nervously conscious that he -occupied Mr. Brock's place. - -"What shall we do till it's time to go?" asked Allan, looking -about him. "Anything in this?" he added, observing the fallen -newspaper, and picking it up from the floor. - -"I'm too tired to look. If you find anything interesting, read -it out," said Midwinter, thinking that the reading might help to -keep him awake. - -Part of the newspaper, and no small part of it, was devoted to -extracts from books recently published in London. One of the -works most largely laid under contribution in this manner was of -the sort to interest Allan: it was a highly spiced narrative of -Traveling Adventures in the wilds of Australia. Pouncing on an -extract which described the sufferings of the traveling-party, -lost in a trackless wilderness, and in danger of dying by thirst, -Allan announced that he had found something to make his friend's -flesh creep, and began eagerly to read the passage aloud. - -Resolute not to sleep, Midwinter followed the progress of the -adventure, sentence by sentence, without missing a word. The -consultation of the lost travelers, with death by thirst staring -them in the face; the resolution to press on while their strength -lasted; the fall of a heavy shower, the vain efforts made to -catch the rainwater, the transient relief experienced by sucking -their wet clothes; the sufferings renewed a few hours after; the -night advance of the strongest of the party, leaving the weakest -behind; the following a flight of birds when morning dawned; the -discovery by the lost men of the broad pool of water that saved -their lives--all this Midwinter's fast-failing attention mastered -painfully, Allan's voice growing fainter and fainter on his ear -with every sentence that was read. Soon the next words seemed to -drop away gently, and nothing but the slowly sinking sound of the -voice was left. Then the light in the room darkened gradually, -the sound dwindled into delicious silence, and the last waking -impressions of the weary Midwinter came peacefully to an end. - -The next event of which he was conscious was a sharp ringing at -the closed door of the hotel. He started to his feet, with the -ready alacrity of a man whose life has accustomed him to wake at -the shortest notice. An instant's look round showed him that the -room was empty, and a glance at his watch told him that it was -close on midnight. The noise made by the sleepy servant in -opening the door, and the tread the next moment of quick -footsteps in the passage, filled him with a sudden foreboding of -something wrong. As he hurriedly stepped forward to go out and -make inquiry, the door of the coffee-room opened, and the doctor -stood before him. - -"I am sorry to disturb you," said Mr. Hawbury. "Don't be alarmed; -there's nothing wrong." - -"Where is my friend?" asked Midwinter. - -"At the pier head," answered the doctor. "I am, to a certain -extent, responsible for what he is doing now; and I think some -careful person, like yourself, ought to be with him." - -The hint was enough for Midwinter. He and the doctor set out for -the pier immediately, Mr. Hawbury mentioning on the way the -circumstances under which he had come to the hotel. - -Punctual to the appointed hour Allan had made his appearance at -the doctor's house, explaining that he had left his weary friend -so fast asleep on the sofa that he had not had the heart to wake -him. The evening had passed pleasantly, and the conversation had -turned on many subjects, until, in an evil hour, Mr. Hawbury had -dropped a hint which showed that he was fond of sailing, and that -he possessed a pleasure-boat of his own in the harbor. Excited on -the instant by his favorite topic, Allan had left his host no -hospitable alternative but to take him to the pier head and show -him the boat. The beauty of the night and the softness of the -breeze had done the rest of the mischief; they had filled Allan -with irresistible longings for a sail by moonlight. Prevented -from accompanying his guest by professional hindrances which -obliged him to remain on shore, the doctor, not knowing what else -to do, had ventured on disturbing Midwinter, rather than take the -responsibility of allowing Mr. Armadale (no matter how well he -might be accustomed to the sea) to set off on a sailing trip at -midnight entirely by himself. - -The time taken to make this explanation brought Midwinter and the -doctor to the pier head. There, sure enough, was young Armadale -in the boat, hoisting the sail, and singing the sailor's -"Yo-heave-ho!" at the top of his voice. - -"Come along, old boy!" cried Allan. "You're just in time for a -frolic by moonlight!" - -Midwinter suggested a frolic by daylight, and an adjournment to -bed in the meantime. - -"Bed!" cried Allan, on whose harum-scarum high spirits Mr. -Hawbury's hospitality had certainly not produced a sedative -effect. "Hear him, doctor! one would think he was ninety! Bed, -you drowsy old dormouse! Look at that, and think of bed if you -can!" - -He pointed to the sea. The moon was shining in the cloudless -heaven; the night-breeze blew soft and steady from the land; the -peaceful waters rippled joyfully in the silence and the glory of -the night. Midwinter turned to the doctor with a wise resignation -to circumstances: he had seen enough to satisfy him that all -words of remonstrance would be words simply thrown away. - -"How is the tide?" he asked. - -Mr. Hawbury told him. - -"Are there oars in the boat?" - -"Yes." - -"I am well used to the sea," said Midwinter, descending the pier -steps. "You may trust me to take care of my friend, and to take -care of the boat." - -"Good-night, doctor!" shouted Allan. "Your whisky-and-water is -delicious--your boat's a little beauty--and you're the best -fellow I ever met in my life!" - -The doctor laughed and waved his hand, and the boat glided out -from the harbor, with Midwinter at the helm. - -As the breeze then blew, they were soon abreast of the westward -headland, bounding the Bay of Poolvash, and the question was -started whether they should run out to sea or keep along the -shore. The wisest proceeding, in the event of the wind failing -them, was to keep by the land. Midwinter altered the course of -the boat, and they sailed on smoothly in a south-westerly -direction, abreast of the coast. - -Little by little the cliffs rose in height, and the rocks, massed -wild and jagged, showed rifted black chasms yawning deep in their -seaward sides. Off the bold promontory called Spanish Head, -Midwinter looked ominously at his watch. But Allan pleaded hard -for half an hour more, and for a glance at the famous channel of -the Sound, which they were now fast nearing, and of which he had -heard some startling stories from the workmen employed on his -yacht. The new change which Midwinter's compliance with this -request rendered it necessary to make in the course of the boat -brought her close to the wind; and revealed, on one side, the -grand view of the southernmost shores of the Isle of Man, and, -on the other, the black precipices of the islet called the Calf, -separated from the mainland by the dark and dangerous channel of -the Sound. - -Once more Midwinter looked at his watch. "We have gone far -enough," he said. "Stand by the sheet!" - -"Stop!" cried Allan, from the bows of the boat. "Good God! here's -a wrecked ship right ahead of us!" - -Midwinter let the boat fall off a little, and looked where the -other pointed. - -There, stranded midway between the rocky boundaries on either -side of the Sound--there, never again to rise on the living -waters from her grave on the sunken rock; lost and lonely in the -quiet night; high, and dark, and ghostly in the yellow moonshine, -lay the Wrecked Ship. - -"I know the vessel," said Allan, in great excitement. "I heard -my workmen talking of her yesterday. She drifted in here, on a -pitch-dark night, when they couldn't see the lights; a poor old -worn-out merchantman, Midwinter, that the ship-brokers have -bought to break up. Let's run in and have a look at her." - -Midwinter hesitated. All the old sympathies of his sea-life -strongly inclined him to follow Allan's suggestion; but the wind -was falling light, and he distrusted the broken water and the -swirling currents of the channel ahead. "This is an ugly place -to take a boat into when you know nothing about it," he said. - -"Nonsense!" returned Allan. "It's as light as day, and we float -in two feet of water." - -Before Midwinter could answer, the current caught the boat, and -swept them onward through the channel straight toward the wreck. - -"Lower the sail," said Midwinter, quietly, "and ship the oars. We -are running down on her fast enough now, whether we like it or -not." - -Both well accustomed to the use of the oar, they brought the -course of the boat under sufficient control to keep her on the -smoothest side of the channel--the side which was nearest to the -Islet of the Calf. As they came swiftly up with the wreck, -Midwinter resigned his oar to Allan; and, watching his -opportunity, caught a hold with the boat-hook on the fore-chains -of the vessel. The next moment they had the boat safely in hand, -under the lee of the wreck. - -The ship's ladder used by the workmen hung over the fore-chains. -Mounting it, with the boat's rope in his teeth, Midwinter secured -one end, and lowered the other to Allan in the boat. "Make that -fast," he said, "and wait till I see if it's all safe on board." -With those words, he disappeared behind the bulwark. - -"Wait?" repeated Allan, in the blankest astonishment at his -friend's excessive caution. "What on earth does he mean? I'll be -hanged if I wait. Where one of us goes, the other goes too!" - -He hitched the loose end of the rope round the forward thwart of -the boat, and, swinging himself up the ladder, stood the next -moment on the deck. "Anything very dreadful on board?" he -inquired sarcastically, as he and his friend met. - -Midwinter smiled. "Nothing whatever," he replied. "But I couldn't -be sure that we were to have the whole ship to ourselves till I -got over the bulwark and looked about me." - -Allan took a turn on the deck, and surveyed the wreck critically -from stem to stern. - -"Not much of a vessel," he said; "the Frenchmen generally build -better ships than this." - -Midwinter crossed the deck, and eyed Allan in a momentary -silence. - -"Frenchmen?" he repeated, after an interval. "Is this vessel -French?" - -"Yes." - -"How do you know?" - -"The men I have got at work on the yacht told me. They know all -about her." - -Midwinter came a little nearer. His swarthy face began to look, -to Allan's eyes, unaccountably pale in the moonlight. - -"Did they mention what trade she was engaged in?" - -"Yes; the timber trade." - -As Allan gave that answer, Midwinter's lean brown hand clutched -him fast by the shoulder, and Midwinter's teeth chattered in his -head like the teeth of a man struck by a sudden chill. - -"Did they tell you her name?" he asked, in a voice that dropped -suddenly to a whisper. - -"They did, I think. But it has slipped my memory.--Gently, old -fellow; these long claws of yours are rather tight on my -shoulder." - -"Was the name--?" He stopped, removed his hand, and dashed away -the great drops that were gathering on his forehead. "Was the -name _La Grace de Dieu_?" - -"How the deuce did you come to know it? That's the name, sure -enough. _La Grace de Dieu_." - -At one bound, Midwinter leaped on the bulwark of the wreck. - -"The boat!" he cried, with a scream of horror that rang far and -wide through the stillness of the night, and brought Allan -instantly to his side. - -The lower end of the carelessly hitched rope was loose on the -water, and ahead, in the track of the moonlight, a small black -object was floating out of view. The boat was adrift. - -CHAPTER IV. - -THE SHADOW OF THE PAST. - -One stepping back under the dark shelter of the bulwark, and -one standing out boldly in the yellow light of the moon, the -two friends turned face to face on the deck of the timber-ship, -and looked at each other in silence. The next moment Allan's -inveterate recklessness seized on the grotesque side of the -situation by main force. He seated himself astride on the -bulwark, and burst out boisterously into his loudest and -heartiest laugh. - -"All my fault," he said; "but there's no help for it now. Here we -are, hard and fast in a trap of our own setting; and there goes -the last of the doctor's boat! Come out of the dark, Midwinter; -I can't half see you there, and I want to know what's to be done -next." - -Midwinter neither answered nor moved. Allan left the bulwark, -and, mounting the forecastle, looked down attentively at the -waters of the Sound. - -"One thing is pretty certain," he said. "With the current on that -side, and the sunken rocks on this, we can't find our way out of -the scrape by swimming, at any rate. So much for the prospect at -this end of the wreck. Let's try how things look at the other. -Rouse up, messmate!" he called out, cheerfully, as he passed -Midwinter. "Come and see what the old tub of a timber-ship has -got to show us astern." He sauntered on, with his hands in his -pockets, humming the chorus of a comic song. - -His voice had produced no apparent effect on his friend; but, at -the light touch of his hand in passing, Midwinter started, and -moved out slowly from the shadow of the bulwark. "Come along!" -cried Allan, suspending his singing for a moment, and glancing -back. Still, without a word of answer, the other followed. Thrice -he stopped before he reached the stern end of the wreck: the -first time, to throw aside his hat, and push back his hair from -his forehead and temples; the second time, reeling, giddy, to -hold for a moment by a ring-bolt close at hand; the last time -(though Allan was plainly visible a few yards ahead), to look -stealthily behind him, with the furtive scrutiny of a man who -believes that other footsteps are following him in the dark. -"Not yet!" he whispered to himself, with eyes that searched the -empty air. "I shall see him astern, with his hand on the lock of -the cabin door." - -The stern end of the wreck was clear of the ship-breakers' -lumber, accumulated in the other parts of the vessel. Here, the -one object that rose visible on the smooth surface of the deck -was the low wooden structure which held the cabin door and roofed -in the cabin stairs. The wheel-house had been removed, the -binnacle had been removed, but the cabin entrance, and all that -had belonged to it, had been left untouched. The scuttle was on, -and the door was closed. - -On gaining the after-part of the vessel, Allan walked straight to -the stern, and looked out to sea over the taffrail. No such thing -as a boat was in view anywhere on the quiet, moon-brightened -waters. Knowing Midwinter's sight to be better than his own, he -called out, "Come up here, and see if there's a fisherman within -hail of us." Hearing no reply, he looked back. Midwinter had -followed him as far as the cabin, and had stopped there. He -called again in a louder voice, and beckoned impatiently. -Midwinter had heard the call, for he looked up, but still he -never stirred from his place. There he stood, as if he had -reached the utmost limits of the ship and could go no further. - -Allan went back and joined him. It was not easy to discover what -he was looking at, for he kept his face turned away from the -moonlight; but it seemed as if his eyes were fixed, with a -strange expression of inquiry, on the cabin door. "What is there -to look at there?" Allan asked. "Let's see if it's locked." As he -took a step forward to open the door, Midwinter's hand seized him -suddenly by the coat collar and forced him back. The moment -after, the hand relaxed without losing its grasp, and trembled -violently, like the hand of a man completely unnerved. - -"Am I to consider myself in custody?" asked Allan, half -astonished and half amused. "Why in the name of wonder do you -keep staring at the cabin door? Any suspicious noises below? It's -no use disturbing the rats--if that's what you mean--we haven't -got a dog with us. Men? Living men they can't be; for they would -have heard us and come on deck. Dead men? Quite impossible! No -ship's crew could be drowned in a land-locked place like this, -unless the vessel broke up under them--and here's the vessel as -steady as a church to speak for herself. Man alive, how your hand -trembles! What is there to scare you in that rotten old cabin? -What are you shaking and shivering about? Any company of the -supernatural sort on board? Mercy preserve us! (as the old women -say) do you see a ghost?" - -"_I see two_!" answered the other, driven headlong into speech -and action by a maddening temptation to reveal the truth. "Two!" -he repeated, his breath bursting from him in deep, heavy gasps, -as he tried vainly to force back the horrible words. "The ghost -of a man like you, drowning in the cabin! And the ghost of a man -like me, turning the lock of the door on him!" - -Once more young Armadale's hearty laughter rang out loud and long -through the stillness of the night. - -"Turning the lock of the door, is he?" said Allan, as soon as his -merriment left him breath enough to speak. "That's a devilish -unhandsome action, Master Midwinter, on the part of your ghost. -The least I can do, after that, is to let mine out of the cabin, -and give him the run of the ship." - -With no more than a momentary exertion of his superior strength, -he freed himself easily from Midwinter's hold. "Below there!" he -called out, gayly, as he laid his strong hand on the crazy lock, -and tore open the cabin door. "Ghost of Allan Armadale, come on -deck!" In his terrible ignorance of the truth, he put his head -into the doorway and looked down, laughing, at the place where -his murdered father had died. "Pah!" he exclaimed, stepping back -suddenly, with a shudder of disgust. "The air is foul already; -and the cabin is full of water." - -It was true. The sunken rocks on which the vessel lay wrecked had -burst their way through her lower timbers astern, and the water -had welled up through the rifted wood. Here, where the deed had -been done, the fatal parallel between past and present was -complete. What the cabin had been in the time of the fathers, -that the cabin was now in the time of the sons. - -Allan pushed the door to again with his foot, a little surprised -at the sudden silence which appeared to have fallen on his friend -from the moment when he had laid his hand on the cabin lock. When -he turned to look, the reason of the silence was instantly -revealed. Midwinter had dropped on the deck. He lay senseless -before the cabin door; his face turned up, white and still, to -the moonlight, like the face of a dead man. - -In a moment Allan was at his side. He looked uselessly round the -lonely limits of the wreck, as he lifted Midwinter's head on his -knee, for a chance of help, where all chance was ruthlessly cut -off. "What am I to do?" he said to himself, in the first impulse -of alarm. "Not a drop of water near, but the foul water in the -cabin." A sudden recollection crossed his memory, the florid -color rushed back over his face, and he drew from his pocket a -wicker-covered flask. "God bless the doctor for giving me this -before we sailed!" he broke out, fervently, as he poured down -Midwinter's throat some drops of the raw whisky which the flask -contained. The stimulant acted instantly on the sensitive system -of the swooning man. He sighed faintly, and slowly opened his -eyes. "Have I been dreaming?" he asked, looking up vacantly in -Allan's face. His eyes wandered higher, and encountered the -dismantled masts of the wreck rising weird and black against the -night sky. He shuddered at the sight of them, and hid his face on -Allan's knee. "No dream!" he murmured to himself, mournfully. "Oh -me, no dream!" - -"You have been overtired all day," said Allan, "and this infernal -adventure of ours has upset you. Take some more whisky, it's sure -to do you good. Can you sit by yourself, if I put you against the -bulwark, so?" - -"Why by myself? Why do you leave me?" asked Midwinter. - -Allan pointed to the mizzen shrouds of the wreck, which were -still left standing. "You are not well enough to rough it here -till the workmen come off in the morning," he said. "We must find -our way on shore at once, if we can. I am going up to get a good -view all round, and see if there's a house within hail of us." - -Even in the moment that passed while those few words were spoken, -Midwinter's eyes wandered back distrustfully to the fatal cabin -door. "Don't go near it!" he whispered. "Don't try to open it, -for God's sake!" - -"No, no," returned Allan, humoring him. "When I come down from -the rigging, I'll come back here." He said the words a little -constrainedly, noticing, for the first time while he now spoke, -an underlying distress in Midwinter's face, which grieved and -perplexed him. "You're not angry with me?" he said, in his -simple, sweet-tempered way. "All this is my fault, I know; and I -was a brute and a fool to laugh at you, when I ought to have seen -you were ill. I am so sorry, Midwinter. Don't be angry with me!" - -Midwinter slowly raised his head. His eyes rested with a mournful -interest, long and tender, on Allan's anxious face. - -"Angry?" he repeated, in his lowest, gentlest tones. "Angry with -_ you_?--Oh, my poor boy, were you to blame for being kind to me -when I was ill in the old west-country inn? And was I to blame -for feeling your kindness thankfully? Was it our fault that we -never doubted each other, and never knew that we were traveling -together blindfold on the way that was to lead us here? The cruel -time is coming, Allan, when we shall rue the day we ever met. -Shake hands, brother, on the edge of the precipice--shake hands -while we are brothers still!" - -Allan turned away quickly, convinced that his mind had not yet -recovered the shock of the fainting fit. "Don't forget the -whisky!" he said, cheerfully, as he sprang into the rigging, and -mounted to the mizzen-top. - -It was past two, the moon was waning, and the darkness that comes -before dawn was beginning to gather round the wreck. Behind -Allan, as he now stood looking out from the elevation of the -mizzen-top, spread the broad and lonely sea. Before him were the -low, black, lurking rocks, and the broken waters of the channel, -pouring white and angry into the vast calm of the westward ocean -beyond. On the right hand, heaved back grandly from the -water-side, were the rocks and precipices, with their little -table-lands of grass between; the sloping downs, and -upward-rolling heath solitudes of the Isle of Man. On the left -hand rose the craggy sides of the Islet of the Calf, here rent -wildly into deep black chasms, there lying low under long -sweeping acclivities of grass and heath. No sound rose, no light -was visible, on either shore. The black lines of the topmost -masts of the wreck looked shadowy and faint in the darkening -mystery of the sky; the land breeze had dropped; the small -shoreward waves fell noiseless: far or near, no sound was audible -but the cheerless bubbling of the broken water ahead, pouring -through the awful hush of silence in which earth and ocean waited -for the coming day. - -Even Allan's careless nature felt the solemn influence of the -time. The sound of his own voice startled him when he looked down -and hailed his friend on deck - -"I think I see one house," he said. "Here-away, on the mainland -to the right." He looked again, to make sure, at a dim little -patch of white, with faint white lines behind it, nestling low -in a grassy hollow, on the main island. "It looks like a stone -house and inclosure," he resumed. "I'll hail it, on the chance." -He passed his arm round a rope to steady himself, made a -speaking-trumpet of his hands, and suddenly dropped them again -without uttering a sound. "It's so awfully quiet," he whispered -to himself. "I'm half afraid to call out." He looked down again -on deck. "I shan't startle you, Midwinter, shall I?" he said, -with an uneasy laugh. He looked once more at the faint white -object, in the grassy hollow. "It won't do to have come up here -for nothing," he thought, and made a speaking-trumpet of his -hands again. This time he gave the hail with the whole power of -his lungs. "On shore there!" he shouted, turning his face to the -main island. "Ahoy-hoy-hoy!" - -The last echoes of his voice died away and were lost. No sound -answered him but the cheerless bubbling of the broken water -ahead. - -He looked down again at his friend, and saw the dark figure of -Midwinter rise erect, and pace the deck backward and forward, -never disappearing out of sight of the cabin when it retired -toward the bows of the wreck, and never passing beyond the cabin -when it returned toward the stern. "He is impatient to get away," -thought Allan; "I'll try again." He hailed the land once more, -and, taught by previous experience, pitched his voice in its -highest key. - -This time another sound than the sound of the bubbling water -answered him. The lowing of frightened cattle rose from the -building in the grassy hollow, and traveled far and drearily -through the stillness of the morning air. Allan waited and -listened. If the building was a farmhouse the disturbance among -the beasts would rouse the men. If it was only a cattle-stable, -nothing more would happen. The lowing of the frightened brutes -rose and fell drearily, the minutes passed, and nothing happened. - -"Once more!" said Allan, looking down at the restless figure -pacing beneath him. For the third time he hailed the land. For -the third time he waited and listened. - -In a pause of silence among the cattle, he heard behind him, -on the opposite shore of the channel, faint and far among the -solitudes of the Islet of the Calf, a sharp, sudden sound, like -the distant clash of a heavy door-bolt drawn back. Turning at -once in the new direction, he strained his eyes to look for a -house. The last faint rays of the waning moonlight trembled here -and there on the higher rocks, and on the steeper pinnacles of -ground, but great strips of darkness lay dense and black over -all the land between; and in that darkness the house, if house -there were, was lost to view. - -"I have roused somebody at last," Allan called out, -encouragingly, to Midwinter, still walking to and fro on the -deck, strangely indifferent to all that was passing above and -beyond him. "Look out for the answering, hail!" And with his face -set toward the islet, Allan shouted for help. - -The shout was not answered, but mimicked with a shrill, shrieking -derision, with wilder and wilder cries, rising out of the deep -distant darkness, and mingling horribly the expression of a human -voice with the sound of a brute's. A sudden suspicion crossed -Allan's mind, which made his head swim and turned his hand cold -as it held the rigging. In breathless silence he looked toward -the quarter from which the first mimicry of his cry for help had -come. After a moment's pause the shrieks were renewed, and the -sound of them came nearer. Suddenly a figure, which seemed the -figure of a man, leaped up black on a pinnacle of rock, and -capered and shrieked in the waning gleam of the moonlight. The -screams of a terrified woman mingled with the cries of the -capering creature on the rock. A red spark flashed out in the -darkness from a light kindled in an invisible window. The hoarse -shouting of a man's voice in anger was heard through the noise. -A second black figure leaped up on the rock, struggled with the -first figure, and disappeared with it in the darkness. The cries -grew fainter and fainter, the screams of the woman were stilled, -the hoarse voice of the man was heard again for a moment, hailing -the wreck in words made unintelligible by the distance, but in -tones plainly expressive of rage and fear combined. Another -moment, and the clang of the door-bolt was heard again, the red -spark of light was quenched in darkness, and all the islet lay -quiet in the shadows once more. The lowing of the cattle on the -main-land ceased, rose again, stopped. Then, cold and cheerless -as ever, the eternal bubbling of the broken water welled up -through the great gap of silence--the one sound left, as the -mysterious stillness of the hour fell like a mantle from the -heavens, and closed over the wreck. - -Allan descended from his place in the mizzen-top, and joined his -friend again on deck. - -"We must wait till the ship-breakers come off to their work," he -said, meeting Midwinter halfway in the course of his restless -walk. "After what has happened, I don't mind confessing that -I've had enough of hailing the land. Only think of there being -a madman in that house ashore, and of my waking him! Horrible, -wasn't it?" - -Midwinter stood still for a moment, and looked at Allan, with -the perplexed air of a man who hears circumstances familiarly -mentioned to which he is himself a total stranger. He appeared, -if such a thing had been possible, to have passed over entirely -without notice all that had just happened on the Islet of the -Calf. - -"Nothing is horrible _out_ of this ship," he said. "Everything -is horrible _in_ it." - -Answering in those strange words, he turned away again, and went -on with his walk. - -Allan picked up the flask of whisky lying on the deck near him, -and revived his spirits with a dram. "Here's one thing on board -that isn't horrible," he retorted briskly, as he screwed on the -stopper of the flask; "and here's another," he added, as he took -a cigar from his case and lit it. "Three o'clock!" he went on, -looking at his watch, and settling himself comfortably on deck -with his back against the bulwark. "Daybreak isn't far off; we -shall have the piping of the birds to cheer us up before long. -I say, Midwinter, you seem to have quite got over that unlucky -fainting fit. How you do keep walking! Come here and have a -cigar, and make yourself comfortable. What's the good of tramping -backward and forward in that restless way?" - -"I am waiting," said Midwinter. - -"Waiting! What for?" - -"For what is to happen to you or to me--or to both of us--before -we are out of this ship." - -"With submission to your superior judgment, my dear fellow, I -think quite enough has happened already. The adventure will do -very well as it stands now; more of it is more than I want." He -took another dram of whisky, and rambled on, between the puffs -of his cigar, in his usual easy way. "I've not got your fine -imagination, old boy; and I hope the next thing that happens will -be the appearance of the workmen's boat. I suspect that queer -fancy of yours has been running away with you while you were down -here all by yourself. Come, now, what were you thinking of while -I was up in the mizzen-top frightening the cows?" - -Midwinter suddenly stopped. "Suppose I tell you?" he said. - -"Suppose you do?" - -The torturing temptation to reveal the truth, roused once already -by his companion's merciless gayety of spirit, possessed itself -of Midwinter for the second time. He leaned back in the dark -against the high side of the ship, and looked down in silence at -Allan's figure, stretched comfortably on the deck. "Rouse him," -the fiend whispered, subtly, "from that ignorant self-possession -and that pitiless repose. Show him the place where the deed was -done; let him know it with your knowledge, and fear it with your -dread. Tell him of the letter you burned, and of the words no -fire can destroy which are living in your memory now. Let him see -your mind as it was yesterday, when it roused your sinking faith -in your own convictions, to look back on your life at sea, and to -cherish the comforting remembrance that, in all your voyages, you -had never fallen in with this ship. Let him see your mind as it -is now, when the ship has got you at the turning-point of your -new life, at the outset of your friendship with the one man of -all men whom your father warned you to avoid. Think of those -death-bed words, and whisper them in his ear, that he may think -of them, too: 'Hide yourself from him under an assumed name. -Put the mountains and the seas between you; be ungrateful, be -unforgiving; be all that is most repellent to your own gentler -nature, rather than live under the same roof and breathe the -same air with that man.'" So the tempter counseled. So, like -a noisome exhalation from the father's grave, the father's -influence rose and poisoned the mind of the son. - -The sudden silence surprised Allan; he looked back drowsily over -his shoulder. "Thinking again!" he exclaimed, with a weary yawn. - -Midwinter stepped out from the shadow, and came nearer to Allan -than he had come yet. "Yes," he said, "thinking of the past and -the future." - -"The past and the future?" repeated Allan, shifting himself -comfortably into a new position. "For my part, I'm dumb about the -past. It's a sore subject with me: the past means the loss of the -doctor's boat. Let's talk about the future. Have you been taking -a practical view? as dear old Brock calls it. Have you been -considering the next serious question that concerns us both when -we get back to the hotel--the question of breakfast?" - -After an instant's hesitation, Midwinter took a step nearer. "I -have been thinking of your future and mine," he said; "I have -been thinking of the time when your way in life and my way in -life will be two ways instead of one." - -"Here's the daybreak!" cried Allan. "Look up at the masts; -they're beginning to get clear again already. I beg your pardon. -What were you saying?" - -Midwinter made no reply. The struggle between the hereditary -superstition that was driving him on, and the unconquerable -affection for Allan that was holding him back, suspended the -next words on his lips. He turned aside his face in speechless -suffering. "Oh, my father!" he thought, "better have killed me -on that day when I lay on your bosom, than have let me live for -this." - -"What's that about the future?" persisted Allan. "I was looking -for the daylight; I didn't hear." - -Midwinter controlled himself, and answered: "You have treated me -with your usual kindness," he said, "in planning to take me with -you to Thorpe Ambrose. I think, on reflection, I had better not -intrude myself where I am not known and not expected." His voice -faltered, and he stopped again. The more he shrank from it, the -clearer the picture of the happy life that he was resigning rose -on his mind. - -Allan's thoughts instantly reverted to the mystification about -the new steward which he had practiced on his friend when they -were consulting together in the cabin of the yacht. "Has he -been turning it over in his mind?" wondered Allan; "and is he -beginning at last to suspect the truth? I'll try him.--Talk as -much nonsense, my dear fellow, as you like," he rejoined, "but -don't forget that you are engaged to see me established at -Thorpe Ambrose, and to give me your opinion of the new -steward." - -Midwinter suddenly stepped forward again, close to Allan. - -"I am not talking about your steward or your estate," he burst -out passionately; "I am talking about myself. Do you hear? -Myself! I am not a fit companion for you. You don't know who -I am." He drew back into the shadowy shelter of the bulwark as -suddenly as he had come out from it. "O God! I can't tell him," -he said to himself, in a whisper. - -For a moment, and for a moment only, Allan was surprised. "Not -know who you are?" Even as he repeated the words, his easy -goodhumor got the upper-hand again. He took up the whisky flask, -and shook it significantly. "I say," he resumed, "how much of the -doctor's medicine did you take while I was up in the mizzen-top?" - -The light tone which he persisted in adopting stung Midwinter to -the last pitch of exasperation. He came out again into the light, -and stamped his foot angrily on the deck. "Listen to me!" he -said. "You don't know half the low things I have done in my -lifetime. I have been a tradesman's drudge; I have swept out the -shop and put up the shutters; I have carried parcels through the -street, and waited for my master's money at his customers' -doors." - -"I have never done anything half as useful," returned Allan, -composedly. "Dear old boy, what an industrious fellow you have -been in your time!" - -"I've been a vagabond and a blackguard in my time," returned the -other, fiercely; "I've been a street tumbler, a tramp, a gypsy's -boy! I've sung for half-pence with dancing dogs on the high-road! -I've worn a foot-boy's livery, and waited at table! I've been a -common sailors' cook, and a starving fisherman's -Jack-of-all-trades! What has a gentleman in your position in -common with a man in mine? Can you take _me_ into the society at -Thorpe Ambrose? Why, my very name would be a reproach to you. -Fancy the faces of your new neighbors when their footmen announce -Ozias Midwinter and Allan Armadale in the same breath!" He burst -into a harsh laugh, and repeated the two names again, with a -scornful bitterness of emphasis which insisted pitilessly on the -marked contrast between them. - -Something in the sound of his laughter jarred painfully even on -Allan's easy nature. He raised himself on the deck and spoke -seriously for the first time. "A joke's a joke, Midwinter," he -said, "as long as you don't carry it too far. I remember your -saying something of the same sort to me once before when I was -nursing you in Somersetshire. You forced me to ask you if I -deserved to be kept at arms-length by _you_ of all the people in -the world. Don't force me to say so again. Make as much fun of me -as you please, old fellow, in any other way. _That_ way hurts -me." - -Simple as the words were, and simply as they had been spoken, -they appeared to work an instant revolution in Midwinter's mind. -His impressible nature recoiled as from some sudden shock. -Without a word of reply, he walked away by himself to the forward -part of the ship. He sat down on some piled planks between the -masts, and passed his hand over his head in a vacant, bewildered -way. Though his father's belief in fatality was his own belief -once more--though there was no longer the shadow of a doubt in -his mind that the woman whom Mr. Brock had met in Somersetshire, -and the woman who had tried to destroy herself in London, were -one and the same--though all the horror that mastered him when -he first read the letter from Wildbad had now mastered him again, -Allan's appeal to their past experience of each other had come -home to his heart, with a force more irresistible than the force -of his superstition itself. In the strength of that very -superstition, he now sought the pretext which might encourage him -to sacrifice every less generous feeling to the one predominant -dread of wounding the sympathies of his friend. "Why distress -him?" he whispered to himself. "We are not the end here: there -is the Woman behind us in the dark. Why resist him when the -mischief's done, and the caution comes too late? What _is_ to be -_will_ be. What have I to do with the future? and what has he?" - -He went back to Allan, sat down by his side, and took his hand. -"Forgive me," he said, gently; "I have hurt you for the last -time." Before it was possible to reply, he snatched up the whisky -flask from the deck. "Come!" he exclaimed, with a sudden effort -to match his friend's cheerfulness, "you have been trying the -doctor's medicine, why shouldn't I?" - -Allan was delighted. "This is something like a change for the -better," he said; "Midwinter is himself again. Hark! there are -the birds. Hail, smiling morn! smiling morn!" He sang the words -of the glee in his old, cheerful voice, and clapped Midwinter on -the shoulder in his old, hearty way. "How did you manage to clear -your head of those confounded megrims? Do you know you were quite -alarming about something happening to one or other of us before -we were out of this ship?" - -"Sheer nonsense!" returned Midwinter, contemptuously. "I don't -think my head has ever been quite right since that fever; I've -got a bee in my bonnet, as they say in the North. Let's talk of -something else. About those people you have let the cottage to? -I wonder whether the agent's account of Major Milroy's family is -to be depended on? There might be another lady in the household -besides his wife and his daughter." - -"Oho!" cried Allan, "_you're_ beginning to think of nymphs among -the trees, and flirtations in the fruit-garden, are you? Another -lady, eh? Suppose the major's family circle won't supply another? -We shall have to spin that half-crown again, and toss up for -which is to have the first chance with Miss Milroy." - -For once Midwinter spoke as lightly and carelessly as Allan -himself. "No, no," he said, "the major's landlord has the first -claim to the notice of the major's daughter. I'll retire into the -background, and wait for the next lady who makes her appearance -at Thorpe Ambrose." - -"Very good. I'll have an address to the women of Norfolk posted -in the park to that effect," said Allan. "Are you particular to -a shade about size or complexion? What's your favorite age?" - -Midwinter trifled with his own superstition, as a man trifles -with the loaded gun that may kill him, or with the savage animal -that may maim him for life. He mentioned the age (as he had -reckoned it himself) of the woman in the black gown and the red -Paisley shawl. - -"Five-and-thirty," he said. - -As the words passed his lips, his factitious spirits deserted -him. He left his seat, impenetrably deaf to all Allan's efforts -at rallying him on his extraordinary answer, and resumed his -restless pacing of the deck in dead silence. Once more the -haunting thought which had gone to and fro with him in the hour -of darkness went to and fro with him now in the hour of daylight. - -Once more the conviction possessed itself of his mind that -something was to happen to Allan or to himself before they left -the wreck. - -Minute by minute the light strengthened in the eastern sky; and -the shadowy places on the deck of the timber-ship revealed their -barren emptiness under the eye of day. As the breeze rose again, -the sea began to murmur wakefully in the morning light. Even the -cold bubbling of the broken water changed its cheerless note, -and softened on the ear as the mellowing flood of daylight poured -warm over it from the rising sun. Midwinter paused near the -forward part of the ship, and recalled his wandering attention -to the passing time. The cheering influences of the hour were -round him, look where he might. The happy morning smile of -the summer sky, so brightly merciful to the old and weary earth, -lavished its all-embracing beauty even on the wreck. The dew that -lay glittering on the inland fields lay glittering on the deck, -and the worn and rusted rigging was gemmed as brightly as the -fresh green leaves on shore. Insensibly, as he looked round, -Midwinter's thoughts reverted to the comrade who had shared with -him the adventure of the night. He returned to the after-part -of the ship, spoke to Allan as he advanced. Receiving no answer, -he approached the recumbent figure and looked closer at it. Left -to his own resources, Allan had let the fatigues of the night -take their own way with him. His head had sunk back; his hat had -fallen off; he lay stretched at full length on the deck of the -timber-ship, deeply and peacefully asleep. - -Midwinter resumed his walk; his mind lost in doubt; his own past -thoughts seeming suddenly to have grown strange to him. How -darkly his forebodings had distrusted the coming time, and how -harmlessly that time had come! The sun was mounting in the -heavens, the hour of release was drawing nearer and nearer, -and of the two Armadales imprisoned in the fatal ship, one was -sleeping away the weary time, and the other was quietly watching -the growth of the new day. - -The sun climbed higher; the hour wore on. With the latent -distrust of the wreck which still clung to him, Midwinter looked -inquiringly on either shore for signs of awakening human life. -The land was still lonely. The smoke wreaths that were soon to -rise from cottage chimneys had not risen yet. - -After a moment's thought he went back again to the after-part of -the vessel, to see if there might be a fisherman's boat within -hail astern of them. Absorbed for the moment by the new idea, he -passed Allan hastily, after barely noticing that he still lay -asleep. One step more would have brought him to the taffrail, -when that step was suspended by a sound behind him, a sound like -a faint groan. He turned, and looked at the sleeper on the deck. -He knelt softly, and looked closer. - -"It has come!" he whispered to himself. "Not to _me_--but to -_him_." - -It had come, in the bright freshness of the morning; it had come, -in the mystery and terror of a Dream. The face which Midwinter -had last seen in perfect repose was now the distorted face of a -suffering man. The perspiration stood thick on Allan's forehead, -and matted his curling hair. His partially opened eyes showed -nothing but the white of the eyeball gleaming blindly. His -outstretched hands scratched and struggled on the deck. From -moment to moment he moaned and muttered helplessly; but the words -that escaped him were lost in the grinding and gnashing of his -teeth. There he lay--so near in the body to the friend who bent -over him; so far away in the spirit, that the two might have been -in different worlds--there he lay, with the morning sunshine on -his face, in the torture of his dream. - -One question, and one only, rose in the mind of the man who was -looking at him. What had the fatality which had imprisoned him in -the wreck decreed that he should see? - -Had the treachery of Sleep opened the gates of the grave to that -one of the two Armadales whom the other had kept in ignorance of -the truth? Was the murder of the father revealing itself to the -son--there, on the very spot where the crime had been committed ---in the vision of a dream? - -With that question overshadowing all else in his mind, the son of -the homicide knelt on the deck, and looked at the son of the man -whom his father's hand had slain. - -The conflict between the sleeping body and the waking mind was -strengthening every moment. The dreamer's helpless groaning for -deliverance grew louder; his hands raised themselves, and -clutched at the empty air. Struggling with the all-mastering -dread that still held him, Midwinter laid his hand gently on -Allan's forehead. Light as the touch was, there were mysterious -sympathies in the dreaming man that answered it. His groaning -ceased, and his hands dropped slowly. There was an instant of -suspense and Midwinter looked closer. His breath just fluttered -over the sleeper's face. Before the next breath had risen to his -lips, Allan suddenly sprang up on his knees--sprang up, as if the -call of a trumpet had rung on his ear, awake in an instant. - -"You have been dreaming," said Midwinter, as the other looked at -him wildly, in the first bewilderment of waking. - -Allan's eyes began to wander about the wreck, at first vacantly, -then with a look of angry surprise. "Are we here still?" he said, -as Midwinter helped him to his feet. "Whatever else I do on board -this infernal ship," he added, after a moment, "I won't go to -sleep again!" - -As he said those words, his friend's eyes searched his face in -silent inquiry. They took a turn together on the deck. - -"Tell me your dream," said Midwinter, with a strange tone of -suspicion in his voice, and a strange appearance of abruptness in -his manner. - -"I can't tell it yet," returned Allan. "Wait a little till I'm my -own man again." - -They took another turn on the deck. Midwinter stopped, and spoke -once more. - -"Look at me for a moment, Allan," he said. - -There was something of the trouble left by the dream, and -something of natural surprise at the strange request just -addressed to him, in Allan's face, as he turned it full on the -speaker; but no shadow of ill-will, no lurking lines of distrust -anywhere. Midwinter turned aside quickly, and hid, as he best -might, an irrepressible outburst of relief. - -"Do I look a little upset?" asked Allan, taking his arm, and -leading him on again. "Don't make yourself nervous about me if I -do. My head feels wild and giddy, but I shall soon get over it." - -For the next few minutes they walked backward and forward in -silence, the one bent on dismissing the terror of the dream from -his thoughts, the other bent on discovering what the terror of -the dream might be. Relieved of the dread that had oppressed it, -the superstitious nature of Midwinter had leaped to its next -conclusion at a bound. What if the sleeper had been visited by -another revelation than the revelation of the Past? What if the -dream had opened those unturned pages in the book of the Future -which told the story of his life to come? The bare doubt that it -might be so strengthened tenfold Midwinter's longing to penetrate -the mystery which Allan's silence still kept a secret from him. - -"Is your head more composed?" he asked. "Can you tell me your -dream now?" - -While he put the question, a last memorable moment in the -Adventure of the Wreck was at hand. - -They had reached the stern, and were just turning again when -Midwinter spoke. As Allan opened his lips to answer, he looked -out mechanically to sea. Instead of replying, he suddenly ran to -the taffrail, and waved his hat over his head, with a shout of -exultation. - -Midwinter joined him, and saw a large six-oared boat pulling -straight for the channel of the Sound. A figure, which they both -thought they recognized, rose eagerly in the stern-sheets and -returned the waving of Allan's hat. The boat came nearer, the -steersman called to them cheerfully, and they recognized the -doctor's voice. - -"Thank God you're both above water!" said Mr. Hawbury, as they -met him on the deck of the timber-ship. "Of all the winds of -heaven, which wind blew you here?" - -He looked at Midwinter as he made the inquiry, but it was Allan -who told him the story of the night, and Allan who asked the -doctor for information in return. The one absorbing interest -in Midwinter's mind--the interest of penetrating the mystery of -the dream--kept him silent throughout. Heedless of all that was -said or done about him, he watched Allan, and followed Allan, -like a dog, until the time came for getting down into the boat. -Mr. Hawbury's professional eye rested on him curiously, noting -his varying color, and the incessant restlessness of his hands. -"I wouldn't change nervous systems with that man for the largest -fortune that could be offered me," thought the doctor as he took -the boat's tiller, and gave the oarsmen their order to push off -from the wreck. - -Having reserved all explanations on his side until they were -on their way back to Port St. Mary, Mr. Hawbury next addressed -himself to the gratification of Allan's curiosity. The -circumstances which had brought him to the rescue of his two -guests of the previous evening were simple enough. The lost boat -had been met with at sea by some fishermen of Port Erin, on the -western side of the island, who at once recognized it as the -doctor's property, and at once sent a messenger to make inquiry, -at the doctor's house. The man's statement of what had happened -had naturally alarmed Mr. Hawbury for the safety of Allan and his -friend. He had immediately secured assistance, and, guided by the -boatman's advice, had made first for the most dangerous place on -the coast--the only place, in that calm weather, in which an -accident could have happened to a boat sailed by experienced -men--the channel of the Sound. After thus accounting for his -welcome appearance on the scene, the doctor hospitably insisted -that his guests of the evening should be his guests of the -morning as well. It would still be too early when they got back -for the people at the hotel to receive them, and they would find -bed and breakfast at Mr. Hawbury's house. - -At the first pause in the conversation between Allan and the -doctor, Midwinter, who had neither joined in the talk nor -listened to the talk, touched his friend on the arm. "Are you -better?" he asked, in a whisper. "Shall you soon be composed -enough to tell me what I want to know?" - -Allan's eyebrows contracted impatiently; the subject of the -dream, and Midwinter's obstinacy in returning to it, seemed to be -alike distasteful to him. He hardly answered with his usual good -humor. "I suppose I shall have no peace till I tell you," he -said, "so I may as well get it over at once." - -"No!" returned Midwinter, with a look at the doctor and his -oarsmen. "Not where other people can hear it--not till you and I -are alone." - -"If you wish to see the last, gentlemen, of your quarters for the -night," interposed the doctor, "now is your time! The coast will -shut the vessel out in a minute more." - -In silence on the one side and on the other, the two Armadales -looked their last at the fatal ship. Lonely and lost they had -found the wreck in the mystery of the summer night; lonely and -lost they left the wreck in the radiant beauty of the summer -morning. - -An hour later the doctor had seen his guests established in their -bedrooms, and had left them to take their rest until the -breakfast hour arrived. - -Almost as soon as his back was turned, the doors of both rooms -opened softly, and Allan and Midwinter met in the passage. - -"Can you sleep after what has happened?" asked Allan. - -Midwinter shook his head. "You were coming to my room, were you -not?" he said. "What for?" - -"To ask you to keep me company. What were you coming to _my_ room -for?" - -"To ask you to tell me your dream." - -"Damn the dream! I want to forget all about it." - -"And _I_ want to know all about it." - -Both paused; both refrained instinctively from saying more. For -the first time since the beginning of their friendship they were -on the verge of a disagreement, and that on the subject of the -dream. Allan's good temper just stopped them on the brink. - -"You are the most obstinate fellow alive," he said; "but if you -will know all about it, you must know all about it, I suppose. -Come into my room, and I'll tell you." - -He led the way, and Midwinter followed. The door closed and shut -them in together. - -CHAPTER V. - -THE SHADOW OF THE FUTURE. - -When Mr. Hawbury joined his guests in the breakfast-room, the -strange contrast of character between them which he had noticed -already was impressed on his mind more strongly than ever. One of -them sat at the well-spread table, hungry and happy, ranging from -dish to dish, and declaring that he had never made such a -breakfast in his life. The other sat apart at the window; -his cup thanklessly deserted before it was empty, his meat left -ungraciously half-eaten on his plate. The doctor's morning -greeting to the two accurately expressed the differing -impressions which they had produced on his mind. - -He clapped Allan on the shoulder, and saluted him with a joke. He -bowed constrainedly to Midwinter, and said, "I am afraid you have -not recovered the fatigues of the night." - -"It's not the night, doctor, that has damped his spirits," said -Allan. "It's something I have been telling him. It is not my -fault, mind. If I had only known beforehand that he believed in -dreams, I wouldn't have opened my lips." - -"Dreams?" repeated the doctor, looking at Midwinter directly, and -addressing him under a mistaken impression of the meaning of -Allan's words. "With your constitution, you ought to be well used -to dreaming by this time." - -"This way, doctor; you have taken the wrong turning!" cried -Allan. "I'm the dreamer, not he. Don't look astonished; it wasn't -in this comfortable house; it was on board that confounded -timber-ship. The fact is, I fell asleep just before you took us -off the wreck; and it's not to be denied that I had a very ugly -dream. Well, when we got back here--" - -"Why do you trouble Mr. Hawbury about a matter that cannot -possibly interest him?" asked Midwinter, speaking for the first -time, and speaking very impatiently. - -"I beg your pardon," returned the doctor, rather sharply; "so far -as I have heard, the matter does interest me." - -"That's right, doctor!" said Allan. "Be interested, I beg and -pray; I want you to clear his head of the nonsense he has got in -it now. What do you think? He will have it that my dream is a -warning to me to avoid certain people; and he actually persists -in saying that one of those people is--himself! Did you ever hear -the like of it? I took great pains; I explained the whole thing -to him. I said, warning be hanged; it's all indigestion! You -don't know what I ate and drank at the doctor's supper-table; I -do. Do you think he would listen to me? Not he. You try him next; -you're a professional man, and he must listen to you. Be a good -fellow, doctor, and give me a certificate of indigestion; I'll -show you my tongue with pleasure." - -"The sight of your face is quite enough," said Mr. Hawbury. "I -certify, on the spot, that you never had such a thing as an -indigestion in your life. Let's hear about the dream, and see -what we can make of it, if you have no objection, that is to -say." - -Allan pointed at Midwinter with his fork. - -"Apply to my friend, there," he said; "he has got a much better -account of it than I can give you. If you'll believe me, he took -it all down in writing from my own lips; and he made me sign it -at the end, as if it was my 'last dying speech and confession' -before I went to the gallows. Out with it, old boy--I saw you put -it in your pocket-book--out with it!" - -"Are you really in earnest?" asked Midwinter, producing his -pocketbook with a reluctance which was almost offensive under the -circumstances, for it implied distrust of the doctor in the -doctor's own house. - -Mr. Hawbury's color rose. "Pray don't show it to me, if you feel -the least unwillingness," he said, with the elaborate politeness -of an offended man. - -"Stuff and nonsense!" cried Allan. "Throw it over here!" - -Instead of complying with that characteristic request, Midwinter -took the paper from the pocket-book, and, leaving his place, -approached Mr. Hawbury. "I beg your pardon," he said, as he -offered the doctor the manuscript with his own hand. His eyes -dropped to the ground, and his face darkened, while he made the -apology. "A secret, sullen fellow," thought the doctor, thanking -him with formal civility; "his friend is worth ten thousand of -him." Midwinter went back to the window, and sat down again in -silence, with the old impenetrable resignation which had once -puzzled Mr. Brock. - -"Read that, doctor," said Allan, as Mr. Hawbury opened the -written paper. "It's not told in my roundabout way; but there's -nothing added to it, and nothing taken away. It's exactly what I -dreamed, and exactly what I should have written myself, if I had -thought the thing worth putting down on paper, and if I had had -the knack of writing--which," concluded Allan, composedly -stirring his coffee, "I haven't, except it's letters; and I -rattle _them_ off in no time." - -Mr. Hawbury spread the manuscript before him on the -breakfast-table, and read these lines: - - "ALLAN ARMADALE'S DREAM. - -"Early on the morning of June the first, eighteen hundred and -fifty-one, I found myself (through circumstances which it is not -important to mention in this place) left alone with a friend of -mine--a young man about my own age--on board the French -timber-ship named _La Grace de Dieu_, which ship then lay wrecked -in the channel of the Sound between the main-land of the Isle of -Man and the islet called the Calf. Having not been in bed the -previous night, and feeling overcome by fatigue, I fell asleep on -the deck of the vessel. I was in my usual good health at the -time, and the morning was far enough advanced for the sun to have -risen. Under these circumstances, and at that period of the day, -I passed from sleeping to dreaming. As clearly as I can recollect -it, after the lapse of a few hours, this was the succession of -events presented to me by the dream: - -"1. The first event of which I was conscious was the appearance -of my father. He took me silently by the hand; and we found -ourselves in the cabin of a ship. - -"2. Water rose slowly over us in the cabin; and I and my father -sank through the water together. - -"3. An interval of oblivion followed; and then the sense came to -me of being left alone in the darkness. - -"4. I waited. - -"5. The darkness opened, and showed me the vision--as in a -picture--of a broad, lonely pool, surrounded by open ground. -Above the farther margin of the pool I saw the cloudless western -sky, red with the light of sunset. - -"6. On the near margin of the pool there stood the Shadow of a -Woman. - -"7. It was the shadow only. No indication was visible to me by -which I could identify it, or compare it with any living -creature. The long robe showed me that it was the shadow of a -woman, and showed me nothing more. - -"8. The darkness closed again--remained with me for an -interval--and opened for the second time. - -"9. I found myself in a room, standing before. a long window. The -only object of furniture or of ornament that I saw (or that I can -now remember having seen) was a little statue placed near me. The -window opened on a lawn and flower-garden; and the rain was -pattering heavily against the glass. - -"10. I was not alone in the room. Standing opposite to me at the -window was the Shadow of a Man. - -"11. I saw no more of it; I knew no more of it than I saw and -knew of the shadow of the woman. But the shadow of the man moved. -It stretched out its arm toward the statue; and the statue fell -in fragments on the floor. - -"12. With a confused sensation in me, which was partly anger and -partly distress, I stooped to look at the fragments. When I rose -again, the Shadow had vanished, and I saw no more. - -"13. The darkness opened for the third time, and showed me the -Shadow of the Woman and the Shadow of the Man together. - -"14. No surrounding scene (or none that I can now call to mind) -was visible to me. - -"15. The Man-Shadow was the nearest; the Woman-Shadow stood back. -From where she stood, there came a sound as of the pouring of a -liquid softly. I saw her touch the shadow of the man with one -hand, and with the other give him a glass. He took the glass, and -gave it to me. In the moment when I put it to my lips, a deadly -faintness mastered me from head to foot. When I came to my senses -again, the Shadows had vanished, and the third vision was at an -end. - -"16. The darkness closed over me again; and the interval of -oblivion followed. - -"17. I was conscious of nothing more, till I felt the morning sun -shine on my face, and heard my friend tell me that I had awakened -from a dream...." - - -After reading the narrative attentively to the last line (under -which appeared Allan's signature), the doctor looked across the -breakfast-table at Midwinter, and tapped his fingers on the -manuscript with a satirical smile. - -"Many men, many opinions," he said. "I don't agree with either of -you about this dream. Your theory," he added, looking at Allan, -with a smile, "we have disposed of already: the supper that _you_ -can't digest is a supper which has yet to be discovered. My -theory we will come to presently; your friend's theory claims -attention first." He turned again to Midwinter, with his -anticipated triumph over a man whom he disliked a little too -plainly visible in his face and manner. "If I understand -rightly," he went on, "you believe that this dream is a warning! -supernaturally addressed to Mr. Armadale, of dangerous events -that are threatening him, and of dangerous people connected with -those events whom he would do wisely to avoid. May I inquire -whether you have arrived at this conclusion as an habitual -believer in dreams, or as having reasons of your own for -attaching especial importance to this one dream in particular?" - -"You have stated what my conviction is quite accurately," -returned Midwinter, chafing under the doctor's looks and tones. -"Excuse me if I ask you to be satisfied with that admission, and -to let me keep my reasons to myself." - -"That's exactly what he said to me," interposed Allan. "I don't -believe he has got any reasons at all." - -"Gently! gently!" said Mr. Hawbury. "We can discuss the subject -without intruding ourselves into anybody's secrets. Let us come -to my own method of dealing with the dream next. Mr. Midwinter -will probably not be surprised to hear that I look at this matter -from an essentially practical point of view." - -"I shall not be at all surprised," retorted Midwinter. "The view -of a medical man, when he has a problem in humanity to solve, -seldom ranges beyond the point of his dissecting-knife." - -The doctor was a little nettled on his side. "Our limits are not -quite so narrow as that," he said; "but I willingly grant you -that there are some articles of your faith in which we doctors -don't believe. For example, we don't believe that a reasonable -man is justified in attaching a supernatural interpretation to -any phenomenon which comes within the range of his senses, until -he has certainly ascertained that there is no such thing as a -natural explanation of it to be found in the first instance." - -"Come; that's fair enough, I'm sure," exclaimed Allan. "He hit -you hard with the 'dissecting-knife,' doctor; and now you have -hit him back again with your 'natural explanation.' Let's have -it." - -"By all means," said Mr. Hawbury. "Here it is. There is nothing -at all extraordinary in my theory of dreams: it is the theory -accepted by the great mass of my profession. A dream is the -reproduction, in the sleeping state of the brain, of images and -impressions produced on it in the waking state; and this -reproduction is more or less involved, imperfect, or -contradictory, as the action of certain faculties in the dreamer -is controlled more or less completely by the influence of sleep. -Without inquiring further into this latter part of the subject--a -very curious and interesting part of it--let us take the theory, -roughly and generally, as I have just stated it, and apply it at -once to the dream now under consideration." He took up the -written paper from the table, and dropped the formal tone (as of -a lecturer addressing an audience) into which he had insensibly -fallen. "I see one event already in this dream," he resumed, -"which I know to be the reproduction of a waking impression -produced on Mr. Armadale in my own presence. If he will only help -me by exerting his memory, I don't despair of tracing back the -whole succession of events set down here to something that he has -said or thought, or seen or done, in the four-and-twenty hours, -or less, which preceded his falling asleep on the deck of the -timber-ship." - -"I'll exert my memory with the greatest pleasure," said Allan. -"Where shall we start from?" - -"Start by telling me what you did yesterday, before I met you and -your friend on the road to this place," replied Mr. Hawbury. "We -will say, you got up and had your breakfast. What next?" - -"We took a carriage next," said Allan, "and drove from Castletown -to Douglas to see my old friend, Mr. Brock, off by the steamer to -Liverpool. We came back to Castletown and separated at the hotel -door. Midwinter went into the house, and I went on to my yacht -in the harbor. By-the-bye, doctor, remember you have promised to -go cruising with us before we leave the Isle of Man." - -"Many thanks; but suppose we keep to the matter in hand. What -next?" - -Allan hesitated. In both senses of the word his mind was at sea -already. - -"What did you do on board the yacht?" - -"Oh, I know! I put the cabin to rights--thoroughly to rights. -I give you my word of honor, I turned every blessed thing -topsy-turvy. And my friend there came off in a shore-boat and -helped me. Talking of boats, I have never asked you yet whether -your boat came to any harm last night. If there's any damage -done, I insist on being allowed to repair it." - -The doctor abandoned all further attempts at the cultivation of -Allan's memory in despair. - -"I doubt if we shall be able to reach our object conveniently in -this way," he said. "It will be better to take the events of the -dream in their regular order, and to ask the questions that -naturally suggest themselves as we go on. Here are the first two -events to begin with. You dream that your father appears to -you--that you and he find yourselves in the cabin of a ship--that -the water rises over you, and that you sink in it together. Were -you down in the cabin of the wreck, may I ask?" - -"I couldn't be down there," replied Allan, "as the cabin was full -of water. I looked in and saw it, and shut the door again." - -"Very good," said Mr. Hawbury. "Here are the waking impressions -clear enough, so far. You have had the cabin in your mind; and -you have had the water in your mind; and the sound of the channel -current (as I well know without asking) was the last sound in -your ears when you went to sleep. The idea of drowning comes too -naturally out of such impressions as these to need dwelling on. -Is there anything else before we go on? Yes; there is one more -circumstance left to account for." - -"The most important circumstance of all," remarked Midwinter, -joining in the conversation, without stirring from his place at -the window. - -"You mean the appearance of Mr. Armadale's father? I was just -coming to that," answered Mr. Hawbury. "Is your father alive?" -he added, addressing himself to Allan once more. - -"My father died before I was born." - -The doctor started. "This complicates it a little," he said. "How -did you know that the figure appearing to you in the dream was -the figure of your father?" - -Allan hesitated again. Midwinter drew his chair a little away -from the window, and looked at the doctor attentively for the -first time. - -"Was your father in your thoughts before you went to sleep?" -pursued Mr. Hawbury. "Was there any description of him--any -portrait of him at home--in your mind?" - -"Of course there was!" cried Allan, suddenly seizing the lost -recollection. "Midwinter! you remember the miniature you found on -the floor of the cabin when we were putting the yacht to rights? -You said I didn't seem to value it; and I told you I did, because -it was a portrait of my father--" - -"And was the face in the dream like the face in the miniature?" -asked Mr. Hawbury. - -"Exactly like! I say, doctor, this is beginning to get -interesting!" - -"What do you say now?" asked Mr. Hawbury, turning toward the -window again. - -Midwinter hurriedly left his chair, and placed himself at the -table with Allan. Just as he had once already taken refuge from -the tyranny of his own superstition in the comfortable common -sense of Mr. Brock, so, with the same headlong eagerness, with -the same straightforward sincerity of purpose, he now took refuge -in the doctor's theory of dreams. "I say what my friend says," he -answered, flushing with a sudden enthusiasm; "this is beginning -to get interesting. Go on; pray go on." - -The doctor looked at his strange guest more indulgently than he -had looked yet. "You are the only mystic I have met with," he -said, "who is willing to give fair evidence fair play. I don't -despair of converting you before our inquiry comes to an end. Let -us get on to the next set of events," he resumed, after referring -for a moment to the manuscript. "The interval of oblivion which -is described as succeeding the first of the appearances in the -dream may be easily disposed of. It means, in plain English, the -momentary cessation of the brain's intellectual action, while a -deeper wave of sleep flows over it, just as the sense of being -alone in the darkness, which follows, indicates the renewal of -that action, previous to the reproduction of another set of -impressions. Let us see what they are. A lonely pool, surrounded -by an open country; a sunset sky on the further side of the pool; -and the shadow of a woman on the near side. Very good; now for -it, Mr. Armadale! How did that pool get into your head? The open -country you saw on your way from Castletown to this place But we -have no pools or lakes hereabouts; and you can have seen none -recently elsewhere, for you came here after a cruise at sea. Must -we fall back on a picture, or a book, or a conversation with your -friend?" - -Allan looked at Midwinter. "I don't remember talking about pools -or lakes," he said. "Do you?" - -Instead of answering the question, Midwinter suddenly appealed to -the doctor. - -"Have you got the last number of the Manx newspaper?" he asked. - -The doctor produced it from the sideboard. Midwinter turned to -the page containing those extracts from the recently published -"Travels in Australia," which had roused Allan's, interest on the -previous evening, and the reading of which had ended by sending -his friend to sleep. There--in the passage describing the -sufferings of the travelers from thirst, and the subsequent -discovery which saved their lives--there, appearing at the climax -of the narrative, was the broad pool of water which had figured -in Allan's dream! - -"Don't put away the paper," said the doctor, when Midwinter had -shown it to him, with the necessary explanation. "Before we are -at the end of the inquiry, it is quite possible we may want that -extract again. We have got at the pool. How about the sunset? -Nothing of that sort is referred to in the newspaper extract. -Search your memory again, Mr. Armadale; we want your waking -impression of a sunset, if you please." - -Once more, Allan was at a loss for an answer; and, once more, -Midwinter's ready memory helped him through the difficulty. - -"I think I can trace our way back to this impression, as I traced -our way back to the other," he said, addressing the doctor. -"After we got here yesterday afternoon, my friend and I took a -long walk over the hills--" - -"That's it!" interposed Allan. "I remember. The sun was setting -as we came back to the hotel for supper, and it was such a -splendid red sky, we both stopped to look at it. And then we -talked about Mr. Brock, and wondered how far he had got on his -journey home. My memory may be a slow one at starting, doctor; -but when it's once set going, stop it if you can! I haven't half -done yet." - -"Wait one minute, in mercy to Mr. Midwinter's memory and mine," -said the doctor. "We have traced back to your waking impressions -the vision of the open country, the pool, and the sunset. But the -Shadow of the Woman has not been accounted for yet. Can you find -us the original of this mysterious figure in the dream -landscape?" - -Allan relapsed into his former perplexity, and Midwinter waited -for what was to come, with his eyes fixed in breathless interest -on the doctor's face. For the first time there was unbroken -silence in the room. Mr. Hawbury looked interrogatively from -Allan to Allan's friend. Neither of them answered him. Between -the shadow and the shadow's substance there was a great gulf of -mystery, impenetrable alike to all three of them. - -"Patience," said the doctor, composedly. "Let us leave the figure -by the pool for the present and try if we can't pick her up again -as we go on. Allow me to observe, Mr. Midwinter, that it is not -very easy to identify a shadow; but we won't despair. This -impalpable lady of the lake may take some consistency when we -next meet with her." - -Midwinter made no reply. From that moment his interest in the -inquiry began to flag. - -"What is the next scene in the dream?" pursued Mr. Hawbury, -referring to the manuscript. "Mr. Armadale finds himself in a -room. He is standing before a long window opening on a lawn and -flower-garden, and the rain is pattering against the glass. The -only thing he sees in the room is a little statue; and the only -company he has is the Shadow of a Man standing opposite to him. -The Shadow stretches out its arm, and the statue falls in -fragments on the floor; and the dreamer, in anger and distress -at the catastrophe (observe, gentlemen, that here the sleeper's -reasoning faculty wakes up a little, and the dream passes -rationally, for a moment, from cause to effect), stoops to look -at the broken pieces. When he looks up again, the scene has -vanished. That is to say, in the ebb and flow of sleep, it is the -turn of the flow now, and the brain rests a little. What's the -matter, Mr. Armadale? Has that restive memory of yours run away -with you again?" - -"Yes," said Allan. "I'm off at full gallop. I've run the broken -statue to earth; it's nothing more nor less than a china -shepherdess I knocked off the mantel-piece in the hotel -coffee-room, when I rang the bell for supper last night. I say, -how well we get on; don't we? It's like guessing a riddle. Now, -then, Midwinter! your turn next." - -"No!" said the doctor. "My turn, if you please. I claim the long -window, the garden, and the lawn, as my property. You will find -the long window, Mr. Armadale, in the next room. If you look out, -you'll see the garden and lawn in front of it; and, if you'll -exert that wonderful memory of yours, you will recollect that you -were good enough to take special and complimentary notice of my -smart French window and my neat garden, when I drove you and your -friend to Port St. Mary yesterday." - -"Quite right," rejoined Allan; "so I did. But what about the rain -that fell in the dream? I haven't seen a drop of rain for the -last week." - -Mr. Hawbury hesitated. The Manx newspaper which had been left on -the table caught his eye. "If we can think of nothing else," he -said, "let us try if we can't find the idea of the rain where we -found the idea of the pool." He looked through the extract -carefully. "I have got it!" he exclaimed. "Here is rain described -as having fallen on these thirsty Australian travelers, before -they discovered the pool. Behold the shower, Mr. Armadale, which -got into your mind when you read the extract to your friend last -night! And behold the dream, Mr. Midwinter, mixing up separate -waking impressions just as usual!" - -"Can you find the waking impression which accounts for the human -figure at the window?" asked Midwinter; "or are we to pass over -the Shadow of the Man as we have passed over the Shadow of the -Woman already?" - -He put the question with scrupulous courtesy of manner, but with -a tone of sarcasm in his voice which caught the doctor's ear, and -set up the doctor's controversial bristles on the instant. - -"When you are picking up shells on the beach, Mr. Midwinter, you -usually begin with the shells that lie nearest at hand," he -rejoined. "We are picking up facts now; and those that are -easiest to get at are the facts we will take first. Let the -Shadow of the Man and the Shadow of the Woman pair off together -for the present; we won't lose sight of them, I promise you. All -in good time, my dear sir; all in good time!" - -He, too, was polite, and he, too, was sarcastic. The short truce -between the opponents was at an end already. Midwinter returned -significantly to his former place by the window. The doctor -instantly turned his back on the window more significantly still. -Allan, who never quarreled with anybody's opinion, and never -looked below the surface of anybody's conduct, drummed cheerfully -on the table with the handle of his knife. "Go on, doctor!" he -called out; "my wonderful memory is as fresh as ever." - -"Is it?" said Mr. Hawbury, referring again to the narrative of -the dream. "Do you remember what happened when you and I were -gossiping with the landlady at the bar of the hotel last night?" - -"Of course I do! You were kind enough to hand me a glass of -brandy-and-water, which the landlady had just mixed for your own -drinking. And I was obliged to refuse it because, as I told you, -the taste of brandy always turns me sick and faint, mix it how -you please." - -"Exactly so," returned the doctor. "And here is the incident -reproduced in the dream. You see the man's shadow and the woman's -shadow together this time. You hear the pouring out of liquid -(brandy from the hotel bottle, and water from the hotel jug); the -glass is handed by the woman-shadow (the landlady) to the -man-shadow (myself); the man-shadow hands it to you (exactly what -I did); and the faintness (which you had previously described to -me) follows in due course. I am shocked to identify these -mysterious appearances, Mr. Midwinter, with such miserably -unromantic originals as a woman who keeps a hotel, and a man who -physics a country district. But your friend himself will tell you -that the glass of brandy-and-water was prepared by the landlady, -and that it reached him by passing from her hand to mine. We have -picked up the shadows, exactly as I anticipated; and we have only -to account now--which may be done in two words--for the manner of -their appearance in the dream. After having tried to introduce -the waking impression of the doctor and the landlady separately, -in connection with the wrong set of circumstances, the dreaming -mind comes right at the third trial, and introduces the doctor -and the landlady together, in connection with the right set of -circumstances. There it is in a nutshell!--Permit me to hand you -back the manuscript, with my best thanks for your very complete -and striking confirmation of the rational theory of dreams." -Saying those words, Mr. Hawbury returned the written paper to -Midwinter, with the pitiless politeness of a conquering man. - -"Wonderful! not a point missed anywhere from beginning to end! -By Jupiter!" cried Allan, with the ready reverence of intense -ignorance. "What a thing science is!" - -"Not a point missed, as you say," remarked the doctor, -complacently. "And yet I doubt if we have succeeded in convincing -your friend." - -"You have _not_ convinced me," said Midwinter. "But I don't -presume on that account to say that you are wrong." - -He spoke quietly, almost sadly. The terrible conviction of the -supernatural origin of the dream, from which he had tried to -escape, had possessed itself of him again. All his interest in -the argument was at an end; all his sensitiveness to its -irritating influences was gone. In the case of any other man, Mr. -Hawbury would have been mollified by such a concession as his -adversary had now made to him; but he disliked Midwinter too -cordially to leave him in the peaceable enjoyment of an opinion -of his own. - -"Do you admit," asked the doctor, more pugnaciously than ever, -"that I have traced back every event of the dream to a waking -impression which preceded it in Mr. Armadale's mind?" - -"I have no wish to deny that you have done so," said Midwinter, -resignedly. - -"Have I identified the shadows with their living originals?" - -"You have identified them to your own satisfaction, and to my -friend's satisfaction. Not to mine." - -"Not to yours? Can _you_ identify them?" - -"No. I can only wait till the living originals stand revealed in -the future." - -"Spoken like an oracle, Mr. Midwinter! Have you any idea at -present of who those living originals may be?" - -"I have. I believe that coming events will identify the Shadow of -the Woman with a person whom my friend has not met with yet; and -the Shadow of the Man with myself." - -Allan attempted to speak. The doctor stopped him. "Let us clearly -understand this," he said to Midwinter. "Leaving your own case -out of the question for the moment, may I ask how a shadow, which -has no distinguishing mark about it, is to be identified with a -living woman whom your friend doesn't know?" - -Midwinter's color rose a little. He began to feel the lash of the -doctor's logic. - -"The landscape picture of the dream has its distinguishing -marks," he replied; "and in that landscape the living woman will -appear when the living woman is first seen." - -"The same thing will happen, I suppose," pursued the doctor, -"with the man-shadow which you persist in identifying with -yourself. You will be associated in the future with a statue -broken in your friend's presence, with a long window looking out -on a garden, and with a shower of rain pattering against the -glass? Do you say that?" - -"I say that." - -"And so again, I presume, with the next vision? You and the -mysterious woman will be brought together in some place now -unknown, and will present to Mr. Armadale some liquid yet -unnamed, which will turn him faint?--Do you seriously tell me -you believe this?" - -"I seriously tell you I believe it." - -"And, according to your view, these fulfillments of the dream -will mark the progress of certain coming events, in which Mr. -Armadale's happiness, or Mr. Armadale's safety, will be -dangerously involved?" - -"That is my firm conviction." - -The doctor rose, laid aside his moral dissecting-knife, -considered for a moment, and took it up again. - -"One last question," he said. "Have you any reason to give for -going out of your way to adopt such a mystical view as this, when -an unanswerably rational explanation of the dream lies straight -before you?" - -"No reason," replied Midwinter, "that I can give, either to you -or to my friend." - -The doctor looked at his watch with the air of a man who is -suddenly reminded that he has been wasting his time. - -"We have no common ground to start from," he said; "and if we -talk till doomsday, we should not agree. Excuse my leaving you -rather abruptly. It is later than I thought; and my morning's -batch of sick people are waiting for me in the surgery. I have -convinced _your_ mind, Mr. Armadale, at any rate; so the time we -have given to this discussion has not been altogether lost. Pray -stop here, and smoke your cigar. I shall be at your service again -in less than an hour." He nodded cordially to Allan, bowed -formally to Midwinter, and quitted the room. - -As soon as the doctor's back was turned, Allan left his place at -the table, and appealed to his friend, with that irresistible -heartiness of manner which had always found its way to -Midwinter's sympathies, from the first day when they met at the -Somersetshire inn. - -"Now the sparring-match between you and the doctor is over," said -Allan, "I have got two words to say on my side. Will you do -something for my sake which you won't do for your own?" - -Midwinter's face brightened instantly. "I will do anything you -ask me," he said. - -"Very well. Will you let the subject of the dream drop out of our -talk altogether from this time forth?" - -"Yes, if you wish it." - -"Will you go a step further? Will you leave off thinking about -the dream?" - -"It's hard to leave off thinking about it, Allan. But I will -try." - -"That's a good fellow! Now give me that trumpery bit of paper, -and let's tear it up, and have done with it." - -He tried to snatch the manuscript out of his friend's hand; but -Midwinter was too quick for him, and kept it beyond his reach. - -"Come! come!" pleaded Allan. "I've set my heart on lighting my -cigar with it." - -Midwinter hesitated painfully. It was hard to resist Allan; but -he did resist him. "I'll wait a little," he said, "before you -light your cigar with it." - -"How long? Till to-morrow?" - -"Longer." - -"Till we leave the Isle of Man?" - -"Longer." - -"Hang it--give me a plain answer to a plain question! How long -_will_ you wait?" - -Midwinter carefully restored the paper to its place in his -pocketbook. - -"I'll wait," he said, "till we get to Thorpe Ambrose." - - -THE END OF THE FIRST BOOK. - ---------- - -BOOK THE SECOND - -CHAPTER I. - -LURKING MISCHIEF. - -1. _From Ozias Midwinter to Mr. Brock_. - -"Thorpe Ambrose, June 15, 1851. - -"DEAR MR. BROCK--Only an hour since we reached this house, just -as the servants were locking up for the night. Allan has gone to -bed, worn out by our long day's journey, and has left me in the -room they call the library, to tell you the story of our journey -to Norfolk. Being better seasoned than he is to fatigues of all -kinds, my eyes are quite wakeful enough for writing a letter, -though the clock on the chimney-piece points to midnight, and we -have been traveling since ten in the morning. - -"The last news you had of us was news sent by Allan from the Isle -of Man. If I am not mistaken, he wrote to tell you of the night -we passed on board the wrecked ship. Forgive me, dear Mr. Brock, -if I say nothing on that subject until time has helped me to -think of it with a quieter mind. The hard fight against myself -must all be fought over again; but I will win it yet, please God; -I will, indeed. - -"There is no need to trouble you with any account of our -journeyings about the northern and western districts of the -island, or of the short cruises we took when the repairs of the -yacht were at last complete. It will be better if I get on at -once to the morning of yesterday, the fourteenth. We had come in -with the night-tide to Douglas Harbor, and, as soon as the -post-office was open; Allan, by my advice, sent on shore for -letters. The messenger returned with one letter only, and the -writer of it proved to be the former mistress of Thorpe -Ambrose--Mrs. Blanchard. - -"You ought to be informed, I think, of the contents of this -letter, for it has seriously influenced Allan's plans. He loses -everything, sooner or later, as you know, and he has lost the -letter already. So I must give you the substance of what Mrs. -Blanchard wrote to him, as plainly as I can. - -"The first page announced the departure of the ladies from Thorpe -Ambrose. They left on the day before yesterday, the thirteenth, -having, after much hesitation, finally decided on going abroad, -to visit some old friends settled in Italy, in the neighborhood -of Florence. It appears to be quite possible that Mrs. Blanchard -and her niece may settle there, too, if they can find a suitable -house and grounds to let. They both like the Italian country and -the Italian people, and they are well enough off to please -themselves. The elder lady has her jointure, and the younger is -in possession of all her father's fortune. - -"The next page of the letter was, in Allan's opinion, far from a -pleasant page to read. - -"After referring, in the most grateful terms, to the kindness -which had left her niece and herself free to leave their old home -at their own time, Mrs. Blanchard added that Allan's considerate -conduct had produced such a strongly favorable impression among -the friends and dependents of the family that they were desirous -of giving him a public reception on his arrival among them. A -preliminary meeting of the tenants on the estate and the -principal persons in the neighboring town had already been held -to discuss the arrangements, and a letter might be expected -shortly from the clergyman inquiring when it would suit Mr. -Armadale's convenience to take possession personally and publicly -of his estates in Norfolk. - -"You will now be able to guess the cause of our sudden departure -from the Isle of Man. The first and foremost idea in your old -pupil's mind, as soon as he had read Mrs. Blanchard's account of -the proceedings at the meeting, was the idea of escaping the -public reception, and the one certain way he could see of -avoiding it was to start for Thorpe Ambrose before the -clergyman's letter could reach him. - -"I tried hard to make him think a little before he acted an his -first impulse in this matter; but he only went on packing his -portmanteau in his own impenetrably good-humored way. In ten -minutes his luggage was ready, and in five minutes more he had -given the crew their directions for taking the yacht back to -Somersetshire. The steamer to Liverpool was alongside of us in -the harbor, and I had really no choice but to go on board with -him or to let him go by himself. I spare you the account of our -stormy voyage, of our detention at Liverpool, and of the trains -we missed on our journey across the country. You know that we -have got here safely, and that is enough. What the servants think -of the new squire's sudden appearance among them, without a word -of warning, is of no great consequence. What the committee for -arranging the public reception may think of it when the news -flies abroad to-morrow is, I am afraid, a more serious matter. - -"Having already mentioned the servants, I may proceed to tell -you that the latter part of Mrs. Blanchard's letter was entirely -devoted to instructing Allan on the subject of the domestic -establishment which she has left behind her. It seems that all -the servants, indoors and out (with three exceptions), are -waiting here, on the chance that Allan will continue them in -their places. Two of these exceptions are readily accounted for: -Mrs. Blanchard's maid and Miss Blanchard's maid go abroad with -their mistresses. The third exceptional case is the case of the -upper housemaid; and here there is a little hitch. In plain -words, the housemaid has been sent away at a moment's notice, -for what Mrs. Blanchard rather mysteriously describes as 'levity -of conduct with a stranger.' - -"I am afraid you will laugh at me, but I must confess the truth. -I have been made so distrustful (after what happened to us in the -Isle of Man) of even the most trifling misadventures which -connect themselves in any way with Allan's introduction to his -new life and prospects, that I have already questioned one of the -men-servants here about this apparently unimportant matter of the -housemaid's going away in disgrace. - -"All I can learn is that a strange man had been noticed hanging -suspiciously about the grounds; that the housemaid was so ugly -a woman as to render it next to a certainty that he had some -underhand purpose to serve in making himself agreeable to her; -and that he has not as yet been seen again in the neighborhood -since the day of her dismissal. So much for the one servant who -has been turned out at Thorpe Ambrose. I can only hope there is -no trouble for Allan brewing in that quarter. As for the other -servants who remain, Mrs. Blanchard describes them, both men and -women, as perfectly trustworthy, and they will all, no doubt, -continue to occupy their present places. - -"Having now done with Mrs. Blanchard's letter, my next duty is -to beg you, in Allan's name and with Allan's love, to come here -and stay with him at the earliest moment when you can leave -Somersetshire. Although I cannot presume to think that my own -wishes will have any special influence in determining you to -accept this invitation, I must nevertheless acknowledge that I -have a reason of my own for earnestly desiring to see you here. -Allan has innocently caused me a new anxiety about my future -relations with him, and I sorely need your advice to show me the -right way of setting that anxiety at rest. - -"The difficulty which now perplexes me relates to the steward's -place at Thorpe Ambrose. Before to-day I only knew that Allan -had hit on some plan of his own for dealing with this matter, -rather strangely involving, among other results, the letting -of the cottage which was the old steward's place of abode, in -consequence of the new steward's contemplated residence in the -great house. A chance word in our conversation on the journey -here led Allan into speaking out more plainly than he had spoken -yet, and I heard to my unutterable astonishment that the person -who was at the bottom of the whole arrangement about the steward -was no other than myself! - -"It is needless to tell you how I felt this new instance of -Allan's kindness. The first pleasure of hearing from his own lips -that I had deserved the strongest proof he could give of his -confidence in me was soon dashed by the pain which mixes itself -with all pleasure--at least, with all that I have ever known. -Never has my past life seemed so dreary to look back on as it -seems now, when I feel how entirely it has unfitted me to take -the place of all others that I should have liked to occupy in my -friend's service. I mustered courage to tell him that I had none -of the business knowledge and business experience which his -steward ought to possess. He generously met the objection by -telling me that I could learn; and he has promised to send to -London for the person who has already been employed for the time -being in the steward's office, and who will, therefore, be -perfectly competent to teach me. - -"Do you, too, think I can learn? If you do, I will work day and -night to instruct myself. But if (as I am afraid) the steward's -duties are of far too serious a kind to be learned off-hand by a -man so young and so inexperienced as I am, then pray hasten your -journey to Thorpe Ambrose, and exert your influence over Allan -personally. Nothing less will induce him to pass me over, and to -employ a steward who is really fit to take the place. Pray, pray -act in this matter as you think best for Allan's interests. -Whatever disappointment I may feel, _he_ shall not see it. - -"Believe me, dear Mr. Brock, - -"Gratefuly yours, - -"OZIAS MIDWINTER. - -"P.S.--I open the envelope again to add one word more. If you -have heard or seen anything since your return to Somersetshire of -the woman in the black dress and the red shawl, I hope you will -not forget, when you write, to let me know it. - -O. M." - -2. _From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt_. - -"Ladies' Toilet Repository, Diana Street, Pimlico, - -Wednesday. - -"MY DEAR LYDIA--To save the post, I write to you, after -a long day's worry at my place of business, on the business -letter-paper, having news since we last met which it seems -advisable to send you at the earliest opportunity. - -"To begin at the beginning. After carefully considering the -thing, I am quite sure you will do wisely with young Armadale if -you hold your tongue about Madeira and all that happened there. -Your position was, no doubt, a very strong one with his mother. -You had privately helped her in playing a trick on her own -father; you had been ungratefully dismissed, at a pitiably tender -age, as soon as you had served her purpose; and, when you came -upon her suddenly, after a separation of more than twenty years, -you found her in failing health, with a grown-up son, whom she -had kept in total ignorance of the true story of her marriage. - -"Have you any such advantages as these with the young gentleman -who has survived her? If he is not a born idiot he will decline -to believe your shocking aspersions on the memory of his mother; -and--seeing that you have no proofs at this distance of time to -meet him with--there is an end of your money-grubbing in the -golden Armadale diggings. Mind, I don't dispute that the old -lady's heavy debt of obligation, after what you did for her in -Madeira, is not paid yet; and that the son is the next person to -settle with you, now the mother has slipped through your fingers. -Only squeeze him the right way, my dear, that's what I venture to -suggest--squeeze him the right way. - -"And which is the right way? That question brings me to my news. - -"Have you thought again of that other notion of yours of trying -your hand on this lucky young gentleman, with nothing but your -own good looks and your own quick wits to help you? The idea hung -on my mind so strangely after you were gone that it ended in my -sending a little note to my lawyer, to have the will under which -young Armadale has got his fortune examined at Doctor's Commons. -The result turns out to be something infinitely more encouraging -than either you or I could possibly have hoped for. After the -lawyer's report to me, there cannot be a moment's doubt of what -you ought to do. In two words, Lydia, take the bull by the -horns--and marry him! - -"I am quite serious. He is much better worth the venture than you -suppose. Only persuade him to make you Mrs. Armadale, and you may -set all after-discoveries at flat defiance. As long as he lives, -you can make your own terms with him; and, if he dies, the will -entitles you, in spite of anything he can say or do--with -children or without them--to an income chargeable on his estate -of _twelve hundred a year for life_. There is no doubt about -this; the lawyer himself has looked at the will. Of course, Mr. -Blanchard had his son and his son's widow in his eye when he made -the provision. But, as it is not limited to any one heir by name, -and not revoked anywhere, it now holds as good with young -Armadale as it would have held under other circumstances with Mr. -Blanchard's son. What a chance for you, after all the miseries -and the dangers you have gone through, to be mistress of Thorpe -Ambrose, if he lives; to have an income for life, if he dies! -Hook him, my poor dear; hook him at any sacrifice. - -"I dare say you will make the same objection when you read this -which you made when we were talking about it the other day; I -mean the objection of your age. - -"Now, my good creature, just listen to me. The question is--not -whether you were five-and-thirty last birthday; we will own the -dreadful truth, and say you were--but whether you do look, or -don't look, your real age. My opinion on this matter ought to be, -and is, one of the best opinions in London. I have had twenty -years experience among our charming sex in making up battered -old faces and wornout old figures to look like new, and I say -positively you don't look a day over thirty, if as much. If you -will follow my advice about dressing, and use one or two of my -applications privately, I guarantee to put you back three years -more. I will forfeit all the money I shall have to advance for -you in this matter, if, when I have ground you young again in my -wonderful mill, you look more than seven-and-twenty in any man's -eyes living--except, of course, when you wake anxious in the -small hours of the morning; and then, my dear, you will be old -and ugly in the retirement of your own room, and it won't matter. - -"'But,' you may say, 'supposing all this, here I am, even with -your art to help me, looking a good six years older than he is; -and that is against me at starting.' Is it? Just think again. -Surely, your own experience must have shown you that the -commonest of all common weaknesses, in young fellows of this -Armadale's age, is to fall in love with women older than -themselves. Who are the men who really appreciate us in the bloom -of our youth (I'm sure I have cause to speak well of the bloom of -youth; I made fifty guineas to-day by putting it on the spotted -shoulders of a woman old enough to be your mother)--who are the -men, I say, who are ready to worship us when we are mere babies -of seventeen? The gay young gentlemen in the bloom of their own -youth? No! The cunning old wretches who are on the wrong side of -forty. - -"And what is the moral of this, as the story-books say? - -"The moral is that the chances, with such a head as you have got -on your shoulders, are all in your favor. If you feel your -present forlorn position, as I believe you do; if you know what -a charming woman (in the men's eyes) you can still be when you -please; and if all your resolution has really come back, after -that shocking outbreak of desperation on board the steamer -(natural enough, I own, under the dreadful provocation laid on -you), you will want no further persuasion from me to try this -experiment. Only to think of how things turn out! If the other -young booby had not jumped into the river after you, _this_ young -booby would never have had the estate. It really looks as if fate -had determined that you were to be Mrs. Armadale, of Thorpe -Ambrose; and who can control his fate, as the poet says? - -"Send me one line to say Yes or No; and believe me your attached -old friend, - -"MARIA OLDERSHAW." - -3. _From Miss Gwilt to Mrs. Oldershaw_. - -Richmond, Thursday. - -'YOU OLD WRETCH--I won't say Yes or No till I have had a long, -long look at my glass first. If you had any real regard for -anybody but your wicked old self, you would know that the bare -idea of marrying again (after what I have gone through) is an -idea that makes my flesh creep. - -"But there can be no harm in your sending me a little more -information while I am making up my mind. You have got twenty -pounds of mine still left out of those things you sold for me; -send ten pounds here for my expenses, in a post-office order, and -use the other ten for making private inquiries at Thorpe Ambrose. -I want to know when the two Blanchard women go away, and when -young Armadale stirs up the dead ashes in the family fire-place. -Are you quite sure he will turn out as easy to manage as you -think? If he takes after his hypocrite of a mother, I can tell -you this: Judas Iscariot has come to life again. - -"I am very comfortable in this lodging. There are lovely flowers -in the garden, and the birds wake me in the morning delightfully. -I have hired a reasonably good piano. The only man I care two -straws about--don't be alarmed; he was laid in his grave many a -long year ago, under the name of BEETHOVEN--keeps me company, in -my lonely hours. The landlady would keep me company, too, if I -would only let her. I hate women. The new curate paid a visit to -the other lodger yesterday, and passed me on the lawn as he came -out. My eyes have lost nothing yet, at any rate, though I _am_ -five-and-thirty; the poor man actually blushed when I looked at -him! What sort of color do you think he would have turned, if one -of the little birds in the garden had whispered in his ear, and -told him the true story of the charming Miss Gwilt? - -"Good-by, Mother Oldershaw. I rather doubt whether I am yours, or -anybody's, affectionately; but we all tell lies at the bottoms of -our letters, don't we? If you are my attached old friend, I must, -of course, be yours affectionately. - -"LYDIA GWILT. - -"P.S.--Keep your odious powders and paints and washes for the -spotted shoulders of your customers; not one of them shall touch -my skin, I promise you. If you really want to be useful, try and -find out some quieting draught to keep me from grinding my teeth -in my sleep. I shall break them one of these nights; and then -what will become of my beauty, I wonder?" - -4. _From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt_. - -"Ladies' Toilet Repository, Tuesday. - -"MY DEAR LYDIA--It is a thousand pities your letter was not -addressed to Mr. Armadale; your graceful audacity would have -charmed him. It doesn't affect me; I am so well used to audacity -in my way of life, you know. Why waste your sparkling wit, my -love, on your own impenetrable Oldershaw? It only splutters and -goes out. Will you try and be serious this next time? I have news -for you from Thorpe Ambrose, which is beyond a joke, and which -must not be trifled with. - -"An hour after I got your letter I set the inquiries on foot. Not -knowing what consequences they might lead to, I thought it safest -to begin in the dark. Instead of employing any of the people whom -I have at my own disposal (who know you and know me), I went to -the Private Inquiry Office in Shadyside Place, and put the matter -in the inspector's hands, in the character of a perfect stranger, -and without mentioning you at all. This was not the cheapest way -of going to work, I own; but it was the safest way, which is of -much greater consequence. - -"The inspector and I understood each other in ten minutes; and -the right person for the purpose--the most harmless looking young -man you ever saw in your life--was produced immediately. He left -for Thorpe Ambrose an hour after I saw him. I arranged to call at -the office on the afternoons of Saturday, Monday, and to-day for -news. There was no news till to-day; and there I found our -confidential agent just returned to town, and waiting to favor me -with a full account of his trip to Norfolk. - -"First of all, let me quiet your mind about those two questions -of yours; I have got answers to both the one and the other. The -Blanchard women go away to foreign parts on the thirteenth, and -young Armadale is at this moment cruising somewhere at sea in his -yacht. There is talk at Thorpe Ambrose of giving him a public -reception, and of calling a meeting of the local grandees to -settle it all. The speechifying and fuss on these occasions -generally wastes plenty of time, and the public reception is not -thought likely to meet the new squire much before the end of the -month. - -"If our messenger had done no more for us than this, I think he -would have earned his money. But the harmless young man is a -regular Jesuit at a private inquiry, with this great advantage -over all the Popish priests I have ever seen, that he has not got -his slyness written in his face. - -"Having to get his information through the female servants in the -usual way, he addressed himself, with admirable discretion, to -the ugliest woman in the house. 'When they are nice-looking, and -can pick and choose,' as he neatly expressed it to me, 'they -waste a great deal of valuable time in deciding on a sweetheart. -When they are ugly, and haven't got the ghost of a chance of -choosing, they snap at a sweetheart, if he comes their way, like -a starved dog at a bone.' Acting on these excellent principles, -our confidential agent succeeded, after certain unavoidable -delays, in addressing himself to the upper housemaid at Thorpe -Ambrose, and took full possession of her confidence at the -first interview. Bearing his instructions carefully in mind, -he encouraged the woman to chatter, and was favored, of course, -with all the gossip of the servants' hall. The greater part of it -(as repeated to me) was of no earthly importance. But I listened -patiently, and was rewarded by a valuable discovery at last. Here -it is. - -"It seems there is an ornamental cottage in the grounds at Thorpe -Ambrose. For some reason unknown, young Armadale has chosen to -let it, and a tenant has come in already. He is a poor half-pay -major in the army, named Milroy, a meek sort of man, by all -accounts, with a turn for occupying himself in mechanical -pursuits, and with a domestic incumbrance in the shape of a -bedridden wife, who has not been seen by anybody. Well, and what -of all this? you will ask, with that sparkling impatience which -becomes you so well. My dear Lydia, don't sparkle! The man's -family affairs seriously concern us both, for, as ill luck will -have it, the man has got a daughter! - -"You may imagine how I questioned our agent, and how our agent -ransacked his memory, when I stumbled, in due course, on such -a discovery as this. If Heaven is responsible for women's -chattering tongues, Heaven be praised! From Miss Blanchard -to Miss Blanchard's maid; from Miss Blanchard's maid to Miss -Blanchard's aunt's maid; from Miss Blanchard's aunt's maid, -to the ugly housemaid; from the ugly housemaid to the -harmless-looking young man--so the stream of gossip trickled into -the right reservoir at last, and thirsty Mother Oldershaw has -drunk it all up. - -"In plain English, my dear, this is how it stands. The major's -daughter is a minx just turned sixteen; lively and nice-looking -(hateful little wretch!), dowdy in her dress (thank Heaven!) and -deficient in her manners (thank Heaven again!). She has been -brought up at home. The governess who last had charge of her left -before her father moved to Thorpe Ambrose. Her education stands -woefully in want of a finishing touch, and the major doesn't -quite know what to do next. None of his friends can recommend him -a new governess and he doesn't like the notion of sending the -girl to school. So matters rest at present, on the major's own -showing; for so the major expressed himself at a morning call -which the father and daughter paid to the ladies at the great -house. - -"You have now got my promised news, and you will have little -difficulty, I think, in agreeing with me that the Armadale -business must be settled at once, one way or the other. If, with -your hopeless prospects, and with what I may call your family -claim on this young fellow, you decide on giving him up, I shall -have the pleasure of sending you the balance of your account with -me (seven-and-twenty shillings), and shall then be free to devote -myself entirely to my own proper business. If, on the contrary, -you decide to try your luck at Thorpe Ambrose, then (there being -no kind of doubt that the major's minx will set her cap at the -young squire) I should be glad to hear how you mean to meet the -double difficulty of inflaming Mr. Armadale and extinguishing -Miss Milroy. - -"Affectionately yours, - -"MARIA OLDERSHAW. - -5. _From Miss Gwilt to Mrs. Oldershaw. - -(First Answer.)_ - -"Richmond, Wednesday Morning. - -"MRS. OLDERSHAW--Send me my seven-and-twenty shillings, and -devote yourself to your own proper business. Yours, L. G." - -6. _From Miss Gwilt to Mrs. Oldershaw. - -(Second Answer.)_ - -"Richmond, Wednesday Night. - -"DEAR OLD LOVE--Keep the seven-and-twenty shillings, and burn my -other letter. I have changed my mind. - -"I wrote the first time after a horrible night. I write this time -after a ride on horseback, a tumbler of claret, and the breast of -a chicken. Is that explanation enough? Please say Yes, for I want -to go back to my piano. - -"No; I can't go back yet; I must answer your question first. But -are you really so very simple as to suppose that I don't see -straight through you and your letter? You know that the major's -difficulty is our opportunity as well as I do; but you want me to -take the responsibility of making the first proposal, don't you? -Suppose I take it in your own roundabout way? Suppose I say, -'Pray don't ask me how I propose inflaming Mr. Armadale and -extinguishing Miss Milroy; the question is so shockingly abrupt -I really can't answer it. Ask me, instead, if it is the modest -ambition of my life to become Miss Milroy's governess?' Yes, if -you please, Mrs. Oldershaw, and if you will assist me by becoming -my reference. - -"There it is for you! If some serious disaster happens (which is -quite possible), what a comfort it will be to remember that it -was all my fault! - -"Now I have done this for you, will you do something for me. I -want to dream away the little time I am likely to have left here -in my own way. Be a merciful Mother Oldershaw, and spare me the -worry of looking at the Ins and Outs, and adding up the chances -For and Against, in this new venture of mine. Think for me, in -short, until I am obliged to think for myself. - -"I had better not write any more, or I shall say something savage -that you won't like. I am in one of my tempers to-night. I want a -husband to vex, or a child to beat, or something of that sort. Do -you ever like to see the summer insects kill themselves in the -candle? I do, sometimes. Good-night, Mrs. Jezebel The longer you -can leave me here the better. The air agrees with me, and I am -looking charmingly. - -"L. G." - -7. _From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt_. - -"Thursday. - -"MY DEAR LYDIA--Some persons in my situation might be a little -offended at the tone of your last letter. But I am so fondly -attached to you! And when I love a person, it is so very hard, my -dear, for that person to offend me! Don't ride quite so far, and -only drink half a tumblerful of claret next time. I say no more. - -"Shall we leave off our fencing-match and come to serious matters -now? How curiously hard it always seems to be for women to -understand each other, especially when they have got their pens -in their hands! But suppose we try. - -"Well, then, to begin with: I gather from your letter that you -have wisely decided to try the Thorpe Ambrose experiment, and to -secure, if you can, an excellent position at starting by becoming -a member of Major Milroy's household. If the circumstances turn -against you, and some other woman gets the governess's place -(about which I shall have something more to say presently), you -will then have no choice but to make Mr. Armadale's acquaintance -in some other character. In any case, you will want my -assistance; and the first question, therefore, to set at rest -between us is the question of what I am willing to do, and what -I can do, to help you. - -"A woman, my dear Lydia, with your appearance, your manners, your -abilities, and your education, can make almost any excursions -into society that she pleases if she only has money in her pocket -and a respectable reference to appeal to in cases of emergency. -As to the money, in the first place. I will engage to find it, -on condition of your remembering my assistance with adequate -pecuniary gratitude if you win the Armadale prize. Your promise -so to remember me, embodying the terms in plain figures, shall be -drawn out on paper by my own lawyer, so that we can sign and -settle at once when I see you in London. - -"Next, as to the reference. - -"Here, again, my services are at your disposal, on another -condition. It is this: that you present yourself at Thorpe -Ambrose, under the name to which you have returned ever since -that dreadful business of your marriage; I mean your own maiden -name of Gwilt. I have only one motive in insisting on this; I -wish to run no needless risks. My experience, as confidential -adviser of my customers, in various romantic cases of private -embarrassment, has shown me that an assumed name is, nine times -out of ten, a very unnecessary and a very dangerous form of -deception. Nothing could justify your assuming a name but the -fear of young Armadale's detecting you--a fear from which we are -fortunately relieved by his mother's own conduct in keeping your -early connection with her a profound secret from her son and from -everybody. - -"The next, and last, perplexity to settle relates, my dear, to -the chances for and against your finding your way, in the -capacity of governess, into Major Milroy's house. Once inside the -door, with your knowledge of music and languages, if you can keep -your temper, you may be sure of keeping the place. The only -doubt, as things are now, is whether you can get it. - -"In the major's present difficulty about his daughter's -education, the chances are, I think, in favor of his advertising -for a governess. Say he does advertise, what address will he give -for applicants to write to? - -"If he gives an address in London, good-by to all chances in your -favor at once; for this plain reason, that we shall not be able -to pick out his advertisement from the advertisements of other -people who want governesses, and who will give them addresses in -London as well. If, on the other hand, our luck helps us, and he -refers his correspondents to a shop, post-office, or what not _at -Thorpe Ambrose_, there we have our advertiser as plainly picked -out for us as we can wish. In this last case, I have little or no -doubt--with me for your reference--of your finding your way into -the major's family circle. We have one great advantage over the -other women who will answer the advertisement. Thanks to my -inquiries on the spot, I know Major Milroy to be a poor man; and -we will fix the salary you ask at a figure that is sure to tempt -him. As for the style of the letter, if you and I together can't -write a modest and interesting application for the vacant place, -I should like to know who can? - -"All this, however, is still in the future. For the present my -advice is, stay where you are, and dream to your heart's content, -till you hear from me again. I take in _The Times_ regularly, and -you may trust my wary eye not to miss the right advertisement. We -can luckily give the major time, without doing any injury to our -own interests; for there is no fear just yet of the girl's -getting the start of you. The public reception, as we know, won't -be ready till near the end of the month; and we may safely trust -young Armadale's vanity to keep him out of his new house until -his flatterers are all assembled to welcome him. - -"It's odd, isn't it, to think how much depends on this half-pay -officer's decision? For my part, I shall wake every morning now -with the same question in my mind: If the major's advertisment -appears, which will the major say--Thorpe Ambrose, or London? - -"Ever, my dear Lydia, affectionately yours, - -"MARIA OLDERSHAW." - - -CHAPTER II. - -ALLAN AS A LANDED GENTLEMAN. - -Early on the morning after his first night's rest at Thorpe -Ambrose, Allan rose and surveyed the prospect from his bedroom -window, lost in the dense mental bewilderment of feeling himself -to be a stranger in his own house. - -The bedroom looked out over the great front door, with its -portico, its terrace and flight of steps beyond, and, further -still, the broad sweep of the well-timbered park to close the -view. The morning mist nestled lightly about the distant trees; -and the cows were feeding sociably, close to the iron fence which -railed off the park from the drive in front of the house. "All -mine!" thought Allan, staring in blank amazement at the prospect -of his own possessions. "Hang me if I can beat it into my head -yet. All mine!" - -He dressed, left his room, and walked along the corridor which -led to the staircase and hall, opening the doors in succession as -he passed them. - -The rooms in this part of the house were bedrooms and -dressing-rooms, light, spacious, perfectly furnished; and all -empty, except the one bed-chamber next to Allan's, which had been -appropriated to Midwinter. He was still sleeping when his friend -looked in on him, having sat late into the night writing his -letter to Mr. Brock. Allan went on to the end of the first -corridor, turned at right angles into a second, and, that passed, -gained the head of the great staircase. "No romance here," he -said to himself, looking down the handsomely carpeted stone -stairs into the bright modern hall. "Nothing to startle -Midwinter's fidgety nerves in this house." There was nothing, -indeed; Allan's essentially superficial observation had not -misled him for once. The mansion of Thorpe Ambrose (built after -the pulling down of the dilapidated old manor-house) was barely -fifty years old. Nothing picturesque, nothing in the slightest -degree suggestive of mystery and romance, appeared in any part of -it. It was a purely conventional country house--the product of -the classical idea filtered judiciously through the commercial -English mind. Viewed on the outer side, it presented the -spectacle of a modern manufactory trying to look like an ancient -temple. Viewed on the inner side, it was a marvel of luxurious -comfort in every part of it, from basement to roof. "And quite -right, too," thought Allan, sauntering contentedly down the -broad, gently graduated stairs. "Deuce take all mystery and -romance! Let's be clean and comfortable, that's what I say." - -Arrived in the hall, the new master of Thorpe Ambrose hesitated, -and looked about him, uncertain which way to turn next. - -The four reception-rooms on the ground-floor opened into the -hall, two on either side. Allan tried the nearest door on his -right hand at a venture, and found himself in the drawing-room. -Here the first sign of life appeared, under life's most -attractive form. A young girl was in solitary possession of the -drawing-room. The duster in her hand appeared to associate her -with the domestic duties of the house; but at that particular -moment she was occupied in asserting the rights of nature over -the obligations of service. In other words, she was attentively -contemplating her own face in the glass over the mantelpiece. - -"There! there! don't let me frighten you," said Allan, as the -girl started away from the glass, and stared at him in -unutterable confusion. "I quite agree with you, my dear; your -face is well worth looking at. Who are you? Oh, the housemaid. -And what's your name? Susan, eh? Come! I like your name, to begin -with. Do you know who I am, Susan? I'm your master, though you -may not think it. Your character? Oh, yes! Mrs. Blanchard gave -you a capital character. You shall stop here; don't be afraid. -And you'll be a good girl, Susan, and wear smart little caps and -aprons and bright ribbons, and you'll look nice and pretty, and -dust the furniture, won't you?" With this summary of a -housemaid's duties, Allan sauntered back into the hall, and found -more signs of life in that quarter. A man-servant appeared on -this occasion, and bowed, as became a vassal in a linen jacket, -before his liege lord in a wide-awake hat. - -"And who may you be?" asked Allan. "Not the man who let us in -last night? Ah, I thought not. The second footman, eh? Character? -Oh, yes; capital character. Stop here, of course. You can valet -me, can you? Bother valeting me! I like to put on my own clothes, -and brush them, too, when they _are_ on; and, if I only knew how -to black my own boots, by George, I should like to do it! What -room's this? Morning-room, eh? And here's the dining-room, of -course. Good heavens, what a table! it's as long as my yacht, and -longer. I say, by-the-by, what's your name? Richard, is it? Well, -Richard, the vessel I sail in is a vessel of my own building! -What do you think of that? You look to me just the right sort of -man to be my steward on board. If you're not sick at sea--oh, you -_are_ sick at sea? Well, then, we'll say nothing more about it. -And what room is this? Ah, yes; the library, of course--more in -Mr. Midwinter's way than mine. Mr. Midwinter is the gentleman who -came here with me last night; and mind this, Richard, you're all -to show him as much attention as you show me. Where are we now? -What's this door at the back? Billiard-room and smoking-room, eh? -Jolly. Another door! and more stairs! Where do they go to? and -who's this coming up? Take your time, ma'am; you're not quite so -young as you were once--take your time." - -The object of Allan's humane caution was a corpulent elderly -woman of the type called "motherly." Fourteen stairs were all -that separated her from the master of the house; she ascended -them with fourteen stoppages and fourteen sighs. Nature, various -in all things, is infinitely various in the female sex. There are -some women whose personal qualities reveal the Loves and the -Graces; and there are other women whose personal qualities -suggest the Perquisites and the Grease Pot. This was one of the -other women. - -"Glad to see you looking so well, ma'am," said Allan, when the -cook, in the majesty of her office, stood proclaimed before him. -"Your name is Gripper, is it? I consider you, Mrs. Gripper, the -most valuable person in the house. For this reason, that nobody -in the house eats a heartier dinner every day than I do. -Directions? Oh, no; I've no directions to give. I leave all that -to you. Lots of strong soup, and joints done with the gravy in -them--there's my notion of good feeding, in two words. Steady! -Here's somebody else. Oh, to be sure--the butler! Another -valuable person. We'll go right through all the wine in the -cellar, Mr. Butler; and if I can't give you a sound opinion after -that, we'll persevere boldly, and go right through it again. -Talking of wine--halloo! here are more of them coming up stairs. -There! there! don't trouble yourselves. You've all got capital -characters, and you shall all stop here along with me. What was I -saying just now? Something about wine; so it was. I'll tell you -what, Mr. Butler, it isn't every day that a new master comes to -Thorpe Ambrose; and it's my wish that we should all start -together on the best possible terms. Let the servants have a -grand jollification downstairs to celebrate my arrival, and give -them what they like to drink my health in. It's a poor heart, -Mrs. Gripper, that never rejoices, isn't it? No; I won't look at -the cellar now: I want to go out, and get a breath of fresh air -before breakfast. Where's Richard? I say, have I got a garden -here? Which side of the house is it! That side, eh? You needn't -show me round. I'll go alone, Richard, and lose myself, if I can, -in my own property." - -With those words Allan descended the terrace steps in front of -the house, whistling cheerfully. He had met the serious -responsibility of settling his domestic establishment to his own -entire satisfaction. "People talk of the difficulty of managing -their servants," thought Allan. "What on earth do they mean? I -don't see any difficulty at all." He opened an ornamental gate -leading out of the drive at the side of the house, and, following -the footman's directions, entered the shrubbery that sheltered -the Thorpe Ambrose gardens. "Nice shady sort of place for a -cigar," said Allan, as he sauntered along with his hands in his -pockets "I wish I could beat it into my head that it really -belongs to _me_." - -The shrubbery opened on the broad expanse of a flower garden, -flooded bright in its summer glory by the light of the morning -sun. - -On one side, an archway, broken through, a wall, led into the -fruit garden. On the other, a terrace of turf led to ground on a -lower level, laid out as an Italian garden. Wandering past the -fountains and statues, Allan reached another shrubbery, winding -its way apparently to some remote part of the grounds. Thus far, -not a human creature had been visible or audible anywhere; but, -as he approached the end of the second shrubbery, it struck him -that he heard something on the other side of the foliage. He -stopped and listened. There were two voices speaking -distinctly--an old voice that sounded very obstinate, and a young -voice that sounded very angry. - -"It's no use, miss," said the old voice. "I mustn't allow it, and -I won't allow it. What would Mr. Armadale say?" - -"If Mr. Armadale is the gentleman I take him for, you old brute!" -replied the young voice, "he would say, 'Come into my garden, -Miss Milroy, as often as you like, and take as many nosegays as -you please.'" Allan's bright blue eyes twinkled mischievously. -Inspired by a sudden idea, he stole softly to the end of the -shrubbery, darted round the corner of it, and, vaulting over a -low ring fence, found himself in a trim little paddock, crossed -by a gravel walk. At a short distance down the wall stood a young -lady, with her back toward him, trying to force her way past an -impenetrable old man, with a rake in his hand, who stood -obstinately in front of her, shaking his head. - -"Come into my garden, Miss Milroy, as often as you like, and take -as many nosegays as you please," cried Allan, remorselessly -repeating her own words. - -The young lady turned round, with a scream; her muslin dress, -which she was holding up in front, dropped from her hand, and a -prodigious lapful of flowers rolled out on the gravel walk. - -Before another word could be said, the impenetrable old man -stepped forward, with the utmost composure, and entered on the -question of his own personal interests, as if nothing whatever -had happened, and nobody was present but his new master and -himself. - -"I bid you humbly welcome to Thorpe Ambrose, sir," said this -ancient of the gardens. "My name is Abraham Sage. I've been -employed in the grounds for more than forty years; and I hope -you'll be pleased to continue me in my place." - -So, with vision inexorably limited to the horizon of his own -prospects, spoke the gardener, and spoke in vain. Allan was down -on his knees on the gravel walk, collecting the fallen flowers, -and forming his first impressions of Miss Milroy from the feet -upward. - -She was pretty; she was not pretty; she charmed, she -disappointed, she charmed again. Tried by recognized line and -rule, she was too short and too well developed for her age. And -yet few men's eyes would have wished her figure other than it -was. Her hands were so prettily plump and dimpled that it was -hard to see how red they were with the blessed exuberance of -youth and health. Her feet apologized gracefully for her old and -ill fitting shoes; and her shoulders made ample amends for the -misdemeanor in muslin which covered them in the shape of a dress. -Her dark-gray eyes were lovely in their clear softness of color, -in their spirit, tenderness, and sweet good humor of expression; -and her hair (where a shabby old garden hat allowed it to be -seen) was of just that lighter shade of brown which gave value by -contrast to the darker beauty of her eyes. But these attractions -passed, the little attendant blemishes and imperfections of this -self-contradictory girl began again. Her nose was too short, her -mouth was too large, her face was too round and too rosy. The -dreadful justice of photography would have had no mercy on her; -and the sculptors of classical Greece would have bowed her -regretfully out of their studios. Admitting all this, and more, -the girdle round Miss Milroy's waist was the girdle of Venus -nevertheless; and the passkey that opens the general heart was -the key she carried, if ever a girl possessed it yet. Before -Allan had picked up his second handful of flowers, Allan was in -love with her. - -"Don't! pray don't, Mr. Armadale!" she said, receiving the -flowers under protest, as Allan vigorously showered them back -into the lap of her dress. "I am so ashamed! I didn't mean to -invite myself in that bold way into your garden; my tongue ran -away with me--it did, indeed! What can I say to excuse myself? -Oh, Mr. Armadale, what must you think of me?" - -Allan suddenly saw his way to a compliment, and tossed it up to -her forthwith, with the third handful of flowers. - -"I'll tell you what I think, Miss Milroy," he said, in his blunt, -boyish way. "I think the luckiest walk I ever took in my life was -the walk this morning that brought me here." - -He looked eager and handsome. He was not addressing a woman worn -out with admiration, but a girl just beginning a woman's life; -and it did him no harm, at any rate, to speak in the character -of master of Thorpe Ambrose. The penitential expression on Miss -Milroy's face gently melted away; she looked down, demure and -smiling, at the flowers in her lap. - -"I deserve a good scolding," she said. "I don't deserve -compliments, Mr. Armadale--least of all from _you_." - -"Oh, yes, you do!" cried the headlong Allan, getting briskly on -his legs. "Besides, it isn't a compliment; it's true. You are the -prettiest--I beg your pardon, Miss Milroy! _my_ tongue ran away -with me that time." - -Among the heavy burdens that are laid on female human nature, -perhaps the heaviest, at the age of sixteen, is the burden of -gravity. Miss Milroy struggled, tittered, struggled again, and -composed herself for the time being. - -The gardener, who still stood where he had stood from the first, -immovably waiting for his next opportunity, saw it now, and -gently pushed his personal interests into the first gap of -silence that had opened within his reach since Allan's appearance -on the scene. - -"I humbly bid you welcome to Thorpe Ambrose, sir," said Abraham -Sage, beginning obstinately with his little introductory speech -for the second time. "My name--" - -Before he could deliver himself of his name, Miss Milroy looked -accidentally in the horticulturist's pertinacious face, and -instantly lost her hold on her gravity beyond recall. Allan, -never backward in following a boisterous example of any sort, -joined in her laughter with right goodwill. The wise man of the -gardens showed no surprise, and took no offense. He waited for -another gap of silence, and walked in again gently with his -personal interests the moment the two young people stopped to -take breath. - -"I have been employed in the grounds," proceeded Abraham Sage, -irrepressibly, "for more than forty years--" - -"You shall be employed in the grounds for forty more, if you'll -only hold your tongue and take yourself off!" cried Allan, as -soon as he could speak. - -"Thank you kindly, sir," said the gardener, with the utmost -politeness, but with no present signs either of holding his -tongue or of taking himself off. - -"Well?" said Allan. - -Abraham Sage carefully cleared his throat, and shifted his rake -from one hand to the other. He looked down the length of his own -invaluable implement, with a grave interest and attention, -seeing, apparently, not the long handle of a rake, but the long -perspective of a vista, with a supplementary personal interest -established at the end of it. "When more convenient, sir," -resumed this immovable man, "I should wish respectfully to speak -to you about my son. Perhaps it may be more convenient in the -course of the day? My humble duty, sir, and my best thanks. My -son is strictly sober. He is accustomed to the stables, and he -belongs to the Church of England--without incumbrances." Having -thus planted his offspring provisionally in his master's -estimation, Abraham Sage shouldered his invaluable rake, and -hobbled slowly out of view. - -"If that's a specimen of a trustworthy old servant," said Allan, -"I think I'd rather take my chance of being cheated by a new one. -_You_ shall not be troubled with him again, Miss Milroy, at any -rate. All the flower-beds in the garden are at your disposal, and -all the fruit in the fruit season, if you'll only come here and -eat it." - -"Oh, Mr. Armadale, how very, very kind you are. How can I thank -you?" - -Allan saw his way to another compliment--an elaborate compliment, -in the shape of a trap, this time. - -"You can do me the greatest possible favor," he said. "You can -assist me in forming an agreeable impression of my own grounds." - -"Dear me! how?" asked Miss Milroy, innocently. - -Allan judiciously closed the trap on the spot in these words: "By -taking me with you, Miss Milroy, on your morning walk." He spoke, -smiled, and offered his arm. - -She saw the way, on her side, to a little flirtation. She rested -her hand on his arm, blushed, hesitated, and suddenly took it -away again. - -"I don't think it's quite right, Mr. Armadale," she said, -devoting herself with the deepest attention to her collection -of flowers. "Oughtn't we to have some old lady here? Isn't it -improper to take your arm until I know you a little better than -I do now? I am obliged to ask; I have had so little instruction; -I have seen so little of society, and one of papa's friends once -said my manners were too bold for my age. What do _you_ think?" - -"I think it's a very good thing your papa's friend is not here -now," answered the outspoken Allan; "I should quarrel with him to -a dead certainty. As for society, Miss Milroy, nobody knows less -about it than I do; but if we _had_ an old lady here, I must say -myself I think she would be uncommonly in the way. Won't you?" -concluded Allan, imploringly offering his arm for the second -time. "Do!" - -Miss Milroy looked up at him sidelong from her flowers "You are -as bad as the gardener, Mr. Armadale!" She looked down again in a -flutter of indecision. "I'm sure it's wrong," she said, and took -his arm the instant afterward without the slightest hesitation. - -They moved away together over the daisied turf of the paddock, -young and bright and happy, with the sunlight of the summer -morning shining cloudless over their flowery path. - -"And where are we going to, now?" asked Allan. "Into another -garden?" - -She laughed gayly. "How very odd of you, Mr. Armadale, not to -know, when it all belongs to you! Are you really seeing Thorpe -Ambrose this morning for the first time? How indescribably -strange it must feel! No, no; don't say any more complimentary -things to me just yet. You may turn my head if you do. We haven't -got the old lady with us; and I really must take care of myself. -Let me be useful; let me tell you all about your own grounds. We -are going out at that little gate, across one of the drives in -the park, and then over the rustic bridge, and then round the -corner of the plantation--where do you think? To where I live, -Mr. Armadale; to the lovely little cottage that you have let to -papa. Oh, if you only knew how lucky we thought ourselves to get -it!' - -She paused, looked up at her companion, and stopped another -compliment on the incorrigible Allan's lips. - -"I'll drop your arm," she said coquettishly, "if you do! We -_were_ lucky to get the cottage, Mr. Armadale. Papa said he felt -under an obligation to you for letting it, the day we got in. And -_I_ said I felt under an obligation, no longer ago than last -week." - -"You, Miss Milroy!" exclaimed Allan. - -"Yes. It may surprise you to hear it; but if you hadn't let the -cottage to papa, I believe I should have suffered the indignity -and misery of being sent to school." - -Allan's memory reverted to the half-crown that he had spun on the -cabin-table of the yacht, at Castletown. "If she only knew that I -had tossed up for it!" he thought, guiltily. - -"I dare say you don't understand why I should feel such a horror -of going to school," pursued Miss Milroy, misinterpreting the -momentary silence on her companion's side. "If I had gone to -school in early life--I mean at the age when other girls go--I -shouldn't have minded it now. But I had no such chance at the -time. It was the time of mamma's illness and of papa's -unfortunate speculation; and as papa had nobody to comfort him -but me, of course I stayed at home. You needn't laugh; I was of -some use, I can tell you. I helped papa over his trouble, by -sitting on his knee after dinner, and asking him to tell me -stories of all the remarkable people he had known when he was -about in the great world, at home and abroad. Without me to amuse -him in the evening, and his clock to occupy him in the daytime--" - -"His clock?" repeated Allan. - -"Oh, yes! I ought to have told you. Papa is an extraordinary -mechanical genius. You will say so, too, when you see his clock. -It's nothing like so large, of course, but it's on the model of -the famous clock at Strasbourg. Only think, he began it when I -was eight years old; and (though I was sixteen last birthday) it -isn't finished yet! Some of our friends were quite surprised he -should take to such a thing when his troubles began. But papa -himself set that right in no time; he reminded them that Louis -the Sixteenth took to lock-making when _his_ troubles began, and -then everybody was perfectly satisfied." She stopped, and changed -color confusedly. "Oh, Mr. Armadale," she said, in genuine -embarrassment this time, "here is my unlucky tongue running away -with me again! I am talking to you already as if I had known you -for years! This is what papa's friend meant when he said my -manners were too bold. It's quite true; I have a dreadful way of -getting familiar with people, if--" She checked herself suddenly, -on the brink of ending the sentence by saying, "if I like them." - -"No, no; do go on!" pleaded Allan. "It's a fault of mine to be -familiar, too. Besides, we _must_ be familiar; we are such near -neighbors. I'm rather an uncultivated sort of fellow, and I don't -know quite how to say it; but I want your cottage to be jolly and -friendly with my house, and my house to be jolly and friendly -with your cottage. There's my meaning, all in the wrong words. Do -go on, Miss Milroy; pray go on!" - -She smiled and hesitated. "I don't exactly remember where I was," -she replied, "I only remember I had something I wanted to tell -you. This comes, Mr. Armadale, of my taking your arm. I should -get on so much better, if you would only consent to walk -separately. You won't? Well, then, will you tell me what it was I -wanted to say? Where was I before I went wandering off to papa's -troubles and papa's clock?" - -"At school!" replied Allan, with a prodigious effort of memory. - -"_Not_ at school, you mean," said Miss Milroy; "and all through -_you_. Now I can go on again, which is a great comfort. I am -quite serious, Mr. Armadale, in saying that I should have been -sent to school, if you had said No when papa proposed for the -cottage. This is how it happened. When we began moving in, Mrs. -Blanchard sent us a most kind message from the great house to say -that her servants were at our disposal, if we wanted any -assistance. The least papa and I could do, after that, was to -call and thank her. We saw Mrs. Blanchard and Miss Blanchard. -Mistress was charming, and miss looked perfectly lovely in her -mourning. I'm sure you admire her? She's tall and pale and -graceful--quite your idea of beauty, I should think?" - -"Nothing like it," began Allan. "My idea of beauty at the present -moment--" - -Miss Milroy felt it coming, and instantly took her hand off his -arm. - -"I mean I have never seen either Mrs. Blanchard or her niece," -added Allan, precipitately correcting himself. - -Miss Milroy tempered justice with mercy, and put her hand back -again. - -"How extraordinary that you should never have seen them!" she -went on. "Why, you are a perfect stranger to everything and -everybody at Thorpe Ambrose! Well, after Miss Blanchard and I -had sat and talked a little while, I heard my name on Mrs. -Blanchard's lips and instantly held my breath. She was asking -papa if I had finished my education. Out came papa's great -grievance directly. My old governess, you must know, left us to -be married just before we came here, and none of our friends -could produce a new one whose terms were reasonable. 'I'm told, -Mrs. Blanchard, by people who understand it better than I do,' -says papa, 'that advertising is a risk. It all falls on me, -in Mrs. Milroy's state of health, and I suppose I must end in -sending my little girl to school. Do you happen to know of a -school within the means of a poor man?' Mrs. Blanchard shook her -head; I could have kissed her on the spot for doing it. 'All my -experience, Major Milroy,' says this perfect angel of a woman, -'is in favor of advertising. My niece's governess was originally -obtained by an advertisement, and you may imagine her value to us -when I tell you she lived in our family for more than ten years.' -I could have gone down on both my knees and worshipped Mrs. -Blanchard then and there; and I only wonder I didn't! Papa was -struck at the time--I could see that--and he referred to it again -on the way home. 'Though I have been long out of the world, my -dear,' says papa, 'I know a highly-bred woman and a sensible -woman when I see her. Mrs. Blanchard's experience puts -advertising in a new light; I must think about it.' He has -thought about it, and (though he hasn't openly confessed it to -me) I know that he decided to advertise, no later than last -night. So, if papa thanks you for letting the cottage, Mr. -Armadale, I thank you, too. But for you, we should never have -known darling Mrs. Blanchard; and but for darling Mrs. Blanchard, -I should have been sent to school." - -Before Allan could reply, they turned the corner of the -plantation, and came in sight of the cottage. Description of it -is needless; the civilized universe knows it already. It was the -typical cottage of the drawing-master's early lessons in neat -shading and the broad pencil touch--with the trim thatch, the -luxuriant creepers, the modest lattice-windows, the rustic porch, -and the wicker bird-cage, all complete. - -"Isn't it lovely?" said Miss Milroy. "Do come in!" - -"May I?" asked Allan. "Won't the major think it too early?" - -"Early or late, I am sure papa will be only too glad to see you." - -She led the way briskly up the garden path, and opened the parlor -door. As Allan followed her into the little room, he saw, at the -further end of it, a gentleman sitting alone at an old-fashioned -writing-table, with his back turned to his visitor. - -"Papa! a surprise for you!" said Miss Milroy, rousing him from -his occupation. "Mr. Armadale has come to Thorpe Ambrose; and I -have brought him here to see you." - -The major started; rose, bewildered for the moment; recovered -himself immediately, and advanced to welcome his young landlord, -with hospitable, outstretched hand. - -A man with a larger experience of the world and a finer -observation of humanity than Allan possessed would have seen the -story of Major Milroy's life written in Major Milroy's face. The -home troubles that had struck him were plainly betrayed in his -stooping figure and his wan, deeply wrinkled cheeks, when he -first showed himself on rising from his chair. The changeless -influence of one monotonous pursuit and one monotonous habit of -thought was next expressed in the dull, dreamy self-absorption of -his manner and his look while his daughter was speaking to him. -The moment after, when he had roused himself to welcome his -guest, was the moment which made the self-revelation complete. -Then there flickered in the major's weary eyes a faint reflection -of the spirit of his happier youth. Then there passed over the -major's dull and dreamy manner a change which told unmistakably -of social graces and accomplishments, learned at some past time -in no ignoble social school; a man who had long since taken his -patient refuge from trouble in his own mechanical pursuit; a man -only roused at intervals to know himself again for what he once -had been. So revealed to all eyes that could read him aright, -Major Milroy now stood before Allan, on the first morning of an -acquaintance which was destined to be an event in Allan's life. - -"I am heartily glad to see you, Mr. Armadale," he said, speaking -in the changeless quiet, subdued tone peculiar to most men whose -occupations are of the solitary and monotonous kind. "You have -done me one favor already by taking me as your tenant, and you -now do me another by paying this friendly visit. If you have not -breakfasted already, let me waive all ceremony on my side, and -ask you to take your place at our little table." - -"With the greatest pleasure, Major Milroy, if I am not in the -way," replied Allan, delighted at his reception. "I was sorry to -hear from Miss Milroy that Mrs. Milroy is an invalid. Perhaps my -being here unexpectedly; perhaps the sight of a strange face--" - -"I understand your hesitation, Mr. Armadale," said the major; -"but it is quite unnecessary. Mrs. Milroy's illness keeps her -entirely confined to her own room. Have we got everything we -want on the table, my love?" he went on, changing the subject so -abruptly that a closer observer than Allan might have suspected -it was distasteful to him. "Will you come and make tea?" - -Miss Milroy's attention appeared to be already pre-engaged; she -made no reply. While her father and Allan had been exchanging -civilities, she had been putting the writing-table in order, -and examining the various objects scattered on it with the -unrestrained curiosity of a spoiled child. The moment after the -major had spoken to her, she discovered a morsel of paper hidden -between the leaves of the blotting-book, snatched it up, looked -at it, and turned round instantly, with an exclamation of -surprise. - -"Do my eyes deceive me, papa?" she asked. "Or were you really and -truly writing the advertisement when I came in?" - -"I had just finished it," replied her father. "But, my dear, Mr. -Armadale is here--we are waiting for breakfast." - -"Mr. Armadale knows all about it," rejoined Miss Milroy. "I told -him in the garden." - -"Oh, yes!" said Allan. "Pray, don't make a stranger of me, major! -If it's about the governess, I've got something (in an indirect -sort of way) to do with it too." - -Major Milroy smiled. Before he could answer, his daughter, who -had been reading the advertisement, appealed to him eagerly, for -the second time. - -"Oh, papa," she said, "there's one thing here I don't like at -all! Why do you put grandmamma's initials at the end? Why do you -tell them to write to grandmamma's house in London?" - -"My dear! your mother can do nothing in this matter, as you know. -And as for me (even if I went to London), questioning strange -ladies about their characters and accomplishments is the last -thing in the world that I am fit to do. Your grandmamma is on the -spot; and your grandmamma is the proper person to receive the -letters, and to make all the necessary inquires." - -"But I want to see the letters myself," persisted the spoiled -child. "Some of them are sure to be amusing--" - -"I don't apologize for this very unceremonious reception of you, -Mr. Armadale," said the major, turning to Allan, with a quaint -and quiet humor. "It may be useful as a warning, if you ever -chance to marry and have a daughter, not to begin, as I have -done, by letting her have her own way." - -Allan laughed, and Miss Milroy persisted. - -"Besides," she went on, "I should like to help in choosing which -letters we answer, and which we don't. I think I ought to have -some voice in the selection of my own governess. Why not tell -them, papa, to send their letters down here--to the post-office -or the stationer's, or anywhere you like? When you and I have -read them, we can send up the letters we prefer to grandmamma; -and she can ask all the questions, and pick out the best -governess, just as you have arranged already, without leaving ME -entirely in the dark, which I consider (don't you, Mr. Armadale?) -to be quite inhuman. Let me alter the address, papa; do, there's -a darling!" - -"We shall get no breakfast, Mr. Armadale, if I don't say Yes," -said the major good-humoredly. "Do as you like, my dear," he -added, turning to his daughter. "As long as it ends in your -grandmamma's managing the matter for us, the rest is of very -little consequence." - -Miss Milroy took up her father's pen, drew it through the last -line of the advertisement, and wrote the altered address with her -own hand as follows: - -"_Apply, by letter, to M., Post-office, Thorpe Ambrose, -Norfolk_." - -"There!" she said, bustling to her place at the breakfast-table. -"The advertisement may go to London now; and, if a governess -_does_ come of it, oh, papa, who in the name of wonder will she -be? Tea or coffee, Mr. Armadale? I'm really ashamed of having -kept you waiting. But it is such a comfort," she added, saucily, -"to get all one's business off one's mind before breakfast!" - -Father, daughter, and guest sat down together sociably at the -little round table, the best of good neighbors and good friends -already. - - -Three days later, one of the London newsboys got _his_ business -off his mind before breakfast. His district was Diana Street, -Pimlico; and the last of the morning's newspapers which he -disposed of was the newspaper he left at Mrs. Oldershaw's door. - -CHAPTER III. - -THE CLAIMS OF SOCIETY. - -More than an hour after Allan had set forth on his exploring -expedition through his own grounds, Midwinter rose, and enjoyed, -in his turn, a full view by daylight of the magnificence of the -new house. - -Refreshed by his long night's rest, he descended the great -staircase as cheerfully as Allan himself. One after another, -he, too, looked into the spacious rooms on the ground floor -in breathless astonishment at the beauty and the luxury which -surrounded him. "The house where I lived in service when I was a -boy, was a fine one," he thought, gayly; "but it was nothing to -this! I wonder if Allan is as surprised and delighted as I am?" -The beauty of the summer morning drew him out through the open -hall door, as it had drawn his friend out before him. He ran -briskly down the steps, humming the burden of one of the old -vagabond tunes which he had danced to long since in the old -vagabond time. Even the memories of his wretched childhood took -their color, on that happy morning. from the bright medium -through which he looked back at them. "If I was not out of -practice," he thought to himself, as he leaned on the fence and -looked over at the park, "I could try some of my old tumbling -tricks on that delicious grass." He turned, noticed two of the -servants talking together near the shrubbery, and asked for news -of the master of the house. - -The men pointed with a smile in the direction of the gardens; Mr. -Armadale had gone that way more than an hour since, and had met -(as had been reported) with Miss Milroy in the grounds. Midwinter -followed the path through the shrubbery, but, on reaching the -flower garden, stopped, considered a little, and retraced his -steps. "If Allan has met with the young lady," he said to -himself, "Allan doesn't want me." He laughed as he drew that -inevitable inference, and turned considerately to explore the -beauties of Thorpe Ambrose on the other side of the house. - -Passing the angle of the front wall of the building, he descended -some steps, advanced along a paved walk, turned another angle, -and found himself in a strip of garden ground at the back of the -house. - -Behind him was a row of small rooms situated on the level of the -servants' offices. In front of him, on the further side of the -little garden, rose a wall, screened by a laurel hedge, and -having a door at one end of it, leading past the stables to a -gate that opened on the high-road. Perceiving that he had only -discovered thus far the shorter way to the house, used by the -servants and trades-people, Midwinter turned back again, and -looked in at the window of one of the rooms on the basement -story as he passed it. Were these the servants' offices? No; the -offices were apparently in some other part of the ground-floor; -the window he had looked in at was the window of a lumber-room. -The next two rooms in the row were both empty. The fourth window, -when he approached it, presented a little variety. It served also -as a door; and it stood open to the garden at that moment. - -Attracted by the book-shelves which he noticed on one of the -walls, Midwinter stepped into the room. - -The books, few in number, did not detain him long; a glance at -their backs was enough without taking them down. The Waverley -Novels, Tales by Miss Edgeworth, and by Miss Edgeworth's many -followers, the Poems of Mrs. Hemans, with a few odd volumes of -the illustrated gift-books of the period, composed the bulk of -the little library. Midwinter turned to leave the room, when an -object on one side of the window, which he had not previously -noticed, caught his attention and stopped him. It was a statuette -standing on a bracket--a reduced copy of the famous Niobe of the -Florence Museum. He glanced from the statuette to the window, -with a sudden doubt which set his heart throbbing fast. It was a -French window. He looked out with a suspicion which he had not -felt yet. The view before him was the view of a lawn and garden. -For a moment his mind struggled blindly to escape the conclusion -which had seized it, and struggled in vain. Here, close round him -and close before him--here, forcing him mercilessly back from the -happy present to the horrible past, was the room that Allan had -seen in the Second Vision of the Dream. - -He waited, thinking and looking round him while he thought. -There was wonderfully little disturbance in his face and manner; -he looked steadily from one to the other of the few objects in -the room, as if the discovery of it had saddened rather than -surprised him. Matting of some foreign sort covered the floor. -Two cane chairs and a plain table comprised the whole of the -furniture. The walls were plainly papered, and bare--broken -to the eye in one place by a door leading into the interior -of the house; in another, by a small stove; in a third, by the -book-shelves which Midwinter had already noticed. He returned -to the books, and this time he took some of them down from the -shelves. - -The first that he opened contained lines in a woman's -handwriting, traced in ink that had faded with time. He read the -inscription--"Jane Armadale, from her beloved father. Thorpe -Ambrose, October, 1828." In the second, third, and fourth volumes -that he opened, the same inscription re-appeared. His previous -knowledge of dates and persons helped him to draw the true -inference from what he saw. The books must have belonged to -Allan's mother; and she must have inscribed them with her name, -in the interval of time between her return to Thorpe Ambrose from -Madeira and the birth of her son. Midwinter passed on to a volume -on another shelf--one of a series containing the writings of Mrs. -Hemans. In this case, the blank leaf at the beginning of the book -was filled on both sides with a copy of verses, the writing being -still in Mrs. Armadale's hand. The verses were headed "Farewell -to Thorpe Ambrose," and were dated "March, 1829"--two months only -after Allan had been born. - -Entirely without merit in itself, the only interest of the little -poem was in the domestic story that it told. - -The very room in which Midwinter then stood was described--with -the view on the garden, the window made to open on it, the -bookshelves, the Niobe, and other more perishable ornaments -which Time had destroyed. Here, at variance with her brothers, -shrinking from her friends, the widow of the murdered man had, on -her own acknowledgment, secluded herself, without other comfort -than the love and forgiveness of her father, until her child was -born. The father's mercy and the father's recent death filled -many verses, happily too vague in their commonplace expression of -penitence and despair to give any hint of the marriage story in -Madeira to any reader who looked at them ignorant of the truth. A -passing reference to the writer's estrangement from her surviving -relatives, and to her approaching departure from Thorpe Ambrose, -followed. Last came the assertion of the mother's resolution to -separate herself from all her old associations; to leave behind -her every possession, even to the most trifling thing she had, -that could remind her of the miserable past; and to date her new -life in the future from the birthday of the child who had been -spared to console her--who was now the one earthly object that -could still speak to her of love and hope. So the old story of -passionate feeling that finds comfort in phrases rather than not -find comfort at all was told once again. So the poem in the faded -ink faded away to its end. - -Midwinter put the book back with a heavy sigh, and opened no -other volume on the shelves. "Here in the country house, or -there on board the wreck," he said, bitterly, "the traces of my -father's crime follow me, go where I may." He advanced toward -the window, stopped, and looked back into the lonely, neglected -little room. "Is _this_ chance?" he asked himself. "The place -where his mother suffered is the place he sees in the Dream; and -the first morning in the new house is the morning that reveals -it, not to _him_, but to me. Oh, Allan! Allan! how will it end?" - - -The thought had barely passed through his mind before he heard -Allan's voice, from the paved walk at the side of the house, -calling to him by his name. He hastily stepped out into the -garden. At the same moment Allan came running round the corner, -full of voluble apologies for having forgotten, in the society -of his new neighbors, what was due to the laws of hospitality -and the claims of his friend. - -"I really haven't missed you," said Midwinter; "and I am very, -very glad to hear that the new neighbors have produced such a -pleasant impression on you already." - -He tried, as he spoke, to lead the way back by the outside of the -house; but Allan's flighty attention had been caught by the open -window and the lonely little room. He stepped in immediately. -Midwinter followed, and watched him in breathless anxiety as -he looked round. Not the slightest recollection of the Dream -troubled Allan's easy mind. Not the slightest reference to it -fell from the silent lips of his friend. - -"Exactly the sort of place I should have expected you to hit on!" -exclaimed Allan, gayly. "Small and snug and unpretending. I know -you, Master Midwinter! You'll be slipping off here when the -county families come visiting, and I rather think on those -dreadful occasions you won't find me far behind you. What's the -matter? You look ill and out of spirits. Hungry? Of course you -are! unpardonable of me to have kept you waiting. This door leads -somewhere, I suppose; let's try a short cut into the house. Don't -be afraid of my not keeping you company at breakfast. I didn't -eat much at the cottage; I feasted my eyes on Miss Milroy, as -the poets say. Oh, the darling! the darling! she turns you -topsy-turvy the moment you look at her. As for her father, wait -till you see his wonderful clock! It's twice the size of the -famous clock at Strasbourg, and the most tremendous striker ever -heard yet in the memory of man!" - -Singing the praises of his new friends in this strain at the top -of his voice, Allan hurried Midwinter along the stone passages on -the basement floor, which led, as he had rightly guessed, to a -staircase communicating with the hall. They passed the servants' -offices on the way. At the sight of the cook and the roaring -fire, disclosed through the open kitchen door, Allan's mind went -off at a tangent, and Allan's dignity scattered itself to the -four winds of heaven, as usual. - -"Aha, Mrs. Gripper, there you are with your pots and pans, and -your burning fiery furnace! One had need be Shadrach, Meshach, -and the other fellow to stand over that. Breakfast as soon as -ever you like. Eggs, sausages, bacon, kidneys, marmalade, -water-cresses, coffee, and so forth. My friend and I belong to -the select few whom it's a perfect privilege to cook for. -Voluptuaries, Mrs. Gripper, voluptuaries, both of us. You'll -see," continued Allan, as they went on toward the stairs, "I -shall make that worthy creature young again; I'm better than a -doctor for Mrs. Gripper. When she laughs, she shakes her fat -sides, and when she shakes her fat sides, she exerts her muscular -system; and when she exerts her muscular system-- Ha! here's -Susan again. Don't squeeze yourself flat against the banisters, -my dear; if you don't mind hustling _me_ on the stairs, I rather -like hustling _you_. She looks like a full-blown rose when she -blushes, doesn't she? Stop, Susan! I've orders to give. Be very -particular with Mr. Midwinter's room: shake up his bed like mad, -and dust his furniture till those nice round arms of yours ache -again. Nonsense, my dear fellow! I'm not too familiar with them; -I'm only keeping them up to their work. Now, then, Richard! where -do we breakfast? Oh, here. Between ourselves, Midwinter, these -splendid rooms of mine are a size too large for me; I don't feel -as if I should ever be on intimate terms with my own furniture. -My views in life are of the snug and slovenly sort--a kitchen -chair, you know, and a low ceiling. Man wants but little here -below, and wants that little long. That's not exactly the right -quotation; but it expresses my meaning, and we'll let alone -correcting it till the next opportunity." - -"I beg your pardon," interposed Midwinter, "here is something -waiting for you which you have not noticed yet." - -As he spoke, he pointed a little impatiently to a letter lying on -the breakfast-table. He could conceal the ominous discovery which -he had made that morning, from Allan's knowledge; but he could -not conquer the latent distrust of circumstances which was now -raised again in his superstitious nature--the instinctive -suspicion of everything that happened, no matter how common or -how trifling the event, on the first memorable day when the new -life began in the new house. - -Allan ran his eye over the letter, and tossed it across the table -to his friend. "I can't make head or tail of it," he said, "can -you?" - -Midwinter read the letter, slowly, aloud. "Sir--I trust you will -pardon the liberty I take in sending these few lines to wait your -arrival at Thorpe Ambrose. In the event of circumstances not -disposing you to place your law business in the hands of Mr. -Darch--" He suddenly stopped at that point, and considered a -little. - -"Darch is our friend the lawyer," said Allan, supposing Midwinter -had forgotten the name. "Don't you remember our spinning the -half-crown on the cabin table, when I got the two offers for the -cottage? Heads, the major; tails, the lawyer. This is the -lawyer." - -Without making any reply, Midwinter resumed reading the letter. -"In the event of circumstances not disposing you to place your -law business in the hands of Mr. Darch, I beg to say that I shall -be happy to take charge of your interests, if you feel willing to -honor me with your confidence. Inclosing a reference (should you -desire it) to my agents in London, and again apologizing for this -intrusion, I beg to remain, sir, respectfully yours, A. PEDGIFT, -Sen." - -"Circumstances?" repeated Midwinter, as he laid the letter down. -"What circumstances can possibly indispose you to give your law -business to Mr. Darch?" - -"Nothing can indispose me," said Allan. "Besides being the family -lawyer here, Darch was the first to write me word at Paris of my -coming in for my fortune; and, if I have got any business to -give, of course he ought to have it." - -Midwinter still looked distrustfully at the open letter on the -table. "I am sadly afraid, Allan, there is something wrong -already," he said. "This man would never have ventured on the -application he has made to you, unless he had some good reason -for believing he would succeed. If you wish to put yourself right -at starting, you will send to Mr. Darch this morning to tell him -you are here, and you will take no notice for the present of Mr. -Pedgift's letter." - -Before more could be said on either side, the footman made his -appearance with the breakfast tray. He was followed, after an -interval, by the butler, a man of the essentially confidential -kind, with a modulated voice, a courtly manner, and a bulbous -nose. Anybody but Allan would have seen in his face that he had -come into the room having a special communication to make to his -master. Allan, who saw nothing under the surface, and whose head -was running on the lawyer's letter, stopped him bluntly with the -point-blank question: "Who's Mr. Pedgift?" - -The butler's sources of local knowledge opened confidentially on -the instant. Mr. Pedgift was the second of the two lawyers in the -town. Not so long established, not so wealthy, not so universally -looked up to as old Mr. Darch. Not doing the business of the -highest people in the county, and not mixing freely with the best -society, like old Mr. Darch. A very sufficient man, in his way, -nevertheless. Known as a perfectly competent and respectable -practitioner all round the neighborhood. In short, professionally -next best to Mr. Darch; and personally superior to him (if the -expression might be permitted) in this respect--that Darch was a -Crusty One, and Pedgift wasn't. - -Having imparted this information, the butler, taking a wise -advantage of his position, glided, without a moment's stoppage, -from Mr. Pedgift's character to the business that had brought him -into the breakfast-room. The Midsummer Audit was near at hand; -and the tenants were accustomed to have a week's notice of the -rent-day dinner. With this necessity pressing, and with no orders -given as yet, and no steward in office at Thorpe Ambrose, it -appeared desirable that some confidential person should bring the -matter forward. The butler was that confidential person; and he -now ventured accordingly to trouble his master on the subject. - -At this point Allan opened his lips to interrupt, and was himself -interrupted before he could utter a word. - -"Wait!" interposed Midwinter, seeing in Allan's face that he was -in danger of being publicly announced in the capacity of steward. -"Wait!" he repeated, eagerly, "till I can speak to you first." - -The butler's courtly manner remained alike unruffled by -Midwinter's sudden interference and by his own dismissal from -the scene. Nothing but the mounting color in his bulbous nose -betrayed the sense of injury that animated him as he withdrew. -Mr. Armadale's chance of regaling his friend and himself that day -with the best wine in the cellar trembled in the balance, as the -butler took his way back to the basement story. - -"This is beyond a joke, Allan," said Midwinter, when they were -alone. "Somebody must meet your tenants on the rent-day who is -really fit to take the steward's place. With the best will in the -world to learn, it is impossible for _me_ to master the business -at a week's notice. Don't, pray don't let your anxiety for my -welfare put you in a false position with other people! I should -never forgive myself if I was the unlucky cause--" - -"Gently gently!' cried Allan, amazed at his friend's -extraordinary earnestness. "If I write to London by to-night's -post for the man who came down here before, will that satisfy -you?" - -Midwinter shook his head. "Our time is short," he said; "and the -man may not be at liberty. Why not try in the neighborhood first? -You were going to write to Mr. Darch. Send at once, and see if he -can't help us between this and post-time." - -Allan withdrew to a side-table on which writing materials were -placed. "You shall breakfast in peace, you old fidget," he -replied, and addressed himself forthwith to Mr. Darch, with his -usual Spartan brevity of epistolary expression. "Dear Sir--Here -I am, bag and baggage. Will you kindly oblige me by being my -lawyer? I ask this, because I want to consult you at once. Please -look in in the course of the day, and stop to dinner if you -possibly can. Yours truly. ALLAN ARMADALE." Having read this -composition aloud with unconcealed admiration of his own rapidity -of literary execution, Allan addressed the letter to Mr. Darch, -and rang the bell. "Here, Richard, take this at once, and wait -for an answer. And, I say, if there's any news stirring in the -town, pick it up and bring it back with you. See how I manage -my servants!" continued Allan, joining his friend at the -breakfast-table. "See how I adapt myself to my new duties! I -haven't been down here one clear day yet, and I'm taking an -interest in the neighborhood already." - -Breakfast over, the two friends went out to idle away the morning -under the shade of a tree in the park. Noon came, and Richard -never appeared. One o'clock struck, and still there were no signs -of an answer from Mr. Darch. Midwinter's patience was not proof -against the delay. He left Allan dozing on the grass, and went to -the house to make inquiries. The town was described as little -more than two miles distant; but the day of the week happened to -be market day, and Richard was being detained no doubt by some of -the many acquaintances whom he would be sure to meet with on that -occasion. - -Half an hour later the truant messenger returned, and was sent -out to report himself to his master under the tree in the park. - -"Any answer from Mr. Darch?" asked Midwinter, seeing that Allan -was too lazy to put the question for himself. - -"Mr. Darch was engaged, sir. I was desired to say that he would -send an answer." - -"Any news in the town?" inquired Allan, drowsily, without -troubling himself to open his eyes. - -"No, sir; nothing in particular." - -Observing the man suspiciously as he made that reply, Midwinter -detected in his face that he was not speaking the truth. He was -plainly embarrassed, and plainly relieved when his master's -silence allowed him to withdraw. After a little consideration, -Midwinter followed, and overtook the retreating servant on the -drive before the house. - -"Richard," he said, quietly, "if I was to guess that there _is_ -some news in the town, and that you don't like telling it to your -master, should I be guessing the truth?" - -The man started and changed color. "I don't know how you have -found it out," he said; "but I can't deny you have guessed -right." - -"If you let me hear what the news is, I will take the -responsibility on myself of telling Mr. Armadale." - -After some little hesitation, and some distrustful consideration, -on his side, of Midwinter's face, Richard at last prevailed on -himself to repeat what he had heard that day in the town. - -The news of Allan's sudden appearance at Thorpe Ambrose had -preceded the servant's arrival at his destination by some hours. -Wherever he went, he found his master the subject of public -discussion. The opinion of Allan's conduct among the leading -townspeople, the resident gentry of the neighborhood, and the -principal tenants on the estate was unanimously unfavorable. Only -the day before, the committee for managing the pubic reception of -the new squire had sketched the progress of the procession; had -settled the serious question of the triumphal arches; and had -appointed a competent person to solicit subscriptions for the -flags, the flowers, the feasting, the fireworks, and the band. In -less than a week more the money could have been collected, and -the rector would have written to Mr. Armadale to fix the day. And -now, by Allan's own act, the public welcome waiting to honor him -had been cast back contemptuously in the public teeth! Everybody -took for granted (what was unfortunately true) that he had -received private information of the contemplated proceedings. -Everybody declared that he had purposely stolen into his own -house like a thief in the night (so the phrase ran) to escape -accepting the offered civilities of his neighbors. In brief, the -sensitive self-importance of the little town was wounded to the -quick, and of Allan's once enviable position in the estimation -of the neighborhood not a vestige remained. - -For a moment, Midwinter faced the messenger of evil tidings in -silent distress. That moment past, the sense of Allan's critical -position roused him, now the evil was known, to seek the remedy. - -"Has the little you have seen of your master, Richard, inclined -you to like him?" he asked. - -This time the man answered without hesitation, "A pleasanter and -kinder gentleman than Mr. Armadale no one could wish to serve." - -"If you think that," pursued Midwinter, "you won't object to give -me some information which will help your master to set himself -right with his neighbors. Come into the house." - -He led the way into the library, and, after asking the necessary -questions, took down in writing a list of the names and addresses -of the most influential persons living in the town and its -neighborhood. This done, he rang the bell for the head footman, -having previously sent Richard with a message to the stables -directing an open carriage to be ready in an hour's time. - -"When the late Mr. Blanchard went out to make calls in the -neighborhood, it was your place to go with him, was it not?" -he asked, when the upper servant appeared. "Very well. Be ready -in an hour's time, if you please, to go out with Mr. Armadale." -Having given that order, he left the house again on his way back -to Allan, with the visiting list in his hand. He smiled a little -sadly as he descended the steps. "Who would have imagined," -he thought, "that my foot-boy's experience of the ways of -gentlefolks would be worth looking back at one day for Allan's -sake?" - -The object of the popular odium lay innocently slumbering on -the grass, with his garden hat over his nose, his waistcoat -unbuttoned, and his trousers wrinkled half way up his -outstretched legs. Midwinter roused him without hesitation, -and remorselessly repeated the servant's news. - -Allan accepted the disclosure thus forced on him without the -slightest disturbance of temper. "Oh, hang 'em!" was all he said. -"Let's have another cigar." Midwinter took the cigar out of his -hand, and, insisting on his treating the matter seriously, told -him in plain words that he must set himself right with his -offended neighbors by calling on them personally to make his -apologies. Allan sat up on the grass in astonishment; his eyes -opened wide in incredulous dismay. Did Midwinter positively -meditate forcing him into a "chimney-pot hat," a nicely brushed -frock-coat, and a clean pair of gloves? Was it actually in -contemplation to shut him up in a carriage, with his footman on -the box and his card-case in his hand, and send him round from -house to house, to tell a pack of fools that he begged their -pardon for not letting them make a public show of him? If -anything so outrageously absurd as this was really to be done, -it could not be done that day, at any rate. He had promised to go -back to the charming Milroy at the cottage and to take Midwinter -with him. What earthly need had he of the good opinion of the -resident gentry? The only friends he wanted were the friends he -had got already. Let the whole neighborhood turn its back on him -if it liked; back or face, the Squire of Thorpe Ambrose didn't -care two straws about it. - -After allowing him to run on in this way until his whole stock -of objections was exhausted, Midwinter wisely tried his personal -influence next. He took Allan affectionately by the hand. "I am -going to ask a great favor," he said. "If you won't call on these -people for your own sake, will you call on them to please _me_?" - -Allan delivered himself of a groan of despair, stared in mute -surprise at the anxious face of his friend, and good-humoredly -gave way. As Midwinter took his arm, and led him back to the -house, he looked round with rueful eyes at the cattle hard by, -placidly whisking their tails in the pleasant shade. "Don't -mention it in the neighborhood," he said; "I should like to -change places with one of my own cows." - -Midwinter left him to dress, engaging to return when the carriage -was at the door. Allan's toilet did not promise to be a speedy -one. He began it by reading his own visiting cards; and he -advanced it a second stage by looking into his wardrobe, and -devoting the resident gentry to the infernal regions. Before he -could discover any third means of delaying his own proceedings, -the necessary pretext was unexpectedly supplied by Richard's -appearance with a note in his hand. The messenger had just called -with Mr. Darch's answer. Allan briskly shut up the wardrobe, and -gave his whole attention to the lawyer's letter. The lawyer's -letter rewarded him by the following lines: - - -"SIR--I beg to acknowledge the receipt of your favor of to-day's -date, honoring me with two proposals; namely, ONE inviting me to -act as your legal adviser, and ONE inviting me to pay you a visit -at your house. In reference to the first proposal, I beg -permission to decline it with thanks. With regard to the second -proposal, I have to inform you that circumstances have come to -my knowledge relating to the letting of the cottage at Thorpe -Ambrose which render it impossible for me (in justice to myself) -to accept your invitation. I have ascertained, sir, that my offer -reached you at the same time as Major Milroy's; and that, with -both proposals thus before you, you gave the preference to a -total stranger, who addressed you through a house agent, over a -man who had faithfully served your relatives for two generations, -and who had been the first person to inform you of the most -important event in your life. After this specimen of your -estimate of what is due to the claims of common courtesy and -common justice, I cannot flatter myself that I possess any of the -qualities which would fit me to take my place on the list of your -friends. - -"I remain, sir, your obedient servant, - -"JAMES DARCH." - - -"Stop the messenger!" cried Allan, leaping to his feet, his ruddy -face aflame with indignation. "Give me pen, ink, and paper! By -the Lord Harry, they're a nice set of people in these parts; the -whole neighborhood is in a conspiracy to bully me!" He snatched -up the pen in a fine frenzy of epistolary inspiration. "Sir--I -despise you and your letter.--" At that point the pen made a -blot, and the writer was seized with a momentary hesitation. "Too -strong," he thought; "I'll give it to the lawyer in his own cool -and cutting style." He began again on a clean sheet of paper. -"Sir--You remind me of an Irish bull. I mean that story in 'Joe -Miller' where Pat remarked, in the hearing of a wag hard by, that -'the reciprocity was all on one side.' _Your_ reciprocity is all -on one side. You take the privilege of refusing to be my lawyer, -and then you complain of my taking the privilege of refusing to -be your landlord." He paused fondly over those last words. -"Neat!" he thought. "Argument and hard hitting both in one. I -wonder where my knack of writing comes from?" He went on, and -finished the letter in two more sentences. "As for your casting -my invitation back in my teeth, I beg to inform you my teeth are -none the worse for it. I am equally glad to have nothing to say -to you, either in the capacity of a friend or a tenant.--ALLAN -ARMADALE." He nodded exultantly at his own composition, as he -addressed it and sent it down to the messenger. "Darch's hide -must be a thick one," he said, "if he doesn't feel _that_!" - -The sound of the wheels outside suddenly recalled him to the -business of the day. There was the carriage waiting to take him -on his round of visits; and there was Midwinter at his post, -pacing to and fro on the drive. - -"Read that," cried Allan, throwing out the lawyer's letter; "I've -written him back a smasher." - -He bustled away to the wardrobe to get his coat. There was a -wonderful change in him; he felt little or no reluctance to pay -the visits now. The pleasurable excitement of answering Mr. Darth -had put him in a fine aggressive frame of mind for asserting -himself in the neighborhood. "Whatever else they may say of me, -they shan't say I was afraid to face them." Heated red-hot with -that idea, he seized his hat and gloves, and hurrying out of the -room, met Midwinter in the corridor with the lawyer's letter in -his hand. - -"Keep up your spirits!" cried Allan, seeing the anxiety in his -friend's face, and misinterpreting the motive of it immediately. -"If Darch can't be counted on to send us a helping hand into the -steward's office, Pedgift can." - -"My dear Allan, I was not thinking of that; I was thinking of Mr. -Darch's letter. I don't defend this sour-tempered man; but I am -afraid we must admit he has some cause for complaint. Pray don't -give him another chance of putting you in the wrong. Where is -your answer to his letter?" - -"Gone!" replied Allan. "I always strike while the iron's hot--a -word and a blow, and the blow first, that's my way. Don't, -there's a good fellow, don't fidget about the steward's books -and the rent-day. Here! here's a bunch of keys they gave me last -night: one of them opens the room where the steward's books are; -go in and read them till I come back. I give you my sacred word -of honor I'll settle it all with Pedgift before you see me -again." - -"One moment," interposed Midwinter, stopping him resolutely on -his way out to the carriage. "I say nothing against Mr. Pedgift's -fitness to possess your confidence, for I know nothing to justify -me in distrusting him. But he has not introduced himself to your -notice in a very delicate way; and he has not acknowledged (what -is quite clear to my mind) that he knew of Mr. Darch's unfriendly -feeling toward you when he wrote. Wait a little before you go to -this stranger; wait till we can talk it over together to-night." - -"Wait!" replied Allan. "Haven't I told you that I always strike -while the iron's hot? Trust my eye for character, old boy, I'll -look Pedgift through and through, and act accordingly. Don't keep -me any longer, for Heaven's sake. I'm in a fine humor for -tackling the resident gentry; and if I don't go at once, I'm -afraid it may wear off." - -With that excellent reason for being in a hurry, Allan -boisterously broke away. Before it was possible to stop him -again, he had jumped into the carriage and had left the house. - -CHAPTER IV. - -THE MARCH OF EVENTS. - -Midwinter's face darkened when the last trace of the carriage -had disappeared from view. "I have done my best," he said, as he -turned back gloomily into the house "If Mr. Brock himself were -here, Mr. Brock could do no more!" - -He looked at the bunch of keys which Allan had thrust into his -hand, and a sudden longing to put himself to the test over the -steward's books took possession of his sensitive self-tormenting -nature. Inquiring his way to the room in which the various -movables of the steward's office had been provisionally placed -after the letting of the cottage, he sat down at the desk, and -tried how his own unaided capacity would guide him through the -business records of the Thorpe Ambrose estate. The result exposed -his own ignorance unanswerably before his own eyes. The ledgers -bewildered him; the leases, the plans, and even the -correspondence itself, might have been written, for all he could -understand of them, in an unknown tongue. His memory reverted -bitterly as he left the room again to his two years' solitary -self-instruction in the Shrewsbury book-seller's shop. "If I -could only have worked at a business!" he thought. "If I could -only have known that the company of poets and philosophers was -company too high for a vagabond like me!" - -He sat down alone in the great hall; the silence of it fell -heavier and heavier on his sinking spirits; the beauty of it -exasperated him, like an insult from a purse-proud man. "Curse -the place!" he said, snatching up his hat and stick. "I like the -bleakest hillside I ever slept on better than I like this house!" - -He impatiently descended the door-steps, and stopped on the -drive, considering, by which direction he should leave the park -for the country beyond. If he followed the road taken by the -carriage, he might risk unsettling Allan by accidentally meeting -him in the town. If he went out by the back gate, he knew his own -nature well enough to doubt his ability to pass the room of the -dream without entering it again. But one other way remained: the -way which he had taken, and then abandoned again, in the morning. -There was no fear of disturbing Allan and the major's daughter -now. Without further hesitation, Midwinter set forth through the -gardens to explore the open country on that side of the estate. - -Thrown off its balance by the events of the day, his mind was -full of that sourly savage resistance to the inevitable -self-assertion of wealth, so amiably deplored by the prosperous -and the rich; so bitterly familiar to the unfortunate and the -poor. "The heather-bell costs nothing!" he thought, looking -contemptuously at the masses of rare and beautiful flowers that -surrounded him; "and the buttercups and daisies are as bright as -the best of you!" He followed the artfully contrived ovals and -squares of the Italian garden with a vagabond indifference to the -symmetry of their construction and the ingenuity of their design. -"How many pounds a foot did _you_ cost?" he said, looking back -with scornful eyes at the last path as he left it. "Wind away -over high and low like the sheep-walk on the mountain side, if -you can!" - -He entered the shrubbery which Allan had entered before him; -crossed the paddock and the rustic bridge beyond; and reached -the major's cottage. His ready mind seized the right conclusion -at the first sight of it; and he stopped before the garden gate, -to look at the trim little residence which would never have been -empty, and would never have been let, but for Allan's ill-advised -resolution to force the steward's situation on his friend. - -The summer afternoon was warm; the summer air was faint and -still. On the upper and the lower floor of the cottage the -windows were all open. From one of them, on the upper story, the -sound of voices was startlingly audible in the quiet of the park -as Midwinter paused on the outer side of the garden inclosure. -The voice of a woman, harsh, high, and angrily complaining--a -voice with all the freshness and the melody gone, and with -nothing but the hard power of it left--was the discordantly -predominant sound. With it, from moment to moment, there mingled -the deeper and quieter tones, soothing and compassionate, of the -voice of a man. Although the distance was too great to allow -Midwinter to distinguish the words that were spoken, he felt the -impropriety of remaining within hearing of the voices, and at -once stepped forward to continue his walk. - -At the same moment, the face of a young girl (easily recognizable -as the face of Miss Milroy, from Allan's description of her) -appeared at the open window of the room. In spite of himself, -Midwinter paused to look at her. The expression of the bright -young face, which had smiled so prettily on Allan, was weary and -disheartened. After looking out absently over the park, she -suddenly turned her head back into the room, her attention having -been apparently struck by something that had just been said in -it. "Oh, mamma, mamma," she exclaimed, indignantly, "how _can_ -you say such things!" The words were spoken close to the window; -they reached Midwinter's ears, and hurried him away before he -heard more. But the self-disclosure of Major Milroy's domestic -position had not reached its end yet. As Midwinter turned the -corner of the garden fence, a tradesman's boy was handing a -parcel in at the wicket gate to the woman servant. "Well," said -the boy, with the irrepressible impudence of his class, "how is -the missus?" The woman lifted her hand to box his ears. "How is -the missus?" she repeated, with an angry toss of her head, as the -boy ran off. "If it would only please God to take the missus, it -would be a blessing to everybody in the house." - -No such ill-omened shadow as this had passed over the bright -domestic picture of the inhabitants of the cottage, which Allan's -enthusiasm had painted for the contemplation of his friend. It -was plain that the secret of the tenants had been kept from the -landlord so far. Five minutes more of walking brought Midwinter -to the park gates. "Am I fated to see nothing and hear nothing -to-day, which can give me heart and hope for the future?" he -thought, as he angrily swung back the lodge gate. "Even the -people Allan has let the cottage to are people whose lives are -imbittered by a household misery which it is _my_ misfortune to -have found out!" - -He took the first road that lay before him, and walked on, -noticing little, immersed in his own thoughts. - -More than an hour passed before the necessity of turning back -entered his mind. As soon as the idea occurred to him, he -consulted his watch, and determined to retrace his steps, so as -to be at the house in good time to meet Allan on his return. Ten -minutes of walking brought him back to a point at which three -roads met, and one moment's observation of the place satisfied -him that he had entirely failed to notice at the time by which of -the three roads he had advanced. No sign-post was to be seen; the -country on either side was lonely and flat, intersected by broad -drains and ditches. Cattle were grazing here and there, and a -windmill rose in the distance above the pollard willows that -fringed the low horizon. But not a house was to be seen, and not -a human creature appeared on the visible perspective of any one -of the three roads. Midwinter glanced back in the only direction -left to look at--the direction of the road along which he had -just been walking. There, to his relief, was the figure of a man, -rapidly advancing toward him, of whom he could ask his way. - -The figure came on, clad from head to foot in dreary black--a -moving blot on the brilliant white surface of the sun-brightened -road. He was a lean, elderly, miserably respectable man. He wore -a poor old black dress-coat, and a cheap brown wig, which made no -pretense of being his own natural hair. Short black trousers -clung like attached old servants round his wizen legs; and rusty -black gaiters hid all they could of his knobbed, ungainly feet. -Black crape added its mite to the decayed and dingy wretchedness -of his old beaver hat; black mohair in the obsolete form of a -stock drearily encircled his neck and rose as high as his haggard -jaws. The one morsel of color he carried about him was a lawyer's -bag of blue serge, as lean and limp as himself. The one -attractive feature in his clean-shaven, weary old face was a neat -set of teeth--teeth (as honest as his wig) which said plainly to -all inquiring eyes, "We pass our nights on his looking-glass, and -our days in his mouth." - -All the little blood in the man's body faintly reddened his -fleshless cheeks as Midwinter advanced to meet him, and asked the -way to Thorpe Ambrose. His weak, watery eyes looked hither and -thither in a bewilderment painful to see. If he had met with a -lion instead of a man, and if the few words addressed to him had -been words expressing a threat instead of a question, he could -hardly have looked more confused and alarmed than he looked now. -For the first time in his life, Midwinter saw his own shy -uneasiness in the presence of strangers reflected, with tenfold -intensity of nervous suffering, in the face of another man--and -that man old enough to be his father. - -"Which do you please to mean, sir--the town or the house? I beg -your pardon for asking, but they both go by the same name in -these parts." - -He spoke with a timid gentleness of tone, an ingratiatory smile, -and an anxious courtesy of manner, all distressingly suggestive -of his being accustomed to receive rough answers in exchange for -his own politeness from the persons whom he habitually addressed. - -"I was not aware that both the house and the town went by the -same name," said Midwinter; "I meant the house." He instinctively -conquered his own shyness as he answered in those words, speaking -with a cordiality of manner which was very rare with him in his -intercourse with strangers. - -The man of miserable respectability seemed to feel the warm -return of his own politeness gratefully; he brightened and took a -little courage. His lean forefinger pointed eagerly to the right -road. "That way, sir," he said, "and when you come to two roads -next, please take the left one of the two. I am sorry I have -business the other way, I mean in the town. I should have been -happy to go with you and show you. Fine summer weather, sir, for -walking? You can't miss your way if you keep to the left. Oh, -don't mention it! I'm afraid I have detained you, sir. I wish you -a pleasant walk back, and--good-morning." - -By the time he had made an end of speaking (under an impression -apparently that the more he talked the more polite he would be) -he had lost his courage again. He darted away down his own road, -as if Midwinter's attempt to thank him involved a series of -trials too terrible to confront. In two minutes more, his black -retreating figure had lessened in the distance till it looked -again, what it had once looked already, a moving blot on the -brilliant white surface of the sun-brightened road. - -The man ran strangely in Midwinter's thoughts while he took his -way back to the house. He was at a loss to account for it. It -never occurred to him that he might have been insensibly reminded -of himself, when he saw the plain traces of past misfortune and -present nervous suffering in the poor wretch's face. He blindly -resented his own perverse interest in this chance foot passenger -on the high-road, as he had resented all else that had happened -to him since the beginning of the day. "Have I made another -unlucky discovery?" he asked himself, impatiently. "Shall I see -this man again, I wonder? Who can he be?" - -Time was to answer both those questions before many days more had -passed over the inquirer's head. - - -Allan had not returned when Midwinter reached the house. Nothing -had happened but the arrival of a message of apology from the -cottage. "Major Milroy's compliments, and he was sorry that Mrs. -Milroy's illness would prevent his receiving Mr. Armadale that -day." It was plain that Mrs. Milroy's occasional fits of -suffering (or of ill temper) created no mere transitory -disturbance of the tranquillity of the household. Drawing this -natural inference, after what he had himself heard at the cottage -nearly three hours since, Midwinter withdrew into the library to -wait patiently among the books until his friend came back. - -It was past six o'clock when the well-known hearty voice was -heard again in the hall. Allan burst into the library, in a state -of irrepressible excitement, and pushed Midwinter back -unceremoniously into the chair from which he was just rising, -before he could utter a word. - -"Here's a riddle for you, old boy!" cried Allan. "Why am I like -the resident manager of the Augean stable, before Hercules was -called in to sweep the litter out? Because I have had my place to -keep up, and I've gone and made an infernal mess of it! Why don't -you laugh? By George, he doesn't see the point! Let's try again. -Why am I like the resident manager--" - -"For God's sake, Allan, be serious for a moment!" interposed -Midwinter. "You don't know how anxious I am to hear if you have -recovered the good opinion of your neighbors." - -"That's just what the riddle was intended to tell you!" rejoined -Allan. "But if you will have it in so many words, my own -impression is that you would have done better not to disturb me -under that tree in the park. I've been calculating it to a -nicety, and I beg to inform you that I have sunk exactly three -degrees lower in the estimation of the resident gentry since I -had the pleasure of seeing you last." - -"You _will_ have your joke out," said Midwinter, bitterly. "Well, -if I can't laugh, I can wait." - -"My dear fellow, I'm not joking; I really mean what I say. You -shall hear what happened; you shall have a report in full of my -first visit. It will do, I can promise you, as a sample for all -the rest. Mind this, in the first place, I've gone wrong with the -best possible intentions. When I started for these visits, I own -I was angry with that old brute of a lawyer, and I certainly had -a notion of carrying things with a high hand. But it wore off -somehow on the road; and the first family I called on, I went in, -as I tell you, with the best possible intentions. Oh, dear, dear! -there was the same spick-and-span reception-room for me to wait -in, with the neat conservatory beyond, which I saw again and -again and again at every other house I went to afterward. There -was the same choice selection of books for me to look at--a -religious book, a book about the Duke of Wellington, a book about -sporting, and a book about nothing in particular, beautifully -illustrated with pictures. Down came papa with his nice white -hair, and mamma with her nice lace cap; down came young mister -with the pink face and straw-colored whiskers, and young miss -with the plump cheeks and the large petticoats. Don't suppose -there was the least unfriendliness on my side; I always began -with them in the same way--I insisted on shaking hands all round. -That staggered them to begin with. When I came to the sore -subject next--the subject of the public reception--I give you my -word of honor I took the greatest possible pains with my -apologies. It hadn't the slightest effect; they let my apologies -in at one ear and out at the other, and then waited to hear more. -Some men would have been disheartened: I tried another way with -them; I addressed myself to the master of the house, and put it -pleasantly next. 'The fact is,' I said, 'I wanted to escape the -speechifying--my getting up, you know, and telling you to your -face you're the best of men, and I beg to propose your health; -and your getting up and telling me to my face I'm the best of -men, and you beg to thank me; and so on, man after man, praising -each other and pestering each other all round the table.' That's -how I put it, in an easy, light-handed, convincing sort of way. -Do you think any of them took it in the same friendly spirit? -Not one! It's my belief they had got their speeches ready for -the reception, with the flags and the flowers, and that they're -secretly angry with me for stopping their open mouths just as -they were ready to begin. Anyway, whenever we came to the matter -of the speechifying (whether they touched it first or I), down -I fell in their estimation the first of those three steps I told -you of just now. Don't suppose I made no efforts to get up again! -I made desperate efforts. I found they were all anxious to know -what sort of life I had led before I came in for the Thorpe -Ambrose property, and I did my best to satisfy them. And what -came of that, do you think? Hang me, if I didn't disappoint them -for the second time! When they found out that I had actually -never been to Eton or Harrow, or Oxford or Cambridge, they were -quite dumb with astonishment. I fancy they thought me a sort of -outlaw. At any rate, they all froze up again; and down I fell -the second step in their estimation. Never mind! I wasn't to be -beaten; I had promised you to do my best, and I did it. I tried -cheerful small-talk about the neighborhood next. The women said -nothing in particular; the men, to my unutterable astonishment, -all began to condole with me. I shouldn't be able to find a pack -of hounds, they said, within twenty miles of my house; and they -thought it only right to prepare me for the disgracefully -careless manner in which the Thorpe Ambrose covers had been -preserved. I let them go on condoling with me, and then what do -you think I did? I put my foot in it again. 'Oh, don't take that -to heart!' I said; 'I don't care two straws about hunting or -shooting, either. When I meet with a bird in my walk, I can't for -the life of me feel eager to kill it; I rather like to see the -bird flying about and enjoying itself.' You should have seen -their faces! They had thought me a sort of outlaw before; now -they evidently thought me mad. Dead silence fell upon them all; -and down I tumbled the third step in the general estimation. It -was just the same at the next house, and the next and the next. -The devil possessed us all, I think. It _would_ come out, now in -one way, and now in another, that I couldn't make speeches--that -I had been brought up without a university education--and that -I could enjoy a ride on horseback without galloping after a -wretched stinking fox or a poor distracted little hare. These -three unlucky defects of mine are not excused, it seems, in -a country gentleman (especially when he has dodged a public -reception to begin with). I think I got on best, upon the whole, -with the wives and daughters. The women and I always fell, sooner -or later, on the subject of Mrs. Blanchard and her niece. We -invariably agreed that they had done wisely in going to Florence; -and the only reason we had to give for our opinion was that we -thought their minds would be benefited after their sad -bereavement, by the contemplation of the masterpieces of Italian -art. Every one of the ladies--I solemnly declare it--at every -house I went to, came sooner or later to Mrs. and Miss -Blanchard's bereavement and the masterpieces of Italian art. What -we should have done without that bright idea to help us, I really -don't know. The one pleasant thing at any of the visits was when -we all shook our heads together, and declared that the -masterpieces would console them. As for the rest of it, there's -only one thing more to be said. What I might be in other places -I don't know: I'm the wrong man in the wrong place here. Let me -muddle on for the future in my own way, with my own few friends; -and ask me anything else in the world, as long as you don't ask -me to make any more calls on my neighbors." - -With that characteristic request, Allan's report of his exploring -expedition among the resident gentry came to a close. For a -moment Midwinter remained silent. He had allowed Allan to run on -from first to last without uttering a word on his side. The -disastrous result of the visits--coming after what had happened -earlier in the day; and threatening Allan, as it did, with -exclusion from all local sympathies at the very outset of his -local career--had broken down Midwinter's power of resisting the -stealthily depressing influence of his own superstition. It was -with an effort that he now looked up at Allan; it was with an -effort that he roused himself to answer. - -"It shall be as you wish," he said, quietly. "I am sorry for what -has happened; but I am not the less obliged to you, Allan, for -having done what I asked you." - -His head sank on his breast, and the fatalist resignation which -had once already quieted him on board the wreck now quieted him -again. "What _must_ be, _will_ be," he thought once more. "What -have I to do with the future, and what has he?" - -"Cheer up!" said Allan. "_Your_ affairs are in a thriving -condition, at any rate. I paid one pleasant visit in the town, -which I haven't told you of yet. I've seen Pedgift, and Pedgift's -son, who helps him in the office. They're the two jolliest -lawyers I ever met with in my life; and, what's more, they can -produce the very man you want to teach you the steward's -business." - -Midwinter looked up quickly. Distrust of Allan's discovery was -plainly written in his face already; but he said nothing. - -"I thought of you," Allan proceeded, "as soon as the two Pedgifts -and I had had a glass of wine all round to drink to our friendly -connection. The finest sherry I ever tasted in my life; I've -ordered some of the same--but that's not the question just now. -In two words I told these worthy fellows your difficulty, and in -two seconds old Pedgift understood all about it. 'I have got the -man in my office,' he said, 'and before the audit-day comes, I'll -place him with the greatest pleasure at your friend's disposal.'" - -At this last announcement, Midwinter's distrust found its -expression in words. He questioned Allan unsparingly. - -The man's name, it appeared was Bashwood. He had been some time -(how long, Allan could not remember) in Mr. Pedgift's service. -He had been previously steward to a Norfolk gentleman (name -forgotten) in the westward district of the county. He had lost -the steward's place, through some domestic trouble, in connection -with his son, the precise nature of which Allan was not able to -specify. Pedgift vouched for him, and Pedgift would send him to -Thorpe Ambrose two or three days before the rent-day dinner. He -could not be spared, for office reasons, before that time. There -was no need to fidget about it; Pedgift laughed at the idea of -there being any difficulty with the tenants. Two or three day's -work over the steward's books with a man to help Midwinter who -practically understood that sort of thing would put him all right -for the audit; and the other business would keep till afterward. - -"Have you seen this Mr. Bashwood yourself, Allan?" asked -Midwinter, still obstinately on his guard. - -"No," replied Allan "he was out--out with the bag, as young -Pedgift called it. They tell me he's a decent elderly man. A -little broken by his troubles, and a little apt to be nervous and -confused in his manner with strangers; but thoroughly competent -and thoroughly to be depended on--those are Pedgift's own words." - -Midwinter paused and considered a little, with a new interest in -the subject. The strange man whom he had just heard described, -and the strange man of whom he had asked his way where the three -roads met, were remarkably like each other. Was this another link -in the fast-lengthening chain of events? Midwinter grew doubly -determined to be careful, as the bare doubt that it might be so -passed through his mind. - -"When Mr. Bashwood comes," he said, "will you let me see him, and -speak to him, before anything definite is done?" - -"Of course I will!" rejoined Allan. He stopped and looked at his -watch. "And I'll tell you what I'll do for you, old boy, in the -meantime," he added; "I'll introduce you to the prettiest girl in -Norfolk! There's just time to run over to the cottage before -dinner. Come along, and be introduced to Miss Milroy." - -"You can't introduce me to Miss Milroy today," replied Midwinter; -and he repeated the message of apology which had been brought -from the major that afternoon. Allan was surprised and -disappointed; but he was not to be foiled in his resolution to -advance himself in the good graces of the inhabitants of the -cottage. After a little consideration he hit on a means of -turning the present adverse circumstances to good account. "I'll -show a proper anxiety for Mrs. Milroy's recovery," he said, -gravely. "I'll send her a basket of strawberries, with my best -respects, to-morrow morning." - -Nothing more happened to mark the end of that first day in the -new house. - - -The one noticeable event of the next day was another disclosure -of Mrs. Milroy's infirmity of temper. Half an hour after Allan's -basket of strawberries had been delivered at the cottage, it was -returned to him intact (by the hands of the invalid lady's -nurse), with a short and sharp message, shortly and sharply -delivered. "Mrs. Milroy's compliments and thanks. Strawberries -invariably disagreed with her." If this curiously petulant -acknowledgment of an act of politeness was intended to irritate -Allan, it failed entirely in accomplishing its object. Instead of -being offended with the mother, he sympathized with the daughter. -"Poor little thing," was all he said, "she must have a hard life -of it with such a mother as that!" - -He called at the cottage himself later in the day, but Miss -Milroy was not to be seen; she was engaged upstairs. The major -received his visitor in his working apron--far more deeply -immersed in his wonderful clock, and far less readily accessible -to outer influences, than Allan had seen him at their first -interview. His manner was as kind as before; but not a word more -could be extracted from him on the subject of his wife than that -Mrs. Milroy "had not improved since yesterday." - -The two next days passed quietly and uneventfully. Allan -persisted in making his inquiries at the cottage; but all he saw -of the major's daughter was a glimpse of her on one occasion at -a window on the bedroom floor. Nothing more was heard from Mr. -Pedgift; and Mr. Bashwood's appearance was still delayed. -Midwinter declined to move in the matter until time enough had -passed to allow of his first hearing from Mr. Brock, in answer to -the letter which he had addressed to the rector on the night of -his arrival at Thorpe Ambrose. He was unusually silent and quiet, -and passed most of his hours in the library among the books. The -time wore on wearily. The resident gentry acknowledged Allan's -visit by formally leaving their cards. Nobody came near the house -afterward; the weather was monotonously fine. Allan grew a little -restless and dissatisfied. He began to resent Mrs. Milroy's -illness; he began to think regretfully of his deserted yacht. - -The next day--the twentieth--brought some news with it from the -outer world. A message was delivered from Mr. Pedgift, announcing -that his clerk, Mr. Bashwood, would personally present himself at -Thorpe Ambrose on the following day; and a letter in answer to -Midwinter was received from Mr. Brock. - -The letter was dated the 18th, and the news which it contained -raised not Allan's spirits only, but Midwinter's as well. - -On the day on which he wrote, Mr. Brock announced that he was -about to journey to London; having been summoned thither on -business connected with the interests of a sick relative, to whom -he stood in the position of trustee. The business completed, he -had good hope of finding one or other of his clerical friends in -the metropolis who would be able and willing to do duty for him -at the rectory; and, in that case, he trusted to travel on from -London to Thorpe Ambrose in a week's' time or less. Under these -circumstances, he would leave the majority of the subjects on -which Midwinter had written to him to be discussed when they met. -But as time might be of importance, in relation to the -stewardship of the Thorpe Ambrose estate, he would say at once -that he saw no reason why Midwinter should not apply his mind -to learning the steward's duties, and should not succeed in -rendering himself invaluably serviceable in that way to the -interests of his friend. - -Leaving Midwinter reading and re-reading the rector's cheering -letter, as if he was bent on getting every sentence in it by -heart, Allan went out rather earlier than usual, to make his -daily inquiry at the cottage--or, in plainer words, to make a -fourth attempt at improving his acquaintance with Miss Milroy. -The day had begun encouragingly, and encouragingly it seemed -destined to go on. When Allan turned the corner of the second -shrubbery, and entered the little paddock where he and the -major's daughter had first met, there was Miss Milroy herself -loitering to and fro on the grass, to all appearance on the watch -for somebody. - -She gave a little start when Allan appeared, and came forward -without hesitation to meet him. She was not in her best looks. -Her rosy complexion had suffered under confinement to the house, -and a marked expression of embarrassment clouded her pretty face. - -"I hardly know how to confess it, Mr. Armadale," she said, -speaking eagerly, before Allan could utter a word, "but I -certainly ventured here this morning in the hope of meeting with -you. I have been very much distressed; I have only just heard, by -accident, of the manner in which mamma received the present of -fruit you so kindly sent to her. Will you try to excuse her? She -has been miserably ill for years, and she is not always quite -herself. After your being so very, very kind to me (and to papa), -I really could not help stealing out here in the hope of seeing -you, and telling you how sorry I was. Pray forgive and forget, -Mr. Armadale--pray do!" her voice faltered over the last words, -and, in her eagerness to make her mother's peace with him, she -laid her hand on his arm. - -Allan was himself a little confused. Her earnestness took him by -surprise, and her evident conviction that he had been offended -honestly distressed him. Not knowing what else to do, he followed -his instincts, and possessed himself of her hand to begin with. - -"My dear Miss Milroy, if you say a word more you will distress -_me_ next," he rejoined, unconsciously pressing her hand closer -and closer, in the embarrassment of the moment. "I never was in -the least offended; I made allowances--upon my honor I did--for -poor Mrs. Milroy's illness. Offended!" cried Allan, reverting -energetically to the old complimentary strain. "I should like to -have my basket of fruit sent back every day--if I could only be -sure of its bringing you out into the paddock the first thing in -the morning." - -Some of Miss Milroy's missing color began to appear again in her -cheeks. "Oh, Mr. Armadale, there is really no end to your -kindness," she said; "you don't know how you relieve me! She -paused; her spirits rallied with as happy a readiness of recovery -as if they had been the spirits of a child; and her native -brightness of temper sparkled again in her eyes, as she looked -up, shyly smiling in Allan's face. "Don't you think," she asked, -demurely, "that it is almost time now to let go of my hand?" - -Their eyes met. Allan followed his instincts for the second time. -Instead of releasing her hand, he lifted it to his lips and -kissed it. All the missing tints of the rosier sort returned to -Miss Milroy's complexion on the instant. She snatched away her -hand as if Allan had burned it. - -"I'm sure _that's_ wrong, Mr. Armadale," she said, and turned her -head aside quickly, for she was smiling in spite of herself. - -"I meant it as an apology for--for holding your hand too long," -stammered Allan. "An apology can't be wrong--can it?" - -There are occasions, though not many, when the female mind -accurately appreciates an appeal to the force of pure reason. -This was one of the occasions. An abstract proposition had been -presented to Miss Milroy, and Miss Milroy was convinced. If it -was meant as an apology, that, she admitted, made all the -difference. "I only hope," said the little coquet, looking at him -slyly, "you're not misleading me. Not that it matters much now," -she added, with a serious shake of her head. "If we have -committed any improprieties, Mr. Armadale, we are not likely -to have the opportunity of committing many more." - -"You're not going away?" exclaimed Allan, in great alarm. - -"Worse than that, Mr. Armadale. My new governess is coming." - -"Coming?" repeated Allan. "Coming already?" - -"As good as coming, I ought to have said--only I didn't know you -wished me to be so very particular. We got the answers to the -advertisements this morning. Papa and I opened them and read them -together half an hour ago; and we both picked out the same letter -from all the rest. I picked it out, because it was so prettily -expressed; and papa picked it out because the terms were so -reasonable. He is going to send the letter up to grandmamma in -London by today's post, and, if she finds everything satisfactory -on inquiry, the governess is to be engaged You don't know how -dreadfully nervous I am getting about it already; a strange -governess is such an awful prospect. But it is not quite so bad -as going to school; and I have great hopes of this new lady, -because she writes such a nice letter! As I said to papa, it -almost reconciles me to her horrid, unromantic name." - -"What is her name?" asked Allan. "Brown? Grubb? Scraggs? Anything -of that sort?" - -"Hush! hush! Nothing quite so horrible as that. Her name is -Gwilt. Dreadfully unpoetical, isn't it? Her reference must be a -respectable person, though; for she lives in the same part of -London as grandmamma. Stop, Mr. Armadale! we are going the wrong -way. No; I can't wait to look at those lovely flowers of yours -this morning, and, many thanks, I can't accept your arm. I have -stayed here too long already. Papa is waiting for his breakfast; -and I must run back every step of the way. Thank you for making -those kind allowances for mamma; thank you again and again, and -good-by! " - -"Won't you shake hands?" asked Allan. - -She gave him her hand. "No more apologies, if you please, Mr. -Armadale," she said, saucily. Once more their eyes met, and once -more the plump, dimpled little hand found its way to Allan's -lips. "It isn't an apology this time!" cried Allan, precipitately -defending himself. "It's--it's a mark of respect." - -She started back a few steps, and burst out laughing. "You won't -find me in our grounds again, Mr. Armadale," she said, merrily, -"till I have got Miss Gwilt to take care of me!" With that -farewell, she gathered up her skirts, and ran back across the -paddock at the top of her speed. - -Allan stood watching her in speechless admiration till she was -out of sight. His second interview with Miss Milroy had produced -an extraordinary effect on him. For the first time since he had -become the master of Thorpe Ambrose, he was absorbed in serious -consideration of what he owed to his new position in life. "The -question is," pondered Allan, "whether I hadn't better set myself -right with my neighbors by becoming a married man? I'll take the -day to consider; and if I keep in the same mind about it, I'll -consult Midwinter to-morrow morning." - - -When the morning came, and when Allan descended to the -breakfast-room, resolute to consult his friend on the obligations -that he owed to his neighbors in general, and to Miss Milroy in -particular, no Midwinter was to he seen. On making inquiry, it -appeared that he had been observed in the hall; that he had taken -from the table a letter which the morning's post had brought to -him; and that he had gone back immediately to his own room. Allan -at once ascended the stairs again, and knocked at his friend's -door. - -"May I come in?" he asked. - -"Not just now," was the answer. - -"You have got a letter, haven't you?" persisted Allan. "Any bad -news? Anything wrong?" - -"Nothing. I'm not very well this morning. Don't wait breakfast -for me; I'll come down as soon as I can." - -No more was said on either side. Allan returned to the -breakfast-room a little disappointed. He had set his heart on -rushing headlong into his consultation with Midwinter, and here -was the consultation indefinitely delayed. "What an odd fellow he -is!" thought Allan. "What on earth can he be doing, locked in -there by himself?" - -He was doing nothing. He was sitting by the window, with the -letter which had reached him that morning open in his hand. The -handwriting was Mr. Brock's, and the words written were these: - - -"MY DEAR MIDWINTER--I have literally only two minutes before post -time to tell you that I have just met (in Kensington Gardens) -with the woman whom we both only know, thus far, as the woman -with the red Paisley shawl. I have traced her and her companion -(a respectable-looking elderly lady) to their residence--after -having distinctly heard Allan's name mentioned between them. -Depend on my not losing sight of the woman until I am satisfied -that she means no mischief at Thorpe Ambrose; and expect to hear -from me again as soon as I know how this strange discovery is to -end. - -"Very truly yours, DECIMUS BROCK." - - -After reading the letter for the second time, Midwinter folded it -up thoughtfully, and placed it in his pocket-book, side by side -with the manuscript narrative of Allan's dream. - -"Your discovery will not end with _you_, Mr. Brock," he said. "Do -what you will with the woman, when the time comes the woman will -be here." - -CHAPTER V. - -MOTHER OLDERSHAW ON HER GUARD. - -1. _From Mrs. Oldershaw (Diana Street, Pimlico) to Miss Gwilt -(West Place, Old Brompton)_. - -"Ladies' Toilet Repository, June 20th, - -Eight in the Evening. - -"MY DEAR LYDIA--About three hours have passed, as well as I can -remember, since I pushed you unceremoniously inside my house in -West Place, and, merely telling you to wait till you saw me -again, banged the door to between us, and left you alone in the -hall. I know your sensitive nature, my dear, and I am afraid you -have made up your mind by this time that never yet was a guest -treated so abominably by her hostess as I have treated you. - -"The delay that has prevented me from explaining my strange -conduct is, believe me, a delay for which I am not to blame. -One of the many delicate little difficulties which beset so -essentially confidential a business as mine occurred here -(as I have since discovered) while we were taking the air this -afternoon in Kensington Gardens. I see no chance of being able to -get back to you for some hours to come, and I have a word of very -urgent caution for your private ear, which has been too long -delayed already. So I must use the spare minutes as they come, -and write. - -"Here is caution the first. On no account venture outside the -door again this evening, and be very careful, while the daylight -lasts, not to show yourself at any of the front windows. I have -reason to fear that a certain charming person now staying with me -may possibly be watched. Don't be alarmed, and don't be -impatient; you shall know why. - -"I can only explain myself by going back to our unlucky meeting -in the Gardens with that reverend gentleman who was so obliging -as to follow us both back to my house. - -"It crossed my mind, just as we were close to the door, that -there might be a motive for the parson's anxiety to trace us -home, far less creditable to his taste, and far more dangerous to -both of us, than the motive you supposed him to have. In plainer -words, Lydia, I rather doubted whether you had met with another -admirer; and I strongly suspected that you had encountered -another enemy instead . There was no time to tell you this. There -was only time to see you safe into the house, and to make sure of -the parson (in case my suspicions were right) by treating him as -he had treated us; I mean, by following him in his turn. - -"I kept some little distance behind him at first, to turn the -thing over in my mind, and to be satisfied that my doubts were -not misleading me. We have no concealments from each other; and -you shall know what my doubts were. - -"I was not surprised at _your_ recognizing _him_; he is not at -all a common-looking old man; and you had seen him twice in -Somersetshire--once when you asked your way of him to Mrs. -Armadale's house, and once when you saw him again on your way -back to the railroad. But I was a little puzzled (considering -that you had your veil down on both those occasions, and your -veil down also when we were in the Gardens) at his recognizing -_you_. I doubted his remembering your figure in a summer dress -after he had only seen it in a winter dress; and though we were -talking when he met us, and your voice is one among your many -charms, I doubted his remembering your voice, either. And yet -I felt persuaded that he knew you. 'How?' you will ask. My dear, -as ill-luck would have it, we were speaking at the time of young -Armadale. I firmly believe that the name was the first thing that -struck him; and when he heard _that_, your voice certainly and -your figure perhaps, came back to his memory. 'And what if it -did?' you may say. Think again, Lydia, and tell me whether the -parson of the place where Mrs. Armadale lived was not likely to -be Mrs. Armadale's friend? If he _was_ her friend, the very first -person to whom she would apply for advice after the manner in -which you frightened her, and after what you most injudiciously -said on the subject of appealing to her son, would be the -clergyman of the parish--and the magistrate, too, as the landlord -at the inn himself told you. - -"You will now understand why I left you in that extremely uncivil -manner, and I may go on to what happened next. - -"I followed the old gentleman till he turned into a quiet street, -and then accosted him, with respect for the Church written -(I flatter myself) in every line of my face. - -"'Will you excuse me,' I said, 'if I venture to inquire, sir, -whether you recognized the lady who was walking with me when you -happened to pass us in the Gardens?' - -"'Will you excuse my asking, ma'am, why you put that question?' -was all the answer I got. - -"'I will endeavor to tell you, sir,' I said. 'If my friend is -not an absolute stranger to you, I should wish to request your -attention to a very delicate subject, connected with a lady -deceased, and with her son who survives her.' - -"He was staggered; I could see that. But he was sly enough at the -same time to hold his tongue and wait till I said something more. - -"'If I am wrong, sir, in thinking that you recognized my friend,' -I went on, 'I beg to apologize. But I could hardly suppose it -possible that a gentleman in your profession would follow a lady -home who was a total stranger to him.' - -"There I had him. He colored up (fancy that, at his age!), and -owned the truth, in defense of his own precious character. - -"'I have met with the lady once before, and I acknowledge that I -recognized her in the Gardens,' he said. 'You will excuse me if -I decline entering into the question of whether I did or did not -purposely follow her home. If you wish to be assured that your -friend is not an absolute stranger to me, you now have that -assurance; and if you have anything particular to say to me, I -leave you to decide whether the time has come to say it.' - -"He waited, and looked about. I waited, and looked about. He said -the street was hardly a fit place to speak of a delicate subject -in. I said the street was hardly a fit place to speak of a -delicate subject in. He didn't offer to take me to where he -lived. I didn't offer to take him to where I lived. Have you ever -seen two strange cats, my dear, nose to nose on the tiles? If you -have, you have seen the parson and me done to the life. - -"'Well, ma'am,' he said, at last, 'shall we go on with our -conversation in spite of circumstances?' - -"'Yes, sir,' I said; 'we are both of us, fortunately, of an age -to set circumstances at defiance' (I had seen the old wretch -looking at my gray hair, and satisfying himself that his -character was safe if he _was_ seen with me). - -"After all this snapping and snarling, we came to the point at -last. I began by telling him that I feared his interest in you -was not of the friendly sort. He admitted that much--of course, -in defense of his own character once more. I next repeated -to him everything you had told me about your proceedings in -Somersetshire, when we first found that he was following us home. -Don't be alarmed my dear--I was acting on principle. If you want -to make a dish of lies digestible, always give it a garnish -of truth. Well, having appealed to the reverend gentleman's -confidence in this matter, I next declared that you had become -an altered woman since he had seen you last. I revived that dead -wretch, your husband (without mentioning names, of course), -established him (the first place I thought of) in business at the -Brazils, and described a letter which he had written, offering to -forgive his erring wife, if she would repent and go back to him. -I assured the parson that your husband's noble conduct had -softened your obdurate nature; and then, thinking I had produced -the right impression, I came boldly to close quarters with him. -I said, 'At the very time when you met us, sir, my unhappy friend -was speaking in terms of touching, self-reproach of her conduct -to the late Mrs. Armadale. She confided to me her anxiety to make -some atonement, if possible, to Mrs. Armadale's son; and it is -at her entreaty (for she cannot prevail on herself to face you) -that I now beg to inquire whether Mr. Armadale is still in -Somersetshire, and whether he would consent to take back in small -installments the sum of money which my friend acknowledges that -she received by practicing on Mrs. Armadale's fears.' Those were -my very words. A neater story (accounting so nicely for -everything) was never told; it was a story to melt a stone. But -this Somersetshire parson is harder than stone itself. I blush -for _him_, my dear, when I assure you that he was evidently -insensible enough to disbelieve every word I said about your -reformed character, your husband in the Brazils, and your -penitent anxiety to pay the money back. It is really a disgrace -that such a man should be in the Church; such cunning as his is -in the last degree unbecoming in a member of a sacred profession. - -"'Does your friend propose to join her husband by the next -steamer?' was all he condescended to say, when I had done. - -"I acknowledge I was angry. I snapped at him. I said, 'Yes, she -does.' - -"'How am I to communicate with her?' he asked. - -"I snapped at him again. 'By letter--through me.' - -"'At what address, ma'am?' - -"There, I had him once more. 'You have found my address out for -yourself, sir,' I said. 'The directory will tell you my name, if -you wish to find that out for yourself also; otherwise, you are -welcome to my card.' - -"'Many thanks, ma'am. If your friend wishes to communicate with -Mr. Armadale, I will give you _my_ card in return.' - -"'Thank you, sir.' - -"'Thank you, ma'am.' - -"'Good-afternoon, sir.' - -"'Good-afternoon, ma'am.' - -"So we parted. I went my way to an appointment at my place -of business, and he went his in a hurry; which is of itself -suspicious. What I can't get over is his heartlessness. Heaven -help the people who send for _him_ to comfort them on their -death-beds! - -"The next consideration is, What are we to do? If we don't find -out the right way to keep this old wretch in the dark, he may be -the ruin of us at Thorpe Ambrose just as we are within easy reach -of our end in view. Wait up till I come to you, with my mind -free, I hope, from the other difficulty which is worrying me -here. Was there ever such ill luck as ours? Only think of that -man deserting his congregation, and coming to London just at the -very time when we have answered Major Milroy's advertisement, and -may expect the inquiries to be made next week! I have no patience -with him; his bishop ought to interfere. - -"Affectionately yours, - -"MARIA OLDERSHAW." - -2. _From Miss Gwilt to Mrs. Oldershaw_. - -"West Place, June 20th. - -"MY POOR OLD DEAR--How very little you know of my sensitive -nature, as you call it! Instead of feeling offended when you left -me, I went to your piano, and forgot all about you till your -messenger came. Your letter is irresistible; I have been laughing -over it till I am quite out of breath. Of all the absurd stories -I ever read, the story you addressed to the Somersetshire -clergyman is the most ridiculous. And as for your interview with -him in the street, it is a perfect sin to keep it to ourselves. -The public ought really to enjoy it in the form of a farce at one -of the theaters. - -"Luckily for both of us (to come to serious matters), your -messenger is a prudent person. He sent upstairs to know if there -was an answer. In the midst of my merriment I had presence of -mind enough to send downstairs and say 'Yes.' - -"Some brute of a man says, in some book which I once read, that -no woman can keep two separate trains of ideas in her mind at the -same time. I declare you have almost satisfied me that the man -is right. What! when you have escaped unnoticed to your place -of business, and when you suspect this house to be watched, you -propose to come back here, and to put it in the parson's power to -recover the lost trace of you! What madness! Stop where you are; -and when you have got over your difficulty at Pimlico (it is some -woman's business, of course; what worries women are!), be so good -as to read what I have got to say about our difficulty at -Brompton. - -"In the first place, the house (as you supposed) is watched. - -"Half an hour after you left me, loud voices in the street -interrupted me at the piano, and I went to the window. There was -a cab at the house opposite, where they let lodgings; and an old -man, who looked like a respectable servant, was wrangling with -the driver about his fare. An elderly gentleman came out of the -house, and stopped them. An elderly gentleman returned into the -house, and appeared cautiously at the front drawing-room window. -You know him, you worthy creature; he had the bad taste, some few -hours since, to doubt whether you were telling him the truth. -Don't be afraid, he didn't see me. When he looked up, after -settling with the cab driver, I was behind the curtain. I have -been behind the curtain once or twice since; and I have seen -enough to satisfy me that he and his servant will relieve each -other at the window, so as never to lose sight of your house -here, night or day. That the parson suspects the real truth -is of course impossible. But that he firmly believes I mean some -mischief to young Armadale, and that you have entirely confirmed -him in that conviction, is as plain as that two and two make -four. And this has happened (as you helplessly remind me) just -when we have answered the advertisement, and when we may expect -the major's inquiries to be made in a few days' time. - -"Surely, here is a terrible situation for two women to find -themselves in? A fiddlestick's end for the situation! We have got -an easy way out of it--thanks, Mother Oldershaw, to what I myself -forced you to do, not three hours before the Somersetshire -clergyman met with us. - -"Has that venomous little quarrel of ours this morning--after we -had pounced on the major's advertisement in the newspaper--quite -slipped out of your memory? Have you forgotten how I persisted in -my opinion that you were a great deal too well known in London to -appear safely as my reference in your own name, or to receive an -inquiring lady or gentleman (as you were rash enough to propose) -in your own house? Don't you remember what a passion you were in -when I brought our dispute to an end by declining to stir a step -in the matter, unless I could conclude my application to Major -Milroy by referring him to an address at which you were totally -unknown, and to a name which might be anything you pleased, as -long as it was not yours? What a look you gave me when you found -there was nothing for it but to drop the whole speculation or to -let me have my own way! How you fumed over the lodging hunting -on the other side of the Park! and how you groaned when you came -back, possessed of furnished apartments in respectable Bayswater, -over the useless expense I had put you to! - -"What do you think of those furnished apartments _now_, you -obstinate old woman? Here we are, with discovery threatening us -at our very door, and with no hope of escape unless we can -contrive to disappear from the parson in the dark. And there are -the lodgings in Bayswater, to which no inquisitive strangers have -traced either you or me, ready and waiting to swallow us up--the -lodgings in which we can escape all further molestation, and -answer the major's inquiries at our ease. Can you see, at last, a -little further than your poor old nose? Is there anything in the -world to prevent your safe disappearance from Pimlico to-night, -and your safe establishment at the new lodgings, in the character -of my respectable reference, half an hour afterward? Oh, fie, -fie, Mother Oldershaw! Go down on your wicked old knees, and -thank your stars that you had a she-devil like me to deal with -this morning! - -"Suppose we come now to the only difficulty worth mentioning-- -_my_ difficulty. Watched as I am in this house, how am I to join -you without bringing the parson or the parson's servant with me -at my heels? - -"Being to all intents and purposes a prisoner here, it seems to -me that I have no choice but to try the old prison plan of -escape: a change of clothes. I have been looking at your -house-maid. Except that we are both light, her face and hair and -my face and hair are as unlike each other as possible. But she is -as nearly as can be my height and size; and (if she only knew how -to dress herself, and had smaller feet) her figure is a very much -better one than it ought to be for a person in her station in -life. - -"My idea is to dress her in the clothes I wore in the Gardens -to-day; to send her out, with our reverend enemy in full pursuit -of her; and, as soon as the coast is clear, to slip away myself -and join you. The thing would be quite impossible, of course, if -I had been seen with my veil up; but, as events have turned out, -it is one advantage of the horrible exposure which followed my -marriage that I seldom show myself in public, and never, of -course, in such a populous place as London, without wearing a -thick veil and keeping that veil down. If the house-maid wears my -dress, I don't really see why the house-maid may not be counted -on to represent me to the life. - -"The one question is, Can the woman be trusted? If she can, send -me a line, telling her, on your authority, that she is to place -herself at my disposal. I won't say a word till I have heard from -you first. - -"Let me have my answer to-night. As long as we were only talking -about my getting the governess's place, I was careless enough how -it ended. But now that we have actually answered Major Milroy's -advertisement, I am in earnest at last. I mean to be Mrs. -Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose; and woe to the man or woman who tries -to stop me! Yours, - -"LYDIA GWILT. - -"P.S.--I open my letter again to say that you need have no fear -of your messenger being followed on his return to Pimlico. He -will drive to a public-house where he is known, will dismiss the -cab at the door, and will go out again by a back way which is -only used by the landlord and his friends.--L. G." - -3. _From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt_. - -"Diana Street, 10 o'clock. - -"MY DEAR LYDIA--You have written me a heartless letter. If you -had been in my trying position, harassed as I was when I wrote -to you, I should have made allowances for my friend when I found -my friend not so sharp as usual. But the vice of the present age -is a want of consideration for persons in the decline of life. -Morally speaking, you are in a sad state, my dear; and you stand -much in need of a good example. You shall have a good example--I -forgive you. - -"Having now relieved my mind by the performance of a good action, -suppose I show you next (though I protest against the vulgarity -of the expression) that I _can_ see a little further than my poor -old nose? - -"I will answer your question about the house-maid first. You may -trust her implicitly. She has had her troubles, and has learned -discretion. She also looks your age; though it is only her due to -say that, in this particular, she has some years the advantage of -you. I inclose the necessary directions which will place her -entirely at your disposal. - -"And what comes next? - -"Your plan for joining me at Bayswater comes next. It is very -well as far as it goes; but it stands sadly in need of a little -judicious improvement. There is a serious necessity (you shall -know why presently) for deceiving the parson far more completely -than you propose to deceive him. I want him to see the -house-maid's face under circumstances which will persuade him -that it is _your_ face. And then, going a step further, I want -him to see the house-maid leave London, under the impression that -he has seen _you_ start on the first stage of your journey to the -Brazils. He didn't believe in that journey when I announced it to -him this afternoon in the street. He may believe in it yet, if -you follow the directions I am now going to give you. - -"To-morrow is Saturday. Send the housemaid out in your walking -dress of to-day, just as you propose; but don't stir out -yourself, and don't go near the window. Desire the woman to keep -her veil down, to take half an hour's walk (quite unconscious, of -course, of the parson or his servant at her heels), and then to -come back to you. As soon as she appears, send her instantly to -the open window, instructing her to lift her veil carelessly and -look out. Let her go away again after a minute or two, take off -her bonnet and shawl, and then appear once more at the window, -or, better still, in the balcony outside. She may show herself -again occasionally (not too often) later in the day. And -to-morrow--as we have a professional gentleman to deal with--by -all means send her to church. If these proceedings don't persuade -the parson that the house-maid's face is your face, and if they -don't make him readier to believe in your reformed character than -he was when I spoke to him, I have lived sixty years, my love, -in this vale of tears to mighty little purpose. - -"The next day is Monday. I have looked at the shipping -advertisements, and I find that a steamer leaves Liverpool for -the Brazils on Tuesday. Nothing could be more convenient; we will -start you on your voyage under the parson's own eyes. You may -manage it in this way: - -"At one o'clock send out the man who cleans the knives and forks -to get a cab; and when he has brought it up to the door, let him -go back and get a second cab, which he is to wait in himself, -round the corner, in the square. Let the house-maid (still in -your dress) drive off, with the necessary boxes, in the first cab -to the North-western Railway. When she is gone, slip out yourself -to the cab waiting round the corner, and come to me at Bayswater. -They may be prepared to follow the house-maid's cab, because they -have seen it at the door; but they won't be prepared to follow -your cab, because it has been hidden round the corner. When the -house-maid has got to the station, and has done her best to -disappear in the crowd (I have chosen the mixed train at 2:10, -so as to give her every chance), you will be safe with me; and -whether they do or do not find out that she does not really start -for Liverpool won't matter by that time. They will have lost all -trace of you; and they may follow the house-maid half over -London, if they like. She has my instructions (inclosed) to leave -the empty boxes to find their way to the lost luggage office and -to go to her friends in the City, and stay there till I write -word that I want her again. - -"And what is the object of all this? - -"My dear Lydia, the object is your future security (and mine). -We may succeed or we may fail, in persuading the parson that you -have actually gone to the Brazils. If we succeed, we are relieved -of all fear of him. If we fail, he will warn young Armadale to be -careful _of a woman like my house-maid, and not of a woman like -you_. This last gain is a very important one; for we don't know -that Mrs. Armadale may not have told him your maiden name. In -that event, the 'Miss Gwilt' whom he will describe as having -slipped through his fingers here will be so entirely unlike -the 'Miss Gwilt' established at Thorpe Ambrose, as to satisfy -everybody that it is not a case of similarity of persons, but -only a case of similarity of names. - -"What do you say now to my improvement on your idea? Are my -brains not quite so addled as you thought them when you wrote? -Don't suppose I'm at all overboastful about my own ingenuity. -Cleverer tricks than this trick of mine are played off on the -public by swindlers, and are recorded in the newspapers every -week. I only want to show you that my assistance is not less -necessary to the success of the Armadale speculation now than -it was when I made our first important discoveries, by means -of the harmless-looking young man and the private inquiry office -in Shadyside Place. - -"There is nothing more to say that I know of, except that I am -just going to start for the new lodging, with a box directed in -my new name. The last expiring moments of Mother Oldershaw, of -the Toilet Repository, are close at hand, and the birth of Miss -Gwilt's respectable reference, Mrs. Mandeville, will take place -in a cab in five minutes' time. I fancy I must be still young -at heart, for I am quite in love already with my romantic name; -it sounds almost as pretty as Mrs. Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose, -doesn't it? - -"Good-night, my dear, and pleasant dreams. If any accident -happens between this and Monday, write to me instantly by post. -If no accident happens you will be with me in excellent time -for the earliest inquiries that the major can possibly make. -My last words are, don't go out, and don't venture near the -front windows till Monday comes. - -"Affectionately yours, - -M. O." - -CHAPTER VI. - -MIDWINTER IN DISGUISE. - -Toward noon on the day of the twenty-first, Miss Milroy was -loitering in the cottage garden--released from duty in the -sick-room by an improvement in her mother's health--when her -attention was attracted by the sound of voices in the park. One -of the voices she instantly recognized as Allan's; the other was -strange to her. She put aside the branches of a shrub near the -garden palings, and, peeping through, saw Allan approaching the -cottage gate, in company with a slim, dark, undersized man, who -was talking and laughing excitably at the top of his voice. Miss -Milroy ran indoors to warn her father of Mr. Armadale's arrival, -and to add that he was bringing with him a noisy stranger, who -was, in all probability, the friend generally reported to be -staying with the squire at the great house. - -Had the major's daughter guessed right? Was the squire's -loud-talking, loud-laughing companion the shy, sensitive -Midwinter of other times? It was even so. In Allan's presence, -that morning, an extraordinary change had passed over the -ordinarily quiet demeanor of Allan's friend. - -When Midwinter had first appeared in the breakfast-room, after -putting aside Mr. Brock's startling letter, Allan had been too -much occupied to pay any special attention to him. The undecided -difficulty of choosing the day for the audit dinner had pressed -for a settlement once more, and had been fixed at last (under the -butler's advice) for Saturday, the twenty-eighth of the month. It -was only on turning round to remind Midwinter of the ample space -of time which the new arrangement allowed for mastering the -steward's books, that even Allan's flighty attention had been -arrested by a marked change in the face that confronted him. He -had openly noticed the change in his usual blunt manner, and had -been instantly silenced by a fretful, almost an angry, reply. -The two had sat down together to breakfast without the usual -cordiality, and the meal had proceeded gloomily, till Midwinter -himself broke the silence by bursting into the strange outbreak -of gayety which had revealed in Allan's eyes a new side to the -character of his friend. - -As usual with most of Allan's judgments, here again the -conclusion was wrong. It was no new side to Midwinter's character -that now presented itself--it was only a new aspect of the one -ever-recurring struggle of Midwinter's life. - -Irritated by Allan's discovery of the change in him, and dreading -the next questions that Allan's curiosity might put, Midwinter -had roused himself to efface, by main force, the impression which -his own altered appearance had produced. It was one of those -efforts which no men compass so resolutely as the men of his -quick temper and his sensitive feminine organization. With his -whole mind still possessed by the firm belief that the Fatality -had taken one great step nearer to Allan and himself since the -rector's adventure in Kensington Gardens--with his face still -betraying what he had suffered, under the renewed conviction that -his father's death-bed warning was now, in event after event, -asserting its terrible claim to part him, at any sacrifice, from -the one human creature whom he loved--with the fear still busy at -his heart that the first mysterious vision of Allan's Dream might -be a vision realized, before the new day that now saw the two -Armadales together was a day that had passed over their -heads--with these triple bonds, wrought by his own superstition, -fettering him at that moment as they had never fettered him yet, -he mercilessly spurred his resolution to the desperate effort of -rivaling, in Allan's presence, the gayety and good spirits of -Allan himself. - -He talked and laughed, and heaped his plate indiscriminately from -every dish on the breakfast-table. He made noisily merry with -jests that had no humor, and stories that had no point. He first -astonished Allan, then amused him, then won his easily encouraged -confidence on the subject of Miss Milroy. He shouted with -laughter over the sudden development of Allan's views on -marriage, until the servants downstairs began to think that their -master's strange friend had gone mad. Lastly, he had accepted -Allan's proposal that he should be presented to the major's -daughter, and judge of her for himself, as readily, nay, more -readily than it would have been accepted by the least diffident -man living. There the two now stood at the cottage gate ---Midwinter's voice rising louder and louder over Allan's-- -Midwinter's natural manner disguised (how madly and miserably -none but he knew!) in a coarse masquerade of boldness--the -outrageous, the unendurable boldness of a shy man. - -They were received in the parlor by the major's daughter, pending -the arrival of the major himself. - -Allan attempted to present his friend in the usual form. To his -astonishment, Midwinter took the words flippantly out of his -lips, and introduced himself to Miss Milroy with a confident -look, a hard laugh, and a clumsy assumption of ease which -presented him at his worst. His artificial spirits, lashed -continuously into higher and higher effervescence since the -morning, were now mounting hysterically beyond his own control. -He looked and spoke with that terrible freedom of license which -is the necessary consequence, when a diffident man has thrown off -his reserve, of the very effort by which he has broken loose from -his own restraints. He involved himself in a confused medley of -apologies that were not wanted, and of compliments that might -have overflattered the vanity of a savage. He looked backward and -forward from Miss Milroy to Allan, and declared jocosely that he -understood now why his friend's morning walks were always taken -in the same direction. He asked her questions about her mother, -and cut short the answers she gave him by remarks on the weather. -In one breath, he said she must feel the day insufferably hot, -and in another he protested that he quite envied her in her cool -muslin dress. - -The major came in. - -Before he could say two words, Midwinter overwhelmed him with -the same frenzy of familiarity, and the same feverish fluency -of speech. He expressed his interest in Mrs. Milroy's health in -terms which would have been exaggerated on the lips of a friend -of the family. He overflowed into a perfect flood of apologies -for disturbing the major at his mechanical pursuits. He quoted -Allan's extravagant account of the clock, and expressed his own -anxiety to see it in terms more extravagant still. He paraded his -superficial book knowledge of the great clock at Strasbourg, with -far-fetched jests on the extraordinary automaton figures which -that clock puts in motion--on the procession of the Twelve -Apostles, which walks out under the dial at noon, and on the toy -cock, which crows at St. Peter's appearance--and this before a -man who had studied every wheel in that complex machinery, and -who had passed whole years of his life in trying to imitate it. -"I hear you have outnumbered the Strasbourg apostles, and -outcrowed the Strasbourg cock," he exclaimed, with the tone and -manner of a friend habitually privileged to waive all ceremony; -"and I am dying, absolutely dying, major, to see your wonderful -clock!" - -Major Milroy had entered the room with his mind absorbed in his -own mechanical contrivances as usual. But the sudden shock of -Midwinter's familiarity was violent enough to recall him -instantly to himself, and to make him master again, for the time, -of his social resources as a man of the world. - -"Excuse me for interrupting you," he said, stopping Midwinter for -the moment, by a look of steady surprise. "I happen to have seen -the clock at Strasbourg; and it sounds almost absurd in my ears -(if you will pardon me for saying so) to put my little experiment -in any light of comparison with that wonderful achievement. There -is nothing else of the kind like it in the world!" He paused, to -control his own mounting enthusiasm; the clock at Strasbourg was -to Major Milroy what the name of Michael Angelo was to Sir Joshua -Reynolds. "Mr. Armadale's kindness has led him to exaggerate a -little," pursued the major, smiling at Allan, and passing over -another attempt of Midwinter's to seize on the talk, as if no -such attempt had been made. "But as there does happen to be this -one point of resemblance between the great clock abroad and the -little clock at home, that they both show what they can do on the -stroke of noon, and as it is close on twelve now, if you still -wish to visit my workshop, Mr. Midwinter, the sooner I show you -the way to it the better." He opened the door, and apologized to -Midwinter, with marked ceremony, for preceding him out of the -room. - -"What do you think of my friend?" whispered Allan, as he and Miss -Milroy followed. - -"Must I tell you the truth, Mr. Armadale?" she whispered back. - -"Of course!" - -"Then I don't like him at all!" - -"He's the best and dearest fellow in the world, " rejoined the -outspoken Allan. "You'll like him better when you know him -better--I'm sure you will!" - -Miss Milroy made a little grimace, implying supreme indifference -to Midwinter, and saucy surprise at Allan's earnest advocacy of -the merits of his friend. "Has he got nothing more interesting to -say to me than _that_," she wondered, privately, "after kissing -my hand twice yesterday morning?" - -They were all in the major's workroom before Allan had the chance -of trying a more attractive subject. There, on the top of a rough -wooden case, which evidently contained the machinery, was the -wonderful clock. The dial was crowned by a glass pedestal placed -on rock-work in carved ebony; and on the top of the pedestal sat -the inevitable figure of Time, with his everlasting scythe in his -hand. Below the dial was a little platform, and at either end of -it rose two miniature sentry-boxes, with closed doors. -Externally, this was all that appeared, until the magic moment -came when the clock struck twelve noon. - -It wanted then about three minutes to twelve; and Major Milroy -seized the opportunity of explaining what the exhibition was to -be, before the exhibition began. - -"At the first words, his mind fell back again into its old -absorption over the one employment of his life. He turned to -Midwinter (who had persisted in talking all the way from the -parlor, and who was talking still) without a trace left in his -manner of the cool and cutting composure with which he had spoken -but a few minutes before. The noisy, familiar man, who had been -an ill-bred intruder in the parlor, became a privileged guest in -the workshop, for _there_ he possessed the all-atoning social -advantage of being new to the performances of the wonderful -clock. - -"At the first stroke of twelve, Mr. Midwinter," said the major, -quite eagerly, "keep your eye on the figure of Time: he will move -his scythe, and point it downward to the glass pedestal. You will -next see a little printed card appear behind the glass, which -will tell you the day of the month and the day of the week. At -the last stroke of the clock, Time will lift his scythe again -into its former position, and the chimes will ring a peal. The -peal will be succeeded by the playing of a tune--the favorite -march of my old regiment--and then the final performance of the -clock will follow. The sentry-boxes, which you may observe at -each side, will both open at the same moment. In one of them you -will see the sentinel appear; and from the other a corporal and -two privates will march across the platform to relieve the guard, -and will then disappear, leaving the new sentinel at his post. -I must ask your kind allowances for this last part of the -performance. The machinery is a little complicated, and there are -defects in it which I am ashamed to say I have not yet succeeded -in remedying as I could wish. Sometimes the figures go all wrong, -and sometimes they go all right. I hope they may do their best on -the occasion of your seeing them for the first time." - -As the major, posted near his clock, said the last words, his -little audience of three, assembled at the opposite end of the -room, saw the hour-hand and the minute-hand on the dial point -together to twelve. The first stroke sounded, and Time, true to -the signal, moved his scythe. The day of the month and the day of -the week announced themselves in print through the glass pedestal -next; Midwinter applauding their appearance with a noisy -exaggeration of surprise, which Miss Milroy mistook for coarse -sarcasm directed at her father's pursuits, and which Allan -(seeing that she was offended) attempted to moderate by touching -the elbow of his friend. Meanwhile, the performances of the clock -went on. At the last stroke of twelve, Time lifted his scythe -again, the chimes rang, the march tune of the major's old -regiment followed; and the crowning exhibition of the relief -of the guard announced itself in a preliminary trembling of the -sentry-boxes, and a sudden disappearance of the major at the back -of the clock. - -The performance began with the opening of the sentry-box on -the right-hand side of the platform, as punctually as could be -desired; the door on the other side, however, was less -tractable--it remained obstinately closed. Unaware of this hitch -in the proceedings, the corporal and his two privates appeared -in their places in a state of perfect discipline, tottered out -across the platform, all three trembling in every limb, dashed -themselves headlong against the closed door on the other side, -and failed in producing the smallest impression on the immovable -sentry presumed to be within. An intermittent clicking, as of the -major's keys and tools at work, was heard in the machinery. The -corporal and his two privates suddenly returned, backward, across -the platform, and shut themselves up with a bang inside their own -door. Exactly at the same moment, the other door opened for the -first time, and the provoking sentry appeared with the utmost -deliberation at his post, waiting to be relieved. He was allowed -to wait. Nothing happened in the other box but an occasional -knocking inside the door, as if the corporal and his privates -were impatient to be let out. The clicking of the major's tools -was heard again among the machinery; the corporal and his party, -suddenly restored to liberty, appeared in a violent hurry, and -spun furiously across the platform. Quick as they were, however, -the hitherto deliberate sentry on the other side now perversely -showed himself to be quicker still. He disappeared like lightning -into his own premises, the door closed smartly after him, the -corporal and his privates dashed themselves headlong against it -for the second time, and the major, appearing again round the -corner of the clock, asked his audience innocently "if they would -be good enough to tell him whether anything had gone wrong?" - -The fantastic absurdity of the exhibition, heightened by Major -Milroy's grave inquiry at the end of it, was so irresistibly -ludicrous that the visitors shouted with laughter; and even Miss -Milroy, with all her consideration for her father's sensitive -pride in his clock, could not restrain herself from joining in -the merriment which the catastrophe of the puppets had provoked. -But there are limits even to the license of laughter; and these -limits were ere long so outrageously overstepped by one of the -little party as to have the effect of almost instantly silencing -the other two. The fever of Midwinter's false spirits flamed out -into sheer delirium as the performance of the puppets came to -an end. His paroxysms of laughter followed each other with such -convulsive violence that Miss Milroy started back from him in -alarm, and even the patient major turned on him with a look which -said plainly, Leave the room! Allan, wisely impulsive for once -in his life, seized Midwinter by the arm, and dragged him out by -main force into the garden, and thence into the park beyond. - -"Good heavens! what has come to you!" he exclaimed, shrinking -back from the tortured face before him, as he stopped and looked -close at it for the first time. - -For the moment, Midwinter was incapable of answering. The -hysterical paroxysm was passing from one extreme to the other. -He leaned against a tree, sobbing and gasping for breath, and -stretched out his hand in mute entreaty to Allan to give him -time. - -"You had better not have nursed me through my fever," he said, -faintly, as soon as he could speak. "I'm mad and miserable, -Allan; I have never recovered it. Go back and ask them to forgive -me; I am ashamed to go and ask them myself. I can't tell how it -happened; I can only ask your pardon and theirs." He turned aside -his head quickly so as to conceal his face. "Don't stop here," he -said; "don't look at me; I shall soon get over it." Allan still -hesitated, and begged hard to be allowed to take him back to the -house. It was useless. "You break my heart with your kindness," -he burst out, passionately. "For God's sake, leave me by my -self!" - -Allan went back to she cottage, and pleaded there for indulgence -to Midwinter, with an earnestness and simplicity which raised him -immensely in the major's estimation, but which totally failed to -produce the same favorable impression on Miss Milroy. Little as -she herself suspected it, she was fond enough of Allan already to -be jealous of Allan's friend. - -"How excessively absurd!" she thought, pettishly. "As if either -papa or I considered such a person of the slightest consequence!" - -"You will kindly suspend your opinion, won't you, Major Milroy?" -said Allan, in his hearty way, at parting. - -"With the greatest pleasure! " replied the major, cordially -shaking hands. - -"And you, too, Miss Milroy?" added Allan. - -Miss Milroy made a mercilessly formal bow. "_My_ opinion, Mr. -Armadale, is not of the slightest consequence." - -Allan left the cottage, sorely puzzled to account for Miss -Milroy's sudden coolness toward him. His grand idea of -conciliating the whole neighborhood by becoming a married man -underwent some modification as he closed the garden gate behind -him. The virtue called Prudence and the Squire of Thorpe Ambrose -became personally acquainted with each other, on this occasion, -for the first time; and Allan, entering headlong as usual on the -high-road to moral improvement, actually decided on doing nothing -in a hurry! - -A man who is entering on a course of reformation ought, if -virtue is its own reward, to be a man engaged in an essentially -inspiriting pursuit. But virtue is not always its own reward; and -the way that leads to reformation is remarkably ill-lighted for -so respectable a thoroughfare. Allan seemed to have caught the -infection of his friend's despondency. As he walked home, he, -too, began to doubt--in his widely different way, and for his -widely different reasons--whether the life at Thorpe Ambrose was -promising quite as fairly for the future as it had promised at -first. - -CHAPTER VII. - -THE PLOT THICKENS. - -Two messages were waiting for Allan when he returned to the -house. One had been left by Midwinter. "He had gone out for a -long walk, and Mr. Armadale was not to be alarmed if he did not -get back till late in the day." The other message had been left -by "a person from Mr. Pedgift's office," who had called, -according to appointment, while the two gentlemen were away at -the major's. "Mr. Bashwood's respects, and he would have the -honor of waiting on Mr. Armadale again in the course of the -evening." - -Toward five o'clock, Midwinter returned, pale and silent. Allan -hastened to assure him that his peace was made at the cottage; -and then, to change the subject, mentioned Mr. Bashwood's -message. Midwinter's mind was so preoccupied or so languid that -he hardly seemed to remember the name. Allan was obliged to -remind him that Bashwood was the elderly clerk, whom Mr. Pedgift -had sent to be his instructor in the duties of the steward's -office. He listened without making any remark, and withdrew to -his room, to rest till dinner-time. - -Left by himself, Allan went into the library, to try if he could -while away the time over a book. - -He took many volumes off the shelves, and put a few of them back -again; and there he ended. Miss Milroy contrived in some -mysterious manner to get, in this case, between the reader and -the books. Her formal bow and her merciless parting speech dwelt, -try how he might to forget them, on Allan's mind; he began to -grow more and more anxious as the idle hour wore on, to recover -his lost place in her favor. To call again that day at the -cottage, and ask if he had been so unfortunate as to offend her, -was impossible. To put the question in writing with the needful -nicety of expression proved, on trying the experiment, to be a -task beyond his literary reach. After a turn or two up and down -the room, with his pen in his mouth, he decided on the more -diplomatic course (which happened, in this case, to be the -easiest course, too), of writing to Miss Milroy as cordially as -if nothing had happened, and of testing his position in her good -graces by the answer that she sent him back. An invitation of -some kind (including her father, of course, but addressed -directly to herself) was plainly the right thing to oblige her -to send a written reply; but here the difficulty occurred of what -the invitation was to be. A ball was not to be thought of, in his -present position with the resident gentry. A dinner-party, with -no indispensable elderly lady on the premises to receive Miss -Milroy--except Mrs. Gripper, who could only receive her in the -kitchen--was equally out of the question. What was the invitation -to be? Never backward, when he wanted help, in asking for it -right and left in every available direction, Allan, feeling -himself at the end of his own resources, coolly rang the bell, -and astonished the servant who answered it by inquiring how the -late family at Thorpe Ambrose used to amuse themselves, and what -sort of invitations they were in the habit of sending to their -friends. - -"The family did what the rest of the gentry did, sir," said the -man, staring at his master in utter bewilderment. "They gave -dinner-parties and balls. And in fine summer weather, sir, like -this, they sometimes had lawn-parties and picnics--" - -"That'll do!" shouted Allan. "A picnic's just the thing to please -her. Richard, you're an invaluable man; you may go downstairs -again." - -Richard retired wondering, and Richard's master seized his ready -pen. - - -"DEAR MISS MILROY--Since I left you it has suddenly struck me -that we might have a picnic. A little change and amusement (what -I should call a good shaking-up, if I wasn't writing to a young -lady) is just the thing for you, after being so long indoors -lately in Mrs. Milroy's room. A picnic is a change, and (when the -wine is good) amusement, too. Will you ask the major if he will -consent to the picnic, and come? And if you have got any friends -in the neighborhood who like a picnic, pray ask them too, for -I have got none. It shall be your picnic, but I will provide -everything and take everybody. You shall choose the day, and we -will picnic where you like. I have set my heart on this picnic. - -"Believe me, ever yours, - -"ALLAN ARMADALE." - - -On reading over his composition before sealing it up, Allan -frankly acknowledged to himself, this time, that it was not quite -faultless. " 'Picnic' comes in a little too often," he said. -"Never mind; if she likes the idea, she won't quarrel with that." -He sent off the letter on the spot, with strict instructions to -the messenger to wait for a reply. - -In half an hour the answer came back on scented paper, without an -erasure anywhere, fragrant to smell, and beautiful to see. - -The presentation of the naked truth is one of those exhibitions -from which the native delicacy of the female mind seems -instinctively to revolt. Never were the tables turned more -completely than they were now turned on Allan by his fair -correspondent. Machiavelli himself would never have suspected, -from Miss Milroy's letter, how heartily she had repented her -petulance to the young squire as soon as his back was turned, -and -how extravagantly delighted she was when his invitation was -placed in her hands. Her letter was the composition of a model -young lady whose emotions are all kept under parental lock and -key, and served out for her judiciously as occasion may require. -"Papa," appeared quite as frequently in Miss Milroy's reply as -"picnic" had appeared in Allan's invitation. "Papa" had been as -considerately kind as Mr. Armadale in wishing to procure her a -little change and amusement, and had offered to forego his usual -quiet habits and join the picnic. With "papa's" sanction, -therefore, she accepted, with much pleasure, Mr. Armadale's -proposal; and, at "papa's" suggestion, she would presume on Mr. -Armadale's kindness to add two friends of theirs recently settled -at Thorpe Ambrose, to the picnic party--a widow lady and her son; -the latter in holy orders and in delicate health. If Tuesday next -would suit Mr. Armadale, Tuesday next would suit "papa"--being -the first day he could spare from repairs which were required by -his clock. The rest, by "papa's" advice, she would beg to leave -entirely in Mr. Armadale's hands; and, in the meantime, she would -remain, with "papa's" compliments, Mr. Armadale's truly--ELEANOR -MILROY." - -Who would ever have supposed that the writer of that letter had -jumped for joy when Allan's invitation arrived? Who would ever -have suspected that there was an entry already in Miss Milroy's -diary, under that day's date, to this effect: "The sweetest, -dearest letter from _I-know-who_; I'll never behave unkindly to -him again as long as I live?" As for Allan, he was charmed with -the sweet success of his maneuver. Miss Milroy had accepted his -invitation; consequently, Miss Milroy was not offended with him. -It was on the tip of his tongue to mention the correspondence to -his friend when they met at dinner. But there was something in -Midwinter's face and manner (even plain enough for Allan to see) -which warned him to wait a little before he said anything to -revive the painful subject of their visit to the cottage. By -common consent they both avoided all topics connected with Thorpe -Ambrose, not even the visit from Mr. Bashwood, which was to come -with the evening, being referred to by either of them. All -through the dinner they drifted further and further back into the -old endless talk of past times about ships and sailing. When the -butler withdrew from his attendance at table, he came downstairs -with a nautical problem on his mind, and asked his -fellow-servants if they any of them knew the relative merits "on -a wind" and "off a wind" of a schooner and a brig. - -The two young men had sat longer at table than usual that day. -When they went out into the garden with their cigars, the summer -twilight fell gray and dim on lawn and flower bed, and narrowed -round them by slow degrees the softly fading circle of the -distant view. The dew was heavy, and, after a few minutes in the -garden, they agreed to go back to the drier ground on the drive -in front of the house. - -They were close to the turning which led into the shrubbery, when -there suddenly glided out on them, from behind the foliage, a -softly stepping black figure--a shadow, moving darkly through the -dim evening light. Midwinter started back at the sight of it, and -even the less finely strung nerves of his friend were shaken for -the moment. - -"Who the devil are you?" cried Allan. - -The figure bared its head in the gray light, and came slowly a -step nearer. Midwinter advanced a step on his side, and looked -closer. It was the man of the timid manners and the mourning -garments, of whom he had asked the way to Thorpe Ambrose where -the three roads met. - -"Who are you?" repeated Allan. - -"I humbly beg your pardon, sir," faltered the stranger, stepping -back again, confusedly. "The servants told me I should find Mr. -Armadale--" - -"What, are you Mr. Bashwood?" - -"Yes, if you please, sir." - -"I beg your pardon for speaking to you so roughly," said Allan; -"but the fact is, you rather startled me. My name is Armadale -(put on your hat, pray), and this is my friend, Mr. Midwinter, -who wants your help in the steward's office." - -"We hardly stand in need of an introduction," said Midwinter. -"I met Mr. Bashwood out walking a few days since, and he was kind -enough to direct me when I had lost my way." - -"Put on your hat," reiterated Allan, as Mr. Bashwood, still -bareheaded, stood bowing speechlessly, now to one of the young -men, and now to the other. "My good sir, put on your hat, and let -me show you the way back to the house. Excuse me for noticing -it," added Allan, as the man, in sheer nervous helplessness, let -his hat fall, instead of putting it back on his head; "but you -seem a little out of sorts; a glass of good wine will do you no -harm before you and my friend come to business. Whereabouts did -you meet with Mr. Bashwood, Midwinter, when you lost your way?" - -"I am too ignorant of the neighborhood to know. I must refer you -to Mr. Bashwood." - -"Come, tell us where it was," said Allan, trying, a little too -abruptly, to set the man at his ease, as they all three walked -back to the house. - -The measure of Mr. Bashwood's constitutional timidity seemed to -be filled to the brim by the loudness of Allan's voice and the -bluntness of Allan's request. He ran over in the same feeble flow -of words with which he had deluged Midwinter on the occasion when -they first met. - -"It was on the road, sir," he began, addressing himself -alternately to Allan, whom he called, "sir," and to Midwinter, -whom he called by his name, "I mean, if you please, on the road -to Little Gill Beck. A singular name, Mr. Midwinter, and a -singular place; I don't mean the village; I mean the -neighborhood--I mean the 'Broads' beyond the neighborhood. -Perhaps you may have heard of the Norfolk Broads, sir? What they -call lakes in other parts of England, they call Broads here. The -Broads are quite numerous; I think they would repay a visit. You -would have seen the first of them, Mr. Midwinter, if you had -walked on a few miles from where I had the honor of meeting you. -Remarkably numerous, the Broads, sir--situated between this and -the sea. About three miles from the sea, Mr. Midwinter--about -three miles. Mostly shallow, sir, with rivers running between -them. Beautiful; solitary. Quite a watery country, Mr. Midwinter; -quite separate, as it were, in itself. Parties sometimes visit -them, sir--pleasure parties in boats. It's quite a little network -of lakes, or, perhaps--yes, perhaps, more correctly, pools. -There is good sport in the cold weather. The wild fowl are quite -numerous. Yes; the Broads would repay a visit, Mr. Midwinter. -The next time you are walking that way. The distance from here -to Little Gill Beck, and then from Little Gill Beck to Girdler -Broad, which is the first you come to, is altogether not more--" -In sheer nervous inability to leave off, he would apparently -have gone on talking of the Norfolk Broads for the rest of the -evening, if one of his two listeners had not unceremoniously cut -him short before he could find his way into a new sentence. - -"Are the Broads within an easy day's drive there and back from -this house?" asked Allan, feeling, if they were, that the place -for the picnic was discovered already. - -"Oh, yes, sir; a nice drive--quite a nice easy drive from this -beautiful place!" - -They were by this time ascending the portico steps, Allan leading -the way up, and calling to Midwinter and Mr. Bashwood to follow -him into the library, where there was a lighted lamp. - -In the interval which elapsed before the wine made its -appearance, Midwinter looked at his chance acquaintance of the -high-road with strangely mingled feelings of compassion and -distrust--of compassion that strengthened in spite of him; -of distrust that persisted in diminishing, try as he might to -encourage it to grow. There, perched comfortless on the edge of -his chair, sat the poor broken-down, nervous wretch, in his worn -black garments, with his watery eyes, his honest old outspoken -wig, his miserable mohair stock, and his false teeth that were -incapable of deceiving anybody--there he sat, politely ill at -ease; now shrinking in the glare of the lamp, now wincing under -the shock of Allan's sturdy voice; a man with the wrinkles of -sixty years in his face, and the manners of a child in the -presence of strangers; an object of pity surely, if ever there -was a pitiable object yet! - -"Whatever else you're afraid of, Mr. Bashwood," cried Allan, -pouring out a glass of wine, "don't be afraid of that! There -isn't a headache in a hogshead of it! Make yourself comfortable; -I'll leave you and Mr. Midwinter to talk your business over by -yourselves. It's all in Mr. Midwinter's hands; he acts for me, -and settles everything at his own discretion." - -He said those words with a cautious choice of expression very -uncharacteristic of him, and, without further explanation, made -abruptly for the door. Midwinter, sitting near it, noticed his -face as he went out. Easy as the way was into Allan's favor, Mr. -Bashwood, beyond all kind of doubt, had in some unaccountable -manner failed to find it! - -The two strangely assorted companions were left together--parted -widely, as it seemed on the surface, from any possible -interchange of sympathy; drawn invisibly one to the other, -nevertheless, by those magnetic similarities of temperament which -overleap all difference of age or station, and defy all apparent -incongruities of mind and character. From the moment when Allan -left the room, the hidden Influence that works in darkness began -slowly to draw the two men together, across the great social -desert which had lain between them up to this day. - -Midwinter was the first to approach the subject of the interview. - -"May I ask," he began, "if you have been made acquainted with my -position here, and if you know why it is that I require your -assistance?" - -Mr. Bashwood--still hesitating and still timid, but manifestly -relieved by Allan's departure--sat further back in his chair, and -ventured on fortifying himself with a modest little sip of wine. - -"Yes, sir," he replied; "Mr. Pedgift informed me of all--at least -I think I may say so--of all the circumstances. I am to instruct, -or perhaps, I ought to say to advise--" - -"No, Mr. Bashwood; the first word was the best word of the two. I -am quite ignorant of the duties which Mr. Armadale's kindness has -induced him to intrust to me. If I understand right, there can be -no question of your capacity to instruct me, for you once filled -a steward's situation yourself. May I inquire where it was?" - -"At Sir John Mellowship's, sir, in West Norfolk. Perhaps you -would like--I have got it with me--to see my testimonial? -Sir John might have dealt more kindly with me; but I have no -complaint to make; it's all done and over now!" His watery eyes -looked more watery still, and the trembling in his hands spread -to his lips as he produced an old dingy letter from his -pocket-book and laid it open on the table. - -The testimonial was very briefly and very coldly expressed, but -it was conclusive as far as it went. Sir John considered it only -right to say that he had no complaint to make of any want of -capacity or integrity in his steward. If Mr. Bashwood's domestic -position had been compatible with the continued performance of -his duties on the estate, Sir John would have been glad to keep -him. As it was, embarrassments caused by the state of Mr. -Bashwood's personal affairs had rendered it undesirable that he -should continue in Sir John's service; and on that ground, and -that only, his employer and he had parted. Such was Sir John's -testimony to Mr. Bashwood's character. As Midwinter read the last -lines, he thought of another testimonial, still in his own -possession--of the written character which they had given him -at the school, when they turned their sick usher adrift in the -world. His superstition (distrusting all new events and all new -faces at Thorpe Ambrose) still doubted the man before him as -obstinately as ever. But when he now tried to put those doubts -into words, his heart upbraided him, and he laid the letter on -the table in silence. - -The sudden pause in the conversation appeared to startle Mr. -Bashwood. He comforted himself with another little sip of wine, -and, leaving the letter untouched, burst irrepressibly into -words, as if the silence was quite unendurable to him. - -"I am ready to answer any question, sir," he began. "Mr. Pedgift -told me that I must answer questions, because I was applying for -a place of trust. Mr. Pedgift said neither you nor Mr. Armadale -was likely to think the testimonial sufficient of itself. Sir -John doesn't say--he might have put it more kindly, but I don't -complain--Sir John doesn't say what the troubles were that lost -me my place. Perhaps you might wish to know--" He stopped -confusedly, looked at the testimonial, and said no more. - -"If no interests but mine were concerned in the matter," rejoined -Midwinter, "the testimonial would, I assure you, be quite enough -to satisfy me. But while I am learning my new duties, the person -who teaches me will be really and truly the steward of my -friend's estate. I am very unwilling to ask you to speak on what -may be a painful subject, and I am sadly inexperienced in putting -such questions as I ought to put; but, perhaps, in Mr. Armadale's -interests, I ought to know something more, either from yourself, -or from Mr. Pedgift, if you prefer it--" He, too, stopped -confusedly, looked at the testimonial, and said no more. - -There was another moment of silence. The night was warm, and Mr. -Bashwood, among his other misfortunes, had the deplorable -infirmity of perspiring in the palms of the hands. He took out a -miserable little cotton pocket-handkerchief, rolled it up into a -ball, and softly dabbed it to and fro, from one hand to the -other, with the regularity of a pendulum. Performed by other men, -under other circumstances, the action might have been ridiculous. -Performed by this man, at the crisis of the interview, the action -was horrible. - -"Mr. Pedgift's time is too valuable, sir, to be wasted on me," he -said. "I will mention what ought to be mentioned myself--if you -will please to allow me. I have been unfortunate in my family. -It is very hard to bear, though it seems not much to tell. My -wife--" One of his hands closed fast on the pocket-handkerchief; -he moistened his dry lips, struggled with himself, and went on. - -"My wife, sir," he resumed, "stood a little in my way; she did -me (I am afraid I must confess) some injury with Sir John. Soon -after I got the steward's situation, she contracted--she -took--she fell into habits (I hardly know how to say it) of -drinking. I couldn't break her of it, and I couldn't always -conceal it from Sir John's knowledge. She broke out, and--and -tried his patience once or twice, when he came to my office on -business. Sir John excused it, not very kindly; but still he -excused it. I don't complain of Sir John! I don't complain now -of my wife." He pointed a trembling finger at his miserable -crape-covered beaver hat on the floor. "I'm in mourning for her," -he said, faintly. "She died nearly a year ago, in the county -asylum here." - -His mouth began to work convulsively. He took up the glass of -wine at his side, and, instead of sipping it this time, drained -it to the bottom. "I'm not much used to wine, sir," he said, -conscious, apparently, of the flush that flew into his face as he -drank, and still observant of the obligations of politeness amid -all the misery of the recollections that he was calling up. - -"I beg, Mr. Bashwood, you will not distress yourself by telling -me any more," said Midwinter, recoiling from any further sanction -on his part of a disclosure which had already bared the sorrows -of the unhappy man before him to the quick. - -"I'm much obliged to you, sir," replied Mr. Bashwood. "But if -I don't detain you too long, and if you will please to remember -that Mr. Pedgift's directions to me were very particular--and, -besides, I only mentioned my late wife because if she hadn't -tried Sir John's patience to begin with, things might have turned -out differently--" He paused, gave up the disjointed sentence -in which he had involved himself, and tried another. "I had only -two children, sir," he went on, advancing to a new point in his -narrative, "a boy and a girl. The girl died when she was a baby. -My son lived to grow up; and it was my son who lost me my place. -I did my best for him; I got him into a respectable office in -London. They wouldn't take him without security. I'm afraid it -was imprudent; but I had no rich friends to help me, and I became -security. My boy turned out badly, sir. He--perhaps you will -kindly understand what I mean, if I say he behaved dishonestly. -His employers consented, at my entreaty, to let him off without -prosecuting. I begged very hard--I was fond of my son James--and -I took him home, and did my best to reform him. He wouldn't stay -with me; he went away again to London; he--I beg your pardon, -sir! I'm afraid I'm confusing things; I'm afraid I'm wandering -from the point." - -"No, no," said Midwinter, kindly. "If you think it right to tell -me this sad story, tell it in your own way. Have you seen your -son since he left you to go to London?" - -"No, sir. He's in London still, for all I know. When I last heard -of him, he was getting his bread--not very creditably. He was -employed, under the inspector, at the Private Inquiry Office in -Shadyside Place." - -He spoke those words--apparently (as events then stood) the most -irrelevant to the matter in hand that had yet escaped him; -actually (as events were soon to be) the most vitally important -that he had uttered yet--he spoke those words absently, looking -about him in confusion, and trying vainly to recover the lost -thread of his narrative. - -Midwinter compassionately helped him. "You were telling me," -he said, "that your son had been the cause of your losing your -place. How did that happen?" - -"In this way, sir," said Mr. Bashwood, getting back again -excitedly into the right train of thought. "His employers -consented to let him off; but they came down on his security; and -I was the man. I suppose they were not to blame; the security -covered their loss. I couldn't pay it all out of my savings; I -had to borrow--on the word of a man, sir, I couldn't help it--I -had to borrow. My creditor pressed me; it seemed cruel, but, if -he wanted the money, I suppose it was only just. I was sold out -of house and home. I dare say other gentlemen would have said -what Sir John said; I dare say most people would have refused -to keep a steward who had had the bailiffs after him, and his -furniture sold in the neighborhood. That was how it ended, Mr. -Midwinter. I needn't detain you any longer--here is Sir John's -address, if you wish to apply to him." Midwinter generously -refused to receive the address. - -"Thank you kindly, sir," said Mr. Bashwood, getting tremulously -on his legs. "There is nothing more, I think, except--except that -Mr. Pedgift will speak for me, if you wish to inquire into my -conduct in his service. I'm very much indebted to Mr. Pedgift; -he's a little rough with me sometimes, but, if he hadn't taken me -into his office, I think I should have gone to the workhouse when -I left Sir John, I was so broken down." He picked up his dingy -old hat from the floor. "I won't intrude any longer, sir. I shall -be happy to call again if you wish to have time to consider -before you decide-" - -"I want no time to consider after what you have told me," replied -Midwinter, warmly, his memory busy, while he spoke, with the time -when _he_ had told _his_ story to Mr. Brock, and was waiting for -a generous word in return, as the man before him was waiting now. -"To-day is Saturday," he went on. "Can you come and give me my -first lesson on Monday morning? I beg your pardon," he added, -interrupting Mr. Bashwood's profuse expressions of -acknowledgment, and stopping him on his way out of the room; -"there is one thing we ought to settle, ought we not? We haven't -spoken yet about your own interest in this matter; I mean, about -the terms." He referred, a little confusedly, to the pecuniary -part of the subject. Mr. Bashwood (getting nearer and nearer to -the door) answered him more confusedly still. - -"Anything, sir--anything you think right. I won't intrude any -longer; I'll leave it to you and Mr. Armadale." - -"I will send for Mr. Armadale, if you like," said Midwinter, -following him into the hall. "But I am afraid he has as little -experience in matters of this kind as I have. Perhaps, if you see -no objection, we might be guided by Mr. Pedgift?" - -Mr. Bashwood caught eagerly at the last suggestion, pushing his -retreat, while he spoke, as far as the front door. "Yes, sir--oh, -yes, yes! nobody better than Mr. Pedgift. Don't--pray don't -disturb Mr. Armadale!" His watery eyes looked quite wild with -nervous alarm as he turned round for a moment in the light of the -hall lamp to make that polite request. If sending for Allan had -been equivalent to unchaining a ferocious watch-dog, Mr. Bashwood -could hardly have been more anxious to stop the proceeding. "I -wish you kindly good-evening, sir," he went on, getting out to -the steps. "I'm much obliged to you. I will be scrupulously -punctual on Monday morning--I hope--I think--I'm sure you will -soon learn everything I can teach you. It's not difficult--oh -dear, no--not difficult at all! I wish you kindly good-evening, -sir. A beautiful night; yes, indeed, a beautiful night for a walk -home." - -With those words, all dropping out of his lips one on the top of -the other, and without noticing, in his agony of embarrassment at -effecting his departure, Midwinter's outstretched hand, he went -noiselessly down the steps, and was lost in the darkness of the -night. - -As Midwinter turned to re-enter the house, the dining-room door -opened and his friend met him in the hall. - -"Has Mr. Bashwood gone?" asked Allan. - -"He has gone," replied Midwinter, "after telling me a very sad -story, and leaving me a little ashamed of myself for having -doubted him without any just cause. I have arranged that he is -to give me my first lesson in the steward's office on Monday -morning." - -"All right," said Allan. "You needn't be afraid, old boy, of my -interrupting you over your studies. I dare say I'm wrong--but I -don't like Mr. Bashwood." - -"I dare say _I'm_ wrong," retorted the other, a little -petulantly. "I do." - - -The Sunday morning found Midwinter in the park, waiting to -intercept the postman, on the chance of his bringing more news -from Mr. Brock. - -At the customary hour the man made his appearance, and placed the -expected letter in Midwinter's hands. He opened it, far away from -all fear of observation this time, and read these lines: - - -"MY DEAR MIDWINTER--I write more for the purpose of quieting your -anxiety than because I have anything definite to say. In my last -hurried letter I had no time to tell you that the elder of the -two women whom I met in the Gardens had followed me, and spoken -to me in the street. I believe I may characterize what she said -(without doing her any injustice) as a tissue of falsehoods from -beginning to end. At any rate, she confirmed me in the suspicion -that some underhand proceeding is on foot, of which Allan is -destined to be the victim, and that the prime mover in the -conspiracy is the vile woman who helped his mother's marriage and -who hastened his mother's death. - -"Feeling this conviction, I have not hesitated to do, for Allan's -sake, what I would have done for no other creature in the world. -I have left my hotel, and have installed myself (with my old -servant Robert) in a house opposite the house to which I traced -the two women. We are alternately on the watch (quite -unsuspected, I am certain, by the people opposite) day and night. -All my feelings, as a gentleman and a clergyman, revolt from such -an occupation as I am now engaged in; but there is no other -choice. I must either do this violence to my own self-respect, or -I must leave Allan, with his easy nature, and in his assailable -position, to defend himself against a wretch who is prepared, I -firmly believe, to take the most unscrupulous advantage of his -weakness and his youth. His mother's dying entreaty has never -left my memory; and, God help me, I am now degrading myself in my -own eyes in consequence. - -"There has been some reward already for the sacrifice. This day -(Saturday) I have gained an immense advantage--I have at last -seen the woman's face. She went out with her veil down as before; -and Robert kept her in view, having my instructions, if she -returned to the house, not to follow her back to the door. She -did return to the house; and the result of my precaution was, -as I had expected, to throw her off her guard. I saw her face -unveiled at the window, and afterward again in the balcony. If -any occasion should arise for describing her particularly, you -shall have the description. At present I need only say that she -looks the full age (five-and-thirty) at which you estimated her, -and that she is by no means so handsome a woman as I had (I -hardly know why) expected to see. - -"This is all I can now tell you. If nothing more happens by -Monday or Tuesday next, I shall have no choice but to apply to my -lawyers for assistance; though I am most unwilling to trust this -delicate and dangerous matter in other hands than mine. Setting -my own feelings however, out of the question, the business which -has been the cause of my journey to London is too important to be -trifled with much longer as I am trifling with it now. In any and -every case, depend on my keeping you informed of the progress of -events, and believe me yours truly, - -"DECIMUS BROCK." - - -Midwinter secured the letter as he had secured the letter that -preceded it--side by side in his pocket-book with the narrative -of Allan's Dream. - -"How many days more?" he asked himself, as he went back to the -house. "How many days more?" - -Not many. The time he was waiting for was a time close at hand. - - -Monday came, and brought Mr. Bashwood, punctual to the appointed -hour. Monday came, and found Allan immersed in his preparations -for the picnic. He held a series of interviews, at home and -abroad, all through the day. He transacted business with Mrs. -Gripper, with the butler, and with the coachman, in their three -several departments of eating, drinking, and driving. He went to -the town to consult his professional advisers on the subject of -the Broads, and to invite both the lawyers, father and son (in -the absence of anybody else in the neighborhood whom he could -ask), to join the picnic. Pedgift Senior (in his department) -supplied general information, but begged to be excused from -appearing at the picnic, on the score of business engagements. -Pedgift Junior (in his department) added all the details; and, -casting business engagements to the winds, accepted the -invitation with the greatest pleasure. Returning from the -lawyer's office, Allan's next proceeding was to go to the major's -cottage and obtain Miss Milroy's approval of the proposed -locality for the pleasure party. This object accomplished, he -returned to his own house, to meet the last difficulty now left -to encounter--the difficulty of persuading Midwinter to join the -expedition to the Broads. - -On first broaching the subject, Allan found his friend -impenetrably resolute to remain at home. Midwinter's natural -reluctance to meet the major and his daughter after what had -happened at the cottage, might probably have been overcome. But -Midwinter's determination not to allow Mr. Bashwood's course of -instruction to be interrupted was proof against every effort that -could be made to shake it. After exerting his influence to the -utmost, Allan was obliged to remain contented with a compromise. -Midwinter promised, not very willingly, to join the party toward -evening, at the place appointed for a gypsy tea-making, which was -to close the proceedings of the day. To this extent he would -consent to take the opportunity of placing himself on a friendly -footing with the Milroys. More he could not concede, even to -Allan's persuasion, and for more it would he useless to ask. - -The day of the picnic came. The lovely morning, and the cheerful -bustle of preparation for the expedition, failed entirely to -tempt Midwinter into altering his resolution. At the regular hour -he left the breakfast-table to join Mr. Bashwood in the steward's -office. The two were quietly closeted over the books, at the back -of the house, while the packing for the picnic went on in front. -Young Pedgift (short in stature, smart in costume, and -self-reliant in manner) arrived some little time before the hour -for starting, to revise all the arrangements, and to make any -final improvements which his local knowledge might suggest. Allan -and he were still busy in consultation when the first hitch -occurred in the proceedings. The woman-servant from the cottage -was reported to be waiting below for an answer to a note from her -young mistress, which was placed in Allan's hands. - -On this occasion Miss Milroy's emotions had apparently got the -better of her sense of propriety. The tone of the letter was -feverish, and the handwriting wandered crookedly up and down in -deplorable freedom from all proper restraint. - -"Oh, Mr. Armadale" (wrote the major's daughter), "such a -misfortune! What _are_ we to do? Papa has got a letter from -grandmamma this morning about the new governess. Her reference -has answered all the questions, and she's ready to come at the -shortest notice. Grandmamma thinks (how provoking!) the sooner -the better; and she says we may expect her--I mean the -governess--either to-day or to-morrow. Papa says (he _will_ be so -absurdly considerate to everybody!) that we can't allow Miss -Gwilt to come here (if she comes to-day) and find nobody at home -to receive her. What is to be done? I am ready to cry with -vexation. I have got the worst possible impression (though -grandmamma says she is a charming person) of Miss Gwilt. _Can_ -you suggest something, dear Mr. Armadale? I'm sure papa would -give way if you could. Don't stop to write; send me a message -back. I have got a new hat for the picnic; and oh, the agony of -not knowing whether I am to keep it on or take it off. Yours -truly, E. M." - -"The devil take Miss Gwilt!" said Allan, staring at his legal -adviser in a state of helpless consternation. - -"With all my heart, sir--I don't wish to interfere," remarked -Pedgift Junior. "May I ask what's the matter?" - -Allan told him. Mr. Pedgift the younger might have his faults, -but a want of quickness of resource was not among them. - -"There's a way out of the difficulty, Mr. Armadale," he said. "If -the governess comes today, let's have her at the picnic." - -Allan's eyes opened wide in astonishment. - -"All the horses and carriages in the Thorpe Ambrose stables are -not wanted for this small party of ours," proceeded Pedgift -Junior. "Of course not! Very good. If Miss Gwilt comes to-day, -she can't possibly get here before five o'clock. Good again. You -order an open carriage to be waiting at the major's door at that -time, Mr. Armadale, and I'll give the man his directions where to -drive to. When the governess comes to the cottage, let her find -a nice little note of apology (along with the cold fowl, or -whatever else they give her after her journey) begging her to -join us at the picnic, and putting a carriage at her own sole -disposal to take her there. Gad, sir!" said young Pedgift, gayly, -"she _must_ be a Touchy One if she thinks herself neglected after -that!" - -"Capital!" cried Allan. "She shall have every attention. I'll -give her the pony-chaise and the white harness, and she shall -drive herself, if she likes." - -He scribbled a line to relieve Miss Milroy's apprehensions, and -gave the necessary orders for the pony-chaise. Ten minutes later, -the carriages for the pleasure party were at the door. - -"Now we've taken all this trouble about her," said Allan, -reverting to the governess as they left the house, "I wonder, if -she does come today, whether we shall see her at the picnic!" - -"Depends, entirely on her age, sir," remarked young Pedgift, -pronouncing judgment with the happy confidence in himself which -eminently distinguished him. "If she's an old one, she'll be -knocked up with the journey, and she'll stick to the cold fowl -and the cottage. If she's a young one, either I know nothing of -women, or the pony in the white harness will bring her to the -picnic." - -They started for the major's cottage. - -CHAPTER VIII. - -THE NORFOLK BROADS. - -The little group gathered together in Major Milroy's parlor -to wait for the carriages from Thorpe Ambrose would hardly -have conveyed the idea, to any previously uninstructed person -introduced among them, of a party assembled in expectation -of a picnic. They were almost dull enough, as far as outward -appearances went, to have been a party assembled in expectation -of a marriage. - -Even Miss Milroy herself, though conscious, of looking her best -in her bright muslin dress and her gayly feathered new hat, was -at this inauspicious moment Miss Milroy under a cloud. Although -Allan's note had assured her, in Allan's strongest language, that -the one great object of reconciling the governess's arrival with -the celebration of the picnic was an object achieved, the doubt -still remained whether the plan proposed--whatever it might -be--would meet with her father's approval. In a word, Miss Milroy -declined to feel sure of her day's pleasure until the carriage -made its appearance and took her from the door. The major, on his -side, arrayed for the festive occasion in a tight blue frock-coat -which he had not worn for years, and threatened with a whole long -day of separation from his old friend and comrade the clock, was -a man out of his element, if ever such a man existed yet. As for -the friends who had been asked at Allan's request--the widow lady -(otherwise Mrs. Pentecost) and her son (the Reverend Samuel) in -delicate health--two people less capable, apparently of adding to -the hilarity of the day could hardly have been discovered in the -length and breadth of all England. A young man who plays his part -in society by looking on in green spectacles, and listening with -a sickly smile, may be a prodigy of intellect and a mine of -virtue, but he is hardly, perhaps, the right sort of man to have -at a picnic. An old lady afflicted with deafness, whose one -inexhaustible subject of interest is the subject of her son, and -who (on the happily rare occasions when that son opens his lips) -asks everybody eagerly, "What does my boy say?" is a person to be -pitied in respect of her infirmities, and a person to be admired -in respect of her maternal devotedness, but not a person, if the -thing could possibly be avoided, to take to a picnic. Such a man, -nevertheless, was the Reverend Samuel Pentecost, and such a woman -was the Reverend Samuel's mother; and in the dearth of any other -producible guests, there they were, engaged to eat, drink, and be -merry for the day at Mr. Armadale's pleasure party to the Norfolk -Broads. - -The arrival of Allan, with his faithful follower, Pedgift Junior, -at his heels, roused the flagging spirits of the party at the -cottage. The plan for enabling the governess to join the picnic, -if she arrived that day, satisfied even Major Milroy's anxiety -to show all proper attention to the lady who was coming into -his house. After writing the necessary note of apology and -invitation, and addressing it in her very best handwriting to -the new governess, Miss Milroy ran upstairs to say good-by to -her mother, and returned with a smiling face and a side look of -relief directed at her father, to announce that there was nothing -now to keep any of them a moment longer indoors. The company at -once directed their steps to the garden gate, and were there met -face to face by the second great difficulty of the day. How were -the six persons of the picnic to be divided between the two open -carriages that were in waiting for them? - -Here, again, Pedgift Junior exhibited his invaluable faculty of -contrivance. This highly cultivated young man possessed in an -eminent degree an accomplishment more or less peculiar to all -the young men of the age we live in: he was perfectly capable -of taking his pleasure without forgetting his business. Such a -client as the Master of Thorpe Ambrose fell but seldom in his -father's way, and to pay special but unobtrusive attention to -Allan all through the day was the business of which young -Pedgift, while proving himself to be the life and soul of the -picnic, never once lost sight from the beginning of the -merry-making to the end. He had detected the state of affairs -between Miss Milroy and Allan at glance, and he at once provided -for his client's inclinations in that quarter by offering, in -virtue of his local knowledge, to lead the way in the first -carriage, and by asking Major Milroy and the curate if they would -do him the honor of accompanying him. - -"We shall pass a very interesting place to a military man, sir," -said young Pedgift, addressing the major, with his happy and -unblushing confidence--"the remains of a Roman encampment. And my -father, sir, who is a subscriber," proceeded this rising lawyer, -turning to the curate, "wished me to ask your opinion of the new -Infant School buildings at Little Gill Beck. Would you kindly -give it me as we go along?" He opened the carriage door, and -helped in the major and the curate before they could either of -them start any difficulties. The necessary result followed. Allan -and Miss Milroy rode together in the same carriage, with the -extra convenience of a deaf old lady in attendance to keep the -squire's compliments within the necessary limits. - -Never yet had Allan enjoyed such an interview with Miss Milroy as -the interview he now obtained on the road to the Broads. - -The dear old lady, after a little anecdote or two on the subject -of her son, did the one thing wanting to secure the perfect -felicity of her two youthful companions: she became considerately -blind for the occasion, as well as deaf. A quarter of an hour -after the carriage left the major's cottage, the poor old soul, -reposing on snug cushions, and fanned by a fine summer air, fell -peaceably asleep. Allan made love, and Miss Milroy sanctioned -the manufacture of that occasionally precious article of human -commerce, sublimely indifferent on both sides to a solemn bass -accompaniment on two notes, played by the curate's mother's -unsuspecting nose. The only interruption to the love-making (the -snoring, being a thing more grave and permanent in its nature, -was not interrupted at all) came at intervals from the carriage -ahead. Not satisfied with having the major's Roman encampment and -the curate's Infant Schools on his mind, Pedgift Junior rose -erect from time to time in his place, and, respectfully hailing -the hindmost vehicle, directed Allan's attention, in a shrill -tenor voice, and with an excellent choice of language, to objects -of interest on the road. The only way to quiet him was to answer, -which Allan invariably did by shouting back, "Yes, beautiful," -upon which young Pedgift disappeared again in the recesses of the -leading carriage, and took up the Romans and the Infants where he -had left them last. - -The scene through which the picnic party was now passing merited -far more attention than it received either from Allan or Allan's -friends. - - -An hour's steady driving from the major's cottage had taken young -Armadale and his guests beyond the limits of Midwinter's solitary -walk, and was now bringing them nearer and nearer to one of -the strangest and loveliest aspects of nature which the inland -landscape, not of Norfolk only, but of all England, can show. -Little by little the face of the country began to change as -the carriages approached the remote and lonely district of the -Broads. The wheat fields and turnip fields became perceptibly -fewer, and the fat green grazing grounds on either side grew -wider and wider in their smooth and sweeping range. Heaps of dry -rushes and reeds, laid up for the basket-maker and the thatcher, -began to appear at the road-side. The old gabled cottages of the -early part of the drive dwindled and disappeared, and huts with -mud walls rose in their place. With the ancient church towers and -the wind and water mills, which had hitherto been the only lofty -objects seen over the low marshy flat, there now rose all round -the horizon, gliding slow and distant behind fringes of pollard -willows, the sails of invisible boats moving on invisible waters. -All the strange and startling anomalies presented by an inland -agricultural district, isolated from other districts by its -intricate surrounding network of pools and streams--holding -its communications and carrying its produce by water instead -of by land--began to present themselves in closer and closer -succession. Nets appeared on cottage pailings; little -flat-bottomed boats lay strangely at rest among the flowers in -cottage gardens; farmers' men passed to and fro clad in composite -costume of the coast and the field, in sailors' hats, and -fishermen's boots, and plowmen's smocks; and even yet the -low-lying labyrinth of waters, embosomed in its mystery of -solitude, was a hidden labyrinth still. A minute more, and -the carriages took a sudden turn from the hard high-road into -a little weedy lane. The wheels ran noiseless on the damp and -spongy ground. A lonely outlying cottage appeared with its litter -of nets and boats. A few yards further on, and the last morsel of -firm earth suddenly ended in a tiny creek and quay. One turn more -to the end of the quay--and there, spreading its great sheet of -water, far and bright and smooth, on the right hand and the -left--there, as pure in its spotless blue, as still in its -heavenly peacefulness, as the summer sky above it, was the first -of the Norfolk Broads. - -The carriages stopped, the love-making broke off, and the -venerable Mrs. Pentecost, recovering the use of her senses at a -moment's notice, fixed her eyes sternly on Allan the instant she -woke. - -"I see in your face, Mr. Armadale," said the old lady, sharply, -"that you think I have been asleep." - -The consciousness of guilt acts differently on the two sexes. In -nine cases out of ten, it is a much more manageable consciousness -with a woman than with a man. All the confusion, on this -occasion, was on the man's side. While Allan reddened and looked -embarrassed, the quick-witted Miss Milroy instantly embraced -the old lady with a burst of innocent laughter. "He is quite -incapable, dear Mrs. Pentecost," said the little hypocrite, -"of anything so ridiculous as thinking you have been asleep!" - -"All I wish Mr. Armadale to know," pursued the old lady, still -suspicious of Allan, "is, that my head being giddy, I am obliged -to close my eyes in a carriage. Closing the eyes, Mr. Armadale, -is one thing, and going to sleep is another. Where is my son?" - -The Reverend Samuel appeared silently at the carriage door, and -assisted his mother to get out ("Did you enjoy the drive, Sammy?" -asked the old lady. "Beautiful scenery, my dear, wasn't it?") -Young Pedgift, on whom the arrangements for exploring the Broads -devolved, hustled about, giving his orders to the boatman. Major -Milroy, placid and patient, sat apart on an overturned punt, and -privately looked at his watch. Was it past noon already? More -than an hour past. For the first time, for many a long year, the -famous clock at home had struck in an empty workshop. Time had -lifted his wonderful scythe, and the corporal and his men had -relieved guard, with no master's eye to watch their performances, -with no master's hand to encourage them to do their best. The -major sighed as he put his watch back in his pocket. "I'm afraid -I'm too old for this sort of thing," thought the good man, -looking about him dreamily. "I don't find I enjoy it as much as I -thought I should. When are we going on the water, I wonder? -Where's Neelie?" - -Neelie--more properly Miss Milroy--was behind one of the -carriages with the promoter of the picnic. They were immersed in -the interesting subject of their own Christian names, and Allan -was as near a pointblank proposal of marriage as it is well -possible for a thoughtless young gentleman of two-and-twenty -to be. - -"Tell me the truth," said Miss Milroy, with her eyes modestly -riveted on the ground. "When you first knew what my name was, -you didn't like it, did you?" - -"I like everything that belongs to you," rejoined Allan, -vigorously. "I think Eleanor is a beautiful name; and yet, I -don't know why, I think the major made an improvement when he -changed it to Neelie." - -"I can tell you why, Mr. Armadale," said the major's daughter, -with great gravity. 'There are some unfortunate people in this -world whose names are--how can I express it?--whose names are -misfits. Mine is a misfit. I don't blame my parents, for of -course it was impossible to know when I was a baby how I should -grow up. But as things are, I and my name don't fit each other. -When you hear a young lady called Eleanor, you think of a tall, -beautiful, interesting creature directly--the very opposite of -_me_! With my personal appearance, Eleanor sounds ridiculous; -and Neelie, as you yourself remarked, is just the thing. No! no! -don't say any more; I'm tired of the subject. I've got another -name in my head, if we must speak of names, which is much better -worth talking about than mine." - -She stole a glance at her companion which said plainly enough, -"The name is yours." Allan advanced a step nearer to her, and -lowered his voice, without the slightest necessity, to a -mysterious whisper. Miss Milroy instantly resumed her -investigation of the ground. She looked at it with such -extraordinary interest that a geologist might have suspected -her of scientific flirtation with the superficial strata. - -"What name are you thinking of?" asked Allan. - -Miss Milroy addressed her answer, in the form of a remark, to -the superficial strata--and let them do what they liked with it, -in their capacity of conductors of sound. "If I had been a man," -she said, "I should so like to have been called Allan!" - -She felt his eyes on her as she spoke, and, turning her head -aside, became absorbed in the graining of the panel at the back -of the carriage. "How beautiful it is!" she exclaimed, with a -sudden outburst of interest in the vast subject of varnish. -"I wonder how they do it?" - -Man persists, and woman yields. Allan declined to shift the -ground from love-making to coach-making. Miss Milroy dropped -the subject. - -"Call me by my name, if you really like it," he whispered, -persuasively. "Call me 'Allan' for once; just to try." - -She hesitated with a heightened color and a charming smile, -and shook her head. "I couldn't just yet," she answered, -softly. - -"May I call you Neelie? Is it too soon?" - -She looked at him again, with a sudden disturbance about the -bosom of her dress, and a sudden flash of tenderness in her -dark-gray eyes. - -"You know best," she said, faintly, in a whisper. - -The inevitable answer was on the tip of Allan's tongue. At the -very instant, however, when he opened his lips, the abhorrent -high tenor of Pedgift Junior, shouting for "Mr. Armadale," rang -cheerfully through the quiet air. At the same moment, from the -other side of the carriage, the lurid spectacles of the Reverend -Samuel showed themselves officiously on the search; and the voice -of the Reverend Samuel's mother (who had, with great dexterity, -put the two ideas of the presence of water and a sudden movement -among the company together) inquired distractedly if anybody was -drowned? Sentiment flies and Love shudders at all demonstrations -of the noisy kind. Allan said: "Damn it," and rejoined young -Pedgift. Miss Milroy sighed, and took refuge with her father. - -"I've done it, Mr. Armadale!" cried young Pedgift, greeting his -patron gayly. "We can all go on the water together; I've got the -biggest boat on the Broads. The little skiffs," he added, in a -lower tone, as he led the way to the quay steps, "besides being -ticklish and easily upset, won't hold more than two, with the -boatman; and the major told me he should feel it his duty to go -with his daughter, if we all separated in different boats. I -thought _that_ would hardly do, sir," pursued Pedgift Junior, -with a respectfully sly emphasis on the words. "And, besides, -if we had put the old lady into a skiff, with her weight (sixteen -stone if she's a pound), we might have had her upside down in -the water half her time, which would have occasioned delay, and -thrown what you call a damp on the proceedings. Here's the boat, -Mr. Armadale. What do you think of it?" - -The boat added one more to the strangely anomalous objects which -appeared at the Broads. It was nothing less than a stout old -lifeboat, passing its last declining years on the smooth fresh -water, after the stormy days of its youth time on the wild salt -sea. A comfortable little cabin for the use of fowlers in the -winter season had been built amidships, and a mast and sail -adapted for inland navigation had been fitted forward. There -was room enough and to spare for the guests, the dinner, and -the three men in charge. Allan clapped his faithful lieutenant -approvingly on the shoulder; and even Mrs. Pentecost, when -the whole party were comfortably established on board, took -a comparatively cheerful view of the prospects of the picnic. -"If anything happens," said the old lady, addressing the company -generally, "there's one comfort for all of us. My son can swim." - -The boat floated out from the creek into the placid waters of the -Broad, and the full beauty of the scene opened on the view. - -On the northward and westward, as the boat reached the middle of -the lake, the shore lay clear and low in the sunshine, fringed -darkly at certain points by rows of dwarf trees; and dotted here -and there, in the opener spaces, with windmills and reed-thatched -cottages, of puddled mud. Southward, the great sheet of water -narrowed gradually to a little group of close-nestling islands -which closed the prospect; while to the east a long, gently -undulating line of reeds followed the windings of the Broad, and -shut out all view of the watery wastes beyond. So clear and so -light was the summer air that the one cloud in the eastern -quarter of the heaven was the smoke cloud left by a passing -steamer three miles distant and more on the invisible sea. When -the voices of the pleasure party were still, not a sound rose, -far or near, but the faint ripple at the bows, as the men, with -slow, deliberate strokes of their long poles, pressed the boat -forward softly over the shallow water. The world and the world's -turmoil seemed left behind forever on the land; the silence was -the silence of enchantment--the delicious interflow of the soft -purity of the sky and the bright tranquillity of the lake. - -Established in perfect comfort in the boat--the major and his -daughter on one side, the curate and his mother on the other, and -Allan and young Pedgift between the two--the water party floated -smoothly toward the little nest of islands at the end of the -Broad. Miss Milroy was in raptures; Allan was delighted; and the -major for once forgot his clock. Every one felt pleasurably, in -their different ways, the quiet and beauty of the scene. Mrs. -Pentecost, in her way, felt it like a clairvoyant--with closed -eyes. - -"Look behind you, Mr. Armadale," whispered young Pedgift. "I -think the parson's beginning to enjoy himself." - -An unwonted briskness--portentous apparently of coming -speech--did certainly at that moment enliven the curate's manner. -He jerked his head from side to side like a bird; he cleared his -throat, and clasped his hands, and looked with a gentle interest -at the company. Getting into spirits seemed, in the case of this -excellent person, to be alarmingly like getting into the pulpit. - -"Even in this scene of tranquillity," said the Reverend Samuel, -coming out softly with his first contribution to the society in -the shape of a remark, "the Christian mind--led, so to speak, -from one extreme to another--is forcibly recalled to the unstable -nature of all earthly enjoyments. How if this calm should not -last? How if the winds rose and the waters became agitated?" - -"You needn't alarm yourself about that, sir," said young Pedgift; -"June's the fine season here--and you can swim." - -Mrs. Pentecost (mesmerically affected, in all probability, by the -near neighborhood of her son) opened her eyes suddenly and asked, -with her customary eagerness. "What does my boy say?" - -The Reverend Samuel repeated his words in the key that suited -his mother's infirmity. The old lady nodded in high approval, -and pursued her son's train of thought through the medium of -a quotation. - -"Ah!" sighed Mrs. Pentecost, with infinite relish, "He rides the -whirlwind, Sammy, and directs the storm!" - -"Noble words!" said the Reverend Samuel. "Noble and consoling -words!" - -"I say," whispered Allan, "if he goes on much longer in that way, -what's to be done?" - -"I told you, papa, it was a risk to ask them," added Miss Milroy, -in another whisper. - -"My dear!" remonstrated the major. "We knew nobody else in the -neighborhood, and, as Mr. Armadale kindly suggested our bringing -our friends, what could we do?" - -"We can't upset the boat," remarked young Pedgift, with sardonic -gravity. "It's a lifeboat, unfortunately. May I venture to -suggest putting something into the reverend gentleman's mouth, -Mr. Armadale? It's close on three o'clock. What do you say to -ringing the dinner-bell, sir?" - -Never was the right man more entirely in the right place than -Pedgift Junior at the picnic. In ten minutes more the boat was -brought to a stand-still among the reeds; the Thorpe Ambrose -hampers were unpacked on the roof of the cabin; and the current -of the curate's eloquence was checked for the day. - -How inestimably important in its moral results--and therefore -how praiseworthy in itself--is the act of eating and drinking! -The social virtues center in the stomach. A man who is not a -better husband, father, and brother after dinner than before -is, digestively speaking, an incurably vicious man. What hidden -charms of character disclose themselves, what dormant -amiabilities awaken, when our common humanity gathers together to -pour out the gastric juice! At the opening of the hampers from -Thorpe Ambrose, sweet Sociability (offspring of the happy union -of Civilization and Mrs. Gripper) exhaled among the boating -party, and melted in one friendly fusion the discordant elements -of which that party had hitherto been composed. Now did the -Reverend Samuel Pentecost, whose light had hitherto been hidden -under a bushel, prove at last that he could do something by -proving that he could eat. Now did Pedgift Junior shine brighter -than ever he had shone yet in gems of caustic humor and exquisite -fertilities of resource. Now did the squire, and the squire's -charming guest, prove the triple connection between Champagne -that sparkles, Love that grows bolder, and Eyes whose vocabulary -is without the word No. Now did cheerful old times come back to -the major's memory, and cheerful old stories not told for years -find their way to the major's lips. And now did Mrs. Pentecost, -coming out wakefully in the whole force of her estimable maternal -character, seize on a supplementary fork, and ply that useful -instrument incessantly between the choicest morsels in the whole -round of dishes, and the few vacant places left available on the -Reverend Samuel's plate. "Don't laugh at my son," cried the old -lady, observing the merriment which her proceedings produced -among the company. "It's my fault, poor dear--_I_ make him eat!" -And there are men in this world who, seeing virtues such as these -developed at the table, as they are developed nowhere else, can, -nevertheless, rank the glorious privilege of dining with the -smallest of the diurnal personal worries which necessity imposes -on mankind--with buttoning your waistcoat, for example, or lacing -your stays! Trust no such monster as this with your tender -secrets, your loves and hatreds, your hopes and fears. His heart -is uncorrected by his stomach, and the social virtues are not in -him. - -The last mellow hours of the day and the first cool breezes of -the long summer evening had met before the dishes were all laid -waste, and the bottles as empty as bottles should be. This point -in the proceedings attained, the picnic party looked lazily at -Pedgift Junior to know what was to be done next. That -inexhaustible functionary was equal as ever to all the calls on -him. He had a new amusement ready before the quickest of the -company could so much as ask him what that amusement was to be. - -"Fond of music on the water, Miss Milroy?" he asked, in his -airiest and pleasantest manner. - -Miss Milroy adored music, both on the water and the land--always -excepting the one case when she was practicing the art herself -on the piano at home. - -"We'll get out of the reeds first," said young Pedgift. He gave -his orders to the boatmen, dived briskly into the little cabin, -and reappeared with a concertina in his hand. "Neat, Miss Milroy, -isn't it?" he observed, pointing to his initials, inlaid on the -instrument in mother-of-pearl. "My name's Augustus, like my -father's. Some of my friends knock off the 'A,' and call me -'Gustus Junior.' A small joke goes a long way among friends, -doesn't it, Mr. Armadale? I sing a little to my own -accompaniment, ladies and gentlemen; and, if quite agreeable, -I shall be proud and happy to do my best." - -"Stop!" cried Mrs. Pentecost; "I dote on music." - -With this formidable announcement, the old lady opened a -prodigious leather bag, from which she never parted night or day, -and took out an ear-trumpet of the old-fashioned kind--something -between a key-bugle and a French horn. "I don't care to use the -thing generally," explained Mrs. Pentecost, "because I'm afraid -of its making me deafer than ever. But I can't and won't miss -the music. I dote on music. If you'll hold the other end, Sammy, -I'll stick it in my ear. Neelie, my dear, tell him to begin." - -Young Pedgift was troubled with no nervous hesitation. He began -at once, not with songs of the light and modern kind, such as -might have been expected from an amateur of his age and -character, but with declamatory and patriotic bursts of poetry, -set to the bold and blatant music which the people of England -loved dearly at the earlier part of the present century, and -which, whenever they can get it, they love dearly still. "The -Death of Marmion," "The Battle of the Baltic," "The Bay of -Biscay," "Nelson," under various vocal aspects, as exhibited by -the late Braham--these were the songs in which the roaring -concertina and strident tenor of Gustus Junior exulted together. -"Tell me when you're tired, ladies and gentlemen," said the -minstrel solicitor. "There's no conceit about _me_. Will you -have a little sentiment by way of variety? Shall I wind up with -'The Mistletoe Bough' and 'Poor Mary Anne'?" - -Having favored his audience with those two cheerful melodies, -young Pedgift respectfully requested the rest of the company to -follow his vocal example in turn, offering, in every case, to -play "a running accompaniment" impromptu, if the singer would -only be so obliging as to favor him with the key-note. - -"Go on, somebody!" cried Mrs. Pentecost, eagerly. "I tell you -again, I dote on music. We haven't had half enough yet, have we, -Sammy?" - -The Reverend Samuel made no reply. The unhappy man had reasons -of his own--not exactly in his bosom, but a little lower--for -remaining silent, in the midst of the general hilarity and the -general applause. Alas for humanity! Even maternal love is -alloyed with mortal fallibility. Owing much already to his -excellent mother, the Reverend Samuel was now additionally -indebted to her for a smart indigestion. - -Nobody, however, noticed as yet the signs and tokens of internal -revolution in the curate's face. Everybody was occupied in -entreating everybody else to sing. Miss Milroy appealed to the -founder of the feast. "Do sing something, Mr. Armadale," she -said; "I should so like to hear you!" - -"If you once begin, sir," added the cheerful Pedgift, "you'll -find it get uncommonly easy as you go on. Music is a science -which requires to be taken by the throat at starting." - -"With all my heart," said Allan, in his good-humored way. "I know -lots of tunes, but the worst of it is, the words escape me. I -wonder if I can remember one of Moore's Melodies? My poor mother -used to be fond of teaching me Moore's Melodies when I was a -boy." - -"Whose melodies?" asked Mrs. Pentecost. "Moore's? Aha! I know Tom -Moore by heart." - -"Perhaps in that case you will he good enough to help me, ma'am, -if my memory breaks down," rejoined Allan. "I'll take the easiest -melody in the whole collection, if you'll allow me. Everybody -knows it--'Eveleen's Bower.' " - -"I'm familiar, in a general sort of way, with the national -melodies of England, Scotland, and Ireland," said Pedgift Junior. -"I'll accompany you, sir, with the greatest pleasure. This is -the sort of thing, I think." He seated himself cross-legged on -the roof of the cabin, and burst into a complicated musical -improvisation wonderful to hear--a mixture of instrumental -flourishes and groans; a jig corrected by a dirge, and a dirge -enlivened by a jig. "That's the sort of thing," said young -Pedgift, with his smile of supreme confidence. "Fire away, sir!" - -Mrs. Pentecost elevated her trumpet, and Allan elevated his -voice. "Oh, weep for the hour when to Eveleen's Bower--" He -stopped; the accompaniment stopped; the audience waited. "It's a -most extraordinary thing," said Allan; "I thought I had the next -line on the tip of my tongue, and it seems to have escaped me. -I'll begin again, if you have no objection. 'Oh, weep for the -hour when to Eveleen's Bower--' " - -"'The lord of the valley with false vows came,'" said Mrs. -Pentecost. - -"Thank you, ma'am," said Allan. "Now I shall get on smoothly. -'Oh, weep for the hour when to Eveleen's Bower, the lord of the -valley with false vows came. The moon was shining bright--'" - -"No!" said Mrs. Pentecost. - -"I beg your pardon, ma'am," remonstrated Allan. "'The moon was -shining bright--' " - -"The moon wasn't doing anything of the kind," said Mrs. -Pentecost. - -Pedgift Junior, foreseeing a dispute, persevered _sotto voce_ -with the accompaniment, in the interests of harmony. - -"Moore's own words, ma'am," said Allan, "in my mother's copy -of the Melodies." - -"Your mother's copy was wrong," retorted Mrs. Pentecost. "Didn't -I tell you just now that I knew Tom Moore by heart?" - -Pedgift Junior's peace-making concertina still flourished and -groaned in the minor key. - -"Well, what _did_ the moon do?" asked Allan, in despair. - -"What the moon _ought_ to have done, sir, or Tom Moore wouldn't -have written it so," rejoined Mrs. Pentecost. "'The moon hid her -light from the heaven that night, and wept behind her clouds -o'er the maiden's shame!' I wish that young man would leave off -playing," added Mrs. Pentecost, venting her rising irritation on -Gustus Junior. "I've had enough of him--he tickles my ears." - -"Proud, I'm sure, ma'am," said the unblushing Pedgift. "The whole -science of music consists in tickling the ears." - -"We seem to be drifting into a sort of argument," remarked Major -Milroy, placidly. "Wouldn't it be better if Mr. Armadale went on -with his song?" - -"Do go on, Mr. Armadale!" added the major's daughter. "Do go on, -Mr. Pedgift!" - -"One of them doesn't know the words, and the other doesn't know -the music," said Mrs. Pentecost. "Let them go on if they can!" - -"Sorry to disappoint you, ma'am," said Pedgift Junior; "I'm ready -to go on myself to any extent. Now, Mr. Armadale!" - -Allan opened his lips to take up the unfinished melody where -he had last left it. Before he could utter a note, the curate -suddenly rose, with a ghastly face, and a hand pressed -convulsively over the middle region of his waistcoat. - -"What's the matter?" cried the whole boating party in chorus. - -"I am exceedingly unwell," said the Reverend Samuel Pentecost. -The boat was instantly in a state of confusion. "Eveleen's Bower" -expired on Allan's lips, and even the irrepressible concertina -of Pedgift was silenced at last. The alarm proved to be quite -needless. Mrs. Pentecost's son possessed a mother, and that -mother had a bag. In two seconds the art of medicine occupied the -place left vacant in the attention of the company by the art of -music. - -"Rub it gently, Sammy," said Mrs. Pentecost. "I'll get out the -bottles and give you a dose. It's his poor stomach, major. Hold -my trumpet, somebody--and stop the boat. You take that bottle, -Neelie, my dear; and you take this one, Mr. Armadale; and give -them to me as I want them. Ah, poor dear, I know what's the -matter with him! Want of power _here_, major--cold, acid, and -flabby. Ginger to warm him; soda to correct him; sal volatile to -hold him up. There, Sammy! drink it before it settles; and then -go and lie down, my dear, in that dog-kennel of a place they call -the cabin. No more music!" added Mrs. Pentecost, shaking her -forefinger at the proprietor of the concertina--"unless it's a -hymn, and that I don't object to." - -Nobody appearing to be in a fit frame of mind for singing a hymn, -the all-accomplished Pedgift drew upon his stores of local -knowledge, and produced a new idea. The course of the boat was -immediately changed under his direction. In a few minutes more, -the company found themselves in a little island creek, with a -lonely cottage at the far end of it, and a perfect forest of -reeds closing the view all round them. "What do you say, ladies -and gentlemen, to stepping on shore and seeing what a -reed-cutter's cottage looks like?" suggested young Pedgift. - -"We say yes, to be sure," answered Allan. "I think our spirits -have been a little dashed by Mr. Pentecost's illness and Mrs. -Pentecost's bag," he added, in a whisper to Miss Milroy. "A -change of this sort is the very thing we want to set us all -going again." - -He and young Pedgift handed Miss Milroy out of the boat. The -major followed. Mrs. Pentecost sat immovable as the Egyptian -Sphinx, with her bag on her knees, mounting guard over "Sammy" -in the cabin. - -"We must keep the fun going, sir," said Allan, as he helped the -major over the side of the boat. "We haven't half done yet with -the enjoyment of the day." - -His voice seconded his hearty belief in his own prediction -to such good purpose that even Mrs. Pentecost heard him, and -ominously shook her head. - -"Ah!" sighed the curate's mother, "if you were as old as I am, -young gentleman, you wouldn't feel quite so sure of the enjoyment -of the day!" - -So, in rebuke of the rashness of youth, spoke the caution of age. -The negative view is notoriously the safe view, all the world -over, and the Pentecost philosophy is, as a necessary -consequence, generally in the right. - -CHAPTER IX. - -FATE OR CHANCE? - -It was close on six o'clock when Allan and his friends left -the boat, and the evening influence was creeping already, -in its mystery and its stillness, over the watery solitude -of the Broads. - -The shore in these wild regions was not like the shore -elsewhere. Firm as it looked, the garden ground in front of the -reed-cutter's cottage was floating ground, that rose and fell and -oozed into puddles under the pressure of the foot. The boatmen -who guided the visitors warned them to keep to the path, and -pointed through gaps in the reeds and pollards to grassy places, -on which strangers would have walked confidently, where the crust -of earth was not strong enough to bear the weight of a child over -the unfathomed depths of slime and water beneath. The solitary -cottage, built of planks pitched black, stood on ground that had -been steadied and strengthened by resting it on piles. A little -wooden tower rose at one end of the roof, and served as a lookout -post in the fowling season. From this elevation the eye ranged -far and wide over a wilderness of winding water and lonesome -marsh. If the reed-cutter had lost his boat, he would have been -as completely isolated from all communication with town or -village as if his place of abode had been a light-vessel instead -of a cottage. Neither he nor his family complained of their -solitude, or looked in any way the rougher or the worse for it. -His wife received the visitors hospitably, in a snug little room, -with a raftered ceiling, and windows which looked like windows -in a cabin on board ship. His wife's father told stories of the -famous days when the smugglers came up from the sea at night, -rowing through the net-work of rivers with muffled oars till they -gained the lonely Broads, and sank their spirit casks in the -water, far from the coast-guard's reach. His wild little children -played at hide-and-seek with the visitors; and the visitors -ranged in and out of the cottage, and round and round the morsel -of firm earth on which it stood, surprised and delighted by the -novelty of all they saw. The one person who noticed the advance -of the evening--the one person who thought of the flying time and -the stationary Pentecosts in the boat--was young Pedgift. That -experienced pilot of the Broads looked askance at his watch, and -drew Allan aside at the first opportunity. - -"I don't wish to hurry you, Mr. Armadale," said Pedgift Junior; -"but the time is getting on, and there's a lady in the case." - -"A lady?" repeated Allan. - -"Yes, sir," rejoined young Pedgift. "A lady from London; -connected (if you'll allow me to jog your memory) with a -pony-chaise and white harness." - -"Good heavens, the governess!" cried Allan. "Why, we have -forgotten all about her!" - -"Don't be alarmed, sir; there's plenty of time, if we only get -into the boat again. This is how it stands, Mr. Armadale. We -settled, if you remember, to have the gypsy tea-making at the -next 'Broad' to this--Hurle Mere?" - -"Certainly," said Allan. "Hurle Mere is the place where my friend -Midwinter has promised to come and meet us." - -"Hurle Mere is where the governess will be, sir, if your coachman -follows my directions," pursued young Pedgift. "We have got -nearly an hour's punting to do, along the twists and turns of the -narrow waters (which they call The Sounds here) between this and -Hurle Mere; and according to my calculations we must get on board -again in five minutes, if we are to be in time to meet the -governess and to meet your friend." - -"We mustn't miss my friend on any account," said Allan; "or the -governess, either, of course. I'll tell the major." - -Major Milroy was at that moment preparing to mount the wooden -watch-tower of the cottage to see the view. The ever useful -Pedgift volunteered to go up with him, and rattle off all -the necessary local explanations in half the time which the -reed-cutter would occupy in describing his own neighborhood -to a stranger. - -Allan remained standing in front of the cottage, more quiet and -more thoughtful than usual. His interview with young Pedgift had -brought his absent friend to his memory for the first time since -the picnic party had started. He was surprised that Midwinter, -so much in his thoughts on all other occasions, should have been -so long out of his thoughts now. Something troubled him, like -a sense of self-reproach, as his mind reverted to the faithful -friend at home, toiling hard over the steward's books, in his -interests and for his sake. "Dear old fellow," thought Allan, "I -shall be so glad to see him at the Mere; the day's pleasure won't -be complete till he joins us!" - -"Should I be right or wrong, Mr. Armadale, if I guessed that you -were thinking of somebody?" asked a voice, softly, behind him. - -Allan turned, and found the major's daughter at his side. Miss -Milroy (not unmindful of a certain tender interview which had -taken place behind a carriage) had noticed her admirer standing -thoughtfully by himself, and had determined on giving him another -opportunity, while her father and young Pedgift were at the top -of the watch-tower. - -"You know everything," said Allan, smiling. "I _was_ thinking of -somebody." - -Miss Milroy stole a glance at him--a glance of gentle -encouragement. There could be but one human creature in Mr. -Armadale's mind after what had passed between them that morning! -It would be only an act of mercy to take him back again at once -to the interrupted conversation of a few hours since on the -subject of names. - -"I have been thinking of somebody, too," she said, half-inviting, -half-repelling the coming avowal. "If I tell you the first letter -of my Somebody's name, will you tell me the first letter of -yours?" - -"I will tell you anything you like," rejoined Allan, with the -utmost enthusiasm. - -She still shrank coquettishly from the very subject that she -wanted to approach. "Tell me your letter first," she said, in -low tones, looking away from him. - -Allan laughed. "M," he said, "is my first letter." - -She started a little. Strange that he should be thinking of her -by her surname instead of her Christian name; but it mattered -little as long as he _was_ thinking of her. - -"What is your letter?" asked Allan. - -She blushed and smiled. "A--if you will have it!" she answered, -in a reluctant little whisper. She stole another look at him, and -luxuriously protracted her enjoyment of the coming avowal once -more. "How many syllables is the name in?" she asked, drawing -patterns shyly on the ground with the end of the parasol. - -No man with the slightest knowledge of the sex would have been -rash enough, in Allan's position, to tell her the truth. Allan, -who knew nothing whatever of woman's natures, and who told the -truth right and left in all mortal emergencies, answered as if -he had been under examination in a court of justice. - -"It's a name in three syllables," he said. - -Miss Milroy's downcast eyes flashed up at him like lightning. -"Three!" she repeated in the blankest astonishment. - -Allan was too inveterately straightforward to take the warning -even now. "I'm not strong at my spelling, I know," he said, with -his lighthearted laugh. "But I don't think I'm wrong, in calling -Midwinter a name in three syllables. I was thinking of my friend; -but never mind my thoughts. Tell me who A is--tell me whom _you_ -were thinking of?" - -"Of the first letter of the alphabet, Mr. Armadale, and I beg -positively to inform you of nothing more!" - -With that annihilating answer the major's daughter put up her -parasol and walked back by herself to the boat. - -Allan stood petrified with amazement. If Miss Milroy had actually -boxed his ears (and there is no denying that she had privately -longed to devote her hand to that purpose), he could hardly have -felt more bewildered than he felt now. "What on earth have I -done?" he asked himself, helplessly, as the major and young -Pedgift joined him, and the three walked down together to the -water-side. "I wonder what she'll say to me next?" - -She said absolutely nothing; she never so much as looked at Allan -when he took his place in the boat. There she sat, with her eyes -and her complexion both much brighter than usual, taking the -deepest interest in the curate's progress toward recovery; in the -state of Mrs. Pentecost's spirits; in Pedgift Junior (for whom -she ostentatiously made room enough to let him sit beside her); -in the scenery and the reed-cutter's cottage; in everybody and -everything but Allan--whom she would have married with the -greatest pleasure five minutes since. "I'll never forgive him," -thought the major's daughter. "To be thinking of that ill-bred -wretch when I was thinking of _him_; and to make me all but -confess it before I found him out! Thank Heaven, Mr. Pedgift -is in the boat!" - -In this frame of mind Miss Neelie applied herself forthwith to -the fascination of Pedgift and the discomfiture of Allan. "Oh, -Mr. Pedgift, how extremely clever and kind of you to think of -showing us that sweet cottage! Lonely, Mr. Armadale? I don't -think it's lonely at all; I should like of all things to live -there. What would this picnic have been without you, Mr. Pedgift; -you can't think how I have enjoyed it since we got into the boat. -Cool, Mr. Armadale? What can you possibly mean by saying it's -cool; it's the warmest evening we've had this summer. And the -music, Mr. Pedgift; how nice it was of you to bring your -concertina! I wonder if I could accompany you on the piano? I -would so like to try. Oh, yes, Mr. Armadale, no doubt you meant -to do something musical, too, and I dare say you sing very well -when you know the words; but, to tell you the truth, I always -did, and always shall, hate Moore's Melodies!" - -Thus, with merciless dexterity of manipulation, did Miss Milroy -work that sharpest female weapon of offense, the tongue; and thus -she would have used it for some time longer, if Allan had only -shown the necessary jealousy, or if Pedgift had only afforded the -necessary encouragement. But adverse fortune had decreed that she -should select for her victims two men essentially unassailable -under existing circumstances. Allan was too innocent of all -knowledge of female subtleties and susceptibilities to understand -anything, except that the charming Neelie was unreasonably out of -temper with him without the slightest cause. The wary Pedgift, as -became one of the quick-witted youth of the present generation, -submitted to female influence, with his eye fixed immovably all -the time on his own interests. Many a young man of the past -generation, who was no fool, has sacrificed everything for love. -Not one young man in ten thousand of the present generation, -_except_ the fools, has sacrificed a half-penny. The daughters of -Eve still inherit their mother's merits and commit their mother's -faults. But the sons of Adam, in these latter days, are men who -would have handed the famous apple back with a bow, and a -"Thanks, no; it might get me into a scrape." When Allan ---surprised and disappointed--moved away out of Miss Milroy's -reach to the forward part of the boat, Pedgift Junior rose and -followed him. "You're a very nice girl," thought this shrewdly -sensible young man; "but a client's a client; and I am sorry to -inform you, miss, it won't do." He set himself at once to rouse -Allan's spirits by diverting his attention to a new subject. -There was to be a regatta that autumn on one of the Broads, and -his client's opinion as a yachtsman might be valuable to the -committee. "Something new, I should think, to you, sir, in a -sailing match on fresh water?" he said, in his most ingratiatory -manner. And Allan, instantly interested, answered, "Quite new. -Do tell me about it!" - -As for the rest of the party at the other end of the boat, they -were in a fair way to confirm Mrs. Pentecost's doubts whether -the hilarity of the picnic would last the day out. Poor Neelie's -natural feeling of irritation under the disappointment which -Allan's awkwardness had inflicted on her was now exasperated -into silent and settled resentment by her own keen sense of -humiliation and defeat. The major had relapsed into his -habitually dreamy, absent manner; his mind was turning -monotonously with the wheels of his clock. The curate still -secluded his indigestion from public view in the innermost -recesses of the cabin; and the curate's mother, with a second -dose ready at a moment's notice, sat on guard at the door. Women -of Mrs. Pentecost's age and character generally enjoy their own -bad spirits. "This," sighed the old lady, wagging her head with a -smile of sour satisfaction "is what you call a day's pleasure, is -it? Ah, what fools we all were to leave our comfortable homes!" - -Meanwhile the boat floated smoothly along the windings of the -watery labyrinth which lay between the two Broads. The view on -either side was now limited to nothing but interminable rows -of reeds. Not a sound was heard, far or near; not so much as a -glimpse of cultivated or inhabited land appeared anywhere. "A -trifle dreary hereabouts, Mr. Armadale," said the ever-cheerful -Pedgift. "But we are just out of it now. Look ahead, sir! Here -we are at Hurle Mere." - -The reeds opened back on the right hand and the left, and the -boat glided suddenly into the wide circle of a pool. Round the -nearer half of the circle, the eternal reeds still fringed the -margin of the water. Round the further half, the land appeared -again, here rolling back from the pool in desolate sand-hills, -there rising above it in a sweep of grassy shore. At one point -the ground was occupied by a plantation, and at another by the -out-buildings of a lonely old red brick house, with a strip of -by-road near, that skirted the garden wall and ended at the pool. -The sun was sinking in the clear heaven, and the water, where the -sun's reflection failed to tinge it, was beginning to look black -and cold. The solitude that had been soothing, the silence that -had felt like an enchantment, on the other Broad, in the day's -vigorous prime, was a solitude that saddened here--a silence -that struck cold, in the stillness and melancholy of the day's -decline. - -The course of the boat was directed across the Mere to a creek -in the grassy shore. One or two of the little flat-bottomed -punts peculiar to the Broads lay in the creek; and the reed -cutters to whom the punts belonged, surprised at the appearance -of strangers, came out, staring silently, from behind an angle -of the old garden wall. Not another sign of life was visible -anywhere. No pony-chaise had been seen by the reed cutters; -no stranger, either man or woman, had approached the shores -of Hurle Mere that day. - -Young Pedgift took another look at his watch, and addressed -himself to Miss Milroy. "You may, or may not, see the governess -when you get back to Thorpe Ambrose," he said; "but, as the time -stands now, you won't see her here. You know best, Mr. Armadale," -he added, turning to Allan, "whether your friend is to be -depended on to keep his appointment?" - -"I am certain he is to be depended on," replied Allan, looking -about him--in unconcealed disappointment at Midwinter's absence. - -"Very good," pursued Pedgift Junior. "If we light the fire for -our gypsy tea-making on the open ground there, your friend may -find us out, sir, by the smoke. That's the Indian dodge for -picking up a lost man on the prairie, Miss Milroy and it's pretty -nearly wild enough (isn't it?) to be a prairie here!" - -There are some temptations--principally those of the smaller -kind--which it is not in the defensive capacity of female human -nature to resist. The temptation to direct the whole force of her -influence, as the one young lady of the party, toward the instant -overthrow of Allan's arrangement for meeting his friend, was too -much for the major's daughter. She turned on the smiling Pedgift -with a look which ought to have overwhelmed him. But who ever -overwhelmed a solicitor? - -"I think it's the most lonely, dreary, hideous place I ever saw -in my life!" said Miss Neelie. "If you insist on making tea here, -Mr. Pedgift, don't make any for me. No! I shall stop in the boat; -and, though I am absolutely dying with thirst, I shall touch -nothing till we get back again to the other Broad!" - -The major opened his lips to remonstrate. To his daughter's -infinite delight, Mrs. Pentecost rose from her seat before -he could say a word, and, after surveying the whole landward -prospect, and seeing nothing in the shape of a vehicle anywhere, -asked indignantly whether they were going all the way back again -to the place where they had left the carriages in the middle of -the day. On ascertaining that this was, in fact, the arrangement -proposed, and that, from the nature of the country, the carriages -could not have been ordered round to Hurle Mere without, in the -first instance, sending them the whole of the way back to Thorpe -Ambrose, Mrs. Pentecost (speaking in her son's interests) -instantly declared that no earthly power should induce her to -be out on the water after dark. "Call me a boat!" cried the old -lady, in great agitation. "Wherever there's water, there's a -night mist, and wherever there's a night mist, my son Samuel -catches cold. Don't talk to _me_ about your moonlight and your -tea-making--you're all mad! Hi! you two men there!" cried Mrs. -Pentecost, hailing the silent reed cutters on shore. "Sixpence -apiece for you, if you'll take me and my son back in your boat!" - -Before young Pedgift could interfere, Allan himself settled the -difficulty this time, with perfect patience and good temper. - -"I can't think, Mrs. Pentecost, of your going back in any boat -but the boat you have come out in," he said. "There is not the -least need (as you and Miss Milroy don't like the place) for -anybody to go on shore here but me. I _must_ go on shore. My -friend Midwinter never broke his promise to me yet; and I can't -consent to leave Hurle Mere as long as there is a chance of his -keeping his appointment. But there's not the least reason in the -world why I should stand in the way on that account. You have the -major and Mr. Pedgift to take care of you; and you can get back -to the carriages before dark, if you go at once. I will wait -here, and give my friend half an hour more, and then I can follow -you in one of the reed-cutters' boats." - -"That's the most sensible thing, Mr. Armadale, you've said -to-day," remarked Mrs. Pentecost, seating herself again in a -violent hurry - -"Tell them to be quick! " cried the old lady, shaking her fist -at the boatmen. "Tell them to be quick!" - -Allan gave the necessary directions, and stepped on shore. The -wary Pedgift (sticking fast to his client) tried to follow. - -"We can't leave you here alone, sir," he said, protesting eagerly -in a whisper. "Let the major take care of the ladies, and let me -keep you company at the Mere." - -"No, no!" said Allan, pressing him back. "They're all in low -spirits on board. If you want to be of service to me, stop like a -good fellow where you are, and do your best to keep the thing -going." - -He waved his hand, and the men pushed the boat off from the -shore. The others all waved their hands in return except the -major's daughter, who sat apart from the rest, with her face -hidden under her parasol. The tears stood thick in Neelie's eyes. -Her last angry feeling against Allan died out, and her heart went -back to him penitently the moment he left the boat. "How good he -is to us all!" she thought, "and what a wretch I am!" She got up -with every generous impulse in her nature urging her to make -atonement to him. She got up, reckless of appearances and looked -after him with eager eyes and flushed checks, as he stood alone -on the shore. "Don't be long, Mr. Armadale!" she said, with a -desperate disregard of what the rest of the company thought of -her. - -The boat was already far out in the water, and with all Neelie's -resolution the words were spoken in a faint little voice, which -failed to reach Allan's ears. The one sound he heard, as the boat -gained the opposite extremity of the Mere, and disappeared -slowly among the reeds, was the sound of the concertina. The -indefatigable Pedgift was keeping things going--evidently under -the auspices of Mrs. Pentecost--by performing a sacred melody. - -Left by himself, Allan lit a cigar, and took a turn backward -and forward on the shore. "She might have said a word to me at -parting!" he thought. "I've done everything for the best; I've -as good as told her how fond of her I am, and this is the way she -treats me!" He stopped, and stood looking absently at the sinking -sun, and the fast-darkening waters of the Mere. Some inscrutable -influence in the scene forced its way stealthily into his mind, -and diverted his thoughts from Miss Milroy to his absent friend. -He started, and looked about him. - -The reed-cutters had gone back to their retreat behind the angle -of the wall, not a living creature was visible, not a sound rose -anywhere along the dreary shore. Even Allan's spirits began -to get depressed. It was nearly an hour after the time when -Midwinter had promised to be at Hurle Mere. He had himself -arranged to walk to the pool (with a stable-boy from Thorpe -Ambrose as his guide), by lanes and footpaths which shortened -the distance by the road. The boy knew the country well, and -Midwinter was habitually punctual at all his appointments. Had -anything gone wrong at Thorpe Ambrose? Had some accident happened -on the way? Determined to remain no longer doubting and idling by -himself, Allan made up his mind to walk inland from the Mere, on -the chance of meeting his friend. He went round at once to the -angle in the wall, and asked one of the reedcutters to show him -the footpath to Thorpe Ambrose. - -The man led him away from the road, and pointed to a barely -perceptible break in the outer trees of the plantation. After -pausing for one more useless look around him, Allan turned his -back on the Mere and made for the trees. - -For a few paces, the path ran straight through the plantation. -Thence it took a sudden turn; and the water and the open country -became both lost to view. Allan steadily followed the grassy -track before him, seeing nothing and hearing nothing, until -he came to another winding of the path. Turning in the new -direction, he saw dimly a human figure sitting alone at the foot -of one of the trees. Two steps nearer were enough to make -the figure familiar to him. "Midwinter!" he exclaimed, in -astonishment. "This is not the place where I was to meet you! -What are you waiting for here?" - -Midwinter rose, without answering. The evening dimness among -the trees, which obscured his face, made his silence doubly -perplexing. - -Allan went on eagerly questioning him. "Did you come here by -yourself?" he asked. "I thought the boy was to guide you?" - -This time Midwinter answered. "When we got as far as these -trees," he said, "I sent the boy back. He told me I was close -to the place, and couldn't miss it." - -"What made you stop here when he left you?" reiterated Allan. -"Why didn't you walk on?" - -"Don't despise me," answered the other. "I hadn't the courage!" - -"Not the courage?" repeated Allan. He paused a moment. "Oh, -I know!" he resumed, putting his hand gayly on Midwinter's -shoulder. "You're still shy of the Milroys. What nonsense, when -I told you myself that your peace was made at the cottage!" - -"I wasn't thinking, Allan, of your friends at the cottage. -The truth is, I'm hardly myself to-day. I am ill and unnerved; -trifles startle me." He stopped, and shrank away, under the -anxious scrutiny of Allan's eyes. "If you _will_ have it," he -burst out, abruptly, "the horror of that night on board the Wreck -has got me again; there's a dreadful oppression on my head; -there's a dreadful sinking at my heart. I am afraid of something -happening to us, if we don't part before the day is out. I can't -break my promise to you; for God's sake, release me from it, and -let me go back!" - -Remonstrance, to any one who knew Midwinter, was plainly useless -at that moment. Allan humored him. "Come out of this dark, -airless place," he said, "and we will talk about it. The water -and the open sky are within a stone's throw of us. I hate a wood -in the evening; it even gives _me_ the horrors. You have been -working too hard over the steward's books. Come and breathe -freely in the blessed open air." - -Midwinter stopped, considered for a moment, and suddenly -submitted. - -"You're right," he said, "and I'm wrong, as usual. I'm wasting -time and distressing you to no purpose. What folly to ask you -to let me go back! Suppose you had said yes?" - -"Well?" asked Allan. - -"Well," repeated Midwinter, "something would have happened at -the first step to stop me, that's all. Come on." - -They walked together in silence on the way to the Mere. - -At the last turn in the path Allan's cigar went out. While he -stopped to light it again, Midwinter walked on before him, and -was the first to come in sight of the open ground. - -Allan had just kindled the match, when, to his surprise, his -friend came back to him round the turn in the path. There was -light enough to show objects more clearly in this part of the -plantation. The match, as Midwinter faced him, dropped on the -instant from Allan's hand. - -"Good God!" he cried, starting back, "you look as you looked -on board the Wreck!" - -Midwinter held up his band for silence. He spoke with his wild -eyes riveted on Allan's face, with his white lips close at -Allan's ear. - -"You remember how I _looked_," he answered, in a whisper. "Do you -remember what I _said_ when you and the doctor were talking of -the Dream?" - -"I have forgotten the Dream," said Allan. - -As he made that answer, Midwinter took his hand, and led him -round the last turn in the path. - -"Do you remember it now?" he asked, and pointed to the Mere. - -The sun was sinking in the cloudless westward heaven. The waters -of the Mere lay beneath, tinged red by the dying light. The open -country stretched away, darkening drearily already on the right -hand and the left. And on the near margin of the pool, where all -had been solitude before, there now stood, fronting the sunset, -the figure of a woman. - -The two Armadales stood together in silence, and looked at the -lonely figure and the dreary view. - -Midwinter was the first to speak. - -"Your own eyes have seen it," he said. "Now look at our own -words." - -He opened the narrative of the Dream, and held it under Allan's -eyes. His finger pointed to the lines which recorded the first -Vision; his voice, sinking lower and lower, repeated the words: - - -"The sense came to me of being left alone in the darkness. - -"I waited. - -"The darkness opened, and showed me the vision--as in a picture ---of a broad, lonely pool, surrounded by open ground. Above -the further margin of the pool I saw the cloudless western sky, -red with the light of sunset. - -"On the near margin of the pool there stood the Shadow of -a Woman." - -He ceased, and let the hand which held the manuscript drop to his -side. The other hand pointed to the lonely figure, standing with -its back turned on them, fronting the setting sun. - -"There," he said, "stands the living Woman, in the Shadow's -place! There speaks the first of the dream warnings to you and -to me! Let the future time find us still together, and the second -figure that stands in the Shadow's place will be Mine." - -Even Allan was silenced by the terrible certainty of conviction -with which he spoke. - -In the pause that followed, the figure at the pool moved, and -walked slowly away round the margin of the shore. Allan stepped -out beyond the last of the trees, and gained a wider view of -the open ground. The first object that met his eyes was the -pony-chaise from Thorpe Ambrose. - -He turned back to Midwinter with a laugh of relief. "What -nonsense have you been talking!" he said. "And what nonsense -have I been listening to! It's the governess at last." - -Midwinter made no reply. Allan took him by the arm, and tried to -lead him on. He released himself suddenly, and seized Allan with -both hands, holding him back from the figure at the pool, as he -had held him back from the cabin door on the deck of the timber -ship. Once again the effort was in vain. Once again Allan broke -away as easily as he had broken away in the past time. - -"One of us must speak to her," he said. "And if you won't, -I will." - -He had only advanced a few steps toward the Mere, when he heard, -or thought he heard, a voice faintly calling after him, once -and once only, the word Farewell. He stopped, with a feeling of -uneasy surprise, and looked round. - -"Was that you, Midwinter?" he asked. - -There was no answer. After hesitating a moment more, Allan -returned to the plantation. Midwinter was gone. - -He looked back at the pool, doubtful in the new emergency what -to do next. The lonely figure had altered its course in the -interval; it had turned, and was advancing toward the trees. -Allan had been evidently either heard or seen. It was impossible -to leave a woman unbefriended, in that helpless position and -in that solitary place. For the second time Allan went out from -the trees to meet her. - -As he came within sight of her face, he stopped in ungovernable -astonishment. The sudden revelation of her beauty, as she smiled -and looked at him inquiringly, suspended the movement in his -limbs and the words on his lips. A vague doubt beset him whether -it was the governess, after all. - -He roused himself, and, advancing a few paces, mentioned his -name. "May I ask," he added, "if I have the pleasure--?" - -The lady met him easily and gracefully half-way. "Major Milroy's -governess," she said. "Miss Gwilt." - -CHAPTER X - -THE HOUSE-MAID'S FACE. - -ALL was quiet at Thorpe Ambrose. The hall was solitary, the rooms -were dark. The servants, waiting for the supper hour in the -garden at the back of the house, looked up at the clear heaven -and the rising moon, and agreed that there was little prospect -of the return of the picnic party until later in the night. The -general opinion, led by the high authority of the cook, predicted -that they might all sit down to supper without the least fear of -being disturbed by the bell. Having arrived at this conclusion, -the servants assembled round the table, and exactly at the moment -when they sat down the bell rang. - -The footman, wondering, went up stairs to open the door, -and found to his astonishment Midwinter waiting alone on the -threshold, and looking (in the servant's opinion) miserably ill. -He asked for a light, and, saying he wanted nothing else, -withdrew at once to his room. The footman went back to his -fellow-servants, and reported that something had certainly -happened to his master's friend. - -On entering his room, Midwinter closed the door, and hurriedly -filled a bag with the necessaries for traveling. This done, he -took from a locked drawer, and placed in the breast pocket of his -coat, some little presents which Allan had given him--a cigar -case, a purse, and a set of studs in plain gold. Having possessed -himself of these memorials, he snatched up the bag and laid his -hand on the door. There, for the first time, he paused. There, -the headlong haste of all his actions thus far suddenly ceased, -and the hard despair in his face began to soften: he waited, with -the door in his hand. - -Up to that moment he had been conscious of but one motive that -animated him, but one purpose that he was resolute to achieve. -"For Allan's sake!" he had said to himself, when he looked back -toward the fatal landscape and saw his friend leaving him to meet -the woman at the pool. "For Allan's sake!" he had said again, -when he crossed the open country beyond the wood, and saw afar, -in the gray twilight, the long line of embankment and the distant -glimmer of the railway lamps beckoning him away already to the -iron road. - -It was only when he now paused before he closed the door behind -him--it was only when his own impetuous rapidity of action came -for the first time to a check, that the nobler nature of the man -rose in protest against the superstitious despair which was -hurrying him from all that he held dear. His conviction of the -terrible necessity of leaving Allan for Allan's good had not been -shaken for an instant since he had seen the first Vision of the -Dream realized on the shores of the Mere. But now, for the first -time, his own heart rose against him in unanswerable rebuke. "Go, -if you must and will! but remember the time when you were ill, -and he sat by your bedside; friendless, and he opened his heart -to you--and write, if you fear to speak; write and ask him to -forgive you, before you leave him forever!" - -The half-opened door closed again softly. Midwinter sat down at -the writing-table and took up the pen. - -He tried again and again, and yet again, to write the farewell -words; he tried, till the floor all round him was littered with -torn sheets of paper. Turn from them which way he would, the old -times still came back and faced him reproachfully. The spacious -bed-chamber in which he sat, narrowed, in spite of him, to the -sick usher's garret at the west-country inn. The kind hand that -had once patted him on the shoulder touched him again; the kind -voice that had cheered him spoke unchangeably in the old friendly -tones. He flung his arms on the table and dropped his head on -them in tearless despair. The parting words that his tongue was -powerless to utter his pen was powerless to write. Mercilessly in -earnest, his superstition pointed to him to go while the time was -his own. Mercilessly in earnest, his love for Allan held him back -till the farewell plea for pardon and pity was written. - -He rose with a sudden resolution, and rang for the servant, "When -Mr. Armadale returns," he said, "ask him to excuse my coming -downstairs, and say that I am trying to get to sleep." He locked -the door and put out the light, and sat down alone in the -darkness. "The night will keep us apart," he said; "and time -may help me to write. I may go in the early morning; I may go -while--" The thought died in him uncompleted; and the sharp agony -of the struggle forced to his lips the first cry of suffering -that had escaped him yet. - -He waited in the darkness. - -As the time stole on, his senses remained mechanically awake, but -his mind began to sink slowly under the heavy strain that had now -been laid on it for some hours past. A dull vacancy possessed -him; he made no attempt to kindle the light and write once more. -He never started; he never moved to the open window, when the -first sound of approaching wheels broke in on the silence of the -night. He heard the carriages draw up at the door; he heard the -horses champing their bits; he heard the voices of Allan and -young Pedgift on the steps; and still he sat quiet in the -darkness, and still no interest was aroused in him by the sounds -that reached his ear from outside. - -The voices remained audible after the carriages had been driven -away; the two young men were evidently lingering on the steps -before they took leave of each other. Every word they said -reached Midwinter through the open window. Their one subject of -conversation was the new governess. Allan's voice was loud in her -praise. He had never passed such an hour of delight in his life -as the hour he had spent with Miss Gwilt in the boat, on the way -from Hurle Mere to the picnic party waiting at the other Broad. -Agreeing, on his side, with all that his client said in praise -of the charming stranger, young Pedgift appeared to treat the -subject, when it fell into his hands, from a different point of -view. Miss Gwilt's attractions had not so entirely absorbed his -attention as to prevent him from noticing the impression which -the new governess had produced on her employer and her pupil. - -"There's a screw loose somewhere, sir, in Major Milroy's family," -said the voice of young Pedgift. "Did you notice how the major -and his daughter looked when Miss Gwilt made her excuses for -being late at the Mere? You don't remember? Do you remember what -Miss Gwilt said?" - -"Something about Mrs. Milroy, wasn't it?" Allan rejoined. - -Young Pedgift's voice dropped mysteriously a note lower. - -"Miss Gwilt reached the cottage this afternoon, sir, at the time -when I told you she would reach it, and she would have joined us -at the time I told you she would come, but for Mrs. Milroy. Mrs. -Milroy sent for her upstairs as soon as she entered the house, -and kept her upstairs a good half-hour and more. That was Miss -Gwilt's excuse, Mr. Armadale, for being late at the Mere." - -"Well, and what then?" - -"You seem to forget, sir, what the whole neighborhood has heard -about Mrs. Milroy ever since the major first settled among us. We -have all been told, on the doctor's own authority, that she is -too great a sufferer to see strangers. Isn't it a little odd that -she should have suddenly turned out well enough to see Miss Gwilt -(in her husband's absence) the moment Miss Gwilt entered the -house?" - -"Not a bit of it! Of course she was anxious to make acquaintance -with her daughter's governess." - -"Likely enough, Mr. Armadale. But the major and Miss Neelie don't -see it in that light, at any rate. I had my eye on them both when -the governess told them that Mrs. Milroy had sent for her. If -ever I saw a girl look thoroughly frightened, Miss Milroy was -that girl; and (if I may be allowed, in the strictest confidence, -to libel a gallant soldier) I should say that the major himself -was much in the same condition. Take my word for it, sir, there's -something wrong upstairs in that pretty cottage of yours; and -Miss Gwilt is mixed up in it already!" - -There was a minute of silence. When the voices were next heard -by Midwinter, they were further away from the house--Allan was -probably accompanying young Pedgift a few steps on his way back. - -After a while, Allan's voice was audible once more under the -portico, making inquiries after his friend; answered by the -servant's voice giving Midwinter's message. This brief -interruption over, the silence was not broken again till the time -came for shutting up the house. The servants' footsteps passing -to and fro, the clang of closing doors, the barking of a -disturbed dog in the stable-yard--these sounds warned Midwinter -it was getting late. He rose mechanically to kindle a light. -But his head was giddy, his hand trembled; he laid aside the -match-box, and returned to his chair. The conversation between -Allan and young Pedgift had ceased to occupy his attention the -instant he ceased to hear it; and now again, the sense that the -precious time was failing him became a lost sense as soon as the -house noises which had awakened it had passed away. His energies -of body and mind were both alike worn out; he waited with a -stolid resignation for the trouble that was to come to him with -the coming day. - -An interval passed, and the silence was once more disturbed by -voices outside; the voices of a man and a woman this time. The -first few words exchanged between them indicated plainly enough -a meeting of the clandestine kind; and revealed the man as one -of the servants at Thorpe Ambrose, and the woman as one of the -servants at the cottage. - -Here again, after the first greetings were over, the subject -of the new governess became the all-absorbing subject of -conversation. - -The major's servant was brimful of forebodings (inspired solely -by Miss Gwilt's good looks) which she poured out irrepressibly on -her "sweetheart," try as he might to divert her to other topics. -Sooner or later, let him mark her words, there would be an awful -"upset" at the cottage. Her master, it might be mentioned in -confidence, led a dreadful life with her mistress. The major was -the best of men; he hadn't a thought in his heart beyond his -daughter and his everlasting clock. But only let a nice-looking -woman come near the place, and Mrs. Milroy was jealous of -her--raging jealous, like a woman possessed, on that miserable -sick-bed of hers. If Miss Gwilt (who was certainly good-looking, -in spite of her hideous hair) didn't blow the fire into a flame -before many days more were over their heads, the mistress was -the mistress no longer, but somebody else. Whatever happened, -the fault, this time, would lie at the door of the major's mother. -The old lady and the mistress had had a dreadful quarrel two years -since; and the old lady had gone away in a fury, telling her son, -before all the servants, that, if he had a spark of spirit in -him, he would never submit to his wife's temper as he did. It -would be too much, perhaps, to accuse the major's mother of -purposely picking out a handsome governess to spite the major's -wife. But it might be safely said that the old lady was the last -person in the world to humor the mistress's jealousy, by -declining to engage a capable and respectable governess for her -granddaughter because that governess happened to be blessed with -good looks. How it was all to end (except that it was certain to -end badly) no human creature could say. Things were looking as -black already as things well could. Miss Neelie was crying, after -the day's pleasure (which was one bad sign); the mistress had -found fault with nobody (which was another); the master had -wished her good-night through the door (which was a third); and -the governess had locked herself up in her room (which was the -worst sign of all, for it looked as if she distrusted the -servants). Thus the stream of the woman's gossip ran on, and thus -it reached Midwinter's ears through the window, till the clock in -the stable-yard struck, and stopped the talking. When the last -vibrations of the bell had died away, the voices were not audible -again, and the silence was broken no more. - -Another interval passed, and Midwinter made a new effort to rouse -himself. This time he kindled the light without hesitation, and -took the pen in hand. - -He wrote at the first trial with a sudden facility of expression, -which, surprising him as he went on, ended in rousing in him -some vague suspicion of himself. He left the table, and bathed -his head and face in water, and came back to read what he had -written. The language was barely intelligible; sentences were -left unfinished; words were misplaced one for the other. -Every line recorded the protest of the weary brain against the -merciless will that had forced it into action. Midwinter tore up -the sheet of paper as he had torn up the other sheets before it, -and, sinking under the struggle at last, laid his weary head on -the pillow. Almost on the instant, exhaustion overcame him, and -before he could put the light out he fell asleep. - -He was roused by a noise at the door. The sunlight was pouring -into the room, the candle had burned down into the socket, and -the servant was waiting outside with a letter which had come for -him by the morning's post. - -"I ventured to disturb you, sir," said the man, when Midwinter -opened the door, "because the letter is marked 'Immediate,' and -I didn't know but it might be of some consequence." - -Midwinter thanked him, and looked at the letter. It _was_ of some -consequence--the handwriting was Mr. Brock's. - -He paused to collect his faculties. The torn sheets of paper -on the floor recalled to him in a moment the position in which -he stood. He locked the door again, in the fear that Allan -might rise earlier than usual and come in to make inquiries. -Then--feeling strangely little interest in anything that the -rector could write to him now--he opened Mr. Brock's letter, -and read these lines: - -"Tuesday. - -"MY DEAR MIDWINTER--It is sometimes best to tell bad news -plainly, in few words. Let me tell mine at once, in one sentence. -My precautions have all been defeated: the woman has escaped me. - -"This misfortune--for it is nothing less--happened yesterday -(Monday). Between eleven and twelve in the forenoon of that day, -the business which originally brought me to London obliged me to -go to Doctors' Commons, and to leave my servant Robert to watch -the house opposite our lodging until my return. About an hour -and a half after my departure he observed an empty cab drawn up -at the door of the house. Boxes and bags made their appearance -first; they were followed by the woman herself, in the dress I -had first seen her in. Having previously secured a cab, Robert -traced her to the terminus of the North-Western Railway, saw her -pass through the ticket office, kept her in view till she reached -the platform, and there, in the crowd and confusion caused by -the starting of a large mixed train, lost her. I must do him -the justice to say that he at once took the right course in -this emergency. Instead of wasting time in searching for her -on the platform, he looked along the line of carriages; and he -positively declares that he failed to see her in any one of them. -He admits, at the same time, that his search (conducted between -two o'clock, when he lost sight of her, and ten minutes past, -when the train started) was, in the confusion of the moment, -necessarily an imperfect one. But this latter circumstance, in -my opinion, matters little. I as firmly disbelieve in the woman's -actual departure by that train as if I had searched every one -of the carriages myself; and you, I have no doubt, will entirely -agree with me. - -"You now know how the disaster happened. Let us not waste time -and words in lamenting it. The evil is done, and you and I -together must find the way to remedy it. - -"What I have accomplished already, on my side, may be told in two -words. Any hesitation I might have previously felt at trusting -this delicate business in strangers' hands was at an end the -moment I heard Robert's news. I went back at once to the city, -and placed the whole matter confidentially before my lawyers. -The conference was a long one, and when I left the office it was -past the post hour, or I should have written to you on Monday -instead of writing today. My interview with the lawyers was not -very encouraging. They warn me plainly that serious difficulties -stand in the way of our recovering the lost trace. But they have -promised to do their best, and we have decided on the course to -be taken, excepting one point on which we totally differ. I must -tell you what this difference is; for, while business keeps me -away from Thorpe Ambrose, you are the only person whom I can -trust to put my convictions to the test. - -"The lawyers are of opinion, then, that the woman has been -aware from the first that I was watching her; that there is, -consequently, no present hope of her being rash enough to appear -personally at Thorpe Ambrose; that any mischief she may have it -in contemplation to do will be done in the first instance by -deputy; and that the only wise course for Allan's friends and -guardians to take is to wait passively till events enlighten -them. My own idea is diametrically opposed to this. After what -has happened at the railway, I cannot deny that the woman must -have discovered that I was watching her. But she has no reason to -suppose that she has not succeeded in deceiving me; and I firmly -believe she is bold enough to take us by surprise, and to win or -force her way into Allan's confidence before we are prepared to -prevent her. - -"You and you only (while I am detained in London) can decide -whether I am right or wrong--and you can do it in this way. -Ascertain at once whether any woman who is a stranger in the -neighborhood has appeared since Monday last at or near Thorpe -Ambrose. If any such person has been observed (and nobody escapes -observation in the country), take the first opportunity you can -get of seeing her, and ask yourself if her face does or does not -answer certain plain questions which I am now about to write down -for you. You may depend on my accuracy. I saw the woman unveiled -on more than one occasion, and the last time through an excellent -glass. - -"1. Is her hair light brown, and (apparently) not very plentiful? -2. Is her forehead high, narrow, and sloping backward from the -brow? 3. Are her eyebrows very faintly marked, and are her eyes -small, and nearer dark than light--either gray or hazel (I have -not seen her close enough to be certain which)? 4. Is her nose -aquiline? 5 Are her lips thin, and is the upper lip long? 6. Does -her complexion look like an originally fair complexion, which has -deteriorated into a dull, sickly paleness? 7 (and lastly). Has -she a retreating chin, and is there on the left side of it a mark -of some kind--a mole or a scar, I can't say which? - -"I add nothing about her expression, for you may see her under -circumstances which may partially alter it as seen by me. Test -her by her features, which no circumstances can change. If there -is a stranger in the neighborhood, and if her face answers my -seven questions, _you have found the woman_! Go instantly, in -that case, to the nearest lawyer, and pledge my name and credit -for whatever expenses may be incurred in keeping her under -inspection night and day. Having done this, take the speediest -means of communicating with me; and whether my business is -finished or not, I will start for Norfolk by the first train. - -"Always your friend, DECIMUS BROCK." - - -Hardened by the fatalist conviction that now possessed him, -Midwinter read the rector's confession of defeat, from the -first line to the last, without the slightest betrayal either -of interest or surprise. The one part of the letter at which -he looked back was the closing part of it. "I owe much to Mr. -Brock's kindness," he thought; "and I shall never see Mr. Brock -again. It is useless and hopeless; but he asks me to do it, -and it shall be done. A moment's look at her will be enough--a -moment's look at her with his letter in my hand--and a line to -tell him that the woman is here!" - -Again he stood hesitating at the half-opened door; again the -cruel necessity of writing his farewell to Allan stopped him, -and stared him in the face. - -He looked aside doubtingly at the rector's letter. "I will write -the two together," he said. "One may help the other." His face -flushed deep as the words escaped him. He was conscious of doing -what he had not done yet--of voluntarily putting off the evil -hour; of making Mr. Brock the pretext for gaining the last -respite left, the respite of time. - -The only sound that reached him through the open door was the -sound of Allan stirring noisily in the next room. He stepped at -once into the empty corridor, and meeting no one on the stairs, -made his way out of the house. The dread that his resolution to -leave Allan might fail him if he saw Allan again was as vividly -present to his mind in the morning as it had been all through the -night. He drew a deep breath of relief as he descended the house -steps--relief at having escaped the friendly greeting of the -morning, from the one human creature whom he loved! - -He entered the shrubbery with Mr. Brock's letter in his hand, -and took the nearest way that led to the major's cottage. Not -the slightest recollection was in his mind of the talk which had -found its way to his ears during the night. His one reason for -determining to see the woman was the reason which the rector -had put in his mind. The one remembrance that now guided him -to the place in which she lived was the remembrance of Allan's -exclamation when he first identified the governess with the -figure at the pool. - -Arrived at the gate of the cottage, he stopped. The thought -struck him that he might defeat his own object if he looked at -the rector's questions in the woman's presence. Her suspicions -would be probably roused, in the first instance, by his asking -to see her (as he had determined to ask, with or without an -excuse), and the appearance of the letter in his hand might -confirm them. - -She might defeat him by instantly leaving the room. Determined -to fix the description in his mind first, and then to confront -her, he opened the letter; and, turning away slowly by the side -of the house, read the seven questions which he felt absolutely -assured beforehand the woman's face would answer. - -In the morning quiet of the park slight noises traveled far. -A slight noise disturbed Midwinter over the letter. - -He looked up and found himself on the brink of a broad grassy -trench, having the park on one side and the high laurel hedge -of an inclosure on the other. The inclosure evidently surrounded -the back garden of the cottage, and the trench was intended to -protect it from being damaged by the cattle grazing in the park. - -Listening carefully as the slight sound which had disturbed him -grew fainter, he recognized in it the rustling of women's -dresses. A few paces ahead, the trench was crossed by a bridge -(closed by a wicket gate) which connected the garden with the -park. He passed through the gate, crossed the bridge, and, -opening a door at the other end, found himself in a summer-house -thickly covered with creepers, and commanding a full view of the -garden from end to end. - -He looked, and saw the figures of two ladies walking slowly away -from him toward the cottage. The shorter of the two failed to -occupy his attention for an instant; he never stopped to think -whether she was or was not the major's daughter. His eyes were -riveted on the other figure--the figure that moved over the -garden walk with the long, lightly falling dress and the easy, -seductive grace. There, presented exactly as be had seen her once -already--there, with her back again turned on him, was the Woman -at the pool! - -There was a chance that they might take another turn in the -garden--a turn back toward the summer-house. On that chance -Midwinter waited. No consciousness of the intrusion that he -was committing had stopped him at the door of the summer-house, -and no consciousness of it troubled him even now. Every finer -sensibility in his nature, sinking under the cruel laceration of -the past night, had ceased to feel. The dogged resolution to do -what he had come to do was the one animating influence left alive -in him. He acted, he even looked, as the most stolid man living -might have acted and looked in his place. He was self-possessed -enough, in the interval of expectation before governess and pupil -reached the end of the walk, to open Mr. Brock's letter, and to -fortify his memory by a last look at the paragraph which -described her face. - -He was still absorbed over the description when he heard the -smooth rustle of the dresses traveling toward him again. Standing -in the shadow of the summer-house, he waited while she lessened -the distance between them. With her written portrait vividly -impressed on his mind, and with the clear light of the morning to -help him, his eyes questioned her as she came on; and these were -the answers that her face gave him back. - -The hair in the rector's description was light brown and not -plentiful. This woman's hair, superbly luxuriant in its growth, -was of the one unpardonably remarkable shade of color which the -prejudice of the Northern nations never entirely forgives--it was -_red_! The forehead in the rector's description was high, narrow, -and sloping backward from the brow; the eyebrows were faintly -marked; and the eyes small, and in color either gray or hazel. -This woman's forehead was low, upright, and broad toward the -temples; her eyebrows, at once strongly and delicately marked, -were a shade darker than her hair; her eyes, large, bright, and -well opened, were of that purely blue color, without a tinge -in it of gray or green, so often presented to our admiration in -pictures and books, so rarely met with in the living face. The -nose in the rector's description was aquiline. The line of this -woman's nose bent neither outward nor inward: it was the -straight, delicately molded nose (with the short upper lip -beneath) of the ancient statues and busts. The lips in the -rector's description were thin and the upper lip long; the -complexion was of a dull, sickly paleness; the chin retreating -and the mark of a mole or a scar on the left side of it. This -woman's lips were full, rich, and sensual. Her complexion was -the lovely complexion which accompanies such hair as hers--so -delicately bright in its rosier tints, so warmly and softly white -in its gentler gradations of color on the forehead and the neck. -Her chin, round and dimpled, was pure of the slightest blemish -in every part of it, and perfectly in line with her forehead -to the end. Nearer and nearer, and fairer and fairer she came, -in the glow of the morning light--the most startling, the most -unanswerable contradiction that eye could see or mind conceive -to the description in the rector's letter. - -Both governess and pupil were close to the summer-house before -they looked that way, and noticed Midwinter standing inside. -The governess saw him first. - -"A friend of yours, Miss Milroy?" she asked, quietly, without -starting or betraying any sign of surprise. - -Neelie recognized him instantly. Prejudiced against Midwinter -by his conduct when his friend had introduced him at the cottage, -she now fairly detested him as the unlucky first cause of her -misunderstanding with Allan at the picnic. Her face flushed -and she drew back from the summerhouse with an expression of -merciless surprise. - -"He is a friend of Mr. Armadale's," she replied sharply. "I don't -know what he wants, or why he is here." - -"A friend of Mr. Armadale's!" The governess's face lighted up -with a suddenly roused interest as she repeated the words, She -returned Midwinter's look, still steadily fixed on her, with -equal steadiness on her side. - -"For my part," pursued Neelie, resenting Midwinter's -insensibility to her presence on the scene, "I think it a great -liberty to treat papa's garden as if it were the open park!" - -The governess turned round, and gently interposed. - -"My dear Miss Milroy," she remonstrated, "there are certain -distinctions to be observed. This gentleman is a friend of Mr. -Armadale's. You could hardly express yourself more strongly -if he was a perfect stranger." - -"I express my opinion," retorted Neelie, chafing under the -satirically indulgent tone in which the governess addressed her. -"It's a matter of taste, Miss Gwilt; and tastes differ." She -turned away petulantly, and walked back by herself to the -cottage. - -"She is very young," said Miss Gwilt, appealing with a smile -to Midwinter's forbearance; "and, as you must see for yourself, -sir, she is a spoiled child." She paused--showed, for an instant -only, her surprise at Midwinter's strange silence and strange -persistency in keeping his eyes still fixed on her--then set -herself, with a charming grace and readiness, to help him out of -the false position in which he stood. "As you have extended your -walk thus far," she resumed, "perhaps you will kindly favor me, -on your return, by taking a message to your friend? Mr. Armadale -has been so good as to invite me to see the Thorpe Ambrose -gardens this morning. Will you say that Major Milroy permits me -to accept the invitation (in company with Miss Milroy) between -ten and eleven o'clock?" For a moment her eyes rested, with a -renewed look of interest, on Midwinter's face. She waited, still -in vain, for an answering word from him--smiled, as if his -extraordinary silence amused rather than angered her--and -followed her pupil back to the cottage. - - -It was only when the last trace of her had disappeared that -Midwinter roused himself, and attempted to realize the position -in which he stood. The revelation of her beauty was in no respect -answerable for the breathless astonishment which had held him -spell-bound up to this moment. The one clear impression she had -produced on him thus far began and ended with his discovery of -the astounding contradiction that her face offered, in one -feature after another, to the description in Mr. Brock's letter. -All beyond this was vague and misty--a dim consciousness of a -tall, elegant woman, and of kind words, modestly and gracefully -spoken to him, and nothing more. - -He advanced a few steps into the garden without knowing why-- -stopped, glancing hither and thither like a man lost--recognized -the summer-house by an effort, as if years had elapsed since he -had seen it--and made his way out again, at last, into the park. -Even here, he wandered first in one direction, then in another. -His mind was still reeling under the shock that had fallen on it; -his perceptions were all confused. Something kept him -mechanically in action, walking eagerly without a motive, -walking he knew not where. - -A far less sensitively organized man might have been overwhelmed, -as he was overwhelmed now, by the immense, the instantaneous -revulsion of feeling which the event of the last few minutes had -wrought in his mind. - -At the memorable instant when he had opened the door of the -summer-house, no confusing influence troubled his faculties. -In all that related to his position toward his friend, he had -reached an absolutely definite conclusion by an absolutely -definite process of thought. The whole strength of the motive -which had driven him into the resolution to part from Allan -rooted itself in the belief that he had seen at Hurle Mere the -fatal fulfillment of the first Vision of the Dream. And this -belief, in its turn, rested, necessarily, on the conviction that -the woman who was the one survivor of the tragedy in Madeira -must be also inevitably the woman whom he had seen standing in -the Shadow's place at the pool. Firm in that persuasion, he had -himself compared the object of his distrust and of the rector's -distrust with the description written by the rector himself--a -description, carefully minute, by a man entirely trustworthy--and -his own eyes had informed him that the woman whom he had seen at -the Mere, and the woman whom Mr. Brock had identified in London, -were not one, but Two. In the place of the Dream Shadow, there -had stood, on the evidence of the rector's letter, not the -instrument of the Fatality--but a stranger! - -No such doubts as might have troubled a less superstitious man, -were started in _his_ mind by the discovery that had now opened -on him. - -It never occurred to him to ask himself whether a stranger might -not be the appointed instrument of the Fatality, now when the -letter had persuaded him that a stranger had been revealed as -the figure in the dream landscape. No such idea entered or could -enter his mind. The one woman whom _his_ superstition dreaded -was the woman who had entwined herself with the lives of the two -Armadales in the first generation, and with the fortunes of the -two Armadales in the second--who was at once the marked object of -his father's death-bed warning, and the first cause of the family -calamities which had opened Allan's way to the Thorpe Ambrose -estate--the woman, in a word, whom he would have known -instinctively, but for Mr. Brock's letter, to be the woman whom -he had now actually seen. - -Looking at events as they had just happened, under the influence -of the misapprehension into which the rector had innocently -misled him, his mind saw and seized its new conclusion -instantaneously, acting precisely as it had acted in the past -time of his interview with Mr. Brock at the Isle of Man. - -Exactly as he had once declared it to be an all-sufficient -refutation of the idea of the Fatality, that he had never met -with the timber-ship in any of his voyages at sea, so he now -seized on the similarly derived conclusion, that the whole claim -of the Dream to a supernatural origin stood self-refuted by the -disclosure of a stranger in the Shadow's place. Once started from -this point--once encouraged to let his love for Allan influence -him undividedly again, his mind hurried along the whole resulting -chain of thought at lightning speed. If the Dream was proved -to be no longer a warning from the other world, it followed -inevitably that accident and not fate had led the way to the -night on the Wreck, and that all the events which had happened -since Allan and he had parted from Mr. Brock were events in -themselves harmless, which his superstition had distorted from -their proper shape. In less than a moment his mobile imagination -had taken him back to the morning at Castletown when he had -revealed to the rector the secret of his name; when he had -declared to the rector, with his father's letter before his eyes, -the better faith that was in him. Now once more he felt his heart -holding firmly by the bond of brotherhood between Allan and -himself; now once more he could say with the eager sincerity -of the old time, "If the thought of leaving him breaks my heart, -the thought of leaving him is wrong!" As that nobler conviction -possessed itself again of his mind--quieting the tumult, clearing -the confusion within him--the house at Thorpe Ambrose, with Allan -on the steps, waiting, looking for him, opened on his eyes -through the trees. A sense of illimitable relief lifted his eager -spirit high above the cares, and doubts, and fears that had -oppressed it so long, and showed him once more the better and -brighter future of his early dreams. His eyes filled with tears, -and he pressed the rector's letter, in his wild, passionate way, -to his lips, as he looked at Allan through the vista of the -trees. "But for this morsel of paper," he thought, "my life might -have been one long sorrow to me, and my father's crime might have -parted us forever!" - - -Such was the result of the stratagem which had shown the -housemaid's face to Mr. Brock as the face of Miss Gwilt. And -so--by shaking Midwinter's trust in his own superstition, in the -one case in which that superstition pointed to the truth--did -Mother Oldershaw's cunning triumph over difficulties and dangers -which had never been contemplated by Mother Oldershaw herself. - -CHAPTER XI. - -MISS GWILT AMONG THE QUICKSANDS. - -1. _From the Rev. Decimus Brock to Ozias Midwinter_. - -"Thursday. - -"MY DEAR MIDWINTER--No words can tell what a relief it was to me -to get your letter this morning, and what a happiness I honestly -feel in having been thus far proved to be in the wrong. The -precautions you have taken in case the woman should still confirm -my apprehensions by venturing herself at Thorpe Ambrose seem to -me to be all that can be desired. You are no doubt sure to hear -of her from one or other of the people in the lawyer's office, -whom you have asked to inform you of the appearance of a stranger -in the town. - -"I am the more pleased at finding how entirely I can trust you -in this matter; for I am likely to be obliged to leave Allan's -interests longer than I supposed solely in your hands. My visit -to Thorpe Ambrose must, I regret to say, be deferred for two -months. The only one of my brother-clergymen in London who is -able to take my duty for me cannot make it convenient to remove -with his family to Somersetshire before that time. I have no -alternative but to finish my business here, and be back at my -rectory on Saturday next. If anything happens, you will, of -course, instantly communicate with me; and, in that case, be -the inconvenience what it may, I must leave home for Thorpe -Ambrose. If, on the other hand, all goes more smoothly than my -own obstinate apprehensions will allow me to suppose, then Allan -(to whom I have written) must not expect to see me till this day -two months. - -"No result has, up to this time, rewarded our exertions to -recover the trace lost at the railway. I will keep my letter -open, however, until post time, in case the next few hours bring -any news. - -"Always truly yours, - -DECIMUS BROCK. - -"P. S.--I have just heard from the lawyers. They have found out -the name the woman passed by in London. If this discovery (not -a very important one, I am afraid) suggests any new course of -proceeding to you, pray act on it at once. The name is--Miss -Gwilt." - -2. _From Miss Gwilt to Mrs. Oldershaw_. - -The Cottage, Thorpe Ambrose, Saturday, June 28. - -"If you will promise not to be alarmed, Mamma Oldershaw, I will -begin this letter in a very odd way, by copying a page of a -letter written by somebody else. You have an excellent memory, -and you may not have forgotten that I received a note from Major -Milroy's mother (after she had engaged me as governess) on Monday -last. It was dated and signed; and here it is, as far as the -first page: 'June 23d, 1851. Dear Madam--Pray excuse my troubling -you, before you go to Thorpe Ambrose, with a word more about the -habits observed in my son's household. When I had the pleasure -of seeing you at two o'clock to-day, in Kingsdown Crescent, I had -another appointment in a distant part of London at three; and, -in the hurry of the moment, one or two little matters escaped me -which I think I ought to impress on your attention.' The rest -of the letter is not of the slightest importance, but the lines -that I have just copied are well worthy of all the attention you -can bestow on them. They have saved me from discovery, my dear, -before I have been a week in Major Milroy's service! - -"It happened no later than yesterday evening, and it began and -ended in this manner: - -"There is a gentleman here, (of whom I shall have more to say -presently) who is an intimate friend of young Armadale's, and -who bears the strange name of Midwinter. He contrived yesterday -to speak to me alone in the park. Almost as soon as he opened -his lips, I found that my name had been discovered in London -(no doubt by the Somersetshire clergyman); and that Mr. Midwinter -had been chosen (evidently by the same person) to identify the -Miss Gwilt who had vanished from Brompton with the Miss Gwilt -who had appeared at Thorpe Ambrose. You foresaw this danger, I -remember; but you could scarcely have imagined that the exposure -would threaten me so soon. - -"I spare you the details of our conversation to come to the end. -Mr. Midwinter put the matter very delicately, declaring, to my -great surprise, that he felt quite certain himself that I was not -the Miss Gwilt of whom his friend was in search; and that he only -acted as he did out of regard to the anxiety of a person whose -wishes he was bound to respect. Would I assist him in setting -that anxiety completely at rest, as far as I was concerned, by -kindly answering one plain question--which he had no other right -to ask me than the right my indulgence might give him? The lost -'Miss Gwilt' had been missed on Monday last, at two o'clock, in -the crowd on the platform of the North-western Railway, in Euston -Square. Would I authorize him to say that on that day, and at -that hour, the Miss Gwilt who was Major Milroy's governess had -never been near the place? - -"I need hardly tell you that I seized the fine opportunity he had -given me of disarming all future suspicion. I took a high tone -on the spot, and met him with the old lady's letter. He politely -refused to look at it. I insisted on his looking at it. 'I don't -choose to be mistaken,' I said, 'for a woman who may be a bad -character, because she happens to bear, or to have assumed, the -same name as mine. I insist on your reading the first part of -this letter for my satisfaction, if not for your own.' He was -obliged to comply; and there was the proof, in the old lady's -handwriting, that, at two o'clock on Monday last, she and I were -together in Kingsdown Crescent, which any directory would tell -him is a 'crescent' in Bayswater! I leave you to imagine his -apologies, and the perfect sweetness with which I received them. - -"I might, of course, if I had not preserved the letter, have -referred him to you, or to the major's mother, with similar -results. As it is, the object has been gained without trouble or -delay. _I have been proved not to be myself_; and one of the many -dangers that threatened me at Thorpe Ambrose is a danger blown -over from this moment. Your house-maid's face may not be a very -handsome one; but there is no denying that it has done us -excellent service. - - -"So much for the past; now for the future. You shall hear how I -get on with the people about me; and you shall judge for yourself -what the chances are for and against my becoming mistress of -Thorpe Ambrose. - -"Let me begin with young Armadale--because it is beginning with -good news. I have produced the right impression on him already, -and Heaven knows _that_ is nothing to boast of! Any moderately -good-looking woman who chose to take the trouble could make him -fall in love with her. He is a rattle-pated young fool--one of -those noisy, rosy, light-haired, good-tempered men whom I -particularly detest. I had a whole hour alone with him in a boat, -the first day I came here, and I have made good use of my time, I -can tell you, from that day to this. The only difficulty with him -is the difficulty of concealing my own feelings, especially when -he turns my dislike of him into downright hatred by sometimes -reminding me of his mother. I really never saw a man whom I -could use so ill, if I had the opportunity. He will give me the -opportunity, I believe, if no accident happens, sooner than we -calculated on. I have just returned from a party at the great -house, in celebration of the rent-day dinner, and the squire's -attentions to me, and my modest reluctance to receive them, have -already excited general remark. - -"My pupil, Miss Milroy, comes next. She, too, is rosy and -foolish; and, what is more, awkward and squat and freckled, and -ill-tempered and ill-dressed. No fear of _her_, though she hates -me like poison, which is a great comfort, for I get rid of her -out of lesson time and walking time. It is perfectly easy to see -that she has made the most of her opportunities with young -Armadale (opportunities, by-the-by, which we never calculated -on), and that she has been stupid enough to let him slip through -her fingers. When I tell you that she is obliged, for the sake -of appearances, to go with her father and me to the little -entertainments at Thorpe Ambrose, and to see how young Armadale -admires me, you will understand the kind of place I hold in her -affections. She would try me past all endurance if I didn't see -that I aggravate her by keeping my temper, so, of course, I keep -it. If I do break out, it will be over our lessons--not over our -French, our grammar, history, and globes--but over our music. -No words can say how I feel for her poor piano. Half the musical -girls in England ought to have their fingers chopped off in the -interests of society, and, if I had my way, Miss Milroy's fingers -should be executed first. - -"As for the major, I can hardly stand higher in his estimation -than I stand already. I am always ready to make his breakfast, -and his daughter is not. I can always find things for him when -he loses them, and his daughter can't. I never yawn when he -proses, and his daughter does. I like the poor dear harmless -old gentleman, so I won't say a word more about him. - -"Well, here is a fair prospect for the future surely? My good -Oldershaw, there never was a prospect yet without an ugly place -in it. _My_ prospect has two ugly places in it. The name of one -of them is Mrs. Milroy, and the name of the other is Mr. -Midwinter. - -"Mrs. Milroy first. Before I had been five minutes in the -cottage, on the day of my arrival, what do you think she did? -She sent downstairs and asked to see me. The message startled me -a little, after hearing from the old lady, in London, that her -daughter-in-law was too great a sufferer to see anybody; but, -of course, when I got her message, I had no choice but to go up -stairs to the sick-room. I found her bedridden with an incurable -spinal complaint, and a really horrible object to look at, but -with all her wits about her; and, if I am not greatly mistaken, -as deceitful a woman, with as vile a temper, as you could find -anywhere in all your long experience. Her excessive politeness, -and her keeping her own face in the shade of the bed-curtains -while she contrived to keep mine in the light, put me on my guard -the moment I entered the room. We were more than half an hour -together, without my stepping into any one of the many clever -little traps she laid for me. The only mystery in her behavior, -which I failed to see through at the time, was her perpetually -asking me to bring her things (things she evidently did not want) -from different parts of the room. - -"Since then events have enlightened me. My first suspicions were -raised by overhearing some of the servants' gossip; and I have -been confirmed in my opinion by the conduct of Mrs. Milroy's -nurse. - -"On the few occasions when I have happened to be alone with -the major, the nurse has also happened to want something of her -master, and has invariably forgotten to announce her appearance -by knocking, at the door. Do you understand now why Mrs. Milroy -sent for me the moment I got into the house, and what she wanted -when she kept me going backward and forward, first for one thing -and then for another? There is hardly an attractive light in -which my face and figure can be seen, in which that woman's -jealous eyes have not studied them already. I am no longer -puzzled to know why the father and daughter started, and looked -at each other, when I was first presented to them; or why the -servants still stare at me with a mischievous expectation in -their eyes when I ring the bell and ask them to do anything. -It is useless to disguise the truth, Mother Oldershaw, between -you and me. When I went upstairs into that sickroom, I marched -blindfold into the clutches of a jealous woman. If Mrs. Milroy -_can_ turn me out of the house, Mrs. Milroy _will_; and, morning -and night, she has nothing else to do in that bed prison of hers -but to find out the way. - -"In this awkward position, my own cautious conduct is admirably -seconded by the dear old major's perfect insensibility. His -wife's jealousy of him is as monstrous a delusion as any that -could be found in a mad-house; it is the growth of her own vile -temper, under the aggravation of an incurable illness. The poor -man hasn't a thought beyond his mechanical pursuits; and I don't -believe he knows at this moment whether I am a handsome woman or -not. With this chance to help me, I may hope to set the nurse's -intrusions and the mistress's contrivances at defiance--for a -time, at any rate. But you know what a jealous woman is, and I -think I know what Mrs. Milroy is; and I own I shall breathe more -freely on the day when young Armadale opens his foolish lips to -some purpose, and sets the major advertising for a new governess. - -"Armadale's name reminds me of Armadale's friend. There is more -danger threatening in that quarter; and, what is worse, I don't -feel half as well armed beforehand against Mr. Midwinter as I do -against Mrs. Milroy. - -"Everything about this man is more or less mysterious, which -I don't like, to begin with. How does he come to be in the -confidence of the Somersetshire clergyman? How much has that -clergyman told him? How is it that he was so firmly persuaded, -when he spoke to me in the park, that I was not the Miss Gwilt -of whom his friend was in search? I haven't the ghost of an -answer to give to any of those three questions. I can't even -discover who he is, or how he and young Armadale first became -acquainted. I hate him. No, I don't; I only want to find out -about him. He is very young, little and lean, and active and -dark, with bright black eyes which say to me plainly, 'We -belong to a man with brains in his head and a will of his own; -a man who hasn't always been hanging about a country house, in -attendance on a fool.' Yes; I am positively certain Mr. Midwinter -has done something or suffered something in his past life, young -as he is; and I would give I don't know what to get at it. Don't -resent my taking up so much space in my writing about him. He -has influence enough over young Armadale to be a very awkward -obstacle in my way, unless I can secure his good opinion at -starting. - -"Well, you may ask, and what is to prevent your securing his good -opinion? I am sadly afraid, Mother Oldershaw, I have got it on -terms I never bargained for I am sadly afraid the man is in love -with me already. - -"Don't toss your head and say, 'Just like her vanity!' After -the horrors I have gone through, I have no vanity left; and -a man who admires me is a man who makes me shudder. There was -a time, I own--Pooh! what am I writing? Sentiment, I declare! -Sentiment to _you_! Laugh away, my dear. As for me, I neither -laugh nor cry; I mend my pen, and get on with my--what do -the men call it?--my report. - -"The only thing worth inquiring is, whether I am right or wrong -in my idea of the impression I have made on him. - -"Let me see; I have been four times in his company. The first -time was in the major's garden, where we met unexpectedly, face -to face. He stood looking at me, like a man petrified, without -speaking a word. The effect of my horrid red hair, perhaps? Quite -likely; let us lay it on my hair. The second time was in going -over the Thorpe Ambrose grounds, with young Armadale on one side -of me, and my pupil (in the sulks) on the other. Out comes Mr. -Midwinter to join us, though he had work to do in the steward's -office, which he had never been known to neglect on any other -occasion. Laziness, possibly? or an attachment to Miss Milroy? -I can't say; we will lay it on Miss Milroy, if you like; I only -know he did nothing but look at _me_. The third time was at the -private interview in the park, which I have told you of already. -I never saw a man so agitated at putting a delicate question to -a woman in my life. But _that_ might have been only awkwardness; -and his perpetually looking back after me when we had parted -might have been only looking back at the view. Lay it on the -view; by all means, lay it on the view! The fourth time was this -very evening, at the little party. They made me play; and, as the -piano was a good one, I did my best. All the company crowded -round me, and paid me their compliments (my charming pupil paid -hers, with a face like a cat's just before she spits), except Mr. -Midwinter. _He_ waited till it was time to go, and then he caught -me alone for a moment in the hall. There was just time for him to -take my hand, and say two words. Shall I tell you _how_ he took -my hand, and what his voice sounded like when he spoke? Quite -needless! You have always told me that the late Mr. Oldershaw -doted on you. Just recall the first time he took your hand, and -whispered a word or two addressed to your private ear. To what -did you attribute his behavior that occasion? I have no doubt, if -you had been playing on the piano in the course of the evening, -you would have attributed it entirely to the music! - -"No! you may take my word for it, the harm is done. _This_ man is -no rattle-pated fool, who changes his fancies as readily as he -changes his clothes. The fire that lights those big black eyes of -his is not an easy fire, when a woman has once kindled it, for -that woman to put out. I don't wish to discourage you; I don't -say the changes are against us. But with Mrs. Milroy threatening -me on one side, and Mr. Midwinter on the other, the worst of all -risks to run is the risk of losing time. Young Armadale has -hinted already, as well as such a lout can hint, at a private -interview! Miss Milroy's eyes are sharp, and the nurse's eyes are -sharper; and I shall lose my place if either of them find me out. -No matter! I must take my chance, and give him the interview. -Only let me get him alone, only let me escape the prying eyes of -the women, and--if his friend doesn't come between us--I answer -for the result! - -"In the meantime, have I anything more to tell you? Are there any -other people in our way at Thorpe Ambrose? Not another creature! -None of the resident families call here, young Armadale being, -most fortunately, in bad odor in the neighborhood. There are no -handsome highly-bred women to come to the house, and no persons -of consequence to protest against his attentions to a governess. -The only guests he could collect at his party to-night were the -lawyer and his family (a wife, a son, and two daughters), and a -deaf old woman and _her_ son--all perfectly unimportant people, -and all obedient humble servants of the stupid young squire. - -"Talking of obedient humble servants, there is one other person -established here, who is employed in the steward's office--a -miserable, shabby, dilapidated old man, named Bashwood. He is a -perfect stranger to me, and I am evidently a perfect stranger to -him, for he has been asking the house-maid at the cottage who I -am. It is paying no great compliment to myself to confess it, but -it is not the less true that I produced the most extraordinary -impression on this feeble old creature the first time he saw me. -He turned all manner of colors, and stood trembling and staring -at me, as if there was something perfectly frightful in my face. -I felt quite startled for the moment, for, of all the ways in -which men have looked at me, no man ever looked at me in that way -before. Did you ever see the boa constrictor fed at the -Zoological Gardens? They put a live rabbit into his cage, and -there is a moment when the two creatures look at each other. I -declare Mr. Bashwood reminded me of the rabbit. - -"Why do I mention this? I don't know why. Perhaps I have been -writing too long, and my head is beginning to fail me. Perhaps -Mr. Bashwood's manner of admiring me strikes my fancy by its -novelty. Absurd! I am exciting myself, and troubling you about -nothing. Oh, what a weary, long letter I have written! and how -brightly the stars look at me through the window, and how awfully -quiet the night is! Send me some more of those sleeping drops, -and write me one of your nice, wicked, amusing letters. You shall -hear from me again as soon as I know a little better how it is -all likely to end. Good-night, and keep a corner in your stony -old heart for - -L. G." - -3. _From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt_. - -"Diana Street, Pimlico, Monday. - -"MY DEAR LYDIA--I am in no state of mind to write you an amusing -letter. Your news is very discouraging, and the recklessness of -your tone quite alarms me. Consider the money I have already -advanced, and the interests we both have at stake. Whatever else -you are, don't be reckless, for Heaven's sake! - -"What can I do? I ask myself, as a woman of business, what can -I do to help you? I can't give you advice, for I am not on the -spot, and I don't know how circumstances may alter from one day -to another. Situated as we are now, I can only be useful in one -way. I can discover a new obstacle that threatens you, and I -think I can remove it. - -"You say, with great truth, that there never was a prospect yet -without an ugly place in it, and that there are two ugly places -in your prospect. My dear, there may be _three_ ugly places, if -I don't bestir myself to prevent it; and the name of the third -place will be--Brock! Is it possible you can refer, as you have -done, to the Somersetshire clergyman, and not see that the -progress you make with young Armadale will be, sooner or later, -reported to him by young Armadale's friend? Why, now I think of -it, you are doubly at the parson's mercy! You are at the mercy -of any fresh suspicion which may bring him into the neighborhood -himself at a day's notice; and you are at the mercy of his -interference the moment he hears that the squire is committing -himself with a neighbor's governess. If I can do nothing else, -I can keep this additional difficulty out of your way. And oh, -Lydia, with what alacrity I shall exert myself, after the manner -in which the old wretch insulted me when I told him that pitiable -story in the street! I declare I tingle with pleasure at this new -prospect of making a fool of Mr. Brock. - -"And how is it to be done? Just as we have done it already, to be -sure. He has lost 'Miss Gwilt' (otherwise my house-maid), hasn't -he? Very well. He shall find her again, wherever he is now, -suddenly settled within easy reach of him. As long as _she_ stops -in the place, _he_ will stop in it; and as we know he is not at -Thorpe Ambrose, there you are free of him! The old gentleman's -suspicions have given us a great deal of trouble so far. Let us -turn them to some profitable account at last; let us tie him, by -his suspicions, to my house-maid's apron-string. Most refreshing. -Quite a moral retribution, isn't it? - -"The only help I need trouble you for is help you can easily -give. Find out from Mr. Midwinter where the parson is now, -and let me know by return of post. If he is in London, I will -personally assist my housemaid in the necessary mystification -of him. If he is anywhere else, I will send her after him, -accompanied by a person on whose discretion I can implicitly -rely. - -"You shall have the sleeping drops to-morrow. In the meantime, -I say at the end what I said at the beginning--no recklessness. -Don't encourage poetical feelings by looking at the stars; and -don't talk about the night being awfully quiet. There are people -(in observatories) paid to look at the stars for you; leave it to -them. And as for the night, do what Providence intended you to do -with the night when Providence provided you with eyelids--go to -sleep in it. Affectionately yours, - -"MARIA OLDERSHAW." - -4. _From the Reverend Decimus Brock to Ozias Midwinter_. - -"Bascombe Rectory, West Somerset, Thursday, July 8. - -"MY DEAR MIDWINTER--One line before the post goes out, to relieve -you of all sense of responsibility at Thorpe Ambrose, and to make -my apologies to the lady who lives as governess in Major Milroy's -family. - -"_The_ Miss Gwilt--or perhaps I ought to say, the woman calling -herself by that name--has, to my unspeakable astonishment, openly -made her appearance here, in my own parish! She is staying at the -inn, accompanied by a plausible-looking man, who passes as her -brother. What this audacious proceeding really means--unless it -marks a new step in the conspiracy against Allan, taken under new -advice--is, of course, more than I can yet find out. - -"My own idea is, that they have recognized the impossibility of -getting at Allan, without finding me (or you) as an obstacle in -their way; and that they are going to make a virtue of necessity -by boldly trying to open their communications through me. The man -looks capable of any stretch of audacity; and both he and the -woman had the impudence to bow when I met them in the village -half an hour since. They have been making inquiries already about -Allan's mother here, where her exemplary life may set their -closest scrutiny at defiance. If they will only attempt to extort -money, as the price of the woman's silence on the subject of poor -Mrs. Armadale's conduct in Madeira at the time of her marriage, -they will find me well prepared for them beforehand. I have -written by this post to my lawyers to send a competent man to -assist me, and he will stay at the rectory, in any character -which he thinks it safest to assume under present circumstances. - -"You shall hear what happens in the next day or two. - -"Always truly yours, DECIMUS BROCK." - -CHAPTER XII. - -THE CLOUDING OF THE SKY. - -Nine days had passed, and the tenth day was nearly at an end, -since Miss Gwilt and her pupil had taken their morning walk in -the cottage garden. - -The night was overcast. Since sunset, there had been signs in -the sky from which the popular forecast had predicted rain. The -reception-rooms at the great house were all empty and dark. Allan -was away, passing the evening with the Milroys; and Midwinter was -waiting his return--not where Midwinter usually waited, among the -books in the library, but in the little back room which Allan's -mother had inhabited in the last days of her residence at Thorpe -Ambrose. - -Nothing had been taken away, but much had been added to the room, -since Midwinter had first seen it. The books which Mrs. Armadale -had left behind her, the furniture, the old matting on the floor, -the old paper on the walls, were all undisturbed. The statuette -of Niobe still stood on its bracket, and the French window still -opened on the garden. But now, to the relics left by the mother, -were added the personal possessions belonging to the son. The -wall, bare hitherto, was decorated with water-color drawings-- -Jwith a portrait of Mrs. Armadale supported on one side by a view -of the old house in Somersetshire, and on the other by a picture -of the yacht. Among the books which bore in faded ink Mrs. -Armadale's inscriptions, "From my father," were other books -inscribed in the same handwriting, in brighter ink, "To my son." -Hanging to the wall, ranged on the chimney-piece, scattered over -the table, were a host of little objects, some associated with -Allan's past life, others necessary to his daily pleasures and -pursuits, and all plainly testifying that the room which he -habitually occupied at Thorpe Ambrose was the very room which had -once recalled to Midwinter the second vision of the dream. Here, -strangely unmoved by the scene around him, so lately the object -of his superstitious distrust, Allan's friend now waited -composedly for Allan's return; and here, more strangely still, -he looked on a change in the household arrangements, due in the -first instance entirely to himself. His own lips had revealed -the discovery which he had made on the first morning in the new -house; his own voluntary act had induced the son to establish -himself in the mother's room. - -Under what motives had he spoken the words? Under no motives -which were not the natural growth of the new interests and the -new hopes that now animated him. - -The entire change wrought in his convictions by the memorable -event that had brought him face to face with Miss Gwilt was -a change which it was not in his nature to hide from Allan's -knowledge. He had spoken openly, and had spoken as it was in his -character to speak. The merit of conquering his superstition was -a merit which he shrank from claiming, until he had first -unsparingly exposed that superstition in its worst and weakest -aspects to view. - -It was only after he had unreservedly acknowledged the impulse -under which he had left Allan at the Mere, that he had taken -credit to himself for the new point of view from which he could -now look at the Dream. Then, and not till then, he had spoken -of the fulfillment of the first Vision as the doctor at the Isle -of Man might have spoken of it. He had asked, as the doctor might -have asked, Where was the wonder of their seeing a pool at -sunset, when they had a whole network of pools within a few -hours' drive of them? and what was there extraordinary in -discovering a woman at the Mere, when there were roads that led -to it, and villages in its neighborhood, and boats employed on -it, and pleasure parties visiting it? So again, he had waited -to vindicate the firmer resolution with which he looked to the -future, until he had first revealed all that he now saw himself -of the errors of the past. The abandonment of his friend's -interests, the unworthiness of the confidence that had given him -the steward's place, the forgetfulness of the trust that Mr. -Brock had reposed in him all implied in the one idea of leaving -Allan--were all pointed out. The glaring self-contradictions -betrayed in accepting the Dream as the revelation of a fatality, -and in attempting to escape that fatality by an exertion of -free-will--in toiling to store up knowledge of the steward's -duties for the future, and in shrinking from letting the future -find him in Allan's house--were, in their turn, unsparingly -exposed. To every error, to every inconsistency, he resolutely -confessed, before he ventured on the last simple appeal which -closed all, "Will you trust me in the future? Will you forgive -and forget the past?" - -A man who could thus open his whole heart, without one lurking -reserve inspired by consideration for himself, was not a man to -forget any minor act of concealment of which his weakness might -have led him to be guilty toward his friend. It lay heavy on -Midwinter's conscience that he had kept secret from Allan a -discovery which he ought in Allan's dearest interests to have -revealed--the discovery of his mother's room. - -But one doubt still closed his lips--the doubt whether Mrs. -Armadale's conduct in Madeira had been kept secret on her return -to England. - -Careful inquiry, first among the servants, then among the -tenantry, careful consideration of the few reports current at the -time, as repeated to him by the few persons left who remembered -them, convinced him at last that the family secret had been -successfully kept within the family limits. Once satisfied that -whatever inquiries the son might make would lead to no disclosure -which could shake his respect for his mother's memory, Midwinter -had hesitated no longer. He had taken Allan into the room, and -had shown him the books on the shelves, and all that the writing -in the books disclosed. He had said plainly, "My one motive for -not telling you this before sprang from my dread of interesting -you in the room which I looked at with horror as the second of -the scenes pointed at in the Dream. Forgive me this also, and you -will have forgiven me all." - -With Allan's love for his mother's memory, but one result could -follow such an avowal as this. He had liked the little room from -the first, as a pleasant contrast to the oppressive grandeur of -the other rooms at Thorpe Ambrose, and, now that he knew what -associations were connected with it, his resolution was at once -taken to make it especially his own. The same day, all his -personal possessions were collected and arranged in his mother's -room--in Midwinter's presence, and with Midwinter's assistance -given to the work. - -Under those circumstances had the change now wrought in the -household arrangements been produced; and in this way had -Midwinter's victory over his own fatalism--by making Allan the -daily occupant of a room which he might otherwise hardly ever -have entered--actually favored the fulfillment of the Second -Vision of the Dream. - - -The hour wore on quietly as Allan's friend sat waiting for -Allan's return. Sometimes reading, sometimes thinking placidly, -he whiled away the time. No vexing cares, no boding doubts, -troubled him now. The rent-day, which he had once dreaded, had -come and gone harmlessly. A friendlier understanding had been -established between Allan and his tenants; Mr. Bashwood had -proved himself to be worthy of the confidence reposed in him; -the Pedgifts, father and son, had amply justified their client's -good opinion of them. Wherever Midwinter looked, the prospect -was bright, the future was without a cloud. - -He trimmed the lamp on the table beside him and looked out at the -night. The stable clock was chiming the half-hour past eleven as -he walked to the window, and the first rain-drops were beginning -to fall. He had his hand on the bell to summon the servant, and -send him over to the cottage with an umbrella, when he was -stopped by hearing the familiar footstep on the walk outside. - -"How late you are!" said Midwinter, as Allan entered through the -open French window. "Was there a party at the cottage?" - -"No! only ourselves. The time slipped away somehow." He answered -in lower tones than usual, and sighed as he took his chair. - -"You seem to be out of spirits?" pursued Midwinter. "What's the -matter?" - -Allan hesitated. "I may as well tell you," he said, after a -moment. "It's nothing to be ashamed of; I only wonder you haven't -noticed it before! There's a woman in it, as usual--I'm in love." - -Midwinter laughed. "Has Miss Milroy been more charming to-night -than ever?" he asked, gayly. - -"Miss Milroy!" repeated Allan. "What are you thinking of! I'm not -in love with Miss Milroy." - -"Who is it, then?" - -"Who is it! What a question to ask! Who can it be but Miss -Gwilt?" - -There was a sudden silence. Allan sat listlessly, with his hands -in his pockets, looking out through the open window at the -falling rain. If he had turned toward his friend when he -mentioned Miss Gwilt's name he might possibly have been a little -startled by the change he would have seen in Midwinter's face. - -"I suppose you don't approve of it?" he said, after waiting a -little. - -There was no answer. - -"It's too late to make objections," proceeded Allan. "I really -mean it when I tell you I'm in love with her." - -"A fortnight since you were in love with Miss Milroy," said the -other, in quiet, measured tones. - -"Pooh! a mere flirtation. It's different this time. I'm in -earnest about Miss Gwilt." - -He looked round as he spoke. Midwinter turned his face aside on -the instant, and bent it over a book. - -"I see you don't approve of the thing," Allan went on. "Do you -object to her being only a governess? You can't do that, I'm -sure. If you were in my place, her being only a governess -wouldn't stand in the way with _you_?" - -"No," said Midwinter; "I can't honestly say it would stand in -the way with me." He gave the answer reluctantly, and pushed his -chair back out of the light of the lamp. - -"A governess is a lady who is not rich," said Allan, in an -oracular manner; "and a duchess is a lady who is not poor. And -that's all the difference I acknowledge between them. Miss Gwilt -is older than I am--I don't deny that. What age do you guess her -at, Midwinter? I say, seven or eight and twenty. What do you -say?" - -"Nothing. I agree with you." - -"Do you think seven or eight and twenty is too old for me? If you -were in love with a woman yourself, you wouldn't think seven or -eight and twenty too old--would you?" - -"I can't say I should think it too old, if--" - -"If you were really fond of her?" - -Once more there was no answer. - -"Well," resumed Allan, "if there's no harm in her being only a -governess, and no harm in her being a little older than I am, -what's the objection to Miss Gwilt?" - -"I have made no objection." - -"I don't say you have. But you don't seem to like the notion of -it, for all that." - -There was another pause. Midwinter was the first to break the -silence this time. - -"Are you sure of yourself, Allan?" he asked, with his face bent -once more over the book. "Are you really attached to this lady? -Have you thought seriously already of asking her to be your -wife?" - -"I am thinking seriously of it at this moment," said Allan. "I -can't be happy--I can't live without her. Upon my soul, I worship -the very ground she treads on!" - -"How long--" His voice faltered, and he stopped. "How long," he -reiterated, "have you worshipped the very ground she treads on?" - -"Longer than you think for. I know I can trust you with all my -secrets--" - -"Don't trust me!" - -"Nonsense! I _will_ trust you. There is a little difficulty in -the way which I haven't mentioned yet. It's a matter of some -delicacy, and I want to consult you about it. Between ourselves, -I have had private opportunities with Miss Gwilt--" - -Midwinter suddenly started to his feet, and opened the door. - -"We'll talk of this to-morrow," he said. "Good-night." - -Allan looked round in astonishment. The door was closed again, -and he was alone in the room. - -"He has never shaken hands with me!" exclaimed Allan, looking -bewildered at the empty chair. - -As the words passed his lips the door opened, and Midwinter -appeared again. - -"We haven't shaken hands," he said, abruptly. "God bless you, -Allan! We'll talk of it to-morrow. Good-night." - -Allan stood alone at the window, looking out at the pouring rain. -He felt ill at ease, without knowing why. "Midwinter's ways get -stranger and stranger," he thought. "What can he mean by putting -me off till to-morrow, when I wanted to speak to him to-night?" -He took up his bedroom candle a little impatiently, put it down -again, and, walking back to the open window, stood looking out in -the direction of the cottage. "I wonder if she's thinking of me?" -he said to himself softly. - -She _was_ thinking of him. She had just opened her desk to write -to Mrs. Oldershaw; and her pen had that moment traced the opening -line: "Make your mind easy. I have got him!" - -CHAPTER XIII. - -EXIT. - -It rained all through the night, and when the morning came it was -raining still. - -Contrary to his ordinary habit, Midwinter was waiting in the -breakfast-room when Allan entered it. He looked worn and weary, -but his smile was gentler and his manner more composed than -usual. To Allan's surprise he approached the subject of the -previous night's conversation of his own accord as soon as the -servant was out of the room. - -"I am afraid you thought me very impatient and very abrupt with -you last night," he said. "I will try to make amends for it this -morning. I will hear everything you wish to say to me on the -subject of Miss Gwilt." - -"I hardly like to worry you," said Allan. "You look as if you had -had a bad night's rest." - -"I have not slept well for some time past," replied Midwinter, -quietly. "Something has been wrong with me. But I believe I have -found out the way to put myself right again without troubling the -doctors. Late in the morning I shall have something to say to you -about this. Let us get back first to what you were talking of -last night. You were speaking of some difficulty--" He hesitated, -and finished the sentence in a tone so low that Allan failed to -hear him. "Perhaps it would be better," he went on, "if, instead -of speaking to me, you spoke to Mr. Brock?" - -"I would rather speak to _you_," said Allan. "But tell me first, -was I right or wrong last night in thinking you disapproved of my -falling in love with Miss Gwilt?" - -Midwinter's lean, nervous fingers began to crumble the bread in -his plate. His eyes looked away from Allan for the first time. - -"If you have any objection," persisted Allan, "I should like to -hear it." - -Midwinter suddenly looked up again, his cheeks turning ashy pale, -and his glittering black eyes fixed full on Allan's face. - -"You love her," he said. "Does _she_ love _you_?" - -"You won't think me vain?" returned Allan. "I told you yesterday -I had had private opportunities with her--" - -Midwinter's eyes dropped again to the crumbs on his plate. "I -understand," he interposed, quickly. "You were wrong last night. -I had no objections to make." - -"Don't you congratulate me?" asked Allan, a little uneasily. -"Such a beautiful woman! such a clever woman!" - -Midwinter held out his hand. "I owe you more than mere -congratulations," he said. "In anything which is for your -happiness I owe you help." He took Allan's hand, and wrung it -hard. "Can I help you?" he asked, growing paler and paler as he -spoke. - -"My dear fellow," exclaimed Allan, "what is the matter with you? -Your hand is as cold as ice." - -Midwinter smiled faintly. "I am always in extremes," he said; -"my hand was as hot as fire the first time you took it at the old -west-country inn. Come to that difficulty which you have not come -to yet. You are young, rich, your own master--and she loves you. -What difficulty can there be?" - -Allan hesitated. "I hardly know how to put it," he replied. "As -you said just now, I love her, and she loves me; and yet there -is a sort of strangeness between us. One talks a good deal about -one's self when one is in love, at least I do. I've told her all -about myself and my mother, and how I came in for this place, and -the rest of it. Well--though it doesn't strike me when we are -together--it comes across me now and then, when I'm away from -her, that she doesn't say much on her side. In fact, I know no -more about her than you do." - -"Do you mean that you know nothing about Miss Gwilt's family -and friends?" - -"That's it, exactly." - -"Have you never asked her about them?" - -"I said something of the sort the other day," returned Allan: -"and I'm afraid, as usual, I said it in the wrong way. She -looked--I can't quite tell you how; not exactly displeased, -but--oh, what things words are! I'd give the world, Midwinter, -if I could only find the right word when I want it as well as -you do." - -"Did Miss Gwilt say anything to you in the way of a reply?" - -"That's just what I was coming to. She said, 'I shall have a -melancholy story to tell you one of these days, Mr. Armadale, -about myself and my family; but you look so happy, and the -circumstances are so distressing, that I have hardly the heart to -speak of it now.' Ah, _she_ can express herself--with the tears -in her eyes, my dear fellow, with the tears in her eyes! Of -course, I changed the subject directly. And now the difficulty is -how to get back to it, delicately, without making her cry again. -We _must_ get back to it, you know. Not on my account; I am quite -content to marry her first and hear of her family misfortunes, -poor thing, afterward. But I know Mr. Brock. If I can't satisfy -him about her family when I write to tell him of this (which, of -course, I must do), he will be dead against the whole thing. I'm -my own master, of course, and I can do as I like about it. But -dear old Brock was such a good friend to my poor mother, and he -has been such a good friend to me--you see what I mean, don't -you?" - -"Certainly, Allan; Mr. Brock has been your second father. Any -disagreement between you about such a serious matter as this -would be the saddest thing that could happen. You ought to -satisfy him that Miss Gwilt is (what I am sure Miss Gwilt will -prove to be) worthy, in every way worthy--" His voice sank in -spite of him, and he left the sentence unfinished. - -"Just my feeling in the matter!" Allan struck in, glibly. "Now we -can come to what I particularly wanted to consult you about. If -this was your case, Midwinter, you would be able to say the right -words to her--you would put it delicately, even though you were -putting it quite in the dark. I can't do that. I'm a blundering -sort of fellow; and I'm horribly afraid, if I can't get some hint -at the truth to help me at starting, of saying something to -distress her. Family misfortunes are such tender subjects to -touch on, especially with such a refined woman, such a -tender-hearted woman, as Miss Gwilt. There may have been some -dreadful death in the family--some relation who has disgraced -himself--some infernal cruelty which has forced the poor thing -out on the world as a governess. Well, turning it over in my -mind, it struck me that the major might be able to put me on the -right tack. It is quite possible that he might have been informed -of Miss Gwilt's family circumstances before he engaged her, isn't -it?" - -"It is possible, Allan, certainly." - -"Just my feeling again! My notion is to speak to the major. If I -could only get the story from him first, I should know so much -better how to speak to Miss Gwilt about it afterward. You advise -me to try the major, don't you?" - -There was a pause before Midwinter replied. When he did answer, -it was a little reluctantly. - -"I hardly know how to advise you, Allan," he said. "This is a -very delicate matter." - -"I believe you would try the major, if you were in my place," -returned Allan, reverting to his inveterately personal way of -putting the question. - -"Perhaps I might," said Midwinter, more and more unwillingly. -"But if I did speak to the major, I should be very careful, in -your place, not to put myself in a false position. I should be -very careful to let no one suspect me of the meanness of prying -into a woman's secrets behind her back." - -Allan's face flushed. "Good heavens, Midwinter," he exclaimed, -"who could suspect me of that?" - -"Nobody, Allan, who really knows you." - -"The major knows me. The major is the last man in the world to -misunderstand me. All I want him to do is to help me (if he can) -to speak about a delicate subject to Miss Gwilt, without hurting -her feelings. Can anything be simpler between two gentlemen?" - -Instead of replying, Midwinter, still speaking as constrainedly -as ever, asked a question on his side. "Do you mean to tell Major -Milroy," he said, "what your intentions really are toward Miss -Gwilt?" - -Allan's manner altered. He hesitated, and looked confused. - -"I have been thinking of that," he replied; "and I mean to feel -my way first, and then tell him or not afterward, as matters turn -out?" - -A proceeding so cautious as this was too strikingly inconsistent -with Allan's character not to surprise any one who knew him. -Midwinter showed his surprise plainly. - -"You forget that foolish flirtation of mine with Miss Milroy," -Allan went on, more and more confusedly. "The major may have -noticed it, and may have thought I meant--well, what I didn't -mean. It might be rather awkward, mightn't it, to propose to his -face for his governess instead of his daughter?" - -He waited for a word of answer, but none came. Midwinter opened -his lips to speak, and suddenly checked himself. Allan, uneasy -at his silence, doubly uneasy under certain recollections of the -major's daughter which the conversation had called up, rose from -the table and shortened the interview a little impatiently. - -"Come! come!" he said, "don't sit there looking unutterable -things; don't make mountains out of mole-hills. You have such -an old, old head, Midwinter, on those young shoulders of yours! -Let's have done with all these _pros_ and _cons_. Do you mean to -tell me in plain words that it won't do to speak to the major?" - -"I can't take the responsibility, Allan, of telling you that. -To be plainer still, I can't feel confident of the soundness of -any advice I may give you in--in our present position toward each -other. All I am sure of is that I cannot possibly be wrong in -entreating you to do two things." - -"What are they?" - -"If you speak to Major Milroy, pray remember the caution I have -given you! Pray think of what you say before you say it!" - -"I'll think, never fear! What next?" - -"Before you take any serious step in this matter, write and tell -Mr. Brock. Will you promise me to do that?" - -"With all my heart. Anything more?" - -"Nothing more. I have said my last words." - -Allan led the way to the door. "Come into my room," he said, "and -I'll give you a cigar. The servants will be in here directly to -clear away, and I want to go on talking about Miss Gwilt." - -"Don't wait for me," said Midwinter; "I'll follow you in a minute -or two." - -He remained seated until Allan had closed the door, then rose, -and took from a corner of the room, where it lay hidden behind -one of the curtains, a knapsack ready packed for traveling. As he -stood at the window thinking, with the knapsack in his hand, a -strangely old, care-worn look stole over his face: he seemed to -lose the last of his youth in an instant. - - -What the woman's quicker insight had discovered days since, the -man's slower perception had only realized in the past night. The -pang that had wrung him when he heard Allan's avowal had set the -truth self-revealed before Midwinter for the first time. He had -been conscious of looking at Miss Gwilt with new eyes and a new -mind, on the next occasion when they met after the memorable -interview in Major Milroy's garden; but he had never until now -known the passion that she had roused in him for what it really -was. Knowing it at last, feeling it consciously in full -possession of him, he had the courage which no man with a happier -experience of life would have possessed--the courage to recall -what Allan had confided to him, and to look resolutely at the -future through his own grateful remembrances of the past. - -Steadfastly, through the sleepless hours of the night, he had -bent his mind to the conviction that he must conquer the passion -which had taken possession of him, for Allan's sake; and that the -one way to conquer it was--to go. No after-doubt as to the -sacrifice had troubled him when morning came; and no after-doubt -troubled him now. The one question that kept him hesitating was -the question of leaving Thorpe Ambrose. Though Mr. Brock's letter -relieved him from all necessity of keeping watch in Norfolk for a -woman who was known to be in Somersetshire; though the duties of -the steward's office were duties which might be safely left in -Mr. Bashwood's tried and trustworthy hands--still, admitting -these considerations, his mind was not easy at the thought of -leaving Allan, at a time when a crisis was approaching in Allan's -life. - -He slung the knapsack loosely over his shoulder and put the -question to his conscience for the last time. "Can you trust -yourself to see her, day by day as you must see her--can you -trust yourself to hear him talk of her, hour by hour, as you must -hear him--if you stay in this house?" Again the answer came, as -it had come all through the night. Again his heart warned him, in -the very interests of the friendship that he held sacred, to go -while the time was his own; to go before the woman who had -possessed herself of his love had possessed herself of his power -of self-sacrifice and his sense of gratitude as well. - -He looked round the room mechanically before he turned to leave -it. Every remembrance of the conversation that had just taken -place between Allan and himself pointed to the same conclusion, -and warned him, as his own conscience had warned him, to go. - -Had he honestly mentioned any one of the objections which he, or -any man, must have seen to Allan's attachment? Had he--as his -knowledge of his friend's facile character bound him to -do--warned Allan to distrust his own hasty impulses, and to test -himself by time and absence, before he made sure that the -happiness of his whole life was bound up in Miss Gwilt? No. The -bare doubt whether, in speaking of these things, he could feel -that he was speaking disinterestedly, had closed his lips, and -would close his lips for the future, till the time for speaking -had gone by. Was the right man to restrain Allan the man who -would have given the world, if he had it, to stand in Allan's -place? There was but one plain course of action that an honest -man and a grateful man could follow in the position in which he -stood. Far removed from all chance of seeing her, and from all -chance of hearing of her--alone with his own faithful -recollection of what he owed to his friend--he might hope to -fight it down, as he had fought down the tears in his childhood -under his gypsy master's stick; as he had fought down the misery -of his lonely youth time in the country bookseller's shop. "I -must go," he said, as he turned wearily from the window, "before -she comes to the house again. I must go before another hour is -over my head." - -With that resolution he left the room; and, in leaving it, took -the irrevocable step from Present to Future. - - -The rain was still falling. The sullen sky, all round the -horizon, still lowered watery and dark, when Midwinter, equipped -for traveling, appeared in Allan's room. - -"Good heavens!" cried Allan, pointing to the knapsack, "what does -_that_ mean?" - -"Nothing very extraordinary," said Midwinter. "It only -means--good-by." - -"Good-by!" repeated Allan, starting to his feet in astonishment. - -Midwinter put him back gently into his chair, and drew a seat -near to it for himself. - -"When you noticed that I looked ill this morning," he said, "I -told you that I had been thinking of a way to recover my health, -and that I meant to speak to you about it later in the day. That -latter time has come. I have been out of sorts, as the phrase is, -for some time past. You have remarked it yourself, Allan, more -than once; and, with your usual kindness, you have allowed it to -excuse many things in my conduct which would have been otherwise -unpardonable, even in your friendly eyes." - -"My dear fellow," interposed Allan, "you don't mean to say you -are going out on a walking tour in this pouring rain!" - -"Never mind the rain," rejoined Midwinter. "The rain and I are -old friends. You know something, Allan, of the life I led before -you met with me. From the time when I was a child, I have been -used to hardship and exposure. Night and day, sometimes for -months together, I never had my head under a roof. For years and -years, the life of a wild animal--perhaps I ought to say, the -life of a savage--was the life I led, while you were at home and -happy. I have the leaven of the vagabond--the vagabond animal, or -the vagabond man, I hardly know which--in me still. Does it -distress you to hear me talk of myself in this way? I won't -distress you. I will only say that the comfort and the luxury of -our life here are, at times, I think, a little too much for a man -to whom comforts and luxuries come as strange things. I want -nothing to put me right again but more air and exercise; fewer -good breakfasts and dinners, my dear friend, than I get here. Let -me go back to some of the hardships which this comfortable house -is expressly made to shut out. Let me meet the wind and weather -as I used to meet them when I was a boy; let me feel weary again -for a little while, without a carriage near to pick me up; and -hungry when the night falls, with miles of walking between my -supper and me. Give me a week or two away, Allan--up northward, -on foot, to the Yorkshire moors--and I promise to return to -Thorpe Ambrose, better company for you and for your friends. I -shall be back before you have time to miss me. Mr. Bashwood will -take care of the business in the office; it is only for a -fortnight, and it is for my own good--let me go!" - -"I don't like it," said Allan. "I don't like your leaving me in -this sudden manner. There's something so strange and dreary about -it. Why not try riding, if you want more exercise; all the horses -in the stables are at your disposal. At all events, you can't -possibly go to-day. Look at the rain!" - -Midwinter looked toward the window, and gently shook his head. - -"I thought nothing of the rain," he said, "when I was a mere -child, getting my living with the dancing dogs--why should I -think anything of it now? _My_ getting wet, and _your_ getting -wet, Allan, are two very different things. When I was a -fisherman's boy in the Hebrides, I hadn't a dry thread on me for -weeks together. " - -"But you're not in the Hebrides now," persisted Allan; "and I -expect our friends from the cottage to-morrow evening. You can't -start till after to-morrow. Miss Gwilt is going to give us some -more music, and you know you like Miss Gwilt's playing." - -Midwinter turned aside to buckle the straps of his knapsack. -"Give me another chance of hearing Miss Gwilt when I come back," -he said, with his head down, and his fingers busy at the straps. - -"You have one fault, my dear fellow, and it grows on you," -remonstrated Allan; "when you have once taken a thing into our -head, you're the most obstinate man alive. There's no persuading -you to listen to reason. If you _will_ go," added Allan, suddenly -rising, as Midwinter took up his hat and stick in silence, "I -have half a mind to go with you, and try a little roughing it -too!" - -"Go with _me_!" repeated Midwinter, with a momentary bitterness -in his tone, "and leave Miss Gwilt!" - -Allan sat down again, and admitted the force of the objection in -significant silence. Without a word more on his side, Midwinter -held out his hand to take leave. They were both deeply moved, and -each was anxious to hide his agitation from the other. Allan took -the last refuge which his friend's firmness left to him: he tried -to lighten the farewell moment by a joke. - -"I'll tell you what," he said, "I begin to doubt if you're quite -cured yet of your belief in the Dream. I suspect you're running -away from me, after all!" - -Midwinter looked at him, uncertain whether he was in jest or -earnest. "What do you mean?" he asked. - -"What did you tell me," retorted Allan, "when you took me in here -the other day, and made a clean breast of it? What did you say -about this room, and the second vision of the dream? By Jupiter!" -he exclaimed, starting to his feet once more, "now I look again, -here _is_ the Second Vision! There's the rain pattering against -the window-there's the lawn and the garden outside--here am I -where I stood in the Dream--and there are you where the Shadow -stood. The whole scene complete, out-of-doors and in; and _I've_ -discovered it this time!" - -A moment's life stirred again in the dead remains of Midwinter's -superstition. His color changed, and he eagerly, almost fiercely, -disputed Allan's conclusion. - -"No!" he said, pointing to the little marble figure on the -bracket, "the scene is _not_ complete--you have forgotten -something, as usual. The Dream is wrong this time, thank -God--utterly wrong! In the vision you saw, the statue was lying -in fragments on the floor, and you were stooping over them with -a troubled and an angry mind. There stands the statue safe and -sound! and you haven't the vestige of an angry feeling in your -mind, have you?" He seized Allan impulsively by the hand. At the -same moment the consciousness came to him that he was speaking -and acting as earnestly as if he still believed in the Dream. The -color rushed back over his face, and he turned away in confused -silence. - -"What did I tell you?" said Allan, laughing, a little uneasily. -"That night on the Wreck is hanging on your mind as heavily as -ever." - -"Nothing hangs heavy on me," retorted Midwinter, with a sudden -outburst of impatience, "but the knapsack on my back, and the -time I'm wasting here. I'll go out, and see if it's likely to -clear up." - -"You'll come back?" interposed Allan. - -Midwinter opened the French window, and stepped out into the -garden. - -"Yes," he said, answering with all his former gentleness of -manner; "I'll come back in a fortnight. Good-by, Allan; and good -luck with Miss Gwilt!" - -He pushed the window to, and was away across the garden before -his friend could open it again and follow him. - -Allan rose, and took one step into the garden; then checked -himself at the window, and returned to his chair. He knew -Midwinter well enough to feel the total uselessness of attempting -to follow him or to call him back. He was gone, and for two weeks -to come there was no hope of seeing him again. An hour or more -passed, the rain still fell, and the sky still threatened. A -heavier and heavier sense of loneliness and despondency--the -sense of all others which his previous life had least fitted him -to understand and endure--possessed itself of Allan's mind. In -sheer horror of his own uninhabitably solitary house, he rang for -his hat and umbrella, and resolved to take refuge in the major's -cottage. - -"I might have gone a little way with him," thought Allan, his -mind still running on Midwinter as he put on his hat. "I should -like to have seen the dear old fellow fairly started on his -journey." - -He took his umbrella. If he had noticed the face of the servant -who gave it to him, he might possibly have asked some questions, -and might have heard some news to interest him in his present -frame of mind. As it was, he went out without looking at the man, -and without suspecting that his servants knew more of Midwinter's -last moments at Thorpe Ambrose than he knew himself. Not ten -minutes since, the grocer and butcher had called in to receive -payment of their bills, and the grocer and the butcher had seen -how Midwinter started on his journey. - -The grocer had met him first, not far from the house, stopping -on his way, in the pouring rain, to speak to a little ragged imp -of a boy, the pest of the neighborhood. The boy's customary -impudence had broken out even more unrestrainedly than usual at -the sight of the gentleman's knapsack. And what had the gentleman -done in return? He had stopped and looked distressed, and had put -his two hands gently on the boy's shoulders. The grocer's own -eyes had seen that; and the grocer's own ears had heard him say, -"Poor little chap! I know how the wind gnaws and the rain wets -through a ragged jacket, better than most people who have got -a good coat on their backs." And with those words he had put his -hand in his pocket, and had rewarded the boy's impudence with -a present of a shilling. "Wrong here-abouts," said the grocer, -touching his forehead. "That's my opinion of Mr. Armadale's -friend!" - -The butcher had seen him further on in the journey, at the other -end of the town. He had stopped--again in the pouring rain--and -this time to look at nothing more remarkable than a half-starved -cur, shivering on a doorstep. "I had my eye on him," said the -butcher; "and what do you think he did? He crossed the road over -to my shop, and bought a bit of meat fit for a Christian. Very -well. He says good-morning, and crosses back again; and, on the -word of a man, down he goes on his knees on the wet doorstep, and -out he takes his knife, and cuts up the meat, and gives it to the -dog. Meat, I tell you again, fit for a Christian! I'm not a hard -man, ma'am," concluded the butcher, addressing the cook, "but -meat's meat; and it will serve your master's friend right if he -lives to want it." - -With those old unforgotten sympathies of the old unforgotten time -to keep him company on his lonely road, he had left the town -behind him, and had been lost to view in the misty rain. The -grocer and the butcher had seen the last of him, and had judged a -great nature, as all natures _are_ judged from the grocer and the -butcher point of view. - -THE END OF THE SECOND BOOK. - -BOOK THE THIRD. - -CHAPTER I. - -MRS. MILROY. - -Two days after Midwinter's departure from Thorpe Ambrose, Mrs. -Milroy, having completed her morning toilet, and having dismissed -her nurse, rang the bell again five minutes afterward, and on the -woman's re-appearance asked impatiently if the post had come in. - -"Post?" echoed the nurse. "Haven't you got your watch? Don't you -know that it's a good half-hour too soon to ask for your -letters?" She spoke with the confident insolence of a servant -long accustomed to presume on her mistress's weakness and her -mistress's necessities. Mrs. Milroy, on her side, appeared to be -well used to her nurses manner; she gave her orders composedly, -without noticing it. - -"When the postman does come," she said, "see him yourself. I am -expecting a letter which I ought to have had two days since. I -don't understand it. I'm beginning to suspect the servants." - -The nurse smiled contemptuously. "Whom will you suspect next?" -she asked. "There! don't put yourself out. I'll answer the -gate-bell this morning; and we'll see if I can't bring you a -letter when the postman comes." Saying those words, with the tone -and manner of a woman who is quieting a fractious child, the -nurse, without waiting to be dismissed, left the room. - -Mrs. Milroy turned slowly and wearily on her bed, when she was -left by herself again, and let the light from the window fall on -her face. It was the face of a woman who had once been handsome, -and who was still, so far as years went, in the prime of her -life. Long-continued suffering of body and long-continued -irritation of mind had worn her away--in the roughly expressive -popular phrase--to skin and bone. The utter wreck of her beauty -was made a wreck horrible to behold, by her desperate efforts to -conceal the sight of it from her own eyes, from the eyes of her -husband and her child, from the eyes even of the doctor who -attended her, and whose business it was to penetrate to the -truth. Her head, from which the greater part of the hair had -fallen off; would have been less shocking to see than the -hideously youthful wig by which she tried to hide the loss. No -deterioration of her complexion, no wrinkling of her skin, could -have been so dreadful to look at as the rouge that lay thick on -her cheeks, and the white enamel plastered on her forehead. The -delicate lace, and the bright trimming on her dressing-gown, the -ribbons in her cap, and the rings on her bony fingers, all -intended to draw the eye away from the change that had passed -over her, directed the eye to it, on the contrary; emphasized it; -made it by sheer force of contrast more hopeless and more -horrible than it really was. An illustrated book of the fashions, -in which women were represented exhibiting their finery by means -of the free use of their limbs, lay on the bed, from which she -had not moved for years without being lifted by her nurse. A -hand-glass was placed with the book so that she could reach it -easily. She took up the glass after her attendant had left the -room, and looked at her face with an unblushing interest and -attention which she would have been ashamed of herself at the age -of eighteen. - -"Older and older, and thinner and thinner!" she said. "The major -will soon be a free man; but I'll have that red-haired hussy out -of the house first!" - -She dropped the looking-glass on the counterpane, and clinched -the hand that held it. Her eyes suddenly riveted themselves on -a little crayon portrait of her husband hanging on the opposite -wall; they looked at the likeness with the hard and cruel -brightness of the eyes of a bird of prey. "Red is your taste in -your old age is it?" she said to the portrait. "Red hair, and a -scrofulous complexion, and a padded figure, a ballet-girl's walk, -and a pickpocket's light fingers. _Miss_ Gwilt! _Miss_, with -those eyes, and that walk!" She turned her head suddenly on the -pillow, and burst into a harsh, jeering laugh. "_Miss_!" she -repeated over and over again, with the venomously pointed -emphasis of the most merciless of all human forms of -contempt--the contempt of one woman for another. - -The age we live in is an age which finds no human creature -inexcusable. Is there an excuse for Mrs. Milroy? Let the story -of her life answer the question. - -She had married the major at an unusually early age; and, in -marrying him, had taken a man for her husband who was old enough -to be her father--a man who, at that time, had the reputation, -and not unjustly, of having made the freest use of his social -gifts and his advantages of personal appearance in the society of -women. Indifferently educated, and below her husband in station, -she had begun by accepting his addresses under the influence of -her own flattered vanity, and had ended by feeling the -fascination which Major Milroy had exercised over women -infinitely her mental superiors in his earlier life. He had been -touched, on his side, by her devotion, and had felt, in his turn, -the attraction of her beauty, her freshness, and her youth. Up to -the time when their little daughter and only child had reached -the age of eight years, their married life had been an unusually -happy one. At that period the double misfortune fell on the -household, of the failure of the wife's health, and the almost -total loss of the husband's fortune; and from that moment the -domestic happiness of the married pair was virtually at an end. - -Having reached the age when men in general are readier, under -the pressure of calamity, to resign themselves than to resist, -the major had secured the little relics of his property, had -retired into the country, and had patiently taken refuge in his -mechanical pursuits. A woman nearer to him in age, or a woman -with a better training and more patience of disposition than his -wife possessed, would have understood the major's conduct, and -have found consolation in the major's submission. Mrs. Milroy -found consolation in nothing. Neither nature nor training helped -her to meet resignedly the cruel calamity which had struck at her -in the bloom of womanhood and the prime of beauty. The curse of -incurable sickness blighted her at once and for life. - -Suffering can, and does, develop the latent evil that there is -in humanity, as well as the latent good. The good that was in -Mrs. Milroy's nature shrank up, under that subtly deteriorating -influence in which the evil grew and flourished. Month by month, -as she became the weaker woman physically, she became the worse -woman morally. All that was mean, cruel, and false in her -expanded in steady proportion to the contraction of all that -had once been generous, gentle, and true. Old suspicions of her -husband's readiness to relapse into the irregularities of his -bachelor life, which, in her healthier days of mind and body, she -had openly confessed to him--which she had always sooner or later -seen to be suspicions that he had not deserved--came back, now -that sickness had divorced her from him, in the form of that -baser conjugal distrust which keeps itself cunningly secret; -which gathers together its inflammatory particles atom by atom -into a heap, and sets the slowly burning frenzy of jealousy -alight in the mind. No proof of her husband's blameless and -patient life that could now be shown to Mrs. Milroy; no appeal -that could be made to her respect for herself, or for her child -growing up to womanhood, availed to dissipate the terrible -delusion born of her hopeless illness, and growing steadily with -its growth. Like all other madness, it had its ebb and flow, its -time of spasmodic outburst, and its time of deceitful repose; -but, active or passive, it was always in her. It had injured -innocent servants, and insulted blameless strangers. It had -brought the first tears of shame and sorrow into her daughter's -eyes, and had set the deepest lines that scored it in her -husband's face. It had made the secret misery of the little -household for years; and it was now to pass beyond the family -limits, and to influence coming events at Thorpe Ambrose, in -which the future interests of Allan and Allan's friend were -vitally concerned. - -A moment's glance at the posture of domestic affairs in the -cottage, prior to the engagement of the new governess, is -necessary to the due appreciation of the serious consequences -that followed Miss Gwilt's appearance on the scene. - -On the marriage of the governess who had lived in his service -for many years (a woman of an age and an appearance to set even -Mrs. Milroy's jealousy at defiance), the major had considered -the question of sending his daughter away from home far more -seriously than his wife supposed. He was conscious that scenes -took place in the house at which no young girl should be present; -but he felt an invincible reluctance to apply the one efficient -remedy--the keeping his daughter away from home in school time -and holiday time alike. The struggle thus raised in his mind once -set at rest, by the resolution to advertise for a new governess, -Major Milroy's natural tendency to avoid trouble rather than -to meet it had declared itself in its customary manner. He had -closed his eyes again on his home anxieties as quietly as usual, -and had gone back, as he had gone back on hundreds of previous -occasions, to the consoling society of his old friend the clock. - -It was far otherwise with the major's wife. The chance which her -husband had entirely overlooked, that the new governess who was -to come might be a younger and a more attractive woman than the -old governess who had gone, was the first chance that presented -itself as possible to Mrs. Milroy's mind. She had said nothing. -Secretly waiting, and secretly nursing her inveterate distrust, -she had encouraged her husband and her daughter to leave her on -the occasion of the picnic, with the express purpose of making an -opportunity for seeing the new governess alone. The governess had -shown herself; and the smoldering fire of Mrs. Milroy's jealousy -had burst into flame in the moment when she and the handsome -stranger first set eyes on each other. - -The interview over, Mrs. Milroy's suspicions fastened at once and -immovably on her husband's mother. - -She was well aware that there was no one else in London on whom -the major could depend to make the necessary inquiries; she was -well aware that Miss Gwilt had applied for the situation, in -the first instance, as a stranger answering an advertisement -published in a newspaper. Yet knowing this, she had obstinately -closed her eyes, with the blind frenzy of the blindest of all -the passions, to the facts straight before her; and, looking back -to the last of many quarrels between them which had ended in -separating the elder lady and herself, had seized on the -conclusion that Miss Gwilt's engagement was due to her -mother-in-law's vindictive enjoyment of making mischief in her -household. The inference which the very servants themselves, -witnesses of the family scandal, had correctly drawn--that the -major's mother, in securing the services of a well-recommended -governess for her son, had thought it no part of her duty to -consider that governess's looks in the purely fanciful interests -of the major's wife--was an inference which it was simply -impossible to convey into Mrs. Milroy's mind. Miss Gwilt had -barely closed the sick-room door when the whispered words hissed -out of Mrs. Milroy's lips, "Before another week is over your -head, my lady, you go!" - -From that moment, through the wakeful night and the weary day, -the one object of the bedridden woman's life was to procure the -new governess's dismissal from the house. - -The assistance of the nurse, in the capacity of spy, was -secured--as Mrs. Milroy had been accustomed to secure other extra -services which her attendant was not bound to render her--by -a present of a dress from the mistress's wardrobe. One after -another articles of wearing apparel which were now useless to -Mrs. Milroy had ministered in this way to feed the nurse's -greed--the insatiable greed of an ugly woman for fine clothes. -Bribed with the smartest dress she had secured yet, the household -spy took her secret orders, and applied herself with a vile -enjoyment of it to her secret work. - -The days passed, the work went on; but nothing had come of it. -Mistress and servant had a woman to deal with who was a match for -both of them. - -Repeated intrusions on the major, when the governess happened to -be in the same room with him, failed to discover the slightest -impropriety of word, look, or action, on either side. Stealthy -watching and listening at the governess's bedroom door detected -that she kept a light in her room at late hours of the night, and -that she groaned and ground her teeth in her sleep--and detected -nothing more. Careful superintendence in the day-time proved that -she regularly posted her own letters, instead of giving them to -the servant; and that on certain occasions, when the occupation -of her hours out of lesson time and walking time was left at her -own disposal, she had been suddenly missed from the garden, and -then caught coming back alone to it from the park. Once and once -only, the nurse had found an opportunity of following her out of -the garden, had been detected immediately in the park, and had -been asked with the most exasperating politeness if she wished -to join Miss Gwilt in a walk. Small circumstances of this kind, -which were sufficiently suspicious to the mind of a jealous -woman, were discovered in abundance. But circumstances, on which -to found a valid ground of complaint that might be laid before -the major, proved to be utterly wanting. Day followed day, and -Miss Gwilt remained persistently correct in her conduct, and -persistently irreproachable in her relations toward her employer -and her pupil. - -Foiled in this direction, Mrs. Milroy tried next to find an -assailable place in the statement which the governess's reference -had made on the subject of the governess's character. - -Obtaining from the major the minutely careful report which his -mother had addressed to him on this topic, Mrs. Milroy read and -reread it, and failed to find the weak point of which she was in -search in any part of the letter. All the customary questions on -such occasions had been asked, and all had been scrupulously and -plainly answered. The one sole opening for an attack which it was -possible to discover was an opening which showed itself, after -more practical matters had been all disposed of, in the closing -sentences of the letter. - -"I was so struck," the passage ran, "by the grace and distinction -of Miss Gwilt's manners that I took an opportunity, when she was -out of the room, of asking how she first came to be governess. -'In the usual way,' I was told. 'A sad family misfortune, in -which she behaved nobly. She is a very sensitive person, and -shrinks from speaking of it among strangers--a natural reluctance -which I have always felt it a matter of delicacy to respect.' -Hearing this, of course, I felt the same delicacy on my side. -It was no part of my duty to intrude on the poor thing's private -sorrows; my only business was to do what I have now done, to make -sure that I was engaging a capable and respectable governess to -instruct my grandchild." - -After careful consideration of these lines, Mrs. Milroy, having -a strong desire to find circumstances suspicious, found them -suspicious accordingly. She determined to sift the mystery of -Miss Gwilt's family misfortunes to the bottom, on the chance -of extracting from it something useful to her purpose. There -were two ways of doing this. She might begin by questioning -the governess herself, or she might begin by questioning the -governess's reference. Experience of Miss Gwilt's quickness of -resource in dealing with awkward questions at their introductory -interview decided her on taking the latter course. "I'll get the -particulars from the reference first," thought Mrs. Milroy, "and -then question the creature herself, and see if the two stories -agree." - -The letter of inquiry was short, and scrupuously to the point. - -Mrs. Milroy began by informing her correspondent that the state -of her health necessitated leaving her daughter entirely under -the governess's influence and control. On that account she was -more anxious than most mothers to be thoroughly informed in every -respect about the person to whom she confided the entire charge -of an only child; and feeling this anxiety, she might perhaps be -excused for putting what might be thought, after the excellent -character Miss Gwilt had received, a somewhat unnecessary -question. With that preface, Mrs. Milroy came to the point, and -requested to be informed of the circumstances which had obliged -Miss Gwilt to go out as a governess. - -The letter, expressed in these terms, was posted the same day. On -the morning when the answer was due, no answer appeared. The next -morning arrived, and still there was no reply. When the third -morning came, Mrs. Milroy's impatience had broken loose from all -restraint. She had rung for the nurse in the manner which has -been already recorded, and had ordered the woman to be in waiting -to receive the letters of the morning with her own hands. In this -position matters now stood; and in these domestic circumstances -the new series of events at Thorpe Ambrose took their rise. - - -Mrs. Milroy had just looked at her watch, and had just put her -hand once more to the bell-pull, when the door opened and the -nurse entered the room. - -"Has the postman come?" asked Mrs. Milroy. - -The nurse laid a letter on the bed without answering, and waited, -with unconcealed curiosity, to watch the effect which it produced -on her mistress. - -Mrs. Milroy tore open the envelope the instant it was in her -hand. A printed paper appeared (which she threw aside), -surrounding a letter (which she looked at) in her own -handwriting! She snatched up the printed paper. It was the -customary Post-office circular, informing her that her letter -had been duly presented at the right address, and that the person -whom she had written to was not to be found. - -"Something wrong?" asked the nurse, detecting a change in her -mistress's face. - -The question passed unheeded. Mrs. Milroy's writing-desk was -on the table at the bedside. She took from it the letter which -the major's mother had written to her son, and turned to the page -containing the name and address of Miss Gwilt's reference. "Mrs -Mandeville, 18 Kingsdown Crescent, Bayswater," she read, eagerly -to herself, and then looked at the address on her own returned -letter. No error had been committed: the directions were -identically the same. - -"Something wrong?" reiterated the nurse, advancing a step nearer -to the bed. - -"Thank God--yes!" cried Mrs. Milroy, with a sudden outburst of -exultation. She tossed the Post-office circular to the nurse, -and beat her bony hands on the bedclothes in an ecstasy of -anticipated triumph. "Miss Gwilt's an impostor! Miss Gwilt's an -impostor! If I die for it, Rachel, I'll be carried to the window -to see the police take her away!" - -"It's one thing to say she's an impostor behind her back, and -another thing to prove it to her face," remarked the nurse. She -put her hand as she spoke into her apron pocket, and, with a -significant look at her mistress, silently produced a second -letter. - -"For me?" asked Mrs. Milroy. - -"No!" said the nurse; "for Miss Gwilt." - -The two women eyed each other, and understood each other without -another word. - -"Where is she?" said Mrs. Milroy. - -The nurse pointed in the direction of the park. "Out again, for -another walk before breakfast--by herself." - -Mrs. Milroy beckoned to the nurse to stoop close over her. "Can -you open it, Rachel?" she whispered. - -Rachel nodded. - -"Can you close it again, so that nobody would know?" - -"Can you spare the scarf that matches your pearl gray dress?" -asked Rachel. - -"Take it!" said Mrs. Milroy, impatiently. - -The nurse opened the wardrobe in silence, took the scarf in -silence, and left the room in silence. In less than five minutes -she came back with the envelope of Miss Gwilt's letter open in -her hand. - -"Thank you, ma'am, for the scarf," said Rachel, putting the open -letter composedly on the counterpane of the bed. - -Mrs. Milroy looked at the envelope. It had been closed as usual -by means of adhesive gum, which had been made to give way by the -application of steam. As Mrs. Milroy took out the letter, her -hand trembled violently, and the white enamel parted into cracks -over the wrinkles on her forehead. - -Rachel withdrew to the window to keep watch on the park. "Don't -hurry," she said. "No signs of her yet." - -Mrs. Milroy still paused, keeping the all-important morsel of -paper folded in her hand. She could have taken Miss Gwilt's life, -but she hesitated at reading Miss Gwilt's letter. - -"Are you troubled with scruples?" asked the nurse, with a sneer. -"Consider it a duty you owe to your daughter." - -"You wretch!" said Mrs. Milroy. With that expression of opinion, -she opened the letter. - -It was evidently written in great haste, was undated, and was -signed in initials only. Thus it ran: - -"Diana Street. - -"BY DEAR LYDIA--The cab is waiting at the door, and I have only -a moment to tell you that I am obliged to leave London, on -business, for three or four days, or a week at longest. My -letters will be forwarded if you write. I got yours yesterday, -and I agree with you that it is very important to put him off the -awkward subject of yourself and your family as long as you safely -can. The better you know him, the better you will be able to make -up the sort of story that will do. Once told, you will have to -stick to it; and, _having_ to stick to it, beware of making it -complicated, and beware of making it in a hurry. I will write -again about this, and give you my own ideas. In the meantime, -don't risk meeting him too often in the park. - -"Yours, M. O." - -"Well?" asked the nurse, returning to the bedside. "Have you done -with it?" - -"Meeting him in the park!" repeated Mrs. Milroy, with her eyes -still fastened on the letter. "_Him_! Rachel, where is the -major?" - -"In his own room." - -"I don't believe it! " - -"Have your own way. I want the letter and the envelope." - -"Can you close it again so that she won't know?" - -"What I can open I can shut. Anything more?" - -"Nothing more." - -Mrs. Milroy was left alone again, to review her plan of attack by -the new light that had now been thrown on Miss Gwilt. - -The information that had been gained by opening the governess's -letter pointed plainly to the conclusion that an adventuress -had stolen her way into the house by means of a false reference. -But having been obtained by an act of treachery which it was -impossible to acknowledge, it was not information that could be -used either for warning the major or for exposing Miss Gwilt. -The one available weapon in Mrs. Milroy's hands was the weapon -furnished by her own returned letter, and the one question to -decide was how to make the best and speediest use of it. - -The longer she turned the matter over in her mind, the more hasty -and premature seemed the exultation which she had felt at the -first sight of the Post-office circular. That a lady acting as -reference to a governess should have quitted her residence -without leaving any trace behind her, and without even mentioning -an address to which her letters could be forwarded, was a -circumstance in itself sufficiently suspicious to be mentioned to -the major. But Mrs. Milroy, however perverted her estimate of her -husband might be in some respects, knew enough of his character -to be assured that, if she told him what had happened, he would -frankly appeal to the governess herself for an explanation. Miss -Gwilt's quickness and cunning would, in that case, produce some -plausible answer on the spot, which the major's partiality would -be only too ready to accept; and she would at the same time, no -doubt, place matters in train, by means of the post, for the due -arrival of all needful confirmation on the part of her accomplice -in London. To keep strict silence for the present, and to -institute (without the governess's knowledge) such inquiries as -might be necessary to the discovery of undeniable evidence, was -plainly the only safe course to take with such a man as the -major, and with such a woman as Miss Gwilt. Helpless herself, to -whom could Mrs. Milroy commit the difficult and dangerous task -of investigation? The nurse, even if she was to be trusted, could -not be spared at a day's notice, and could not be sent away -without the risk of exciting remark. Was there any other -competent and reliable person to employ, either at Thorpe Ambrose -or in London? Mrs. Milroy turned from side to side of the bed, -searching every corner of her mind for the needful discovery, And -searching in vain. "Oh, if I could only lay my hand on some man I -could trust!" she thought, despairingly. "If I only knew where to -look for somebody to help me!" - -As the idea passed through her mind, the sound of her daughter's -voice startled her from the other side of the door. - -"May I come in?" asked Neelie. - -"What do you want?" returned Mrs. Milroy, impatiently. - -"I have brought up your breakfast, mamma." - -"My breakfast?" repeated Mrs. Milroy, in surprise. "Why doesn't -Rachel bring it up as usual?" She considered a moment, and then -called out, sharply, "Come in!" - -CHAPTER II. - -THE MAN IS FOUND. - -Neelie entered the room, carrying the tray with the tea, the dry -toast, and the pat of butter which composed the invalid's -invariable breakfast. - -"What does this mean?" asked Mrs. Milroy, speaking and looking as -she might have spoken and looked if the wrong servant had come -into the room. - -Neelie put the tray down on the bedside table. "I thought I -should like to bring you up your breakfast, mamma, for once in -a way," she replied, "and I asked Rachel to let me." - -"Come here," said Mrs. Milroy, "and wish me good-morning." - -Neelie obeyed. As she stooped to kiss her mother, Mrs. Milroy -caught her by the arm, and turned her roughly to the light. There -were plain signs of disturbance and distress in her daughter's -face. A deadly thrill of terror ran through Mrs. Milroy on the -instant. She suspected that the opening of the letter had been -discovered by Miss Gwilt, and that the nurse was keeping out of -the way in consequence. - -"Let me go, mamma," said Neelie, shrinking under her mother's -grasp. "You hurt me." - -"Tell me why you have brought up my breakfast this morning," -persisted Mrs. Milroy. - -"I have told you, mamma." - -"You have not! You have made an excuse; I see it in your face. -Come! what is it?" - -Neelie's resolution gave way before her mother's. She looked -aside uneasily at the things in the tray. "I have been vexed," -she said, with an effort; "and I didn't want to stop in the -breakfast-room. I wanted to come up here, and to speak to you." - -"Vexed? Who has vexed you? What has happened? Has Miss Gwilt -anything to do with it?" - -Neelie looked round again at her mother in sudden curiosity and -alarm. "Mamma!" she said, "you read my thoughts. I declare you -frighten me. It _was_ Miss Gwilt." - -Before Mrs. Milroy could say a word more on her side, the door -opened and the nurse looked in. - -"Have you got what you want?" she asked, as composedly as usual. -"Miss, there, insisted on taking your tray up this morning. Has -she broken anything?" - -"Go to the window. I want to speak to Rachel," said Mrs. Milroy. - -As soon as her daughter's back was turned, she beckoned eagerly -to the nurse. "Anything wrong?" she asked, in a whisper. "Do you -think she suspects us?" - -The nurse turned away with her hard, sneering smile. "I told you -it should be done," she said, "and it _has_ been done. She hasn't -the ghost of a suspicion. I waited in the room; and I saw her -take up the letter and open it." - -Mrs. Milroy drew a deep breath of relief. "Thank you," she said, -loud enough for her daughter to hear. "I want nothing more." - -The nurse withdrew; and Neelie came back from the window. Mrs. -Milroy took her by the hand, and looked at her more attentively -and more kindly than usual. Her daughter interested her that -morning; for her daughter had something to say on the subject -of Miss Gwilt. - -"I used to think that you promised to be pretty, child," she -said, cautiously resuming the interrupted conversation in the -least direct way. "But you don't seem to be keeping your promise. -You look out of health and out of spirits. What is the matter -with you?" - -If there had been any sympathy between mother and child, Neelie -might have owned the truth. She might have said frankly: "I am -looking ill, because my life is miserable to me. I am fond of Mr. -Armadale, and Mr. Armadale was once fond of me. We had one little -disagreement, only one, in which I was to blame. I wanted to tell -him so at the time, and I have wanted to tell him so ever since; -and Miss Gwilt stands between us and prevents me. She has made us -like strangers; she has altered him, and taken him away from me. -He doesn't look at me as he did; he doesn't speak to me as he -did; he is never alone with me as he used to be; I can't say the -words to him that I long to say; and I can't write to him, for it -would look as if I wanted to get him back. It is all over between -me and Mr. Armadale; and it is that woman's fault. There is -ill-blood between Miss Gwilt and me the whole day long; and say -what I may, and do what I may, she always gets the better of me, -and always puts me in the wrong. Everything I saw at Thorpe -Ambrose pleased me, everything I did at Thorpe Ambrose made me -happy, before she came. Nothing pleases me, and nothing makes me -happy now!" If Neelie had ever been accustomed to ask her -mother's advice and to trust herself to her mother's love, she -might have said such words as these. As. it was, the tears came -into her eyes, and she hung her head in silence. - -"Come!" said Mrs. Milroy, beginning to lose patience. "You have -something to say to me about Miss Gwilt. What is it?" - -Neelie forced back her tears, and made an effort to answer. - -"She aggravates me beyond endurance, mamma; I can't bear her; -I shall do something--" Neelie stopped, and stamped her foot -angrily on the floor. "I shall throw something at her head if we -go on much longer like this! I should have thrown something this -morning if I hadn't left the room. Oh, do speak to papa about it! -Do find out some reason for sending her away! I'll go to -school--I'll do anything in the world to get rid of Miss Gwilt!" - -To get rid of Miss Gwilt! At those words--at that echo from her -daughter's lips of the one dominant desire kept secret in her own -heart--Mrs. Milroy slowly raised herself in bed. What did it -mean? Was the help she wanted coming from the very last of all -quarters in which she could have thought of looking for it? - -"Why do you want to get rid of Miss Gwilt?" she asked. "What have -you got to complain of?" - -"Nothing!" said Neelie. "That's the aggravation of it. Miss Gwilt -won't let me have anything to complain of. She is perfectly -detestable; she is driving me mad; and she is the pink of -propriety all the time. I dare say it's wrong, but I don't -care--I hate her!" - -Mrs. Milroy's eyes questioned her daughter's face as they had -never questioned it yet. There was something under the surface, -evidently--something which it might be of vital importance to her -own purpose to discover--which had not risen into view. She went -on probing her way deeper and deeper into Neelie's mind, with a -warmer and warmer interest in Neelie's secret. - -"Pour me out a cup of tea," she said; "and don't excite yourself, -my dear. Why do you speak to _me_ about this? Why don't you speak -to your father?" - -"I have tried to speak to papa," said Neelie. "But it's no use; -he is too good to know what a wretch she is. She is always on her -best behavior with him; she is always contriving to be useful to -him. I can't make him understand why I dislike Miss Gwilt; I -can't make _you_ understand--I only understand it myself." She -tried to pour out the tea, and in trying upset the cup. "I'll go -downstairs again!" exclaimed Neelie, with a burst of tears. "I'm -not fit for anything; I can't even pour out a cup of tea!" - -Mrs. Milroy seized her hand and stopped her. Trifling as it was, -Neelie's reference to the relations between the major and Miss -Gwilt had roused her mother's ready jealousy. The restraints -which Mrs. Milroy had laid on herself thus far vanished in a -moment--vanished even in the presence of a girl of sixteen, and -that girl her own child! - -"Wait here!" she said, eagerly. "You have come to the right place -and the right person. Go on abusing Miss Gwilt. I like to hear -you--I hate her, too!" - -"You, mamma!" exclaimed Neelie, looking at her mother in -astonishment. - -For a moment Mrs. Milroy hesitated before she said more. Some -last-left instinct of her married life in its earlier and happier -time pleaded hard with her to respect the youth and the sex of -her child. But jealousy respects nothing; in the heaven above -and on the earth beneath, nothing but itself. The slow fire -of self-torment, burning night and day in the miserable woman's -breast, flashed its deadly light into her eyes, as the next words -dropped slowly and venomously from her lips. - -"If you had had eyes in your head, you would never have gone -to your father," she said. "Your father has reasons of his own -for hearing nothing that you can say, or that anybody can say, -against Miss Gwilt." - -Many girls at Neelie's age would have failed to see the meaning -hidden under those words. It was the daughter's misfortune, in -this instance, to have had experience enough of the mother to -understand her. Neelie started back from the bedside, with her -face in a glow. "Mamma!" she said, "you are talking horribly! -Papa is the best, and dearest, and kindest--oh, I won't hear it! -I won't hear it!" - -Mrs. Milroy's fierce temper broke out in an instant--broke out -all the more violently from her feeling herself, in spite of -herself, to have been in the wrong. - -"You impudent little fool!" she retorted, furiously. "Do you -think I want _you_ to remind me of what I owe to your father? Am -I to learn how to speak of your father, and how to think of your -father, and how to love and honor your father, from a forward -little minx like you! I was finely disappointed, I can tell you, -when you were born--I wished for a boy, you impudent hussy! If -you ever find a man who is fool enough to marry you, he will be -a lucky man if you only love him half as well, a quarter as well, -a hundred-thousandth part as well, as I loved your father. Ah, -you can cry when it's too late; you can come creeping back to beg -your mother's pardon after you have insulted her. You little -dowdy, half-grown creature! I was handsomer than ever you will be -when I married your father. I would have gone through fire and -water to serve your father! If he had asked me to cut off one -of my arms, I would have done it--I would have done it to please -him!" She turned suddenly with her face to the wall, forgetting -her daughter, forgetting her husband, forgetting everything but -the torturing remembrance of her lost beauty. "My arms!" she -repeated to herself, faintly. "What arms I had when I was young!" -She snatched up the sleeve of her dressing-gown furtively, with -a shudder. "Oh, look at it now! look at it now!" - -Neelie fell on her knees at the bedside and hid her face. In -sheer despair of finding comfort and help anywhere else, she had -cast herself impulsively on her mother's mercy; and this was how -it had ended! "Oh, mamma," she pleaded, "you know I didn't mean -to offend you! I couldn't help it when you spoke so of my father. -Oh, do, do forgive me!" - -Mrs. Milroy turned again on her pillow, and looked at her -daughter vacantly. "Forgive you?" she repeated, with her mind -still in the past, groping its way back darkly to the present. - -"I beg your pardon, mamma--I beg your pardon on my knees. I am so -unhappy; I do so want a little kindness! Won't you forgive me?" - -"Wait a little," rejoined Mrs. Milroy. "Ah," she said, after an -interval, "now I know! Forgive you? Yes; I'll forgive you on one -condition." She lifted Neelie's head, and looked her searchingly -in the face. "Tell me why you hate Miss Gwilt! You've a reason -of your own for hating her, and you haven't confessed it yet." - -Neelie's head dropped again. The burning color that she was -hiding by hiding her face showed itself on her neck. Her mother -saw it, and gave her time. - -"Tell me," reiterated Mrs. Milroy, more gently, "why do you hate -her?" - -The answer came reluctantly, a word at a time, in fragments. - -"Because she is trying--" - -"Trying what?" - -"Trying to make somebody who is much--" - -"Much what?" - -"Much too young for her--" - -"Marry her?" - -"Yes, mamma." - -Breathlessly interested, Mrs. Milroy leaned forward, and twined -her hand caressingly in her daughter's hair. - -"Who is it, Neelie?" she asked, in a whisper. - -"You will never say I told you, mamma?" - -"Never! Who is it?" - -"Mr. Armadale." - -Mrs. Milroy leaned back on her pillow in dead silence. The plain -betrayal of her daughter's first love, by her daughter's own -lips, which would have absorbed the whole attention of other -mothers, failed to occupy her for a moment. Her jealousy, -distorting all things to fit its own conclusions, was busied -in distorting what she had just heard. "A blind," she thought, -"which has deceived my girl. It doesn't deceive _me_. Is Miss -Gwilt likely to succeed?" she asked, aloud. "Does Mr. Armadale -show any sort of interest in her?" - -Neelie looked up at her mother for the first time. The hardest -part of the confession was over now. She had revealed the truth -about Miss Gwilt, and she had openly mentioned Allan's name. - -"He shows the most unaccountable interest," she said. "It's -impossible to understand it. It's downright infatuation. I -haven't patience to talk about it!" - -"How do _you_ come to be in Mr. Armadale's secrets?" inquired -Mrs. Milroy. "Has he informed _you_, of all the people in the -world, of his interest in Miss Gwilt?" - -"Me!" exclaimed Neelie, indignantly. "It's quite bad enough that -he should have told papa." - -At the re-appearance of the major in the narrative, Mrs. Milroy's -interest in the conversation rose to its climax. She raised -herself again from the pillow. "Get a chair," she said. "Sit -down, child, and tell me all about it. Every word, mind--every -word!" - -"I can only tell you, mamma, what papa told me." - -"When?" - -"Saturday. I went in with papa's lunch to the workshop, and he -said, 'I have just had a visit from Mr. Armadale; and I want to -give you a caution while I think of it.' I didn't say anything, -mamma; I only waited. Papa went on, and told me that Mr. Armadale -had been speaking to him on the subject of Miss Gwilt, and that -he had been asking a question about her which nobody in his -position had a right to ask. Papa said he had been obliged, -good-humoredly, to warn Mr. Armadale to be a little more -delicate, and a little more careful next time. I didn't feel much -interested, mamma; it didn't matter to _me_ what Mr. Armadale -said or did. Why should I care about it?" - -"Never mind yourself," interposed Mrs. Milroy, sharply. "Go on -with what your father said. What was he doing when he was talking -about Miss Gwilt? How did he look?" - -"Much as usual, mamma. He was walking up and down the workshop; -and I took his arm and walked up and down with him." - -"I don't care what _you_ were doing," said Mrs. Milroy, more and -more irritably. "Did your father tell you what Mr. Armadale's -question was, or did he not?" - -"Yes, mamma. He said Mr. Armadale began by mentioning that he was -very much interested in Miss Gwilt, and he then went on to ask -whether papa could tell him anything about her family -misfortunes--" - -"What!" cried Mrs. Milroy. The word burst from her almost in -a scream, and the white enamel on her face cracked in all -directions. "Mr. Armadale said _that_?" she went on, leaning out -further and further over the side of the bed. - -Neelie started up, and tried to put her mother back on the -pillow. - -"Mamma!" she exclaimed, "are you in pain? Are you ill? You -frighten me!" - -"Nothing, nothing, nothing," said Mrs. Milroy. She was too -violently agitated to make any other than the commonest excuse. -"My nerves are bad this morning; don't notice it. I'll try the -other side of the pillow. Go on! go on!. I'm listening, though -I'm not looking at you." She turned her face to the wall, and -clinched her trembling hands convulsively beneath the bedclothes. -"I've got her!" she whispered to herself, under her breath. "I've -got her at last!" - -"I'm afraid I've been talking too much," said Neelie. "I'm afraid -I've been stopping here too long. Shall I go downstairs, mamma, -and come back later in the day?" - -"Go on," repeated Mrs. Milroy, mechanically. "What did your -father say next? Anything more about Mr. Armadale?" - -"Nothing more, except how papa answered him," replied Neelie. -"Papa repeated his own words when he told me about it. He said, -'In the absence of any confidence volunteered by the lady -herself, Mr. Armadale, all I know or wish to know--and you must -excuse me for saying, all any one else need know or wish to -know--is that Miss Gwilt gave me a perfectly satisfactory -reference before she entered my house.' Severe, mamma, wasn't it? -I don't pity him in the least; he richly deserved it. The next -thing was papa's caution to _me_. He told me to check Mr. -Armadale's curiosity if he applied to me next. As if he was -likely to apply to me! And as if I should listen to him if he -did! That's all, mamma. You won't suppose, will you, that I have -told you this because I want to hinder Mr. Armadale from marrying -Miss Gwilt? Let him marry her if he pleases; I don't care!" -said Neelie, in a voice that faltered a little, and with a face -which was hardly composed enough to be in perfect harmony with -a declaration of indifference. "All I want is to be relieved from -the misery of having Miss Gwilt for my governess. I'd rather go -to school. I should like to go to school. My mind's quite changed -about all that, only I haven't the heart to tell papa. I don't -know what's come to me, I don't seem to have heart enough for -anything now; and when papa takes me on his knee in the evening, -and says, 'Let's have a talk, Neelie,' he makes me cry. Would you -mind breaking it to him, mamma, that I've changed my mind, and -I want to go to school?" The tears rose thickly in her eyes, and -she failed to see that her mother never even turned on the pillow -to look round at her. - -"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Milroy, vacantly. "You're a good girl; you -shall go to school." - -The cruel brevity of the reply, and the tone in which it was -spoken, told Neelie plainly that her mother's attention had been -wandering far away from her, and that it was useless and needless -to prolong the interview. She turned aside quietly, without a -word of remonstrance. It was nothing new in her experience to -find herself shut out from her mother's sympathies. She looked -at her eyes in the glass, and, pouring out some cold water, -bathed her face. "Miss Gwilt shan't see I've been crying!" -thought Neelie, as she went back to the bedside to take her -leave. "I've tired you out," mamma," she said, gently. "Let me go -now; and let me come back a little later when you have had some -rest." - -"Yes," repeated her mother, as mechanically as ever; "a little -later when I have had some rest." - -Neelie left the room. The minute after the door had closed on -her, Mrs. Milroy rang the bell for her nurse. In the face of the -narrative she had just heard, in the face of every reasonable -estimate of probabilities, she held to her own jealous -conclusions as firmly as ever. "Mr. Armadale may believe her, -and my daughter may believe her," thought the furious woman. -"But I know the major; and she can't deceive _me_!" - -The nurse came in. "Prop me up," said Mrs. Milroy. "And give me -my desk. I want to write." - -"You're excited," replied the nurse. "You're not fit to write." - -"Give me the desk," reiterated Mrs. Milroy. - -"Anything more?" asked Rachel, repeating her invariable formula -as she placed the desk on the bed. - -"Yes. Come back in half an hour. I shall want you to take a -letter to the great house." - -The nurse's sardonic composure deserted her for once. "Mercy on -us!" she exclaimed, with an accent of genuine surprise. "What -next? You don't mean to say you're going to write--?" - -"I am going to write to Mr. Armadale," interposed Mrs. Milroy; -"and you are going to take the letter to him, and wait for an -answer; and, mind this, not a living soul but our two selves must -know of it in the house." - -"Why are you writing to Mr. Armadale?" asked Rachel. "And why -is nobody to know of it but our two selves?" - -"Wait," rejoined Mrs. Milroy, "and you will see." - -The nurse's curiosity, being a woman's curiosity, declined to -wait. - -"I'll help you with my eyes open," she said; "but I won't help -you blindfold." - -"Oh, if I only had the use of my limbs!" groaned Mrs. Milroy. -"You wretch, if I could only do without you!" - -"You have the use of your head," retorted the impenetrable nurse. -"And you ought to know better than to trust me by halves, at this -time of day." - -It was brutally put; but it was true--doubly true, after the -opening of Miss Gwilt's letter. Mrs. Milroy gave way. - -"What do you want to know?" she asked. "Tell me, and leave me." - -"I want to know what you are writing to Mr. Armadale about?" - -"About Miss Gwilt." - -"What has Mr. Armadale to do with you and Miss Gwilt?" - -Mrs. Milroy held up the letter that had been returned to her by -the authorities at the Post-office. - -"Stoop," she said. "Miss Gwilt may be listening at the door. I'll -whisper." - -The nurse stooped, with her eye on the door. "You know that the -postman went with this letter to Kingsdown Crescent?" said Mrs. -Milroy. "And you know that he found Mrs. Mandeville gone away, -nobody could tell where?" - -"Well," whispered Rachel "what next?" - -"This, next. When Mr. Armadale gets the letter that I am going to -write to him, he will follow the same road as the postman; and -we'll see what happens when he knocks at Mrs. Mandeville's door." - -"How do you get him to the door?" - -"I tell him to go to Miss Gwilt's reference." - -"Is he sweet on Miss Gwilt?" - -"Yes." - -"Ah!" said the nurse. "I see!" - -CHAPTER III. - -THE BRINK OF DISCOVERY. - -The morning of the interview between Mrs. Milroy and her daughter -at the cottage was a morning of serious reflection for the squire -at the great house. - -Even Allan's easy-tempered nature had not been proof against the -disturbing influences exercised on it by the events of the last -three days. Midwinter's abrupt departure had vexed him; and Major -Milroy's reception of his inquiries relating to Miss Gwilt -weighed unpleasantly on his mind. Since his visit to the cottage, -he had felt impatient and ill at ease, for the first time in his -life, with everybody who came near him. Impatient with Pedgift -Junior, who had called on the previous evening to announce his -departure for London, on business, the next day, and to place -his services at the disposal of his client; ill at ease with Miss -Gwilt, at a secret meeting with her in the park that morning; -and ill at ease in his own company, as he now sat moodily smoking -in the solitude of his room. "I can't live this sort of life much -longer," thought Allan. "If nobody will help me to put the -awkward question to Miss Gwilt, I must stumble on some way of -putting it for myself." - -What way? The answer to that question was as hard to find as -ever. Allan tried to stimulate his sluggish invention by walking -up and down the room, and was disturbed by the appearance of the -footman at the first turn. - -"Now then! what is it?" he asked, impatiently. - -"A letter, sir; and the person waits for an answer." - -Allan looked at the address. It was in a strange handwriting. -He opened the letter, and a little note inclosed in it dropped -to the ground. The note was directed, still in the strange -handwriting, to "Mrs. Mandeville, 18 Kingsdown Crescent, -Bayswater. Favored by Mr. Armadale." More and more surprised, -Allan turned for information to the signature at the end of -the letter. It was "Anne Milroy." - -"Anne Milroy?" he repeated. "It must be the major's wife. What -can she possibly want with me?" By way of discovering what she -wanted, Allan did at last what he might more wisely have done -at first. He sat down to read the letter. - -["Private."] "The Cottage, Monday. - -"DEAR SIR--The name at the end of these lines will, I fear, -recall to you a very rude return made on my part, some time -since, for an act of neighborly kindness on yours. I can only -say in excuse that I am a great sufferer, and that, if I was -ill-tempered enough, in a moment of irritation under severe pain, -to send back your present of fruit, I have regretted doing so -ever since. Attribute this letter, if you please, to my desire to -make some atonement, and to my wish to be of service to our good -friend and landlord, if I possibly can. - -"I have been informed of the question which you addressed to my -husband, the day before yesterday, on the subject of Miss Gwilt. -From all I have heard of you, I am quite sure that your anxiety -to know more of this charming person than you know now is an -anxiety proceeding from the most honorable motives. Believing -this, I feel a woman's interest--incurable invalid as I am--in -assisting you. If you are desirous of becoming acquainted with -Miss Gwilt's family circumstances without directly appealing -to Miss Gwilt herself, it rests with you to make the discovery; -and I will tell you how. - -"It so happens that, some few days since, I wrote privately to -Miss Gwilt's reference on this very subject. I had long observed -that my governess was singularly reluctant to speak of her family -and her friends; and, without attributing her silence to other -than perfectly proper motives, I felt it my duty to my daughter -to make some inquiry on the subject. The answer that I have -received is satisfactory as far as it goes. My correspondent -informs me that Miss Gwilt's story is a very sad one, and that -her own conduct throughout has been praiseworthy in the extreme. -The circumstances (of a domestic nature, as I gather) are all -plainly stated in a collection of letters now in the possession -of Miss Gwilt's reference. This lady is perfectly willing to let -me see the letters; but not possessing copies of them, and being -personally responsible for their security, she is reluctant, if -it can be avoided, to trust them to the post; and she begs me -to wait until she or I can find some reliable person who can be -employed to transmit the packet from her hands to mine. - -"Under these circumstances, it has struck me that you might -possibly, with your interest in the matter, be not unwilling to -take charge of the papers. If I am wrong in this idea, and if -you are not disposed, after what I have told you, to go to the -trouble and expense of a journey to London, you have only to burn -my letter and inclosure, and to think no more about it. If you -decide on becoming my envoy, I gladly provide you with the -necessary introduction to Mrs. Mandeville. You have only, on -presenting it, to receive the letters in a sealed packet, to send -them here on your return to Thorpe Ambrose, and to wait an early -communication from me acquainting you with the result. - -"In conclusion, I have only to add that I see no impropriety in -your taking (if you feel so inclined) the course that I propose -to you. Miss Gwilt's manner of receiving such allusions as I have -made to her family circumstances has rendered it unpleasant for -me (and would render it quite impossible for you) to seek -information in the first instance from herself. I am certainly -justified in applying to her reference; and you are certainly not -to blame for being the medium of safely transmitting a sealed -communication with one lady to another. If I find in that -communication family secrets which cannot honorably be mentioned -to any third person, I shall, of course, be obliged to keep you -waiting until I have first appealed to Miss Gwilt. If I find -nothing recorded but what is to her honor, and what is sure to -raise her still higher in your estimation, I am undeniably doing -her a service by taking you into my confidence. This is how I -look at the matter; but pray don't allow me to influence _you_. - -"In any case, I have one condition to make, which I am sure you -will understand to be indispensable. The most innocent actions -are liable, in this wicked world, to the worst possible -interpretation I must, therefore, request that you will consider -this communication as strictly _private_. I write to you in a -confidence which is on no account (until circumstances may, in my -opinion, justify the revelation of it) to extend beyond our two -selves, - -"Believe me, dear sir, truly yours, - -"ANNE MILROY." - -In this tempting form the unscrupulous ingenuity of the major's -wife had set the trap. Without a moment's hesitation, Allan -followed his impulses, as usual, and walked straight into it, -writing his answer and pursuing his own reflections -simultaneously in a highly characteristic state of mental -confusion. - -"By Jupiter, this is kind of Mrs. Milroy!" ("My dear madam.") -"Just the thing I wanted, at the time when I needed it most!" -("I don't know how to express my sense of your kindness, except -by saying that I will go to London and fetch the letters with the -greatest pleasure.") "She shall have a basket of fruit regularly -every day, all through the season. " ("I will go at once, dear -madam, and be back to-morrow.") "Ah, nothing like the women for -helping one when one is in love! This is just what my poor mother -would have done in Mrs. Milroy's place." ("On my word of honor as -a gentleman, I will take the utmost care of the letters; and keep -the thing strictly private, as you request.") "I would have given -five hundred pounds to anybody who would have put me up to the -right way to speak to Miss Gwilt; and here is this blessed woman -does it for nothing." ("Believe me, my dear madam, gratefully -yours, Allan Armadale.") - -Having sent his reply out to Mrs. Milroy's messenger, Allan -paused in a momentary perplexity. He had an appointment with -Miss Gwilt in the park for the next morning. It was absolutely -necessary to let her know that he would be unable to keep it. -She had forbidden him to write, and he had no chance that day -of seeing her alone. In this difficulty, he determined to let -the necessary intimation reach her through the medium of -a message to the major, announcing his departure for London -on business, and asking if he could be of service to any member -of the family. Having thus removed the only obstacle to his -freedom of action, Allan consulted the time-table, and found, -to his disappointment, that there was a good hour to spare -before it would be necessary to drive to the railway station. -In his existing frame of mind he would infinitely have preferred -starting for London in a violent hurry. - -When the time came at last, Allan, on passing the steward's -office, drummed at the door, and called through it to Mr. -Bashwood, "I'm going to town; back to-morrow." There was no -answer from within; and the servant, interposing, informed his -master that Mr. Bashwood, having no business to attend to that -day, had locked up the office, and had left some hours since. - -On reaching the station, the first person whom Allan encountered -was Pedgift Junior, going to London on the legal business which -he had mentioned on the previous evening at the great house. The -necessary explanations exchanged, and it was decided that the two -should travel in the same carriage. Allan was glad to have a -companion; and Pedgift, enchanted as usual to make himself useful -to his client, bustled away to get the tickets and see to the -luggage. Sauntering to and fro on the platform, until his -faithful follower returned, Allan came suddenly upon no less a -person than Mr. Bashwood himself, standing back in a corner with -the guard of the train, and putting a letter (accompanied, to all -appearance, by a fee) privately into the man's hand. - -"Halloo!" cried Allan, in his hearty way. "Something important -there, Mr. Bashwood, eh?" - -If Mr. Bashwood had been caught in the act of committing murder, -he could hardly have shown greater alarm than he now testified at -Allan's sudden discovery of him. Snatching off his dingy old hat, -he bowed bare-headed, in a palsy of nervous trembling from head -to foot. "No, sir--no, sir; only a little letter, a little -letter, a little letter," said the deputy-steward, taking refuge -in reiteration, and bowing himself swiftly backward out of his -employer's sight. - -Allan turned carelessly on his heel. "I wish I could take to that -fellow," he thought, "but I can't; he's such a sneak! What the -deuce was there to tremble about? Does he think I want to pry -into his secrets?" - -Mr. Bashwood's secret on this occasion concerned Allan more -nearly than Allan supposed. The letter which he had just placed -in charge of the guard was nothing less than a word of warning -addressed to Mrs. Oldershaw, and written by Miss Gwilt. - -"If you can hurry your business" (wrote the major's governess) -"do so, and come back to London immediately. Things are going -wrong here, and Miss Milroy is at the bottom of the mischief. -This morning she insisted on taking up her mother's breakfast, -always on other occasions taken up by the nurse. They had a long -confabulation in private; and half an hour later I saw the nurse -slip out with a letter, and take the path that leads to the great -house. The sending of the letter has been followed by young -Armadale's sudden departure for London--in the face of an -appointment which he had with me for tomorrow morning. This looks -serious. The girl is evidently bold enough to make a fight of it -for the position of Mrs. Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose, and she has -found out some way of getting her mother to help her. Don't -suppose I am in the least nervous or discouraged, and don't do -anything till you hear from me again. Only get back to London, -for I may have serious need of your assistance in the course of -the next day or two. - -"I send this letter to town (to save a post) by the midday train, -in charge of the guard. As you insist on knowing every step I -take at Thorpe Ambrose, I may as well tell you that my messenger -(for I can't go to the station myself) is that curious old -creature whom I mentioned to you in my first letter. Ever since -that time he has been perpetually hanging about here for a look -at me. I am not sure whether I frighten him or fascinate him; -perhaps I do both together. All you need care to know is that -I can trust him with my trifling errands, and possibly, as time -goes on, with something more. L. G." - - -Meanwhile the train had started from the Thorpe Ambrose station, -and the squire and his traveling companion were on their way to -London. - -Some men, finding themselves in Allan's company under present -circumstances, might have felt curious to know the nature of his -business in the metropolis. Young Pedgift's unerring instinct as -a man of the world penetrated the secret without the slightest -difficulty. "The old story," thought this wary old head, wagging -privately on its lusty young shoulders, "There's a woman in the -case, as usual. Any other business would have been turned over -to me." Perfectly satisfied with this conclusion, Mr. Pedgift the -younger proceeded, with an eye to his professional interest, to -make himself agreeable to his client in the capacity of volunteer -courier. He seized on the whole administrative business of the -journey to London, as he had seized on the whole administrative -business of the picnic at the Broads. On reaching the terminus, -Allan was ready to go to any hotel that might be recommended. His -invaluable solicitor straight-way drove him to a hotel at which -the Pedgift family had been accustomed to put up for three -generations. - -"You don't object to vegetables, sir?" said the cheerful Pedgift, -as the cab stopped at a hotel in Covent Garden Market. "Very -good; you may leave the rest to my grandfather, my father, and -me. I don't know which of the three is most beloved and respected -in this house. How d'ye do, William? (Our head-waiter, Mr. -Armadale.) Is your wife's rheumatism better, and does the little -boy get on nicely at school? Your master's out, is he? Never -mind, you'll do. This, William, is Mr. Armadale of Thorpe -Ambrose. I have prevailed on Mr. Armadale to try our house. Have -you got the bedroom I wrote for? Very good. Let Mr. Armadale have -it instead of me (my grandfather's favorite bedroom, sir; No. 57, -on the second floor); pray take it; I can sleep anywhere. Will -you have the mattress on the top of the feather-bed? You hear, -William? Tell Matilda, the mattress on the top of the -feather-bed. How is Matilda? Has she got the toothache, as usual? -The head-chambermaid, Mr. Armadale, and a most extraordinary -woman; she will _not_ part with a hollow tooth in her lower jaw. -My grandfather says, 'Have it out;' my father says, 'Have it -out;' I say, 'Have it out;' and Matilda turns a deaf ear to all -three of us. Yes, William, yes; if Mr. Armadale approves, this -sitting-room will do. About dinner, sir? Shall we say, in that -case, half-past seven? William, half-past seven. Not the least -need to order anything, Mr. Armadale. The head-waiter has only -to give my compliments to the cook, and the best dinner in London -will be sent up, punctual to the minute, as a necessary -consequence. Say, Mr. Pedgift Junior, if you please, William; -otherwise, sir, we might get my grandfather's dinner or my -father's dinner, and they _might_ turn out a little too heavy -and old-fashioned in their way of feeding for you and me. As to -the wine, William. At dinner, _my_ Champagne, and the sherry that -my father thinks nasty. After dinner, the claret with the blue -seal--the wine my innocent grandfather said wasn't worth sixpence -a bottle. Ha! ha! poor old boy! You will send up the evening -papers and the play-bills, just as usual, and--that will do? -I think, William, for the present. An invaluable servant, Mr. -Armadale; they're all invaluable servants in this house. We may -not be fashionable here, sir, but by the Lord Harry we are snug! -A cab? you would like a cab? Don't stir! I've rung the bell -twice--that means, Cab wanted in a hurry. Might I ask, Mr. -Armadale, which way your business takes you? Toward Bayswater? -Would you mind dropping me in the park? It's a habit of mine when -I'm in London to air myself among the aristocracy. Yours truly, -sir, has an eye for a fine woman and a fine horse; and when -he's in Hyde Park he's quite in his native element." Thus the -all-accomplished Pedgift ran on; and by these little arts did -he recommend himself to the good opinion of his client. - -When the dinner hour united the traveling companions again in -their sitting-room at the hotel, a far less acute observer than -young Pedgift must have noticed the marked change that appeared -in Allan's manner. He looked vexed and puzzled, and sat drumming -with his fingers on the dining-table without uttering a word. - -"I'm afraid something has happened to annoy you, sir, since we -parted company in the Park?" said Pedgift Junior. "Excuse the -question; I only ask it in case I can be of any use." - -"Something that I never expected has happened," returned Allan; -"I don't know what to make of it. I should like to have your -opinion," he added, after a little hesitation; "that is to say, -if you will excuse my not entering into any particulars?" - -"Certainly!" assented young Pedgift. "Sketch it in outline, sir. -The merest hint will do; I wasn't born yesterday." ("Oh, these -women!" thought the youthful philosopher, in parenthesis.) - -"Well," began Allan, "you know what I said when we got to this -hotel; I said I had a place to go to in Bayswater" (Pedgift -mentally checked off the first point: Case in the suburbs, -Bayswater); "and a person--that is to say--no--as I said before, -a person to inquire after." (Pedgift checked off the next point: -Person in the case. She-person, or he-person? She-person, -unquestionably!) "Well, I went to the house, and when I asked -for her--I mean the person--she--that is to say, the person--oh, -confound it!" cried Allan, "I shall drive myself mad, and you, -too, if I try to tell my story in this roundabout way. Here it is -in two words. I went to No. 18 Kingsdown Crescent, to see a lady -named Mandeville; and, when I asked for her, the servant said -Mrs. Mandeville had gone away, without telling anybody where, and -without even leaving an address at which letters could be sent to -her. There! it's out at last. And what do you think of it now?" - -"Tell me first, sir," said the wary Pedgift, "what inquiries you -made when you found this lady had vanished?" - -"Inquiries!" repeated Allan. "I was utterly staggered; I didn't -say anything. What inquiries ought I to have made?" - -Pedgift Junior cleared his throat, and crossed his legs in a -strictly professional manner. - -"I have no wish, Mr. Armadale," he began, "to inquire into your -business with Mrs. Mandeville--" - -"No," interposed Allan, bluntly; "I hope you won't inquire into -that. My business with Mrs. Mandeville must remain a secret." - -"But," pursued Pedgift, laying down the law with the forefinger -of one hand on the outstretched palm of the other, "I may, -perhaps, be allowed to ask generally whether your business with -Mrs. Mandeville is of a nature to interest you in tracing her -from Kingsdown Crescent to her present residence?" - -"Certainly!" said Allan. "I have a very particular reason for -wishing to see her." - -"In that case, sir," returned Pedgift Junior, "there were two -obvious questions which you ought to have asked, to begin -with--namely, on what date Mrs. Mandeville left, and how she -left. Having discovered this, you should have ascertained next -under what domestic circumstances she went away--whether there -was a misunderstanding with anybody; say a difficulty about money -matters. Also, whether she went away alone, or with somebody -else. Also, whether the house was her own, or whether she only -lodged in it. Also, in the latter event--" - -"Stop! stop! you're making my head swim," cried Allan. "I don't -understand all these ins and outs. I'm not used to this sort of -thing." - -"I've been used to it myself from my childhood upward, sir," -remarked Pedgift. "And if I can be of any assistance, say the -word." - -"You're very kind," returned Allan. "If you could only help me to -find Mrs. Mandeville; and if you wouldn't mind leaving the thing -afterward entirely in my hands--?" - -"I'll leave it in your hands, sir, with all the pleasure in -life," said Pedgift Junior. ("And I'll lay five to one," he -added, mentally, "when the time comes, you'll leave it in mine!") -"We'll go to Bayswater together, Mr. Armadale, tomorrow morning. -In the meantime. here's the soup. The case now before the court -is, Pleasure versus Business. I don't know what you say, sir; -I say, without a moment's hesitation, Verdict for the plaintiff. -Let us gather our rosebuds while we may. Excuse my high spirits, -Mr. Armadale. Though buried in the country, I was made for a -London life; the very air of the metropolis intoxicates me." -With that avowal the irresistible Pedgift placed a chair for -his patron, and issued his orders cheerfully to his viceroy, -the head-waiter. "Iced punch, William, after the soup. I answer -for the punch, Mr. Armadale; it's made after a recipe of my -great-uncle's. He kept a tavern, and founded the fortunes of the -family. I don't mind telling you the Pedgifts have had a publican -among them; there's no false pride about me. 'Worth makes the man -(as Pope says) and want of it the fellow; the rest is all but -leather and prunella.' I cultivate poetry as well as music, sir, -in my leisure hours; in fact, I'm more or less on familiar terms -with the whole of the nine Muses. Aha! here's the punch! The -memory of my great-uncle, the publican, Mr. Armadale--drunk in -solemn silence!" - -Allan tried hard to emulate his companion's gayety and good -humor, but with very indifferent success. His visit to Kingsdown -Crescent recurred ominously again and again to his memory all -through the dinner, and all through the public amusements to -which he and his legal adviser repaired at a later hour of the -evening. When Pedgift Junior put out his candle that night, he -shook his wary head, and regretfully apostrophized "the women" -for the second time. - -By ten o'clock the next morning the indefatigable Pedgift was on -the scene of action. To Allan's great relief, he proposed making -the necessary inquiries at Kingsdown Crescent in his own person, -while his patron waited near at hand, in the cab which had -brought them from the hotel. After a delay of little more than -five minutes, he reappeared, in full possession of all attainable -particulars. His first proceeding was to request Allan to step -out of the cab, and to pay the driver. Next, he politely offered -his arm, and led the way round the corner of the crescent, across -a square, and into a by-street, which was rendered exceptionally -lively by the presence of the local cab-stand. Here he stopped, -and asked jocosely whether Mr. Armadale saw his way now, or -whether it would be necessary to test his patience by making an -explanation. - -"See my way?" repeated Allan, in bewilderment. "I see nothing -but a cab-stand." - -Pedgift Junior smiled compassionately, and entered on his -explanation. It was a lodging-house at Kingsdown Crescent, he -begged to state to begin with. He had insisted on seeing the -landlady. A very nice person, with all the remains of having been -a fine girl about fifty years ago; quite in Pedgift's style--if -he had only been alive at the beginning of the present -century--quite in Pedgift's style. But perhaps Mr. Armadale would -prefer hearing about Mrs. Mandeville? Unfortunately, there was -nothing to tell. There had been no quarreling, and not a farthing -left unpaid: the lodger had gone, and there wasn't an explanatory -circumstance to lay hold of anywhere. It was either Mrs. -Mandeville's way to vanish, or there was something under the -rose, quite undiscoverable so far. Pedgift had got the date on -which she left, and the time of day at which she left, and the -means by which she left. The means might help to trace her. She -had gone away in a cab which the servant had fetched from the -nearest stand. The stand was now before their eyes; and the -waterman was the first person to apply to--going to the waterman -for information being clearly (if Mr. Armadale would excuse the -joke) going to the fountain-head. Treating the subject in this -airy manner, and telling Allan that he would be back in a moment, -Pedgift Junior sauntered down the street, and beckoned the -waterman confidentially into the nearest public-house. - -In a little while the two re-appeared, the waterman taking -Pedgift in succession to the first, third, fourth, and sixth -of the cabmen whose vehicles were on the stand. The longest -conference was held with the sixth man; and it ended in the -sudden approach of the sixth cab to the part of the street -where Allan was waiting. - -"Get in, sir," said Pedgift, opening the door; "I've found the -man. He remembers the lady; and, though he has forgotten the name -of the street, he believes he can find the place he drove her to -when he once gets back into the neighborhood. I am charmed to -inform you, Mr. Armadale, that we are in luck's way so far. I -asked the waterman to show me the regular men on the stand; and -it turns out that one of the regular men drove Mrs. Mandeville. -The waterman vouches for him; he's quite an anomaly--a -respectable cabman; drives his own horse, and has never been in -any trouble. These are the sort of men, sir, who sustain one's -belief in human nature. I've had a look at our friend, and I -agree with the waterman; I think we can depend on him." - -The investigation required some exercise of patience at the -outset. It was not till the cab had traversed the distance -between Bayswater and Pimlico that the driver began to slacken -his pace and look about him. After once or twice retracing its -course, the vehicle entered a quiet by-street, ending in a dead -wall, with a door in it; and stopped at the last house on the -left-hand side, the house next to the wall. - -"Here it is, gentlemen," said the man, opening the cab door. - -Allan and Allan's adviser both got out, and both looked at the -house, with the same feeling of instinctive distrust. - -Buildings have their physiognomy--especially buildings in great -cities--and the face of this house was essentially furtive in its -expression. The front windows were all shut, and the front blinds -were all drawn down. It looked no larger than the other houses in -the street, seen in front; but it ran back deceitfully and gained -its greater accommodation by means of its greater depth. It -affected to be a shop on the ground-floor; but it exhibited -absolutely nothing in the space that intervened between the -window and an inner row of red curtains, which hid the interior -entirely from view. At one side was the shop door, having more -red curtains behind the glazed part of it, and bearing a brass -plate on the wooden part of it, inscribed with the name of -"Oldershaw." On the other side was the private door, with a bell -marked Professional; and another brass plate, indicating a -medical occupant on this side of the house, for the name on it -was, "Doctor Downward." If ever brick and mortar spoke yet, the -brick and mortar here said plainly, "We have got our secrets -inside, and we mean to keep them." - -"This can't be the place," said Allan; "there must be some -mistake." - -'You know best, sir," remarked Pedgift Junior, with his sardonic -gravity. "You know Mrs. Mandeville's habits." - -"I!" exclaimed Allan. "You may be surprised to hear it; but Mrs. -Mandeville is a total stranger to me." - -"I'm not in the least surprised to hear it, sir; the landlady at -Kingsdown Crescent informed me that Mrs. Mandeville was an old -woman. Suppose we inquire?" added the impenetrable Pedgift, -looking at the red curtains in the shop window with a strong -suspicion that Mrs. Mandeville's granddaughter might possibly -be behind them. - -They tried the shop door first. It was locked. They rang. A lean -and yellow young woman, with a tattered French novel in her hand, -opened it. - -"Good-morning, miss," said Pedgift. "Is Mrs. Mandeville at home?" - -The yellow young woman stared at him in astonishment. "No person -of that name is known here," she answered, sharply, in a foreign -accent. - -"Perhaps they know her at the private door?" suggested Pedgift -Junior. - -"Perhaps they do," said the yellow young woman, and shut the door -in his face. - -"Rather a quick-tempered young person that, sir," said Pedgift. -"I congratulate Mrs. Mandeville on not being acquainted with -her." He led the way, as he spoke, to Doctor Downward's side -of the premises, and rang the bell. - -The door was opened this time by a man in a shabby livery. He, -too, stared when Mrs. Mandeville's name was mentioned; and he, -too, knew of no such person in the house. - -"Very odd," said Pedgift, appealing to Allan. - -"What is odd?" asked a softly stepping, softly speaking gentleman -in black, suddenly appearing on the threshold of the parlor door. - -Pedgift Junior politely explained the circumstances, and begged -to know whether he had the pleasure of speaking to Doctor -Downward. - -The doctor bowed. If the expression may be pardoned, he was -one of those carefully constructed physicians in whom the -public--especially the female public--implicitly trust. He had -the necessary bald head, the necessary double eyeglass, the -necessary black clothes, and the necessary blandness of manner, -all complete. His voice was soothing, his ways were deliberate, -his smile was confidential. What particular branch of his -profession Doctor Downward followed was not indicated on his -door-plate; but he had utterly mistaken his vocation if he was -not a ladies' medical man. - -"Are you quite sure there is no mistake about the name?" asked -the doctor, with a strong underlying anxiety in his manner. "I -have known very serious inconvenience to arise sometimes from -mistakes about names. No? There is really no mistake? In that -case, gentlemen, I can only repeat what my servant has already -told you. Don't apologize, pray. Good-morning." The doctor -withdrew as noiselessly as he had appeared; the man in the shabby -livery silently opened the door; and Allan and his companion -found themselves in the street again. - -"Mr. Armadale," said Pedgift, "I don't know how you feel; I feel -puzzled." - -"That's awkward," returned Allan. "I was just going to ask you -what we ought to do next." - -"I don't like the look of the place, the look of the shop-woman, -or the look of the doctor," pursued the other. "And yet I can't -say I think they are deceiving us; I can't say I think they -really know Mrs. Mandeville's name." - -The impressions of Pedgift Junior seldom misled him; and they had -not misled him in this case. The caution which had dictated Mrs. -Oldershaw's private removal from Bayswater was the caution which -frequently overreaches itself. It had warned her to trust nobody -at Pimlico with the secret of the name she had assumed as Miss -Gwilt's reference; but it had entirely failed to prepare her for -the emergency that had really happened. In a word, Mrs. Oldershaw -had provided for everything except for the one unimaginable -contingency of an after-inquiry into the character of Miss Gwilt. - -"We must do something," said Allan; "it seems useless to stop -here." - -Nobody had ever yet caught Pedgift Junior at the end of his -resources; and Allan failed to catch him at the end of them now. -"I quite agree with you, sir," he said; "we must do something. -We'll cross-examine the cabman." - -The cabman proved to be immovable. Charged with mistaking the -place, he pointed to the empty shop window. "I don't know what -you may have seen, gentlemen," he remarked; "but there's the only -shop window I ever saw with nothing at all inside it. _That_ -fixed the place in my mind at the time, and I know it again when -I see it." Charged with mistaking the person or the day, or the -house at which he had taken the person up, the cabman proved to -be still unassailable. The servant who fetched him was marked -as a girl well known on the stand. The day was marked as the -unluckiest working-day he had had since the first of the year; -and the lady was marked as having had her money ready at the -right moment (which not one elderly lady in a hundred usually -had), and having paid him his fare on demand without disputing -it (which not one elderly lady in a hundred usually did). "Take -my number, gentlemen," concluded the cabman, "and pay me for my -time; and what I've said to you, I'll swear to anywhere." - -Pedgift made a note in his pocket-book of the man's number. -Having added to it the name of the street, and the names on the -two brass plates, he quietly opened the cab door. "We are quite -in the dark, thus far," he said. "Suppose we grope our way back -to the hotel?" - -He spoke and looked more seriously than usual The mere fact of -"Mrs. Mandeville's" having changed her lodging without telling -any one where she was going, and without leaving any address -at which letters could be forwarded to her--which the jealous -malignity of Mrs. Milroy had interpreted as being undeniably -suspicious in itself--had produced no great impression on the -more impartial judgment of Allan's solicitor. People frequently -left their lodgings in a private manner, with perfectly -producible reasons for doing so. But the appearance of the place -to which the cabman persisted in declaring that he had driven -"Mrs. Mandeville" set the character and proceedings of that -mysterious lady before Pedgift Junior in a new light. His -personal interest in the inquiry suddenly strengthened, and he -began to feel a curiosity to know the real nature of Allan's -business which he had not felt yet. - -"Our next move, Mr. Armadale, is not a very easy move to see," -he said, as they drove back to the hotel. "Do you think you could -put me in possession of any further particulars?" - -Allan hesitated; and Pedgift Junior saw that he had advanced a -little too far. "I mustn't force it," he thought; "I must give it -time, and let it come of its own accord." "In the absence of any -other information, sir," he resumed, "what do you say to my -making some inquiry about that queer shop, and about those two -names on the door-plate? My business in London, when I leave you, -is of a professional nature; and I am going into the right -quarter for getting information, if it is to be got." - -"There can't be any harm, I suppose, in making inquiries," -replied Allan. - -He, too, spoke more seriously than usual; he, too, was beginning -to feel an all-mastering curiosity to know more. Some vague -connection, not to be distinctly realized or traced out, began -to establish itself in his mind between the difficulty of -approaching Miss Gwilt's family circumstances and the difficulty -of approaching Miss Gwilt's reference. "I'll get down and walk, -and leave you to go on to your business," he said. "I want to -consider a little about this, and a walk and a cigar will help -me." - -"My business will be done, sir, between one and two," said -Pedgift, when the cab had been stopped, and Allan had got out. -"Shall we meet again at two o'clock, at the hotel?" - -Allan nodded, and the cab drove off. - -CHAPTER IV. - -ALLAN AT BAY. - -Two o'clock came; and Pedgift Junior, punctual to his time, -came with it. His vivacity of the morning had all sparkled out; -he greeted Allan with his customary politeness, but without his -customary smile; and, when the headwaiter came in for orders, -his dismissal was instantly pronounced in words never yet heard -to issue from the lips of Pedgift in that hotel: "Nothing at -present." - -"You seem to be in low spirits," said Allan. "Can't we get our -information? Can nobody tell you anything about the house in -Pimlico?" - -"Three different people have told me about it, Mr. Armadale, -and they have all three said the same thing." - -Allan eagerly drew his chair nearer to the place occupied by his -traveling companion. His reflections in the interval since they -had last seen each other had not tended to compose him. That -strange connection, so easy to feel, so hard to trace, between -the difficulty of approaching Miss Gwilt's family circumstances -and the difficulty of approaching Miss Gwilt's reference, which -had already established itself in his thoughts, had by this time -stealthily taken a firmer and firmer hold on his mind. Doubts -troubled him which he could neither understand nor express. -Curiosity filled him, which he half longed and half dreaded to -satisfy. - -"I am afraid I must trouble you with a question or two, sir, -before I can come to the point," said Pedgift Junior. "I don't -want to force myself into your confidence. I only want to see -my way, in what looks to me like a very awkward business. Do you -mind telling me whether others besides yourself are interested -in this inquiry of ours?" - -"Other people _are_ interested in it," replied Allan. "There's -no objection to telling you that." - -"Is there any other person who is the object of the inquiry -besides Mrs. Mandeville, herself?" pursued Pedgift, winding -his way a little deeper into the secret. - -"Yes; there is another person," said Allan, answering rather -unwillingly. - -"Is the person a young woman, Mr. Armadale?" - -Allan started. "How do you come to guess that?" he began, then -checked himself, when it was too late. "Don't ask me any more -questions," he resumed. "I'm a bad hand at defending myself -against a sharp fellow like you; and I'm bound in honor toward -other people to keep the particulars of this business to myself." - -Pedgift Junior had apparently heard enough for his purpose. He -drew his chair, in his turn, nearer to Allan. He was evidently -anxious and embarrassed; but his professional manner began to -show itself again from sheer force of habit. - -"I've done with my questions, sir," he said; "and I have -something to say now on my side. In my father's absence, perhaps -you may be kindly disposed to consider me as your legal adviser. -If you will take my advice, you will not stir another step in -this inquiry." - -"What do you mean?" interposed Allan. - -"It is just possible, Mr. Armadale, that the cabman, positive as -he is, may have been mistaken. I strongly recommend you to take -it for granted that he _is_ mistaken, and to drop it there." - -The caution was kindly intended; but it came too late. Allan did -what ninety-nine men out of a hundred in his position would have -done--he declined to take his lawyer's advice. - -"Very well, sir," said Pedgift Junior; "if you will have it, you -must have it." - -He leaned forward close to Allan's ear, and whispered what he had -heard of the house in Pimlico, and of the people who occupied it. - -"Don't blame me, Mr. Armadale," he added, when the irrevocable -words had been spoken. "I tried to spare you." - -Allan suffered the shock, as all great shocks are suffered, -in silence. His first impulse would have driven him headlong -for refuge to that very view of the cabman's assertion which had -just been recommended to him, but for one damning circumstance -which placed itself inexorably in his way. Miss Gwilt's marked -reluctance to approach the story of her past life rose -irrepressibly on his memory, in indirect but horrible -confirmation of the evidence which connected Miss Gwilt's -reference with the house in Pimlico. One conclusion, and one -only--the conclusion which any man must have drawn, hearing -what he had just heard, and knowing no more than he knew--forced -itself into his mind. A miserable, fallen woman, who had -abandoned herself in her extremity to the help of wretches -skilled in criminal concealment, who had stolen her way back to -decent society and a reputable employment by means of a false -character, and whose position now imposed on her the dreadful -necessity of perpetual secrecy and perpetual deceit in relation -to her past life--such was the aspect in which the beautiful -governess at Thorpe Ambrose now stood revealed to Allan's eyes! - -Falsely revealed, or truly revealed? Had she stolen her way back -to decent society and a reputable employment by means of a false -character? She had. Did her position impose on her the dreadful -necessity of perpetual secrecy and perpetual deceit in relation -to her past life? It did. Was she some such pitiable victim to -the treachery of a man unknown as Allan had supposed? _She was no -such pitiable victim_. The conclusion which Allan had drawn--the -conclusion literally forced into his mind by the facts before -him--was, nevertheless, the conclusion of all others that was -furthest even from touching on the truth. The true story of Miss -Gwilt's connection with the house in Pimlico and the people who -inhabited it--a house rightly described as filled with wicked -secrets, and people rightly represented as perpetually in danger -of feeling the grasp of the law--was a story which coming events -were yet to disclose: a story infinitely less revolting, and yet -infinitely more terrible, than Allan or Allan's companion had -either of them supposed. - -"I tried to spare you, Mr. Armadale," repeated Pedgift. "I was -anxious, if I could possibly avoid it, not to distress you." - -Allan looked up, and made an effort to control himself. "You have -distressed me dreadfully," he said. "You have quite crushed me -down. But it is not your fault. I ought to feel you have done me -a service; and what I ought to do I will do, when I am my own man -again. There is one thing," Allan added, after a moment's painful -consideration, "which ought to be understood between us at once. -The advice you offered me just now was very kindly meant, and -it was the best advice that could be given. I will take it -gratefully. We will never talk of this again, if you please; -and I beg and entreat you will never speak about it to any other -person. Will you promise me that?" - -Pedgift gave the promise with very evident sincerity, but without -his professional confidence of manner. The distress in Allan's -face seemed to daunt him. After a moment of very uncharacteristic -hesitation, he considerately quitted the room. - -Left by himself, Allan rang for writing materials, and took out -of his pocket-book the fatal letter of introduction to "Mrs. -Mandeville" which he had received from the major's wife. - -A man accustomed to consider consequences and to prepare himself -for action by previous thought would, in Allan's present -circumstances, have felt some difficulty as to the course which -it might now be least embarrassing and least dangerous to pursue. -Accustomed to let his impulses direct him on all other occasions, -Allan acted on impulse in the serious emergency that now -confronted him. Though his attachment to Miss Gwilt was nothing -like the deeply rooted feeling which he had himself honestly -believed it to be, she had taken no common place in his -admiration, and she filled him with no common grief when he -thought of her now. His one dominant desire, at that critical -moment in his life, was a man's merciful desire to protect from -exposure and ruin the unhappy woman who had lost her place in -his estimation, without losing her claim to the forbearance that -could spare, and to the compassion that could shield her. "I -can't go back to Thorpe Ambrose; I can't trust myself to speak -to her, or to see her again. But I can keep her miserable secret; -and I will!" With that thought in his heart, Allan set himself to -perform the first and foremost duty which now claimed him--the -duty of communicating with Mrs. Milroy. If he had possessed a -higher mental capacity and a clearer mental view, he might have -found the letter no easy one to write. As it was, he calculated -no consequences, and felt no difficulty. His instinct warned him -to withdraw at once from the position in which he now stood -toward the major's wife, and he wrote what his instinct counseled -him to write under those circumstances, as rapidly as the pen -could travel over the paper: - - -"Dunn's Hotel, Covent Garden, Tuesday. - -"DEAR MADAM--Pray excuse my not returning to Thorpe Ambrose -today, as I said I would. Unforeseen circumstances oblige me to -stop in London. I am sorry to say I have not succeeded in seeing -Mrs. Mandeville, for which reason I cannot perform your errand; -and I beg, therefore, with many apologies, to return the letter -of introduction. I hope you will allow me to conclude by saying -that I am very much obliged to you for your kindness, and that -I will not venture to trespass on it any further. - -"I remain, dear madam, yours truly, - -"ALLAN ARMADALE." - - -In those artless words, still entirely unsuspicious of the -character of the woman he had to deal with, Allan put the weapon -she wanted into Mrs. Milroy's hands. - -The letter and its inclosure once sealed up and addressed, he was -free to think of himself and his future. As he sat idly drawing -lines with his pen on the blotting-paper, the tears came into -his eyes for the first time--tears in which the woman who had -deceived him had no share. His heart had gone back to his dead -mother. "If she had been alive," he thought, "I might have -trusted _her_, and she would have comforted me." It was useless -to dwell on it; he dashed away the tears, and turned his -thoughts, with the heart-sick resignation that we all know, -to living and present things. - -He wrote a line to Mr. Bashwood, briefly informing the deputy -steward that his absence from Thorpe Ambrose was likely to be -prolonged for some little time, and that any further instructions -which might be necessary, under those circumstances, would reach -him through Mr. Pedgift the elder. This done, and the letters -sent to the post, his thoughts were forced back once more on -himself. Again the blank future waited before him to be filled -up; and again his heart shrank from it to the refuge of the past. - -This time other images than the image of his mother filled -his mind. The one all-absorbing interest of his earlier days -stirred living and eager in him again. He thought of the sea; -he thought of his yacht lying idle in the fishing harbor at his -west-country home. The old longing got possession of him to hear -the wash of the waves; to see the filling of the sails; to feel -the vessel that his own hands had helped to build bounding under -him once more. He rose in his impetuous way to call for the -time-table, and to start for Somersetshire by the first train, -when the dread of the questions which Mr. Brock might ask, the -suspicion of the change which Mr. Brock might see in him, drew -him back to his chair. "I'll write," he thought, "to have the -yacht rigged and refitted, and I'll wait to go to Somersetshire -myself till Midwinter can go with me." He sighed as his memory -reverted to his absent friend. Never had he felt the void made -in his life by Midwinter's departure so painfully as he felt it -now, in the dreariest of all social solitudes--the solitude of -a stranger in London, left by himself at a hotel. - -Before long, Pedgift Junior looked in, with an apology for his -intrusion. Allan felt too lonely and too friendless not to -welcome his companion's re-appearance gratefully. "I'm not going -back to Thorpe Ambrose," he said; "I'm going to stay a little -while in London. I hope you will be able to stay with me?" To do -him justice, Pedgift was touched by the solitary position in -which the owner of the great Thorpe Ambrose estate now appeared -before him. He had never, in his relations with Allan, so -entirely forgotten his business interests as he forgot them now. - -"You are quite right, sir, to stop here; London's the place to -divert your mind," said Pedgift, cheerfully. "All business is -more or less elastic in its nature, Mr. Armadale; I'll spin _my_ -business out, and keep you company with the greatest pleasure. -We are both of us on the right side of thirty, sir; let's enjoy -ourselves. What do you say to dining early, and going to the -play, and trying the Great Exhibition in Hyde Park to-morrow -morning, after breakfast? If we only live like fighting-cocks, -and go in perpetually for public amusements, we shall arrive -in no time at the _mens sana in corpore sano_ of the ancients. -Don't be alarmed at the quotation, sir. I dabble a little in -Latin after business hours, and enlarge my sympathies by -occasional perusal of the Pagan writers, assisted by a crib. -William, dinner at five; and, as it's particularly important -to-day, I'll see the cook myself." - -The evening passed; the next day passed; Thursday morning came, -and brought with it a letter for Allan. The direction was in -Mrs. Milroy's handwriting; and the form of address adopted in -the letter warned Allan, the moment he opened it, that something -had gone wrong. - - -["Private."] - -"The Cottage, Thorpe Ambrose, Wednesday. - -"SIR--I have just received your mysterious letter. It has more -than surprised, it has really alarmed me. After having made the -friendliest advances to you on my side, I find myself suddenly -shut out from your confidence in the most unintelligible, and, -I must add, the most discourteous manner. It is quite impossible -that I can allow the matter to rest where you have left it. The -only conclusion I can draw from your letter is that my confidence -must have been abused in some way, and that you know a great deal -more than you are willing to tell me. Speaking in the interest -of my daughter's welfare, I request that you will inform me -what the circumstances are which have prevented your seeing -Mrs. Mandeville, and which have led to the withdrawal of the -assistance that you unconditionally promised me in your letter -of Monday last. - -"In my state of health, I cannot involve myself in a lengthened -correspondence. I must endeavor to anticipate any objections you -may make, and I must say all that I have to say in my present -letter. In the event (which I am most unwilling to consider -possible) of your declining to accede to the request that I have -just addressed to you, I beg to say that I shall consider it my -duty to my daughter to have this very unpleasant matter cleared -up. If I don't hear from you to my full satisfaction by return -of post, I shall be obliged to tell my husband that circumstances -have happened which justify us in immediately testing the -respectability of Miss Gwilt's reference. And when he asks me -for my authority, I will refer him to you. - -"Your obedient servant, ANNE MILROY." - - -In those terms the major's wife threw off the mask, and left her -victim to survey at his leisure the trap in which she had caught -him. Allan's belief in Mrs. Milroy's good faith had been so -implicitly sincere that her letter simply bewildered him. He saw -vaguely that he had been deceived in some way, and that Mrs. -Milroy's neighborly interest in him was not what it had looked on -the surface; and he saw no more. The threat of appealing to the -major--on which, with a woman's ignorance of the natures of men, -Mrs. Milroy had relied for producing its effect--was the only -part of the letter to which Allan reverted with any satisfaction: -it relieved instead of alarming him. "If there _is_ to be a -quarrel," he thought, "it will be a comfort, at any rate, to have -it out with a man." - -Firm in his resolution to shield the unhappy woman whose secret -he wrongly believed himself to have surprised, Allan sat down to -write his apologies to the major's wife. After setting up three -polite declarations, in close marching order, he retired from the -field. "He was extremely sorry to have offended Mrs. Milroy. He -was innocent of all intention to offend Mrs. Milroy. And he -begged to remain Mrs. Milroy's truly." Never had Allan's habitual -brevity as a letter-writer done him better service than it did -him now. With a little more skillfulness in the use of his pen, -he might have given his enemy even a stronger hold on him than -the hold she had got already. - -The interval day passed, and with the next morning's post Mrs. -Milroy's threat came realized in the shape of a letter from her -husband. The major wrote less formally than his wife had written, -but his questions were mercilessly to the point: - - -["Private."] - -"The Cottage, Thorpe Ambrose, Friday, July 11, 1851. - -"DEAR SIR--When you did me the favor of calling here a few days -since, you asked a question relating to my governess, Miss Gwilt, -which I thought rather a strange one at the time, and which -caused, as you may remember, a momentary embarrassment between -us. - -"This morning the subject of Miss Gwilt has been brought to -my notice again in a manner which has caused me the utmost -astonishment. In plain words, Mrs. Milroy has informed me -that Miss Gwilt has exposed herself to the suspicion of having -deceived us by a false reference. On my expressing the surprise -which such an extraordinary statement caused me, and requesting -that it might be instantly substantiated, I was still further -astonished by being told to apply for all particulars to no less -a person than Mr. Armadale. I have vainly requested some further -explanation from Mrs. Milroy; she persists in maintaining -silence, and in referring me to yourself. - -"Under these extraordinary circumstances, I am compelled, in -justice to all parties, to ask you certain questions which I will -endeavor to put as plainly as possible, and which I am quite -ready to believe (from my previous experience of you) that you -will answer frankly on your side. - -"I beg to inquire, in the first place, whether you admit or deny -Mrs. Milroy's assertion that you have made yourself acquainted -with particulars relating either to Miss Gwilt or to Miss Gwilt's -reference, of which I am entirely ignorant? In the second place, -if you admit the truth of Mrs. Milroy's statement, I request to -know how you became acquainted with those particulars? Thirdly, -and lastly, I beg to ask you what the particulars are? - -"If any special justification for putting these questions be -needed--which, purely as a matter of courtesy toward yourself, -I am willing to admit--I beg to remind you that the most precious -charge in my house, the charge of my daughter, is confided to -Miss Gwilt; and that Mrs. Milroy's statement places you, to all -appearance, in the position of being competent to tell me whether -that charge is properly bestowed or not. - -"I have only to add that, as nothing has thus far occurred to -justify me in entertaining the slightest suspicion either of my -governess or her reference, I shall wait before I make any appeal -to Miss Gwilt until I have received your answer--which I shall -expect by return of post. Believe me, dear sir, faithfully yours, - -"DAVID MILROY." - - -This transparently straightforward letter at once dissipated -the confusion which had thus far existed in Allan's mind. He saw -the snare in which he had been caught (though he was still -necessarily at a loss to understand why it had been set for him) -as he had not seen it yet. Mrs. Milroy had clearly placed him -between two alternatives--the alternative of putting himself in -the wrong, by declining to answer her husband's questions; or the -alternative of meanly sheltering his responsibility behind the -responsibility of a woman, by acknowledging to the major's own -face that the major's wife had deceived him. - -In this difficulty Allan acted as usual, without hesitation. His -pledge to Mrs. Milroy to consider their correspondence private -still bound him, disgracefully as she had abused it. And his -resolution was as immovable as ever to let no earthly -consideration tempt him into betraying Miss Gwilt. "I may have -behaved like a fool," he thought, "but I won't break my word; -and I won't be the means of turning that miserable woman adrift -in the world again." - -He wrote to the major as artlessly and briefly as he had written -to the major's wife. He declared his unwillingness to cause a -friend and neighbor any disappointment, if he could possibly help -it. On this occasion he had no other choice. The questions the -major asked him were questions which he could not consent to -answer. He was not very clever at explaining himself, and he -hoped he might be excused for putting it in that way, and saying -no more. - -Monday's post brought with it Major Milroy's rejoinder, and -closed the correspondence. - - -"The Cottage, Thorpe Ambrose, Sunday. - -"SIR--Your refusal to answer my questions, unaccompanied as -it is by even the shadow of an excuse for such a proceeding, -can be interpreted but in one way. Besides being an implied -acknowledgment of the correctness of Mrs. Milroy's statement, -it is also an implied reflection on my governess's character. -As an act of justice toward a lady who lives under the protection -of my roof, and who has given me no reason whatever to distrust -her, I shall now show our correspondence to Miss Gwilt; and I -shall repeat to her the conversation which I had with Mrs. -Milroy on the subject, in Mrs. Milroy's presence. - -"One word more respecting the future relations between us, and -I have done. My ideas on certain subjects are, I dare say, the -ideas of an old-fashioned man. In my time, we had a code of honor -by which we regulated our actions. According to that code, if a -man made private inquiries into a lady's affairs, without being -either her husband, her father, or her brother, he subjected -himself to the responsibility of justifying his conduct in the -estimation of others; and, if he evaded that responsibility, he -abdicated the position of a gentleman. It is quite possible that -this antiquated way of thinking exists no longer; but it is too -late for me, at my time of life, to adopt more modern views. I am -scrupulously anxious, seeing that we live in a country and a time -in which the only court of honor is a police-court, to express -myself with the utmost moderation of language upon this the last -occasion that I shall have to communicate with you. Allow me, -therefore, merely to remark that our ideas of the conduct which -is becoming in a gentleman differ seriously; and permit me on -this account to request that you will consider yourself for the -future as a stranger to my family and to myself. - -"Your obedient servant, - -"DAVID MILROY." - - -The Monday morning on which his client received the major's -letter was the blackest Monday that had yet been marked in -Pedgift's calendar. When Allan's first angry sense of the tone -of contempt in which his friend and neighbor pronounced sentence -on him had subsided, it left him sunk in a state of depression -from which no efforts made by his traveling companion could rouse -him for the rest of the day. Reverting naturally, now that his -sentence of banishment had been pronounced, to his early -intercourse with the cottage, his memory went back to Neelie, -more regretfully and more penitently than it had gone back to her -yet." If _she_ had shut the door on me, instead of her father," -was the bitter reflection with which Allan now reviewed the past, -"I shouldn't have had a word to say against it; I should have -felt it served me right." - -The next day brought another letter--a welcome letter this time, -from Mr. Brock. Allan had written to Somersetshire on the subject -of refitting the yacht some days since. The letter had found the -rector engaged, as he innocently supposed, in protecting his old -pupil against the woman whom he had watched in London, and whom -he now believed to have followed him back to his own home. Acting -under the directions sent to her, Mrs. Oldershaw's house-maid had -completed the mystification of Mr. Brock. She had tranquilized -all further anxiety on the rector's part by giving him a written -undertaking (in the character of Miss Gwilt), engaging never to -approach Mr. Armadale, either personally or by letter! Firmly -persuaded that he had won the victory at last, poor Mr. Brock -answered Allan's note in the highest spirits, expressing some -natural surprise at his leaving Thorpe Ambrose, but readily -promising that the yacht should be refitted, and offering the -hospitality of the rectory in the heartiest manner. - -This letter did wonders in raising Allan's spirits. It gave him -a new interest to look to, entirely disassociated from his past -life in Norfolk. He began to count the days that were still to -pass before the return of his absent friend. It was then Tuesday. -If Midwinter came back from his walking trip, as he had engaged -to come back, in a fortnight, Saturday would find him at Thorpe -Ambrose. A note sent to meet the traveler might bring him to -London the same night; and, if all went well, before another -week was over they might be afloat together in the yacht. - -The next day passed, to Allan's relief, without bringing any -letters. The spirits of Pedgift rose sympathetically with the -spirits of his client. Toward dinner time he reverted to the -_mens sana in corpore sano_ of the ancients, and issued his -orders to the head-waiter more royally than ever. - -Thursday came, and brought the fatal postman with more news from -Norfolk. A letter-writer now stepped on the scene who had not -appeared there yet; and the total overthrow of all Allan's plans -for a visit to Somersetshire was accomplished on the spot. - -Pedgift Junior happened that morning to be the first at the -breakfast table. When Allan came in, he relapsed into his -professional manner, and offered a letter to his patron with -a bow performed in dreary silence. - -"For me?" inquired Allan, shrinking instinctively from a new -correspondent. - -"For you, sir--from my father," replied Pedgift, "inclosed in one -to myself. Perhaps you will allow me to suggest, by way of -preparing you for--for something a little unpleasant--that we -shall want a particularly good dinner to-day; and (if they're not -performing any modern German music to-night) I think we should do -well to finish the evening melodiously at the Opera." - -"Something wrong at Thorpe Ambrose?" asked Allen. - -"Yes, Mr. Armadale; something wrong at Thorpe Ambrose." - -Allan sat down resignedly, and opened the letter. - - -["Private and Confidential."] - -"High Street Thorpe Ambrose, 17th July, 1851. - -"DEAR SIR--I cannot reconcile it with my sense of duty to your -interests to leave you any longer in ignorance of reports current -in this town and its neighborhood, which, I regret to say, are -reports affecting yourself. - -"The first intimation of anything unpleasant reached me on Monday -last. It was widely rumored in the town that something had gone -wrong at Major Milroy's with the new governess, and that Mr. -Armadale was mixed up in it. I paid no heed to this, believing it -to be one of the many trumpery pieces of scandal perpetually set -going here, and as necessary as the air they breathe to the -comfort of the inhabitants of this highly respectable place. - -"Tuesday, however, put the matter in a new light. The most -interesting particulars were circulated on the highest authority. -On Wednesday, the gentry in the neighborhood took the matter up, -and universally sanctioned the view adopted by the town. To-day -the public feeling has reached its climax, and I find myself -under the necessity of making you acquainted with what has -happened. - -"To begin at the beginning. It is asserted that a correspondence -took place last week between Major Milroy and yourself; in which -you cast a very serious suspicion on Miss Gwilt's respectability, -without defining your accusations and without (on being applied -to) producing your proofs. Upon this, the major appears to have -felt it his duty (while assuring his governess of his own firm -belief in her respectability) to inform her of what had happened, -in order that she might have no future reason to complain of his -having had any concealments from her in a matter affecting her -character. Very magnanimous on the major's part; but you will see -directly that Miss Gwilt was more magnanimous still. After -expressing her thanks in a most becoming manner, she requested -permission to withdraw herself from Major Milroy's service. - -"Various reports are in circulation as to the governess's reason -for taking this step. - -"The authorized version (as sanctioned by the resident gentry) -represents Miss Gwilt to have said that she could not -condescend--in justice to herself, and in justice to her highly -respectable reference--to defend her reputation against undefined -imputations cast on it by a comparative stranger. At the same -time it was impossible for her to pursue such a course of conduct -as this, unless she possessed a freedom of action which was quite -incompatible with her continuing to occupy the dependent position -of a governess. For that reason she felt it incumbent on her to -leave her situation. But, while doing this, she was equally -determined not to lead to any misinterpretation of her motives -by leaving the neighborhood. No matter at what inconvenience to -herself, she would remain long enough at Thorpe Ambrose to await -any more definitely expressed imputations that might be made on -her character, and to repel them publicly the instant they -assumed a tangible form. - -"Such is the position which this high-minded lady has taken up, -with an excellent effect on the public mind in these parts. It -is clearly her interest, for some reason, to leave her situation, -without leaving the neighborhood. On Monday last she established -herself in a cheap lodging on the outskirts of the town. And on -the same day she probably wrote to her reference, for yesterday -there came a letter from that lady to Major Milroy, full of -virtuous indignation, and courting the fullest inquiry. The -letter has been shown publicly, and has immensely strengthened -Miss Gwilt's position. She is now considered to be quite a -heroine. The _Thorpe Ambrose Mercury_ has got a leading article -about her, comparing her to Joan of Arc. It is considered -probable that she will be referred to in the sermon next Sunday. -We reckon five strong-minded single ladies in this -neighborhood--and all five have called on her. A testimonial was -suggested; but it has been given up at Miss Gwilt's own request, -and a general movement is now on foot to get her employment as a -teacher of music. Lastly, I have had the honor of a visit from -the lady herself, in her capacity of martyr, to tell me, in the -sweetest manner, that she doesn't blame Mr. Armadale, and that -she considers him to be an innocent instrument in the hands of -other and more designing people. I was carefully on my guard with -her; for I don't altogether believe in Miss Gwilt, and I have my -lawyer's suspicions of the motive that is at the bottom of her -present proceedings. - -"I have written thus far, my dear sir, with little hesitation or -embarrassment. But there is unfortunately a serious side to this -business as well as a ridiculous side; and I must unwillingly -come to it before I close my letter. - -"It is, I think, quite impossible that you can permit yourself -to be spoken of as you are spoken of now, without stirring -personally in the matter. You have unluckily made many enemies -here, and foremost among them is my colleague, Mr. Darch. He has -been showing everywhere a somewhat rashly expressed letter you -wrote to him on the subject of letting the cottage to Major -Milroy instead of to himself, and it has helped to exasperate the -feeling against you. It is roundly stated in so many words that -you have been prying into Miss Gwilt's family affairs, with the -most dishonorable motives; that you have tried, for a profligate -purpose of your own, to damage her reputation, and to deprive her -of the protection of Major Milroy's roof; and that, after having -been asked to substantiate by proof the suspicions that you have -cast on the reputation of a defenseless woman, you have -maintained a silence which condemns you in the estimation of all -honorable men. - -"I hope it is quite unnecessary for me to say that I don't attach -the smallest particle of credit to these infamous reports. But -they are too widely spread and too widely believed to be treated -with contempt. I strongly urge you to return at once to this -place, and to take the necessary measures for defending your -character, in concert with me, as your legal adviser. I have -formed, since my interview with Miss Gwilt, a very strong opinion -of my own on the subject of that lady which it is not necessary -to commit to paper. Suffice it to say here that I shall have a -means to propose to you for silencing the slanderous tongues of -your neighbors, on the success of which I stake my professional -reputation, if you will only back me by your presence and -authority. - -"It may, perhaps, help to show you the necessity there is -for your return, if I mention one other assertion respecting -yourself, which is in everybody's mouth. Your absence is, I -regret to tell you, attributed to the meanest of all motives. -It is said that you are remaining in London because you are -afraid to show your face at Thorpe Ambrose. - -"Believe me, dear sir, your faithful servant, - -"A. PEDGIFT, Sen." - - -Allan was of an age to feel the sting contained in the last -sentence of his lawyer's letter. He started to his feet in a -paroxysm of indignation, which revealed his character to Pedgift -Junior in an entirely new light. - -"Where's the time-table?" cried Allan. "I must go back to Thorpe -Ambrose by the next train! If it doesn't start directly, I'll -have a special engine. I must and will go back instantly, and -I don't care two straws for the expense!" - -"Suppose we telegraph to my father, sir?" suggested the judicious -Pedgift. "It's the quickest way of expressing your feelings, and -the cheapest." - -"So it is," said Allan. "Thank you for reminding me of it. -Telegraph to them! Tell your father to give every man in Thorpe -Ambrose the lie direct, in my name. Put it in capital letters, -Pedgift--put it in capital letters!" - -Pedgift smiled and shook his head. If he was acquainted with no -other variety of human nature, he thoroughly knew the variety -that exists in country towns. - -"It won't have the least effect on them, Mr. Armadale," he -remarked quietly. "They'll only go on lying harder than ever. If -you want to upset the whole town, one line will do it. With five -shillings' worth of human labor and electric fluid, sir (I dabble -a little in science after business hours), we'll explode a -bombshell in Thorpe Ambrose!" He produced the bombshell on -a slip of paper as he spoke: "A. Pedgift, Junior, to A. Pedgift, -Senior.--Spread it all over the place that Mr. Armadale is coming -down by the next train." - -"More words!" suggested Allan, looking over his shoulder. "Make -it stronger." - -"Leave my father to make it stronger, sir," returned the wary -Pedgift. "My father is on the spot, and his command of language -is something quite extraordinary." He rang the bell, and -dispatched the telegram. - -Now that something had been done, Allan subsided gradually -into a state of composure. He looked back again at Mr. Pedgift's -letter, and then handed it to Mr. Pedgift's son. - -"Can you guess your father's plan for setting me right in the -neighborhood?" he asked. - -Pedgift the younger shook his wise head. "His plan appears to be -connected in some way, sir, with his opinion of Miss Gwilt." - -"I wonder what he thinks of her?" said Allan. - -"I shouldn't be surprised, Mr. Armadale," returned Pedgift -Junior, "if his opinion staggers you a little, when you come to -hear it. My father has had a large legal experience of the shady -side of the sex, and he learned his profession at the Old -Bailey." - -Allan made no further inquiries. He seemed to shrink from -pursuing the subject, after having started it himself. "Let's -be doing something to kill the time," he said. "Let's pack up -and pay the bill." - -They packed up and paid the bill. The hour came, and the train -left for Norfolk at last. - -While the travelers were on their way back, a somewhat longer -telegraphic message than Allan's was flashing its way past them -along the wires, in the reverse direction--from Thorpe Ambrose -to London. The message was in cipher, and, the signs being -interpreted, it ran thus: "From Lydia Gwilt to Maria -Oldershaw.--Good news! He is coming back. I mean to have an -interview with him. Everything looks well. Now I have left the -cottage, I have no women's prying eyes to dread, and I can come -and go as I please. Mr. Midwinter is luckily out of the way. -I don't despair of becoming Mrs. Armadale yet. Whatever happens, -depend on my keeping away from London until I am certain of not -taking any spies after me to your place. I am in no hurry to -leave Thorpe Ambrose. I mean to be even with Miss Milroy first." - -Shortly after that message was received in London, Allan was back -again in his own house. - -It was evening--Pedgift Junior had just left him--and Pedgift -Senior was expected to call on business in half an hour's time. - -CHAPTER V. - -PEDGIFT'S REMEDY. - -After waiting to hold a preliminary consultation with his son, -Mr. Pedgift the elder set forth alone for his interview with -Allan at the great house. - -Allowing for the difference in their ages, the son was, in this -instance, so accurately the reflection of the father, that -an acquaintance with either of the two Pedgifts was almost -equivalent to an acquaintance with both. Add some little height -and size to the figure of Pedgift Junior, give more breadth and -boldness to his humor, and some additional solidity and composure -to his confidence in himself, and the presence and character of -Pedgift Senior stood, for all general purposes, revealed before -you. - -The lawyer's conveyance to Thorpe Ambrose was his own smart gig, -drawn by his famous fast-trotting mare. It was his habit to drive -himself; and it was one among the trifling external peculiarities -in which he and his son differed a little, to affect something of -the sporting character in his dress. The drab trousers of Pedgift -the elder fitted close to his legs; his boots, in dry weather -and wet alike, were equally thick in the sole; his coat pockets -overlapped his hips, and his favorite summer cravat was of light -spotted muslin, tied in the neatest and smallest of bows. He used -tobacco like his son, but in a different form. While the younger -man smoked, the elder took snuff copiously; and it was noticed -among his intimates that he always held his "pinch" in a state of -suspense between his box and his nose when he was going to clinch -a good bargain or to say a good thing. The art of diplomacy -enters largely into the practice of all successful men in -the lower branch of the law. Mr. Pedgift's form of diplomatic -practice had been the same throughout his life, on every occasion -when he found his arts of persuasion required at an interview -with another man. He invariably kept his strongest argument, -or his boldest proposal, to the last, and invariably remembered -it at the door (after previously taking his leave), as if it was -a purely accidental consideration which had that instant occurred -to him. Jocular friends, acquainted by previous experience with -this form of proceeding, had given it the name of "Pedgift's -postscript." There were few people in Thorpe Ambrose who did not -know what it meant when the lawyer suddenly checked his exit -at the opened door; came back softly to his chair, with his pinch -of snuff suspended between his box and his nose; said, "By-the-by, -there's a point occurs to me;" and settled the question off-hand, -after having given it up in despair not a minute before. - -This was the man whom the march of events at Thorpe Ambrose had -now thrust capriciously into a foremost place. This was the one -friend at hand to whom Allan in his social isolation could turn -for counsel in the hour of need. - - -"Good-evening, Mr. Armadale. Many thanks for your prompt -attention to my very disagreeable letter," said Pedgift Senior, -opening the conversation cheerfully the moment he entered his -client's house. "I hope you understand, sir, that I had really -no choice under the circumstances but to write as I did?" - -"I have very few friends, Mr. Pedgift," returned Allan, simply. -"And I am sure you are one of the few." - -"Much obliged, Mr. Armadale. I have always tried to deserve your -good opinion, and I mean, if I can, to deserve it now. You found -yourself comfortable, I hope, sir, at the hotel in London? We -call it Our hotel. Some rare old wine in the cellar, which I -should have introduced to your notice if I had had the honor of -being with you. My son unfortunately knows nothing about wine." - -Allan felt his false position in the neighborhood far too acutely -to be capable of talking of anything but the main business of the -evening. His lawyer's politely roundabout method of approaching -the painful subject to be discussed between them rather irritated -than composed him. He came at once to the point, in his own -bluntly straightforward way. - -"The hotel was very comfortable, Mr. Pedgift, and your son was -very kind to me. But we are not in London now; and I want to talk -to you about how I am to meet the lies that are being told of me -in this place. Only point me out any one man," cried Allan, with -a rising voice and a mounting color--"any one man who says I am -afraid to show my face in the neighborhood, and I'll horsewhip -him publicly before another day is over his head!" - -Pedgift Senior helped himself to a pinch of snuff, and held it -calmly in suspense midway between his box and his nose. - -"You can horsewhip a man, sir; but you can't horsewhip a -neighborhood," said the lawyer, in his politely epigrammatic -manner. "We will fight our battle, if you please, without -borrowing our weapons of the coachman yet a while, at any rate." - -"But how are we to begin?" asked Allan, impatiently. "How am I -to contradict the infamous things they say of me?" - -"There are two ways of stepping out of your present awkward -position, sir--a short way, and a long way," replied Pedgift -Senior. "The short way (which is always the best) has occurred to -me since I have heard of your proceedings in London from my son. -I understand that you permitted him, after you received my -letter, to take me into your confidence. I have drawn various -conclusions from what he has told me, which I may find it -necessary to trouble you with presently. In the meantime I should -be glad to know under what circumstances you went to London to -make these unfortunate inquiries about Miss Gwilt? Was it your -own notion to pay that visit to Mrs. Mandeville? or were you -acting under the influence of some other person?" - -Allan hesitated. "I can't honestly tell you it was my own -notion," he replied, and said no more. - -"I thought as much!" remarked Pedgift Senior, in high triumph. -"The short way out of our present difficulty, Mr. Armadale, lies -straight through that other person, under whose influence you -acted. That other person must be presented forthwith to public -notice, and must stand in that other person's proper place. -The name, if you please, sir, to begin with--we'll come to the -circumstances directly." - -"I am sorry to say, Mr. Pedgift, that we must try the longest -way, if you have no objection," replied Allan, quietly. "The -short way happens to be a way I can't take on this occasion." - -The men who rise in the law are the men who decline to take No -for an answer. Mr. Pedgift the elder had risen in the law; and -Mr. Pedgift the elder now declined to take No for an answer. But -all pertinacity--even professional pertinacity included--sooner -or later finds its limits; and the lawyer, doubly fortified as -he was by long experience and copious pinches of snuff, found -his limits at the very outset of the interview. It was impossible -that Allan could respect the confidence which Mrs. Milroy had -treacherously affected to place in him. But he had an honest -man's regard for his own pledged word--the regard which looks -straightforward at the fact, and which never glances sidelong at -the circumstances--and the utmost persistency of Pedgift Senior -failed to move him a hairbreadth from the position which he had -taken up. "No" is the strongest word in the English language, -in the mouth of any man who has the courage to repeat it often -enough, and Allan had the courage to repeat it often enough on -this occasion. - -"Very good, sir," said the lawyer, accepting his defeat without -the slightest loss of temper. "The choice rests with you, and you -have chosen. We will go the long way. It starts (allow me to -inform you) from my office; and it leads (as I strongly suspect) -through a very miry road to--Miss Gwilt." - -Allan looked at his legal adviser in speechless astonishment. - -"If you won't expose the person who is responsible in the first -instance, sir, for the inquiries to which you unfortunately lent -yourself," proceeded Mr. Pedgift the elder, "the only other -alternative, in your present position, is to justify the -inquiries themselves." - -"And how is that to be done?" inquired Allan. - -"By proving to the whole neighborhood, Mr. Armadale, what I -firmly believe to be the truth--that the pet object of the public -protection is an adventuress of the worst class; an undeniably -worthless and dangerous woman. In plainer English still, sir, -by employing time enough and money enough to discover the truth -about Miss Gwilt." - - -Before Allan could say a word in answer, there was an -interruption at the door. After the usual preliminary knock, -one of the servants came in. - -"I told you I was not to be interrupted," said Allan, irritably. -"Good heavens! am I never to have done with them? Another -letter!" - -"Yes, sir," said the man, holding it out. "And," he added, -speaking words of evil omen in his master's ears, "the person -waits for an answer." - -Allan looked at the address of the letter with a natural -expectation of encountering the handwriting of the major's wife. -The anticipation was not realized. His correspondent was plainly -a lady, but the lady was not Mrs. Milroy. - -"Who can it be?" he said, looking mechanically at Pedgift Senior -as he opened the envelope. - -Pedgift Senior gently tapped his snuff-box, and said, without a -moment's hesitation, "Miss Gwilt." - -Allan opened the letter. The first two words in it were the echo -of the two words the lawyer had just pronounced. It _was_ Miss -Gwilt! - -Once more, Allan looked at his legal adviser in speechless -astonishment. - -"I have known a good many of them in my time, sir," explained -Pedgift Senior, with a modesty equally rare and becoming in a man -of his age. "Not as handsome as Miss Gwilt, I admit. But quite as -bad, I dare say. Read your letter, Mr. Armadale--read your -letter." - -Allan read these lines: - - -"Miss Gwilt presents her compliments to Mr. Armadale and begs -to know if it will be convenient to him to favor her with an -interview, either this evening or to-morrow morning. Miss Gwilt -offers no apology for making her present request. She believes -Mr. Armadale will grant it as an act of justice toward a -friendless woman whom he has been innocently the means of -injuring, and who is earnestly desirous to set herself right -in his estimation." - - -Allan handed the letter to his lawyer in silent perplexity and -distress. - -The face of Mr. Pedgift the elder expressed but one feeling when -he had read the letter in his turn and had handed it back--a -feeling of profound admiration. "What a lawyer she would have -made," he exclaimed, fervently, "if she had only been a man!" - -"I can't treat this as lightly as you do, Mr. Pedgift," said -Allan. "It's dreadfully distressing to me. I was so fond of her," -he added, in a lower tone--"I was so fond of her once." - -Mr. Pedgift Senior suddenly became serious on his side. - -"Do you mean to say, sir, that you actually contemplate seeing -Miss Gwilt?" he asked, with an expression of genuine dismay. - -"I can't treat her cruelly," returned Allan. "I have been the -means of injuring her--without intending it, God knows! I can't -treat her cruelly after that! " - -"Mr. Armadale," said the lawyer, "you did me the honor, a little -while since, to say that you considered me your friend. May I -presume on that position to ask you a question or two, before you -go straight to your own ruin?" - -"Any questions you like," said Allan, looking back at the -letter--the only letter he had ever received from Miss Gwilt. - -"You have had one trap set for you already, sir, and you have -fallen into it. Do you want to fall into another?" - -"You know the answer to that question, Mr. Pedgift, as well as -I do." - -"I'll try again, Mr. Armadale; we lawyers are not easily -discouraged. Do you think that any statement Miss Gwilt might -make to you, if you do see her, would be a statement to be relied -on, after what you and my son discovered in London?" - -"She might explain what we discovered in London," suggested -Allan, still looking at the writing, and thinking of the hand -that had traced it. - -"_Might_ explain it? My dear sir, she is quite certain to explain -it! I will do her justice: I believe she would make out a case -without a single flaw in it from beginning to end." - -That last answer forced Allan's attention away from the letter. -The lawyer's pitiless common sense showed him no mercy. - -"If you see that woman again, sir," proceeded Pedgift Senior, -"you will commit the rashest act of folly I ever heard of in all -my experience. She can have but one object in coming here--to -practice on your weakness for her. Nobody can say into what false -step she may not lead you, if you once give her the opportunity. -You admit yourself that you have been fond of her; your -attentions to her have been the subject of general remark; -if you haven't actually offered her the chance of becoming Mrs. -Armadale, you have done the next thing to it; and knowing all -this, you propose to see her, and to let her work on you with her -devilish beauty and her devilish cleverness, in the character of -your interesting victim! You, who are one of the best matches in -England! You, who are the natural prey of all the hungry single -women in the community! I never heard the like of it; I never, in -all my professional experience, heard the like of it! If you must -positively put yourself in a dangerous position, Mr. Armadale," -concluded Pedgift the elder, with the everlasting pinch of snuff -held in suspense between his box and his nose, "there's a -wild-beast show coming to our town next week. Let in the tigress, -sir; don't let in Miss Gwilt!" - -For the third time Allan looked at his lawyer. And for the third -time his lawyer looked back at him quite unabashed. - -"You seem to have a very bad opinion of Miss Gwilt," said Allan. - -"The worst possible opinion, Mr. Armadale," retorted Pedgift -Senior, coolly. "We will return to that when we have sent the -lady's messenger about his business. Will you take my advice? -Will you decline to see her?" - -"I would willingly decline--it would be so dreadfully distressing -to both of us," said Allan. "I would willingly decline, if I only -knew how." - -"Bless my soul, Mr. Armadale, it's easy enough! Don't commit -_you_ yourself in writing. Send out to the messenger, and say -there's no answer." - -The short course thus suggested was a course which Allan -positively declined to take. "It's treating her brutally," -he said; "I can't and won't do it." - -Once more the pertinacity of Pedgift the elder found its limits, -and once more that wise man yielded gracefully to a compromise. -On receiving his client's promise not to see Miss Gwilt, he -consented to Allan's committing himself in writing under his -lawyer's dictation. The letter thus produced was modeled in -Allan's own style; it began and ended in one sentence. "Mr. -Armadale presents his compliments to Miss Gwilt, and regrets -that he cannot have the pleasure of seeing her at Thorpe -Ambrose." Allan had pleaded hard for a second sentence, -explaining that he only declined Miss Gwilt's request from -a conviction that an interview would be needlessly distressing -on both sides. But his legal adviser firmly rejected the proposed -addition to the letter. "When you say No to a woman, sir," -remarked Pedgift Senior, "always say it in one word. If you give -her your reasons, she invariably believes that you mean Yes." - -Producing that little gem of wisdom from the rich mine of his -professional experience, Mr. Pedgift the elder sent out the -answer to Miss Gwilt's messenger, and recommended the servant -to "see the fellow, whoever he was, well clear of the house." - -"Now, sir," said the lawyer, "we will come back, if you like, -to my opinion of Miss Gwilt. It doesn't at all agree with yours, -I'm afraid. You think her an object of pity--quite natural at -your age. I think her an object for the inside of a prison--quite -natural at mine. You shall hear the grounds on which I have -formed my opinion directly. Let me show you that I am in earnest -by putting the opinion itself, in the first place, to a practical -test. Do you think Miss Gwilt is likely to persist in paying you -a visit, Mr. Armadale, after the answer you have just sent to -her?" - -"Quite impossible!" cried Allan, warmly. "Miss Gwilt is a lady; -after the letter I have sent to her, she will never come near me -again." - -"There we join issue, sir," cried Pedgift Senior. "I say she will -snap her fingers at your letter (which was one of the reasons why -I objected to your writing it). I say, she is in all probability -waiting her messenger's return, in or near your grounds at this -moment. I say, she will try to force her way in here, before -four-and-twenty hours more are over your head. Egad, sir!" cried -Mr. Pedgift, looking at his watch, "it's only seven o'clock now. -She's bold enough and clever enough to catch you unawares this -very evening. Permit me to ring for the servant--permit me to -request that you will give him orders immediately to say you are -not at home. You needn't hesitate, Mr. Armadale! If you're right -about Miss Gwilt, it's a mere formality. If I'm right, it's a -wise precaution. Back your opinion, sir," said Mr. Pedgift, -ringing the bell; "I back mine!" - -Allan was sufficiently nettled when the bell rang to feel ready -to give the order. But when the servant came in, past -remembrances got the better of him, and the words stuck in his -throat. "You give the order," he said to Mr. Pedgift, and walked -away abruptly to the window. "You're a good fellow!" thought the -old lawyer, looking after him, and penetrating his motive on the -instant. "The claws of that she-devil shan't scratch you if I can -help it." - -The servant waited inexorably for his orders. - -"If Miss Gwilt calls here, either this evening, or at any other -time," said Pedgift Senior, "Mr. Armadale is not at home. Wait! -If she asks when Mr. Armadale will be back, you don't know. Wait! -If she proposes coming in and sitting down, you have a general -order that nobody is to come in and sit down unless they have a -previous appointment with Mr. Armadale. Come!" cried old Pedgift, -rubbing his hands cheerfully when the servant had left the room, -"I've stopped her out now, at any rate! The orders are all given, -Mr. Armadale. We may go on with our conversation." - -Allan came back from the window. "The conversation is not a very -pleasant one," he said. "No offense to you, but I wish it was -over." - -"We will get it over as soon as possible, sir," said Pedgift -Senior, still persisting, as only lawyers and women _can_ -persist, in forcing his way little by little nearer and nearer to -his own object. "Let us go back, if you please, to the practical -suggestion which I offered to you when the servant came in with -Miss Gwilt's note. There is, I repeat, only one way left for you, -Mr. Armadale, out of your present awkward position. You must -pursue your inquiries about this woman to an end--on the chance -(which I consider next to a certainty) that the end will justify -you in the estimation of the neighborhood." - -"I wish to God I had never made any inquiries at all!" said -Allan. "Nothing will induce me, Mr. Pedgift, to make any more." - -"Why?" asked the lawyer. - -"Can you ask me why," retorted Allan, hotly, "after your son has -told you what we found out in London? Even if I had less cause to -be--to be sorry for Miss Gwilt than I have; even if it was some -other woman, do you think I would inquire any further into the -secret of a poor betrayed creature--much less expose it to the -neighborhood? I should think myself as great a scoundrel as the -man who has cast her out helpless on the world, if I did anything -of the kind. I wonder you can ask me the question--upon my soul, -I wonder you can ask me the question!" - -"Give me your hand, Mr. Armadale!" cried Pedgift Senior, warmly; -"I honor you for being so angry with me. The neighborhood may say -what it pleases; you're a gentleman, sir, in the best sense -of the word. Now," pursued the lawyer, dropping Allan's hand, -and lapsing back instantly from sentiment to business, "just hear -what I have got to say in my own defense. Suppose Miss Gwilt's -real position happens to be nothing like what you are generously -determined to believe it to be?" - -"We have no reason to suppose that," said Allan, resolutely. - -"Such is your opinion, sir," persisted Pedgift. "Mine, founded on -what is publicly known of Miss Gwilt's proceedings here, and on -what I have seen of Miss Gwilt herself, is that she is as far as -I am from being the sentimental victim you are inclined to make -her out. Gently, Mr. Armadale! remember that I have put my -opinion to a practical test, and wait to condemn it off-hand -until events have justified you. Let me put my points, sir--make -allowances for me as a lawyer--and let me put my points. You and -my son are young men; and I don't deny that the circumstances, on -the surface, appear to justify the interpretation which, as young -men, you have placed on them. I am an old man--I know that -circumstances are not always to be taken as they appear on the -surface--and I possess the great advantage, in the present case, -of having had years of professional experience among some of the -wickedest women who ever walked this earth." - -Allan opened his lips to protest, and checked himself, in despair -of producing the slightest effect. Pedgift Senior bowed in polite -acknowledgment of his client's self-restraint, and took instant -advantage of it to go on. - -"All Miss Gwilt's proceedings," he resumed, "since your -unfortunate correspondence with the major show me that she -is an old hand at deceit. The moment she is threatened with -exposure--exposure of some kind, there can be no doubt, after -what you discovered in London--she turns your honorable silence -to the best possible account, and leaves the major's service in -the character of a martyr. Once out of the house, what does she -do next? She boldly stops in the neighborhood, and serves three -excellent purposes by doing so. In the first place, she shows -everybody that she is not afraid of facing another attack on her -reputation. In the second place, she is close at hand to twist -you round her little finger, and to become Mrs. Armadale in spite -of circumstances, if you (and I) allow her the opportunity. In -the third place, if you (and I) are wise enough to distrust her, -she is equally wise on her side, and doesn't give us the first -great chance of following her to London, and associating her -with her accomplices. Is this the conduct of an unhappy woman who -has lost her character in a moment of weakness, and who has been -driven unwillingly into a deception to get it back again?" - -"You put it cleverly," said Allan, answering with marked -reluctance; "I can't deny that you put it cleverly." - -"Your own common sense, Mr. Armadale, is beginning to tell you -that I put it justly," said Pedgift Senior. "I don't presume -to say yet what this woman's connection may be with those people -at Pimlico. All I assert is that it is not the connection you -suppose. Having stated the facts so far, I have only to add my -own personal impression of Miss Gwilt. I won't shock you, if -I can help it; I'll try if I can't put it cleverly again. She -came to my office (as I told you in my letter), no doubt to make -friends with your lawyer, if she could; she came to tell me, in -the most forgiving and Christian manner, that she didn't blame -_you_." - -"Do you ever believe in anybody, Mr. Pedgift?" interposed Allan. - -"Sometimes, Mr. Armadale," returned Pedgift the elder, as -unabashed as ever. "I believe as often as a lawyer can. To -proceed, sir. When I was in the criminal branch of practice, -it fell to my lot to take instructions for the defense of women -committed for trial from the women's own lips. Whatever other -difference there might be among them, I got, in time, to notice, -among those who were particularly wicked and unquestionably -guilty, one point in which they all resembled each other. Tall -and short, old and young, handsome and ugly, they all had a -secret self-possession that nothing could shake. On the surface -they were as different as possible. Some of them were in a state -of indignation; some of them were drowned in tears; some of them -were full of pious confidence; and some of them were resolved to -commit suicide before the night was out. But only put your finger -suddenly on the weak point in the story told by any one of them, -and there was an end of her rage, or her tears, or her piety, or -her despair; and out came the genuine woman, in full possession -of all her resources with a neat little lie that exactly suited -the circumstances of the case. Miss Gwilt was in tears, -sir--becoming tears that didn't make her nose red--and I put my -finger suddenly on the weak point in _her_ story. Down dropped -her pathetic pocket-handkerchief from her beautiful blue eyes, -and out came the genuine woman with the neat little lie that -exactly suited the circumstances! I felt twenty years younger, -Mr. Armadale, on the spot. I declare I thought I was in Newgate -again, with my note-book in my hand, taking my instructions for -the defense!" - -"The next thing you'll say, Mr. Pedgift," cried Allan, angrily, -"is that Miss Gwilt has been in prison!" - -Pedgift Senior calmly rapped his snuff-box, and had his answer -ready at a moment's notice. - -"She may have richly deserved to see the inside of a prison, -Mr. Armadale; but, in the age we live in, that is one excellent -reason for her never having been near any place of the kind. -A prison, in the present tender state of public feeling, for a -charming woman like Miss Gwilt! My dear sir, if she had attempted -to murder you or me, and if an inhuman judge and jury had decided -on sending her to a prison, the first object of modern society -would be to prevent her going into it; and, if that couldn't be -done, the next object would be to let her out again as soon as -possible. Read your newspaper, Mr. Armadale, and you'll find we -live in piping times for the black sheep of the community--if -they are only black enough. I insist on asserting, sir, that -we have got one of the blackest of the lot to deal with in this -case. I insist on asserting that you have had the rare luck, -in these unfortunate inquiries, to pitch on a woman who happens -to be a fit object for inquiry, in the interests of the public -protection. Differ with me as strongly as you please, but don't -make up your mind finally about Miss Gwilt until events have put -those two opposite opinions of ours to the test that I have -proposed. A fairer test there can't be. I agree with you that no -lady worthy of the name could attempt to force her way in here, -after receiving your letter. But I deny that Miss Gwilt is worthy -of the name; and I say she will try to force her way in here in -spite of you." - -"And I say she won't!" retorted Allan, firmly. - -Pedgift Senior leaned back in his chair and smiled. There was -a momentary silence, and in that silence the door-bell rang. - -The lawyer and the client both looked expectantly in the -direction of the hall. - -"No," cried Allan, more angrily than ever. - -"Yes!" cried Pedgift Senior, contradicting him with the utmost -politeness. - -They waited the event. The opening of the house door was audible, -but the room was too far from it for the sound of voices to reach -the ear as well. After a long interval of expectation, the -closing of the door was heard at last. Allan rose impetuously -and rang the bell. Mr. Pedgift the elder sat sublimely calm, -and enjoyed, with a gentle zest, the largest pinch of snuff -he had taken yet. - -"Anybody for me?" asked Allan, when the servant came in. - -The man looked at Pedgift Senior, with an expression of -unutterable reverence, and answered, "Miss Gwilt." - -"I don't want to crow over you, sir," said Mr. Pedgift the elder, -when the servant had withdrawn. "But what do you think of Miss -Gwilt _now_?" - -Allan shook his head in silent discouragement and distress. - -"Time is of some importance, Mr. Armadale. After what has just -happened, do you still object to taking the course I have had -the honor of suggesting to you?" - -"I can't, Mr. Pedgift," said Allan. "I can't be the means of -disgracing her in the neighborhood. I would rather be disgraced -myself--as I am." - -"Let me put it in another way, sir. Excuse my persisting. You -have been very kind to me and my family; and I have a personal -interest, as well as a professional interest, in you. If you -can't prevail on yourself to show this woman's character in its -true light, will you take common precautions to prevent her doing -any more harm? Will you consent to having her privately watched -as long as she remains in this neighborhood?" - -For the second time Allan shook his head. - -"Is that your final resolution, sir?" - -"It is, Mr. Pedgift; but I am much obliged to you for your -advice, all the same." - -Pedgift Senior rose in a state of gentle resignation, and took up -his hat "Good-evening, sir," he said, and made sorrowfully for -the door. Allan rose on his side, innocently supposing that -the interview was at an end. Persons better acquainted with the -diplomatic habits of his legal adviser would have recommended him -to keep his seat. The time was ripe for "Pedgift's postscript," -and the lawyer's indicative snuff-box was at that moment in one -of his hands, as he opened the door with the other. - -"Good-evening," said Allan. - -Pedgift Senior opened the door, stopped, considered, closed -the door again, came back mysteriously with his pinch of snuff -in suspense between his box and his nose, and repeating his -invariable formula, "By-the-by, there's a point occurs to me," -quietly resumed possession of his empty chair - -Allan, wondering, took the seat, in his turn, which he had just -left. Lawyer and client looked at each other once more, and the -inexhaustible interview began again. - -CHAPTER VI. - -PEDGIFT'S POSTSCRIPT. - -"I mentioned that a point had occurred to me, sir," remarked -Pedgift Senior. - -"You did," said Allan. - -"Would you like to hear what it is, Mr. Armadale?" - -"If you please," said Allan. - -"With all my heart, sir! This is the point. I attach considerable -importance--if nothing else can be done--to having Miss Gwilt -privately looked after, as long as she stops at Thorpe Ambrose. -It struck me just now at the door, Mr. Armadale, that what you -are not willing to do for your own security, you might be willing -to do for the security of another person." - -"What other person?" inquired Allan. - -"A young lady who is a near neighbor of yours, sir. Shall I -mention the name in confidence? Miss Milroy." - -Allan started, and changed color. - -"Miss Milroy!" he repeated. "Can _she_ be concerned in this -miserable business? I hope not, Mr. Pedgift; I sincerely hope -not." - -"I paid a visit, in your interests, sir, at the cottage this -morning," proceeded Pedgift Senior. "You shall hear what happened -there, and judge for yourself. Major Milroy has been expressing -his opinion of you pretty freely; and I thought it highly -desirable to give him a caution. It's always the way with those -quiet addle-headed men: when they do once wake up, there's no -reasoning with their obstinacy, and no quieting their violence. -Well, sir, this morning I went to the cottage. The major and Miss -Neelie were both in the parlor--miss not looking so pretty as -usual; pale, I thought, pale, and worn, and anxious. Up jumps the -addle-headed major (I wouldn't give _that_, Mr. Armadale, for -the brains of a man who can occupy himself for half his lifetime -n making a clock!)--up jumps the addle-headed major, in the -loftiest manner, and actually tries to look me down. Ha! ha! the -idea of anybody looking _me_ down, at my time of life. I behaved -like a Christian; I nodded kindly to old What's-o'clock 'Fine -morning, major,' says I. 'Have you any business with me?' says -he. 'Just a word,' says I. Miss Neelie, like the sensible girl -she is, gets up to leave the room; and what does her ridiculous -father do? He stops her. 'You needn't go, my dear, I have nothing -to say to Mr. Pedgift,' says this old military idiot, and turns -my way, and tries to look me down again. 'You are Mr. Armadale's -lawyer,' says he; 'if you come on any business relating to Mr. -Armadale, I refer you to my solicitor.' (His solicitor is Darch; -and Darch has had enough of _me_ in business, I can tell you!) -'My errand here, major, does certainly relate to Mr. Armadale,' -says I; 'but it doesn't concern your lawyer--at any rate, just -yet. I wish to caution you to suspend your opinion of my client, -or, if you won't do that, to be careful how you express it in -public. I warn you that our turn is to come, and that you are not -at the end yet of this scandal about Miss Gwilt.' It struck me -as likely that he would lose his temper when he found himself -tackled in that way, and he amply fulfilled my expectations. -He was quite violent in his language--the poor weak -creature--actually violent with _me_! I behaved like a Christian -again; I nodded kindly, and wished him good-morning. When I -looked round to wish Miss Neelie good-morning, too, she was gone. -You seem restless, Mr. Armadale," remarked Pedgift Senior, as -Allan, feeling the sting of old recollections, suddenly started -out of his chair, and began pacing up and down the room. "I won't -try your patience much longer, sir; I am coming to the point." - -"I beg your pardon, Mr. Pedgift," said Allan, returning to his -seat, and trying to look composedly at the lawyer through the -intervening image of Neelie which the lawyer had called up. - -"Well, sir, I left the cottage," resumed Pedgift Senior. "Just -as I turned the corner from the garden into the park, whom should -I stumble on but Miss Neelie herself, evidently on the lookout -for me. 'I want to speak to you for one moment, Mr. Pedgift!' -says she. 'Does Mr. Armadale think _me_ mixed up in this matter?' -She was violently agitated--tears in her eyes, sir, of the sort -which my legal experience has _not_ accustomed me to see. I quite -forgot myself; I actually gave her my arm, and led her away -gently among the trees. (A nice position to find me in, if any -of the scandal-mongers of the town had happened to be walking -in that direction!) 'My dear Miss Milroy,' says I, 'why should -Mr. Armadale think _you_ mixed up in it?' " - -"You ought to have told her at once that I thought nothing of -the kind!" exclaimed Allan, indignantly. "Why did you leave her -a moment in doubt about it?" - -"Because I am a lawyer, Mr. Armadale," rejoined Pedgift Senior, -dryly. "Even in moments of sentiment, under convenient trees, -with a pretty girl on my arm, I can't entirely divest myself of -my professional caution. Don't look distressed, sir, pray! I set -things right in due course of time. Before I left Miss Milroy, -I told her, in the plainest terms, no such idea had ever entered -your head." - -"Did she seem relieved?" asked Allan. - -"She was able to dispense with the use of my arm, sir," replied -old Pedgift, as dryly as ever, "and to pledge me to inviolable -secrecy on the subject of our interview. She was particularly -desirous that _you_ should hear nothing about it. If you are -at all anxious on your side to know why I am now betraying her -confidence, I beg to inform you that her confidence related to -no less a person than the lady who favored you with a call just -now--Miss Gwilt." - -Allan, who had been once more restlessly pacing the room, -stopped, and returned to his chair. - -"Is this serious?" he asked. - -"Most serious, sir," returned Pedgift Senior. "I am betraying -Miss Neelie's secret, in Miss Neelie's own interest. Let us go -back to that cautious question I put to her. She found some -little difficulty in answering it, for the reply involved her in -a narrative of the parting interview between her governess and -herself. This is the substance of it. The two were alone when -Miss Gwilt took leave of her pupil; and the words she used (as -reported to me by Miss Neelie) were these. She said, 'Your mother -has declined to allow me to take leave of her. Do you decline -too?' Miss Neelie's answer was a remarkably sensible one for a -girl of her age. 'We have not been good friends,' she said, 'and -I believe we are equally glad to part with each other. But I have -no wish to decline taking leave of you.' Saying that, she held -out her hand. Miss Gwilt stood looking at her steadily, without -taking it, and addressed her in these words: '_You are not Mrs. -Armadale yet_.' Gently, sir! Keep your temper. It's not at all -wonderful that a woman, conscious of having her own mercenary -designs on you, should attribute similar designs to a young lady -who happens to be your near neighbor. Let me go on. Miss Neelie, -by her own confession (and quite naturally, I think), was -excessively indignant. She owns to having answered, 'You -shameless creature, how dare you say that to me!' Miss Gwilt's -rejoinder was rather a remarkable one--the anger, on her side, -appears to have been of the cool, still, venomous kind. 'Nobody -ever yet injured me, Miss Milroy,' she said, 'without sooner or -later bitterly repenting it. _You_ will bitterly repent it.' She -stood looking at her pupil for a moment in dead silence, and then -left the room. Miss Neelie appears to have felt the imputation -fastened on her, in connection with you, far more sensitively -than she felt the threat. She had previously known, as everybody -had known in the house, that some unacknowledged proceedings of -yours in London had led to Miss Gwilt's voluntary withdrawal from -her situation. And she now inferred, from the language addressed -to her, that she was actually believed by Miss Gwilt to have set -those proceedings on foot, to advance herself, and to injure her -governess, in your estimation. Gently, sir, gently! I haven't -quite done yet. As soon as Miss Neelie had recovered herself, she -went upstairs to speak to Mrs. Milroy. Miss Gwilt's abominable -imputation had taken her by surprise; and she went to her mother -first for enlightenment and advice. She got neither the one nor -the other. Mrs. Milroy declared she was too ill to enter on the -subject, and she has remained too ill to enter on it ever since. -Miss Neelie applied next to her father. The major stopped her the -moment your name passed her lips: he declared he would never hear -you mentioned again by any member of his family. She has been -left in the dark from that time to this, not knowing how she -might have been misrepresented by Miss Gwilt, or what falsehoods -you might have been led to believe of her. At my age and in my -profession, I don't profess to have any extraordinary softness of -heart. But I do think, Mr. Armadale, that Miss Neelie's position -deserves our sympathy." - -"I'll do anything to help her!" cried Allan, impulsively. -"You don't know, Mr. Pedgift, what reason I have--" He checked -himself, and confusedly repeated his first words. "I'll do -anything," he reiterated earnestly--"anything in the world -to help her!" - -"Do you really mean that, Mr. Armadale? Excuse my asking; but -you can very materially help Miss Neelie, if you choose!" - -"How?" asked Allan. "Only tell me how!" - -"By giving me your authority, sir, to protect her from Miss -Gwilt." - -Having fired that shot pointblank at his client, the wise lawyer -waited a little to let it take its effect before he said any -more. - -Allan's face clouded, and he shifted uneasily from side to side -of his chair. - -"Your son is hard enough to deal with, Mr. Pedgift," he said, -"and you are harder than your son." - -"Thank you, sir," rejoined the ready Pedgift, "in my son's name -and my own, for a handsome compliment to the firm. If you really -wish to be of assistance to Miss Neelie," he went on, more -seriously, "I have shown you the way. You can do nothing to quiet -her anxiety which I have not done already. As soon as I had -assured her that no misconception of her conduct existed in your -mind, she went away satisfied. Her governess's parting threat -doesn't seem to have dwelt on her memory. I can tell you, Mr. -Armadale, it dwells on mine! You know my opinion of Miss Gwilt; -and you know what Miss Gwilt herself has done this very evening -to justify that opinion even in your eyes. May I ask, after all -that has passed, whether you think she is the sort of woman who -can be trusted to confine herself to empty threats?" - -The question was a formidable one to answer. Forced steadily -back from the position which he had occupied at the outset -of the interview, by the irresistible pressure of plain facts, -Allan began for the first time to show symptoms of yielding on -the subject of Miss Gwilt. "Is there no other way of protecting -Miss Milroy but the way you have mentioned?" he asked, uneasily. - -"Do you think the major would listen to you, sir, if you spoke -to him?" asked Pedgift Senior, sarcastically. "I'm rather afraid -he wouldn't honor _me_ with his attention. Or perhaps you would -prefer alarming Miss Neelie by telling her in plain words that we -both think her in danger? Or, suppose you send me to Miss Gwilt, -with instructions to inform her that she has done her pupil -a cruel injustice? Women are so proverbially ready to listen -to reason; and they are so universally disposed to alter their -opinions of each other on application--especially when one woman -thinks that another woman has destroyed her prospect of making a -good marriage. Don't mind _me_, Mr. Armadale; I'm only a lawyer, -and I can sit waterproof under another shower of Miss Gwilt's -tears!" - -"Damn it, Mr. Pedgift, tell me in plain words what you want -to do!" cried Allan, losing his temper at last. - -"In plain words, Mr. Armadale, I want to keep Miss Gwilt's -proceedings privately under view, as long as she stops in this -neighborhood. I answer for finding a person who will look after -her delicately and discreetly. And I agree to discontinue even -this harmless superintendence of her actions, if there isn't good -reasons shown for continuing it, to your entire satisfaction, -in a week's time. I make that moderate proposal, sir, in what -I sincerely believe to be Miss Milroy's interest, and I wait -your answer, Yes or No." - -"Can't I have time to consider?" asked Allan, driven to the last -helpless expedient of taking refuge in delay. - -"Certainly, Mr. Armadale. But don't forget, while you are -considering, that Miss Milroy is in the habit of walking out -alone in your park, innocent of all apprehension of danger, -and that Miss Gwilt is perfectly free to take any advantage -of that circumstance that Miss Gwilt pleases." - -"Do as you like!" exclaimed Allan, in despair. "And, for God's -sake, don't torment me any longer!" - -Popular prejudice may deny it, but the profession of the law -is a practically Christian profession in one respect at least. -Of all the large collection of ready answers lying in wait for -mankind on a lawyer's lips, none is kept in better working order -than "the soft answer which turneth away wrath." Pedgift Senior -rose with the alacrity of youth in his legs, and the wise -moderation of age on his tongue. "Many thanks, sir," he said, -"for the attention you have bestowed on me. I congratulate you -on your decision, and I wish you good-evening." This time his -indicative snuff-box was not in his hand when he opened the door, -and he actually disappeared without coming back for a second -postscript. - -Allan's head sank on his breast when he was left alone. "If it -was only the end of the week!" he thought, longingly. "If I only -had Midwinter back again!" - -As that aspiration escaped the client's lips, the lawyer got -gayly into his gig. "Hie away, old girl!" cried Pedgift Senior, -patting the fast-trotting mare with the end of his whip. "I never -keep a lady waiting--and I've got business to-night with one of -your own sex!" - -CHAPTER VII. - -THE MARTYRDOM OF MISS GWILT. - -The outskirts of the little town of Thorpe Ambrose, on the side -nearest to "the great house," have earned some local celebrity as -exhibiting the prettiest suburb of the kind to be found in East -Norfolk. Here the villas and gardens are for the most part built -and laid out in excellent taste, the trees are in the prime -of their growth, and the healthy common beyond the houses rises -and falls in picturesque and delightful variety of broken ground. -The rank, fashion, and beauty of the town make this place their -evening promenade; and when a stranger goes out for a drive, if -he leaves it to the coachman, the coachman starts by way of the -common as a matter of course. - -On the opposite side, that is to say, on the side furthest -from "the great house," the suburbs (in the year 1851) were -universally regarded as a sore subject by all persons zealous -for the reputation of the town. - -Here nature was uninviting, man was poor, and social progress, -as exhibited under the form of building, halted miserably. -The streets dwindled feebly, as they receded from the center of -the town, into smaller and smaller houses, and died away on the -barren open ground into an atrophy of skeleton cottages. Builders -hereabouts appeared to have universally abandoned their work in -the first stage of its creation. Land-holders set up poles on -lost patches of ground, and, plaintively advertising that they -were to let for building, raised sickly little crops meanwhile, -in despair of finding a purchaser to deal with them. All the -waste paper of the town seemed to float congenially to this -neglected spot; and all the fretful children came and cried here, -in charge of all the slatternly nurses who disgraced the place. -If there was any intention in Thorpe Ambrose of sending a -worn-out horse to the knacker's, that horse was sure to be found -waiting his doom in a field on this side of the town. No growth -flourished in these desert regions but the arid growth of -rubbish; and no creatures rejoiced but the creatures of the -night--the vermin here and there in the beds, and the cats -everywhere on the tiles. - -The sun had set, and the summer twilight was darkening. The -fretful children were crying in their cradles; the horse destined -for the knacker dozed forlorn in the field of his imprisonment; -the cats waited stealthily in corners for the coming night. -But one living figure appeared in the lonely suburb--the figure -of Mr. Bashwood. But one faint sound disturbed the dreadful -silence--the sound of Mr. Bashwood's softly stepping feet. - -Moving slowly past the heaps of bricks rising at intervals along -the road, coasting carefully round the old iron and the broken -tiles scattered here and there in his path, Mr. Bashwood advanced -from the direction of the country toward one of the unfinished -streets of the suburb. His personal appearance had been -apparently made the object of some special attention. His false -teeth were brilliantly white; his wig was carefully brushed; his -mourning garments, renewed throughout, gleamed with the hideous -and slimy gloss of cheap black cloth. He moved with a nervous -jauntiness, and looked about him with a vacant smile. Having -reached the first of the skeleton cottages, his watery eyes -settled steadily for the first time on the view of the street -before him. The next instant he started; his breath quickened; -he leaned, trembling and flushing, against the unfinished wall -at his side. A lady, still at some distance, was advancing toward -him down the length of the street. "She's coming!" he whispered, -with a strange mixture of rapture and fear, of alternating color -and paleness, showing itself in his haggard face. "I wish I was -the ground she treads on! I wish I was the glove she's got on -her hand!" He burst ecstatically into those extravagant words, -with a concentrated intensity of delight in uttering them that -actually shook his feeble figure from head to foot. - -Smoothly and gracefully the lady glided nearer and nearer, -until she revealed to Mr. Bashwood's eyes, what Mr. Bashwood's -instincts had recognized in the first instance--the face of Miss -Gwilt. - -She was dressed with an exquisitely expressive economy of outlay. -The plainest straw bonnet procurable, trimmed sparingly with -the cheapest white ribbon, was on her head. Modest and tasteful -poverty expressed itself in the speckless cleanliness and the -modestly proportioned skirts of her light "print" gown, and in -the scanty little mantilla of cheap black silk which she wore -over it, edged with a simple frilling of the same material. The -luster of her terrible red hair showed itself unshrinkingly in -a plaited coronet above her forehead, and escaped in one vagrant -love-lock, perfectly curled, that dropped over her left shoulder. -Her gloves, fitting her like a second skin, were of the sober -brown hue which is slowest to show signs of use. One hand lifted -her dress daintily above the impurities of the road; the other -held a little nosegay of the commonest garden flowers. -Noiselessly and smoothly she came on, with a gentle and regular -undulation of the print gown; with the love-lock softly lifted -from moment to moment in the evening breeze; with her head -a little drooped, and her eyes on the ground--in walk, and look, -and manner, in every casual movement that escaped her, expressing -that subtle mixture of the voluptuous and the modest which, -of the many attractive extremes that meet in women, is in a man's -eyes the most irresistible of all. - -"Mr. Bashwood!" she exclaimed, in loud, clear tones indicative -of the utmost astonishment, "what a surprise to find you here! -I thought none but the wretched inhabitants ever ventured near -this side of the town. Hush!" she added quickly, in a whisper. -"You heard right when you heard that Mr. Armadale was going to -have me followed and watched. There's a man behind one of the -houses. We must talk out loud of indifferent things, and look -as if we had met by accident. Ask me what I am doing. Out loud! -Directly! You shall never see me again, if you don't instantly -leave off trembling and do what I tell you!" - -She spoke with a merciless tyranny of eye and voice--with a -merciless use of her power over the feeble creature whom she -addressed. Mr. Bashwood obeyed her in tones that quavered with -agitation, and with eyes that devoured her beauty in a strange -fascination of terror and delight. - -"I am trying to earn a little money by teaching music," she said, -in the voice intended to reach the spy's ears. "If you are able -to recommend me any pupils, Mr. Bashwood, your good word will -oblige me. Have you been in the grounds to-day?" she went on, -dropping her voice again in a whisper. "Has Mr. Armadale been -near the cottage? Has Miss Milroy been out of the garden? No? -Are you sure? Look out for them to-morrow, and next day, and next -day. They are certain to meet and make it up again, and I must -and will know of it. Hush! Ask me my terms for teaching music. -What are you frightened about? It's me the man's after--not you. -Louder than when you asked me what I was doing, just now; louder, -or I won't trust you any more; I'll go to somebody else!" - -Once more Mr. Bashwood obeyed. "Don't be angry with me," -he murmured, faintly, when he had spoken the necessary words. -"My heart beats so you'll kill me!" - -You poor old dear!" she whispered back, with a sudden change -in her manner, with an easy satirical tenderness. "What business -have you with a heart at your age? Be here to-morrow at the same -time, and tell me what you have seen in the grounds. My terms are -only five shillings a lesson," she went on, in her louder tone. -"I'm sure that's not much, Mr. Bashwood; I give such long -lessons, and I get all my pupils' music half-price." She suddenly -dropped her voice again, and looked him brightly into instant -subjection. "Don't let Mr. Armadale out of your sight to-morrow! -If that girl manages to speak to him, and if I don't hear of it, -I'll frighten you to death. If I _do_ hear of it, I'll kiss you! -Hush! Wish me good-night, and go on to the town, and leave me to -go the other way. I don't want you--I'm not afraid of the man -behind the houses; I can deal with him by myself. Say goodnight, -and I'll let you shake hands. Say it louder, and I'll give you -one of my flowers, if you'll promise not to fall in love with -it." She raised her voice again. "Goodnight, Mr. Bashwood! Don't -forget my terms. Five shillings a lesson, and the lessons last an -hour at a time, and I get all my pupils' music half-price, which -is an immense advantage, isn't it?" She slipped a flower into his -hand--frowned him into obedience, and smiled to reward him for -obeying, at the same moment--lifted her dress again above the -impurities of the road--and went on her way with a dainty and -indolent deliberation, as a cat goes on her way when she has -exhausted the enjoyment of frightening a mouse. - -Left alone, Mr. Bashwood turned to the low cottage wall near -which he had been standing, and, resting himself on it wearily, -looked at the flower in his hand. - -His past existence had disciplined him to bear disaster and -insult, as few happier men could have borne them; but it had not -prepared him to feel the master-passion of humanity, for the -first time, at the dreary end of his life, in the hopeless decay -of a manhood that had withered under the double blight of -conjugal disappointment and parental sorrow. "Oh, if I was only -young again!" murmured the poor wretch, resting his arms on the -wall and touching the flower with his dry, fevered lips in a -stealthy rapture of tenderness. "She might have liked me when I -was twenty!" He suddenly started back into an erect position, and -stared about him in vacant bewilderment and terror. "She told me -to go home," he said, with a startled look. "Why am I stopping -here?" He turned, and hurried on to the town--in such dread of -her anger, if she looked round and saw him, that he never so much -as ventured on a backward glance at the road by which she had -retired, and never detected the spy dogging her footsteps, under -cover of the empty houses and the brick-heaps by the roadside. - -Smoothly and gracefully, carefully preserving the speckless -integrity of her dress, never hastening her pace, and never -looking aside to the right hand or the left, Miss Gwilt pursued -her way toward the open country. The suburban road branched off -at its end in two directions. On the left, the path wound through -a ragged little coppice to the grazing grounds of a neighboring -farm; on the right, it led across a hillock of waste land to the -high-road. Stopping a moment to consider, but not showing the spy -that she suspected him by glancing behind her while there was a -hiding-place within his reach, Miss Gwilt took the path across -the hillock. "I'll catch him there," she said to herself, looking -up quietly at the long straight line of the empty high-road. - -Once on the ground that she had chosen for her purpose, she met -the difficulties of the position with perfect tact and -self-possession. After walking some thirty yards along the road, -she let her nosegay drop, half turned round in stooping to pick -it up, saw the man stopping at the same moment behind her, and -instantly went on again, quickening her pace little by little, -until she was walking at the top of her speed. The spy fell into -the snare laid for him. Seeing the night coming, and fearing that -he might lose sight of her in the darkness, he rapidly lessened -the distance between them. Miss Gwilt went on faster and faster -till she plainly heard his footstep behind her, then stopped, -turned, and met the man face to face the next moment. - -"My compliments to Mr. Armadale," she said, "and tell him I've -caught you watching me." - -"I'm not watching you, miss," retorted the spy, thrown off his -guard by the daring plainness of the language in which she had -spoken to him. - -Miss Gwilt's eyes measured him contemptuously from head to foot. -He was a weakly, undersized man. She was the taller, and (quite -possibly) the stronger of the two. - -"Take your hat off, you blackguard, when you speak to a lady," -she said, and tossed his hat in an instant, across a ditch by -which they were standing, into a pool on the other side. - -This time the spy was on his guard. He knew as well as Miss Gwilt -knew the use which might be made of the precious minutes, if he -turned his back on her and crossed the ditch to recover his hat. -"It's well for you you're a woman," he said, standing scowling at -her bareheaded in the fast-darkening light. - -Miss Gwilt glanced sidelong down the onward vista of the road, -and saw, through the gathering obscurity, the solitary figure of -a man rapidly advancing toward her. Some women would have noticed -the approach of a stranger at that hour and in that lonely place -with a certain anxiety. Miss Gwilt was too confident in her own -powers of persuasion not to count on the man's assistance -beforehand, whoever he might be, _because_ he was a man. She -looked back at the spy with redoubled confidence in herself, and -measured him contemptuously from head to foot for the second -time. - -"I wonder whether I'm strong enough to throw you after your hat?" -she said. "I'll take a turn and consider it." - -She sauntered on a few steps toward the figure advancing along -the road. The spy followed her close. "Try it," he said, -brutally. "You're a fine woman; you're welcome to put your arms -round me if you like." As the words escaped him, he too saw the -stranger for the first time. He drew back a step and waited. Miss -Gwilt, on her side, advanced a step and waited, too. - -The stranger came on, with the lithe, light step of a practiced -walker, swinging a stick in his hand and carrying a knapsack on -his shoulders. A few paces nearer, and his face became visible. -He was a dark man, his black hair was powdered with dust, and his -black eyes were looking steadfastly forward along the road before -him. - -Miss Gwilt advanced with the first signs of agitation she had -shown yet. "Is it possible?" she said, softly. "Can it really be -you?" - -It was Midwinter, on his way back to Thorpe Ambrose, after his -fortnight among the Yorkshire moors. - -He stopped and looked at her, in breathless surprise. The image -of the woman had been in his thoughts, at the moment when the -woman herself spoke to him. "Miss Gwilt!" he exclaimed, and -mechanically held out his hand. - -She took it, and pressed it gently. "I should have been glad to -see you at any time," she said. "You don't know how glad I am to -see you now. May I trouble you to speak to that man? He has been -following me, and annoying me all the way from the town." - -Midwinter stepped past her without uttering a word. Faint as the -light was, the spy saw what was coming in his face, and, turning -instantly, leaped the ditch by the road-side. Before Midwinter -could follow, Miss Gwilt's hand was on his shoulder. - -"No," she said, "you don't know who his employer is." - -Midwinter stopped and looked at her. - -"Strange things have happened since you left us," she went on. -"I have been forced to give up my situation, and I am followed -and watched by a paid spy. Don't ask who forced me out of my -situation, and who pays the spy--at least not just yet. I can't -make up my mind to tell you till I am a little more composed. -Let the wretch go. Do you mind seeing me safe back to my lodging? -It's in your way home. May I--may I ask for the support of your -arm? My little stock of courage is quite exhausted." She took his -arm and clung close to it. The woman who had tyrannized over Mr. -Bashwood was gone, and the woman who had tossed the spy's hat -into the pool was gone. A timid, shrinking, interesting creature -filled the fair skin and trembled on the symmetrical limbs of -Miss Gwilt. She put her handkerchief to her eyes. "They say -necessity has no law," she murmured, faintly. "I am treating you -like an old friend. God knows I want one!" - -They went on toward the town. She recovered herself with a -touching fortitude; she put her handkerchief back in her pocket, -and persisted in turning the conversation on Midwinter's walking -tour. "It is bad enough to be a burden on you," she said, gently -pressing on his arm as she spoke; "I mustn't distress you as -well. Tell me where you have been, and what you have seen. -Interest me in your journey; help me to escape from myself." - -They reached the modest little lodging in the miserable little -suburb. Miss Gwilt sighed, and removed her glove before she took -Midwinter's hand. "I have taken refuge here," she said, simply. -"It is clean and quiet; I am too poor to want or expect more. -We must say good-by, I suppose, unless"--she hesitated modestly, -and satisfied herself by a quick look round that they were -unobserved--"unless you would like to come in and rest a little? -I feel so gratefully toward you, Mr. Midwinter! Is there any -harm, do you think, in my offering you a cup of tea?" - -The magnetic influence of her touch was thrilling through him -while she spoke. Change and absence, to which he had trusted -to weaken her hold on him, had treacherously strengthened it -instead. A man exceptionally sensitive, a man exceptionally pure -in his past life, he stood hand in hand, in the tempting secrecy -of the night, with the first woman who had exercised over him -the all-absorbing influence of her sex. At his age, and in -his position, who could have left her? The man (with a man's -temperament) doesn't live who could have left her. Midwinter -went in. - -A stupid, sleepy lad opened the house door. Even he, being a male -creature, brightened under the influence of Miss Gwilt. "The urn, -John," she said, kindly, "and another cup and saucer. I'll borrow -your candle to light my candles upstairs, and then I won't -trouble you any more to-night." John was wakeful and active in an -instant. "No trouble, miss," he said, with awkward civility. Miss -Gwilt took his candle with a smile. "How good people are to me!" -she whispered, innocently, to Midwinter, as she led the way -upstairs to the little drawing-room on the first floor. - -She lit the candles, and, turning quickly on her guest, stopped -him at the first attempt he made to remove the knapsack from his -shoulders. "No," she said, gently; "in the good old times there -were occasions when the ladies unarmed their knights. I claim -the privilege of unarming _my_ knight." Her dexterous fingers -intercepted his at the straps and buckles, and she had the dusty -knapsack off, before he could protest against her touching it. - -They sat down at the one little table in the room. It was very -poorly furnished; but there was something of the dainty neatness -of the woman who inhabited it in the arrangement of the few poor -ornaments on the chimney-piece, in the one or two prettily bound -volumes on the chiffonier, in the flowers on the table, and the -modest little work-basket in the window. "Women are not all -coquettes," she said, as she took off her bonnet and mantilla, -and laid them carefully on a chair. "I won't go into my room, -and look in my glass, and make myself smart; you shall take me -just as I am." Her hands moved about among the tea-things with -a smooth, noiseless activity. - -Her magnificent hair flashed crimson in the candle-light, as she -turned her head hither and thither, searching with an easy grace -for the things she wanted in the tray. Exercise had heightened -the brilliancy of her complexion, and had quickened the rapid -alternations of expression in her eyes--the delicious languor -that stole over them when she was listening or thinking, the -bright intelligence that flashed from them softly when she spoke. -In the lightest word she said, in the least thing she did, there -was something that gently solicited the heart of the man who sat -with her. Perfectly modest in her manner, possessed to perfection -of the graceful restraints and refinements of a lady, she had all -the allurements that feast the eye, all the siren invitations -that seduce the sense--a subtle suggestiveness in her silence, -and a sexual sorcery in her smile. - -"Should I be wrong," she asked, suddenly suspending the -conversation which she had thus far persistently restricted to -the subject of Midwinter's walking tour, "if I guessed that you -have something on your mind--something which neither my tea nor -my talk can charm away? Are men as curious as women? Is the -something--Me?" - -Midwinter struggled against the fascination of looking at her and -listening to her. "I am very anxious to hear what has happened -since I have been away," he said. "But I am still more anxious, -Miss Gwilt, not to distress you by speaking of a painful -subject." - -She looked at him gratefully. "It is for your sake that I have -avoided the painful subject," she said, toying with her spoon -among the dregs in her empty cup. "But you will hear about it -from others, if you don't hear about it from me; and you ought to -know why you found me in that strange situation, and why you see -me here. Pray remember one thing, to begin with. I don't blame -your friend, Mr. Armadale. I blame the people whose instrument -he is." - -Midwinter started. "Is it possible," he began, "that Allan can be -in any way answerable--?" He stopped, and looked at Miss Gwilt in -silent astonishment. - -She gently laid her hand on his. "Don't be angry with me for only -telling the truth," she said. "Your friend is answerable for -everything that has happened to me--innocently answerable, Mr. -Midwinter, I firmly believe. We are both victims. _He_ is the -victim of his position as the richest single man in the -neighborhood; and I am the victim of Miss Milroy's determination -to marry him." - -"Miss Milroy?" repeated Midwinter, more and more astonished. -"Why, Allan himself told me--" He stopped again. - -"He told you that I was the object of his admiration? Poor -fellow, he admires everybody; his head is almost as empty as -this," said Miss Gwilt, smiling indicatively into the hollow of -her cup. She dropped the spoon, sighed, and became serious again. -"I am guilty of the vanity of having let him admire me," she went -on, penitently, "without the excuse of being able, on my side, -to reciprocate even the passing interest that he felt in me. -I don't undervalue his many admirable qualities, or the excellent -position he can offer to his wife. But a woman's heart is not to -be commanded--no, Mr. Midwinter, not even by the fortunate master -of Thorpe Ambrose, who commands everything else." - -She looked him full in the face as she uttered that magnanimous -sentiment. His eyes dropped before hers, and his dark color -deepened. He had felt his heart leap in him at the declaration -of her indifference to Allan. For the first time since they had -known each other, his interests now stood self-revealed before -him as openly adverse to the interests of his friend. - -"I have been guilty of the vanity of letting Mr. Armadale admire -me, and I have suffered for it," resumed Miss Gwilt. "If there -had been any confidence between my pupil and me, I might have -easily satisfied her that she might become Mrs. Armadale--if she -could--without having any rivalry to fear on my part. But Miss -Milroy disliked and distrusted me from the first. She took her -own jealous view, no doubt, of Mr. Armadale's thoughtless -attentions to me. It was her interest to destroy the position, -such as it was, that I held in his estimation; and it is quite -likely her mother assisted her. Mrs. Milroy had her motive also -(which I am really ashamed to mention) for wishing to drive me -out of the house. Anyhow, the conspiracy has succeeded. I have -been forced (with Mr. Armadale's help) to leave the major's -service. Don't be angry, Mr. Midwinter! Don't form a hasty -opinion! I dare say Miss Milroy has some good qualities, though -I have not found them out; and I assure you again and again -that I don't blame Mr. Armadale. I only blame the people whose -instrument he is." - -"How is he their instrument? How can he be the instrument of any -enemy of yours?" asked Midwinter. "Pray excuse my anxiety, Miss -Gwilt: Allan's good name is as dear to me as my own!" - -Miss Gwilt's eyes turned full on him again, and Miss Gwilt's -heart abandoned itself innocently to an outburst of enthusiasm. -"How I admire your earnestness!" she said. "How I like your -anxiety for your friend! Oh, if women could only form such -friendships! Oh you happy, happy men!" Her voice faltered, and -her convenient tea-cup absorbed her for the third time. "I would -give all the little beauty I possess," she said, "if I could only -find such a friend as Mr. Armadale has found in _you_. I never -shall, Mr. Midwinter--I never shall. Let us go back to what we -were talking about. I can only tell you how your friend is -concerned in my misfortune by telling you something first about -myself. I am like many other governesses; I am the victim of sad -domestic circumstances. It may be weak of me, but I have a horror -of alluding to them among strangers. My silence about my family -and my friends exposes me to misinterpretation in my dependent -position. Does it do me any harm, Mr. Midwinter, in your -estimation?" - -"God forbid!" said Midwinter, fervently. "There is no man -living," he went on, thinking of his own family story, "who has -better reason to understand and respect your silence than I -have." - -Miss Gwilt seized his hand impulsively. "Oh," she said, "I knew -it, the first moment I saw you! I knew that you, too, had -suffered; that you, too, had sorrows which you kept sacred! -Strange, strange sympathy! I believe in mesmerism--do you?" She -suddenly recollected herself, and shuddered. "Oh, what have I -done? What must you think of me?" she exclaimed, as he yielded to -the magnetic fascination of her touch, and, forgetting everything -but the hand that lay warm in his own, bent over it and kissed -it. "Spare me!" she said, faintly, as she felt the burning touch -of his lips. "I am so friendless--I am so completely at your -mercy!" - -He turned away from her, and hid his face in his hands; he was -trembling, and she saw it. She looked at him while his face was -hidden from her; she looked at him with a furtive interest and -surprise. "How that man loves me!" she thought. "I wonder whether -there was a time when I might have loved _him_?" - -The silence between them remained unbroken for some minutes. -He had felt her appeal to his consideration as she had never -expected or intended him to feel it--he shrank from looking at -her or from speaking to her again. - -"Shall I go on with my story?" she asked. "Shall we forget and -forgive on both sides?" A woman's inveterate indulgence for every -expression of a man's admiration which keeps within the limits -of personal respect curved her lips gently into a charming smile. -She looked down meditatively at her dress, and brushed a crumb -off her lap with a little flattering sigh. "I was telling you," -she went on, "of my reluctance to speak to strangers of my sad -family story. It was in that way, as I afterward found out, that -I laid myself open to Miss Milroy's malice and Miss Milroy's -suspicion. Private inquiries about me were addressed to the lady -who was my reference--at Miss Milroy's suggestion, in the first -instance, I have no doubt. I am sorry to say, this is not the -worst of it. By some underhand means, of which I am quite -ignorant, Mr. Armadale's simplicity was imposed on; and, when -application was made secretly to my reference in London, it was -made, Mr. Midwinter, through your friend." - -Midwinter suddenly rose from his chair and looked at her. The -fascination that she exercised over him, powerful as it was, -became a suspended influence, now that the plain disclosure came -plainly at last from her lips. He looked at her, and sat down -again, like a man bewildered, without uttering a word. - -"Remember how weak he is," pleaded Miss Gwilt, gently, "and make -allowances for him as I do. The trifling accident of his failing -to find my reference at the address given him seems, I can't -imagine why, to have excited Mr. Armadale's suspicion. At any -rate, he remained in London. What he did there, it is impossible -for me to say. I was quite in the dark; I knew nothing: I -distrusted nobody; I was as happy in my little round of duties -as I could be with a pupil whose affections I had failed to win, -when, one morning, to my indescribable astonishment, Major Milroy -showed me a correspondence between Mr. Armadale and himself. -He spoke to me in his wife's presence. Poor creature, I make -no complaint of her; such affliction as she suffers excuses -everything. I wish I could give you some idea of the letters -between Major Milroy and Mr. Armadale; but my head is only -a woman's head, and I was so confused and distressed at the -time! All I can tell you is that Mr. Armadale chose to preserve -silence about his proceedings in London, under circumstances -which made that silence a reflection on my character. The major -was most kind; his confidence in me remained unshaken; but could -his confidence protect me against his wife's prejudice and his -daughter's ill-will? Oh, the hardness of women to each other! -Oh, the humiliation if men only knew some of us as we really -are! What could I do? I couldn't defend myself against mere -imputations; and I couldn't remain in my situation after a slur -had been cast on me. My pride (Heaven help me, I was brought up -like a gentlewoman, and I have sensibilities that are not blunted -even yet!)--my pride got the better of me, and I left my place. -Don't let it distress you, Mr. Midwinter! There's a bright side -to the picture. The ladies in the neighborhood have overwhelmed -me with kindness; I have the prospect of getting pupils to teach; -I am spared the mortification of going back to be a burden on my -friends. The only complaint I have to make is, I think, a just -one. Mr. Armadale has been back at Thorpe Ambrose for some days. -I have entreated him, by letter, to grant me an interview; to -tell me what dreadful suspicions he has of me, and to let me set -myself right in his estimation. Would you believe it? He has -declined to see me--under the influence of others, not of his own -free will, I am sure! Cruel, isn't it? But he has even used me -more cruelly still; he persists in suspecting me; it is he who is -having me watched. Oh, Mr. Midwinter, don't hate me for telling -you what you _must_ know! The man you found persecuting me and -frightening me tonight was only earning his money, after all, as -Mr. Armadale's spy." - -Once more Midwinter started to his feet; and this time the -thoughts that were in him found their way into words. - -"I can't believe it; I won't believe it!" he exclaimed, -indignantly. "If the man told you that, the man lied. I beg your -pardon, Miss Gwilt; I beg your pardon from the bottom of my -heart. Don't, pray don't think I doubt _you_; I only say there is -some dreadful mistake. I am not sure that I understand as I ought -all that you have told me. But this last infamous meanness of -which you think Allan guilty, I _do_ understand. I swear to you, -he is incapable of it! Some scoundrel has been taking advantage -of him; some scoundrel has been using his name. I'll prove it -to you, if you will only give me time. Let me go and clear it up -at once. I can't rest; I can't bear to think of it; I can't even -enjoy the pleasure of being here. Oh," he burst out desperately, -"I'm sure you feel for me, after what you have said--I feel so -for _you_!" - -He stopped in confusion. Miss Gwilt's eyes were looking at him -again, and Miss Gwilt's hand had found its way once more into his -own. - -"You are the most generous of living men," she said, softly. "I -will believe what you tell me to believe. Go," she added, in a -whisper, suddenly releasing his hand, and turning away from him. -"For both our sakes, go!" - -His heart beat fast; he looked at her as she dropped into a chair -and put her handkerchief to her eyes. For one moment he -hesitated; the next, he snatched up his knapsack from the floor, -and left her precipitately, without a backward look or a parting -word. - -She rose when the door closed on him. A change came over her -the instant she was alone. The color faded out of her cheeks; -the beauty died out of her eyes; her face hardened horribly with -a silent despair. "It's even baser work than I bargained for," -she said, "to deceive _him_." After pacing to and fro in the room -for some minutes, she stopped wearily before the glass over -the fire-place. "You strange creature!" she murmured, leaning -her elbows on the mantelpiece, and languidly addressing the -reflection of herself in the glass. "Have you got any conscience -left? And has that man roused it?" - -The reflection of her face changed slowly. The color returned -to her cheeks, the delicious languor began to suffuse her eyes -again. Her lips parted gently, and her quickening breath began -to dim the surface of the glass. She drew back from it, after a -moment's absorption in her own thoughts, with a start of terror. -"What am I doing?" she asked herself, in a sudden panic of -astonishment. "Am I mad enough to be thinking of him in _that_ -way?" - -She burst into a mocking laugh, and opened her desk on the table -recklessly with a bang. "It's high time I had some talk with -Mother Jezebel," she said, and sat down to write to Mrs. -Oldershaw. - -"I have met with Mr. Midwinter," she began, "under very lucky -circumstances; and I have made the most of my opportunity. -He has just left me for his friend Armadale; and one of two good -things will happen to-morrow. If they don't quarrel, the doors -of Thorpe Ambrose will be opened to me again at Mr. Midwinter's -intercession. If they do quarrel, I shall be the unhappy cause -of it, and I shall find my way in for myself, on the purely -Christian errand of reconciling them." - -She hesitated at the next sentence, wrote the first few words -of it, scratched them out again, and petulantly tore the letter -into fragments, and threw the pen to the other end of the room. -Turning quickly on her chair, she looked at the seat which -Midwinter had occupied, her foot restlessly tapping the floor, -and her handkerchief thrust like a gag between her clinched -teeth. "Young as you are," she thought, with her mind reviving -the image of him in the empty chair, "there has been something -out of the common in _your_ life; and I must and will know it!" - -The house clock struck the hour, and roused her. She sighed, and, -walking back to the glass, wearily loosened the fastenings of her -dress; wearily removed the studs from the chemisette beneath it, -and put them on the chimney-piece. She looked indolently at the -reflected beauties of her neck and bosom, as she unplaited her -hair and threw it back in one great mass over her shoulders. -"Fancy," she thought, "if he saw me now!" She turned back to the -table, and sighed again as she extinguished one of the candles -and took the other in her hand. "Midwinter?" she said, as she -passed through the folding-doors of the room to her bed-chamber. -"I don't believe in his name, to begin with!" - - -The night had advanced by more than an hour before Midwinter was -back again at the great house. - -Twice, well as the homeward way was known to him, he had strayed -out of the right road. The events of the evening--the interview -with Miss Gwilt herself, after his fortnight's solitary thinking -of her; the extraordinary change that had taken place in her -position since he had seen her last; and the startling assertion -of Allan's connection with it--had all conspired to throw his -mind into a state of ungovernable confusion. The darkness of the -cloudy night added to his bewilderment. Even the familiar gates -of Thorpe Ambrose seemed strange to him. When he tried to think -of it, it was a mystery to him how he had reached the place. - -The front of the house was dark, and closed for the night. -Midwinter went round to the back. The sound of men's voices, -as he advanced, caught his ear. They were soon distinguishable -as the voices of the first and second footman, and the subject -of conversation between them was their master. - -"I'll bet you an even half-crown he's driven out of the -neighborhood before another week is over his head," said -the first footman. - -"Done!" said the second. "He isn't as easy driven as you think." - -"Isn't he!" retorted the other. "He'll be mobbed if he stops -here! I tell you again, he's not satisfied with the mess he's got -into already. I know it for certain, he's having the governess -watched." - -At those words, Midwinter mechanically checked himself before -he turned the corner of the house. His first doubt of the result -of his meditated appeal to Allan ran through him like a sudden -chill. The influence exercised by the voice of public scandal -is a force which acts in opposition to the ordinary law of -mechanics. It is strongest, not by concentration, but by -distribution. To the primary sound we may shut our ears; but the -reverberation of it in echoes is irresistible. On his way back, -Midwinter's one desire had been to find Allan up, and to speak -to him immediately. His one hope now was to gain time to contend -with the new doubts and to silence the new misgivings; his one -present anxiety was to hear that Allan had gone to bed. He turned -the corner of the house, and presented himself before the men -smoking their pipes in the back garden. As soon as their -astonishment allowed them to speak, they offered to rouse their -master. Allan had given his friend up for that night, and had -gone to bed about half an hour since. - -"It was my master's' particular order, sir," said the -head-footman, "that he was to be told of it if you came back." - -"It is _my_ particular request," returned Midwinter, "that you -won't disturb him." - -The men looked at each other wonderingly, as he took his candle -and left them. - -CHAPTER VIII. - -SHE COMES BETWEEN THEM. - -Appointed hours for the various domestic events of the day were -things unknown at Thorpe Ambrose. Irregular in all his habits, -Allan accommodated himself to no stated times (with the solitary -exception of dinner-time) at any hour of the day or night. He -retired to rest early or late, and he rose early or late, exactly -as he felt inclined. The servants were forbidden to call him; -and Mrs. Gripper was accustomed to improvise the breakfast as she -best might, from the time when the kitchen fire was first lighted -to the time when the clock stood on the stroke of noon. - -Toward nine o'clock on the morning after his return Midwinter -knocked at Allan's door, and on entering the room found it empty. -After inquiry among the servants, it appeared that Allan had -risen that morning before the man who usually attended on him was -up, and that his hot water had been brought to the door by one of -the house-maids, who was then still in ignorance of Midwinter's -return. Nobody had chanced to see the master, either on the -stairs or in the hall; nobody had heard him ring the bell for -breakfast, as usual. In brief, nobody knew anything about him, -except what was obviously clear to all--that he was not in the -house. - -Midwinter went out under the great portico. He stood at the head -of the flight of steps considering in which direction he should -set forth to look for his friend. Allan's unexpected absence -added one more to the disquieting influences which still -perplexed his mind. He was in the mood in which trifles irritate -a man, and fancies are all-powerful to exalt or depress his -spirits. - -The sky was cloudy; and the wind blew in puffs from the south; -there was every prospect, to weather-wise eyes, of coming rain. -While Midwinter was still hesitating, one of the grooms passed -him on the drive below. The man proved, on being questioned, to -be better informed about his master's movements than the servants -indoors. He had seen Allan pass the stables more than an hour -since, going out by the back way into the park with a nosegay -in his hand. - -A nosegay in his hand? The nosegay hung incomprehensibly on -Midwinter's mind as he walked round, on the chance of meeting -Allan, to the back of the house. "What does the nosegay mean?" -he asked himself, with an unintelligible sense of irritation, -and a petulant kick at a stone that stood in his way. - -It meant that Allan had been following his impulses as usual. -The one pleasant impression left on his mind after his interview -with Pedgift Senior was the impression made by the lawyer's -account of his conversation with Neelie in the park. The anxiety -that he should not misjudge her, which the major's daughter had -so earnestly expressed, placed her before Allan's eyes in an -irresistibly attractive character--the character of the one -person among all his neighbors who had some respect still left -for his good opinion. Acutely sensible of his social isolation, -now that there was no Midwinter to keep him company in the empty -house, hungering and thirsting in his solitude for a kind word -and a friendly look, he began to think more and more regretfully -and more and more longingly of the bright young face so -pleasantly associated with his first happiest days at Thorpe -Ambrose. To be conscious of such a feeling as this was, with a -character like Allan's, to act on it headlong, lead him where it -might. He had gone out on the previous morning to look for Neelie -with a peace-offering of flowers, but with no very distinct idea -of what he should say to her if they met; and failing to find her -on the scene of her customary walks, he had characteristically -persisted the next morning in making a second attempt with -another peace-offering on a larger scale. Still ignorant of -his friend's return, he was now at some distance from the house, -searching the park in a direction which he had not tried yet. - -After walking out a few hundred yards beyond the stables, and -failing to discover any signs of Allan, Midwinter retraced his -steps, and waited for his friend's return, pacing slowly to and -fro on the little strip of garden ground at the back of the -house. - -From time to time, as he passed it, he looked in absently at -the room which had formerly been Mrs. Armadale's, which was now -(through his interposition) habitually occupied by her son--the -room with the Statuette on the bracket, and the French windows -opening to the ground, which had once recalled to him the Second -Vision of the Dream. The Shadow of the Man, which Allan had seen -standing opposite to him at the long window; the view over a lawn -and flower-garden; the pattering of the rain against the glass; -the stretching out of the Shadow's arm, and the fall of the -statue in fragments on the floor--these objects and events of the -visionary scene, so vividly present to his memory once, were all -superseded by later remembrances now, were all left to fade as -they might in the dim background of time. He could pass the room -again and again, alone and anxious, and never once think of the -boat drifting away in the moonlight, and the night's imprisonment -on the Wrecked Ship! - -Toward ten o'clock the well-remembered sound of Allan's voice -became suddenly audible in the direction of the stables. In a -moment more he was visible from the garden. His second morning's -search for Neelie had ended to all appearance in a second defeat -of his object. The nosegay was still in his hand; and he was -resignedly making a present of it to one of the coachman's -children. - -Midwinter impulsively took a step forward toward the stables, and -abruptly checked his further progress. - -Conscious that his position toward his friend was altered already -in relation to Miss Gwilt, the first sight of Allan filled his -mind with a sudden distrust of the governess's influence over -him, which was almost a distrust of himself. He knew that he had -set forth from the moors on his return to Thorpe Ambrose with the -resolution of acknowledging the passion that had mastered him, -and of insisting, if necessary, on a second and a longer absence -in the interests of the sacrifice which he was bent on making to -the happiness of his friend. What had become of that resolution -now? The discovery of Miss Gwilt's altered position, and the -declaration that she had voluntarily made of her indifference to -Allan, had scattered it to the winds. The first words with which -he would have met his friend, if nothing had happened to him -on the homeward way, were words already dismissed from his lips. -He drew back as he felt it, and struggled, with an instinctive -loyalty toward Allan, to free himself at the last moment from -the influence of Miss Gwilt. - -Having disposed of his useless nosegay, Allan passed on into the -garden, and the instant he entered it recognized Midwinter with -a loud cry of surprise and delight. - -"Am I awake or dreaming?" he exclaimed, seizing his friend -excitably by both hands." You dear old Midwinter, have you sprung -up out of the ground, or have you dropped from the clouds?" - -It was not till Midwinter had explained the mystery of his -unexpected appearance in every particular that Allan could be -prevailed on to say a word about himself. When he did speak, -he shook his head ruefully, and subdued the hearty loudness of -his voice, with a preliminary look round to see if the servants -were within hearing. - -"I've learned to be cautious since you went away and left me," -said Allan. "My dear fellow, you haven't the least notion what -things have happened, and what an awful scrape I'm in at this -very moment!" - -"You are mistaken, Allan. I have heard more of what has happened -than you suppose." - -"What! the dreadful mess I'm in with Miss Gwilt? the row with -the major? the infernal scandal-mongering in the neighborhood? -You don't mean to say--?" - -"Yes," interposed Midwinter, quietly; "I have heard of it all." - -"Good heavens! how? Did you stop at Thorpe Ambrose on your way -back? Have you been in the coffee-room at the hotel? Have you met -Pedgift? Have you dropped into the Reading Rooms, and seen what -they call the freedom of the press in the town newspaper?" - -Midwinter paused before he answered, and looked up at the sky. -The clouds had been gathering unnoticed over their heads, and -the first rain-drops were beginning to fall. - -"Come in here," said Allan. "We'll go up to breakfast this way." -He led Midwinter through the open French window into his own -sitting-room. The wind blew toward that side of the house, and -the rain followed them in. Midwinter, who was last, turned and -closed the window. - -Allan was too eager for the answer which the weather had -interrupted to wait for it till they reached the breakfast-room. -He stopped close at the window, and added two more to his string -of questions. - -"How can you possibly have heard about me and Miss Gwilt?" he -asked. "Who told you?" - -"Miss Gwilt herself," replied Midwinter, gravely. - -Allan's manner changed the moment the governess's name passed -his friend's lips. - -"I wish you had heard my story first," he said. "Where did you -meet with Miss Gwilt?" - -There was a momentary pause. They both stood still at the window, -absorbed in the interest of the moment. They both forgot that -their contemplated place of shelter from the rain had been the -breakfast-room upstairs. - -"Before I answer your question," said Midwinter, a little -constrainedly, "I want to ask you something, Allan, on my side. -Is it really true that you are in some way concerned in Miss -Gwilt's leaving Major Milroy's service?" - -There was another pause. The disturbance which had begun to -appear in Allan's manner palpably increased. - -"It's rather a long story," he began. "I have been taken in, -Midwinter. I've been imposed on by a person, who--I can't help -saying it--who cheated me into promising what I oughtn't to have -promised, and doing what I had better not have done. It isn't -breaking my promise to tell you. I can trust in your discretion, -can't I? You will never say a word, will you?" - -"Stop!" said Midwinter. "Don't trust me with any secrets which -are not your own. If you have given a promise, don't trifle with -it, even in speaking to such an intimate friend as I am." He laid -his hand gently and kindly on Allan's shoulder. "I can't help -seeing that I have made you a little uncomfortable," he went on. -"I can't help seeing that my question is not so easy a one to -answer as I had hoped and supposed. Shall we wait a little? Shall -we go upstairs and breakfast first?" - -Allan was far too earnestly bent on presenting his conduct to -his friend in the right aspect to heed Midwinter's suggestion. -He spoke eagerly on the instant, without moving from the window. - -"My dear fellow, it's a perfectly easy question to answer. -Only"--he hesitated--"only it requires what I'm a bad hand at: -it requires an explanation." - -"Do you mean," asked Midwinter, more seriously, but not less -gently than before, "that you must first justify yourself, and -then answer my question?" - -"That's it!" said Allan, with an air of relief. "You're hit -the right nail on the head, just as usual." - -Midwinter's face darkened for the first time. "I am sorry to hear -it," he said, his voice sinking low, and his eyes dropping to the -ground as he spoke. - -The rain was beginning to fall thickly. It swept across the -garden, straight on the closed windows, and pattered heavily -against the glass. - -"Sorry!" repeated Allan. "My dear fellow, you haven't heard the -particulars yet. Wait till I explain the thing first." - -"You are a bad hand at explanations," said Midwinter, repeating -Allan's own words. "Don't place yourself at a disadvantage. Don't -explain it." - -Allan looked at him, in silent perplexity and surprise. - -"You are my friend--my best and dearest friend," Midwinter went -on. "I can't bear to let you justify yourself to me as if I was -your judge, or as if I doubted you." He looked up again at Allan -frankly and kindly as he said those words. "Besides," he resumed, -"I think, if I look into my memory, I can anticipate your -explanation. We had a moment's talk, before I went away, about -some very delicate questions which you proposed putting to Major -Milroy. I remember I warned you; I remember I had my misgivings. -Should I be guessing right if I guessed that those questions have -been in some way the means of leading you into a false position? -If it is true that you have been concerned in Miss Gwilt's -leaving her situation, is it also true--is it only doing you -justice to believe--that any mischief for which you are -responsible has been mischief innocently done?" - -"Yes," said Allan, speaking, for the first time, a little -constrainedly on his side. "It is only doing me justice to say -that." He stopped and began drawing lines absently with his -finger on the blurred surface of the window-pane. "You're not -like other people, Midwinter," he resumed, suddenly, with an -effort; "and I should have liked you to have heard the -particulars all the same." - -"I will hear them if you desire it," returned Midwinter. "But I -am satisfied, without another word, that you have not willingly -been the means of depriving Miss Gwilt of her situation. If that -is understood between you and me, I think we need say no more. -Besides, I have another question to ask, of much greater -importance--a question that has been forced on me by what I saw -with my own eyes, and heard with my own ears, last night." - -He stopped, recoiling in spite of himself. "Shall we go upstairs -first?" he asked, abruptly, leading the way to the door, and -trying to gain time. - -It was useless. Once again, the room which they were both free -to leave, the room which one of them had twice tried to leave -already, held them as if they were prisoners. - -Without answering, without even appearing to have heard -Midwinter's proposal to go upstairs, Allan followed him -mechanically as far as the opposite side of the window. There -he stopped. "Midwinter!" he burst out, in a sudden panic of -astonishment and alarm, "there seems to be something strange -between us! You're not like yourself. What is it?" - -With his hand on the lock of the door, Midwinter turned, and -looked back into the room. The moment had come. His haunting fear -of doing his friend an injustice had shown itself in a restraint -of word, look, and action which had been marked enough to force -its way to Allan's notice. The one course left now, in the -dearest interests of the friendship that united them, was to -speak at once, and to speak boldly. - -"There's something strange between us," reiterated Allan. "For -God's sake, what is it?" - -Midwinter took his hand from the door, and came down again to -the window, fronting Allan. He occupied the place, of necessity, -which Allan had just left. It was the side of the window on which -the Statuette stood. The little figure, placed on its projecting -bracket, was, close behind him on his right hand. No signs of -change appeared in the stormy sky. The rain still swept slanting -across the garden, and pattered heavily against the glass. - -"Give me your hand, Allan." - -Allan gave it, and Midwinter held it firmly while he spoke. - -"There is something strange between us," he said. "There is -something to be set right which touches you nearly; and it has -not been set right yet. You asked me just now where I met with -Miss Gwilt. I met with her on my way back here, upon the -high-road on the further side of the town. She entreated me to -protect her from a man who was following and frightening her. I -saw the scoundrel with my own eyes, and I should have laid hands -on him, if Miss Gwilt herself had not stopped me. She gave a very -strange reason for stopping me. She said I didn't know who his -employer was." - -Allan's ruddy color suddenly deepened; he looked aside quickly -through the window at the pouring rain. At the same moment their -hands fell apart, and there was a pause of silence on either -side. Midwinter was the first to speak again. - -"Later in the evening," he went on, "Miss Gwilt explained -herself. She told me two things. She declared that the man whom -I had seen following her was a hired spy. I was surprised, but -I could not dispute it. She told me next, Allan--what I believe -with my whole heart and soul to be a falsehood which has been -imposed on her as the truth--she told me that the spy was in your -employment!" - -Allan turned instantly from the window, and looked Midwinter full -in the face again. "I must explain myself this time," he said, -resolutely. - -The ashy paleness peculiar to him in moments of strong emotion -began to show itself on Midwinter's cheeks. - -"More explanations!" he said, and drew back a step, with his eyes -fixed in a sudden terror of inquiry on Allan's face. - -"You don't know what I know, Midwinter. You don't know that what -I have done has been done with a good reason. And what is more, -I have not trusted to myself--I have had good advice." - -"Did you hear what I said just now?" asked Midwinter, -incredulously. "You can't--surely, you can't have been attending -to me?" - -"I haven't missed a word," rejoined Allan. "I tell you again, you -don't know what I know of Miss Gwilt. She has threatened Miss -Milroy. Miss Milroy is in danger while her governess stops in -this neighborhood." - -Midwinter dismissed the major's daughter from the conversation -with a contemptuous gesture of his hand. - -"I don't want to hear about Miss, Milroy," he said. "Don't mix up -Miss Milroy-- Good God, Allan, am I to understand that the spy -set to watch Miss Gwilt was doing his vile work with your -approval?" - -"Once for all, my dear fellow, will you, or will you not, let me -explain?" - -"Explain!" cried Midwinter, his eyes aflame, and his hot Creole -blood rushing crimson into his face. "Explain the employment of a -spy? What! after having driven Miss Gwilt out of her situation by -meddling with her private affairs, you meddle again by the vilest -of all means--the means of a paid spy? You set a watch on the -woman whom you yourself told me you loved, only a fortnight -since--the woman you were thinking of as your wife! I don't -believe it; I won't believe it. Is my head failing me? Is it -Allan Armadale I am speaking to? Is it Allan Armadale's face -looking at me? Stop! you are acting under some mistaken scruple. -Some low fellow has crept into your confidence, and has done this -in your name without telling you first." - -Allan controlled himself with admirable patience and admirable -consideration for the temper of his friend. "If you persist in -refusing to hear me," he said, "I must wait as well as I can till -my turn comes." - -"Tell me you are a stranger to the employment of that man, and -I will hear you willingly." - -"Suppose there should be a necessity, that you know nothing -about, for employing him?" - -"I acknowledge no necessity for the cowardly persecution of -a helpless woman." - -A momentary flush of irritation--momentary, and no more--passed -over Allan's face. "You mightn't think her quite so helpless," -he said, "if you knew the truth." - -"Are _you_ the man to tell me the truth?" retorted the other. -"You who have refused to hear her in her own defense! You who -have closed the doors of this house against her!" - -Allan still controlled himself, but the effort began at last -to be visible. - -"I know your temper is a hot one," he said. "But for all that, -your violence quite takes me by surprise. I can't account for it, -unless"--he hesitated a moment, and then finished the sentence -in his usual frank, outspoken way--"unless you are sweet yourself -on Miss Gwilt." - -Those last words heaped fuel on the fire. They stripped the truth -instantly of all concealments and disguises, and laid it bare -to view. Allan's instinct had guessed, and the guiding influence -stood revealed of Midwinter's interest in Miss Gwilt. - -"What right have you to say that?" he asked, with raised voice -and threatening eyes. - -"I told _you_," said Allan, simply, "when I thought I was sweet -on her myself. Come! come! it's a little hard, I think, even if -you are in love with her, to believe everything she tells you, -and not to let me say a word. Is _that_ the way you decide -between us?" - -"Yes, it is!" cried the other, infuriated by Allan's second -allusion to Miss Gwilt. "When I am asked to choose between -the employer of a spy and the victim of a spy, I side with -the victim!" - -"Don't try me too hard, Midwinter, I have a temper to lose -as well as you." - -He stopped, struggling with himself. The torture of passion -in Midwinter's face, from which a less simple and less generous -nature might have recoiled in horror, touched Allan suddenly with -an artless distress, which, at that moment, was little less than -sublime. He advanced, with his eyes moistening, and his hand held -out. "You asked me for my hand just now," he said, "and I gave it -you. Will you remember old times, and give me yours, before it's -too late?" - -"No!" retorted Midwinter, furiously. "I may meet Miss Gwilt -again, and I may want my hand free to deal with your spy!" - -He had drawn back along the wall as Allan advanced, until the -bracket which supported the Statuette was before instead of -behind him. In the madness of his passion he saw nothing but -Allan's face confronting him. In the madness of his passion, -he stretched out his right hand as he answered, and shook it -threateningly in the air. It struck the forgotten projection of -the bracket--and the next instant the Statuette lay in fragments -on the floor. - -The rain drove slanting over flower-bed and lawn, and pattered -heavily against the glass; and the two Armadales stood by the -window, as the two Shadows had stood in the Second Vision of -the Dream, with the wreck of the image between them. - -Allan stooped over the fragments of the little figure, and lifted -them one by one from the floor. - -"Leave me," he said, without looking up, "or we shall both repent -it." - -Without a word, Midwinter moved back slowly. He stood for the -second time with his hand on the door, and looked his last at the -room. The horror of the night on the Wreck had got him once more, -and the flame of his passion was quenched in an instant. - -"The Dream!" he whispered, under his breath. "The Dream again!" - -The door was tried from the outside, and a servant appeared with -a trivial message about the breakfast. - -Midwinter looked at the man with a blank, dreadful helplessness -in his face. "Show me the way out," he said. "The place is dark, -and the room turns round with me." - -The servant took him by the arm, and silently led him out. - -As the door closed on them, Allan picked up the last fragment -of the broken figure. He sat down alone at the table, and hid -his face in his hands. The self-control which he had bravely -preserved under exasperation renewed again and again now failed -him at last in the friendless solitude of his room, and, in the -first bitterness of feeling that Midwinter had turned against him -like the rest, he burst into tears. - -The moments followed each other, the slow time wore on. Little -by little the signs of a new elemental disturbance began to show -themselves in the summer storm. The shadow of a swiftly deepening -darkness swept over the sky. The pattering of the rain lessened -with the lessening wind. There was a momentary hush of stillness. -Then on a sudden the rain poured down again like a cataract, and -the low roll of thunder came up solemnly on the dying air. - -CHAPTER IX. - -SHE KNOWS THE TRUTH. - -1. _From Mr. Bashwood to Miss Gwilt_. - -"Thorpe Ambrose, July 20th, 1851. - -"DEAR MADAM--I received yesterday, by private messenger, your -obliging note, in which you direct me to communicate with you -through the post only, as long as there is reason to believe that -any visitors who may come to you are likely to be observed. May -I be permitted to say that I look forward with respectful anxiety -to the time when I shall again enjoy the only real happiness -I have ever experienced--the happiness of personally addressing -you? - -"In compliance with your desire that I should not allow this day -(the Sunday) to pass without privately noticing what went on at -the great house, I took the keys, and went this morning to the -steward's office. I accounted for my appearance to the servants -by informing them that I had work to do which it was important -to complete in the shortest possible time. The same excuse would -have done for Mr. Armadale if we had met, but no such meeting -happened. - -"Although I was at Thorpe Ambrose in what I thought good time, I -was too late to see or hear anything myself of a serious quarrel -which appeared to have taken place, just before I arrived, -between Mr. Armadale and Mr. Midwinter. - -"All the little information I can give you in this matter -is derived from one of the servants. The man told me that he -heard the voices of the two gentlemen loud in Mr. Armadale's -sitting-room. He went in to announce breakfast shortly afterward, -and found Mr. Midwinter in such a dreadful state of agitation -that he had to be helped out of the room. The servant tried to -take him upstairs to lie down and compose himself. He declined, -saying he would wait a little first in one of the lower rooms, -and begging that he might be left alone. The man had hardly got -downstairs again when he heard the front door opened and closed. -He ran back, and found that Mr. Midwinter was gone. The rain -was pouring at the time, and thunder and lightning came soon -afterward. Dreadful weather certainly to go out in. The servant -thinks Mr. Midwinter's mind was unsettled. I sincerely hope not. -Mr. Midwinter is one of the few people I have met with in the -course of my life who have treated me kindly. - -"Hearing that Mr. Armadale still remained in the sitting-room, -I went into the steward's office (which, as you may remember, is -on the same side of the house), and left the door ajar, and set -the window open, waiting and listening for anything that might -happen. Dear madam, there was a time when I might have thought -such a position in the house of my employer not a very becoming -one. Let me hasten to assure you that this is far from being my -feeling now. I glory in any position which makes me serviceable -to you. - -"The state of the weather seemed hopelessly adverse to that -renewal of intercourse between Mr. Armadale and Miss Milroy which -you so confidently anticipate, and of which you are so anxious -to be made aware. Strangely enough, however, it is actually -in consequence of the state of the weather that I am now in -a position to give you the very information you require. -Mr. Armadale and Miss Milroy met about an hour since. The -circumstances were as follows: - -"Just at the beginning of the thunder-storm, I saw one of the -grooms run across from the stables, and heard him tap at his -master's window. Mr. Armadale opened the window and asked what -was the matter. The groom said he came with a message from the -coachman's wife. She had seen from her room over the stables -(which looks on to the park) Miss Milroy quite alone, standing -for shelter under one of the trees. As that part of the park was -at some distance from the major's cottage, she had thought that -her master might wish to send and ask the young lady into the -house--especially as she had placed herself, with a thunder-storm -coming on, in what might turn out to be a very dangerous -position. - -"The moment Mr. Armadale understood the man's message, he called -for the water-proof things and the umbrellas, and ran out -himself, instead of leaving it to the servants. In a little time -he and the groom came back with Miss Milroy between them, as well -protected as could be from the rain. - -"I ascertained from one of the women-servants, who had taken the -young lady into a bedroom, and had supplied her with such dry -things as she wanted, that Miss Milroy had been afterward shown -into the drawing-room, and that Mr. Armadale was there with her. -The only way of following your instructions, and finding out what -passed between them, was to go round the house in the pelting -rain, and get into the conservatory (which opens into the -drawing-room) by the outer door. I hesitate at nothing, dear -madam, in your service; I would cheerfully get wet every day, -to please you. Besides, though I may at first sight be thought -rather an elderly man, a wetting is of no very serious -consequence to me. I assure you I am not so old as I look, and -I am of a stronger constitution than appears. - -"It was impossible for me to get near enough in the conservatory -to see what went on in the drawing-room, without the risk of -being discovered. But most of the conversation reached me, except -when they dropped their voices. This is the substance of what -I heard: - -"I gathered that Miss Milroy had been prevailed on, against her -will, to take refuge from the thunder-storm in Mr. Armadale's -house. She said so, at least, and she gave two reasons. The first -was that her father had forbidden all intercourse between the -cottage and the great house. Mr. Armadale met this objection by -declaring that her father had issued his orders under a total -misconception of the truth, and by entreating her not to treat -him as cruelly as the major had treated him. He entered, I -suspect, into some explanations at this point, but as he dropped -his voice I am unable to say what they were. His language, when I -did hear it, was confused and ungrammatical. It seemed, however, -to be quite intelligible enough to persuade Miss Milroy that -her father had been acting under a mistaken impression of the -circumstances. At least, I infer this; for, when I next heard -the conversation, the young lady was driven back to her second -objection to being in the house--which was, that Mr. Armadale had -behaved very badly to her, and that he richly deserved that she -should never speak to him again. - -"In this latter case, Mr. Armadale attempted no defense of any -kind. He agreed with her that he had behaved badly; he agreed -with her that he richly deserved she should never speak to him -again. At the same time he implored her to remember that he -had suffered his punishment already. He was disgraced in the -neighborhood; and his dearest friend, his one intimate friend -in the world, had that very morning turned against him like -the rest. Far or near, there was not a living creature whom he -was fond of to comfort him, or to say a friendly word to him. -He was lonely and miserable, and his heart ached for a little -kindness--and that was his only excuse for asking Miss Milroy -to forget and forgive the past. - -"I must leave you, I fear, to judge for yourself of the effect -of this on the young lady; for, though I tried hard, I failed -to catch what she said. I am almost certain I heard her crying, -and Mr. Armadale entreating her not to break his heart. They -whispered a great deal, which aggravated me. I was afterward -alarmed by Mr. Armadale coming out into the conservatory to pick -some flowers. He did not come as far, fortunately, as the place -where I was hidden; and he went in again into the drawing-room, -and there was more talking (I suspect at close quarters), which -to my great regret I again failed to catch. Pray forgive me for -having so little to tell you. I can only add that, when the storm -cleared off, Miss Milroy went away with the flowers in her hand, -and with Mr. Armadale escorting her from the house. My own humble -opinion is that he had a powerful friend at court, all through -the interview, in the young lady's own liking for him. - -"This is all I can say at present, with the exception of one -other thing I heard, which I blush to mention. But your word is -law, and you have ordered me to have no concealments from you. - -"Their talk turned once, dear madam, on yourself. I think I heard -the word 'creature' from Miss Milroy; and I am certain that -Mr. Armadale, while acknowledging that he had once admired you, -added that circumstances had since satisfied him of 'his folly.' -I quote his own expression; it made me quite tremble with -indignation. If I may be permitted to say so, the man who admires -Miss Gwilt lives in Paradise. Respect, if nothing else, ought to -have closed Mr. Armadale's lips. He is my employer, I know; but -after his calling it an act of folly to admire you (though I _am_ -his deputy-steward), I utterly despise him. - -"Trusting that I may have been so happy as to give you -satisfaction thus far, and earnestly desirous to deserve the -honor of your continued confidence in me, I remain, dear madam, - -"Your grateful and devoted servant, - -"FELIX BASHWOOD." - -2. _From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt_. - -"Diana Street, Monday, July 21st. - -"MY DEAR LYDIA--I trouble you with a few lines. They are written -under a sense of the duty which I owe to myself, in our present -position toward each other. - -"I am not at all satisfied with the tone of your last two -letters; and I am still less pleased at your leaving me this -morning without any letter at all--and this when we had arranged, -in the doubtful state of our prospects, that I was to hear from -you every day. I can only interpret your conduct in one way. I -can only infer that matters at Thorpe Ambrose, having been all -mismanaged, are all going wrong. - -"It is not my present object to reproach you, for why should I -waste time, language, and paper? I merely wish to recall to your -memory certain considerations which you appear to be disposed -to overlook. Shall I put them in the plainest English? Yes; for, -with all my faults, I am frankness personified. - -"In the first place, then, I have an interest in your becoming -Mrs. Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose as well as you. Secondly, I have -provided you (to say nothing of good advice) with all the money -needed to accomplish our object. Thirdly, I hold your notes of -hand, at short dates, for every farthing so advanced. Fourthly -and lastly, though I am indulgent to a fault in the capacity of -a friend--in the capacity of a woman of business, my dear, I am -not to be trifled with. That is all, Lydia, at least for the -present. - -"Pray don't suppose I write in anger; I am only sorry and -disheartened. My state of mind resembles David's. If I had -the wings of a dove, I would flee away and be at rest. - -"Affectionately yours, MARIA OLDERSHAW." - -3. _From Mr. Bashwood to Miss Gwilt_. - -"Thorpe Ambrose, July 21st. - -"DEAR MADAM--You will probably receive these lines a few hours -after my yesterday's communication reaches you. I posted my first -letter last night, and I shall post this before noon to-day. - -"My present object in writing is to give you some more news from -this house. I have the inexpressible happiness of announcing that -Mr. Armadale's disgraceful intrusion on your privacy is at an -end. The watch set on your actions is to be withdrawn this day. -I write, dear madam, with the tears in my eyes--tears of joy, -caused by feelings which I ventured to express in my previous -letter (see first paragraph toward the end). Pardon me this -personal reference. I can speak to you (I don't know why) so much -more readily with my pen than with my tongue. - -"Let me try to compose myself, and proceed with my narrative. - -"I had just arrived at the steward's office this morning, when -Mr. Pedgift the elder followed me to the great house to see -Mr. Armadale by special appointment. It is needless to say that -I at once suspended any little business there was to do, feeling -that your interests might possibly be concerned. It is also -most gratifying to add that this time circumstances favored me. -I was able to stand under the open window and to hear the whole -interview. - -"Mr. Armadale explained himself at once in the plainest terms. -He gave orders that the person who had been hired to watch you -should be instantly dismissed. On being asked to explain this -sudden change of purpose, he did not conceal that it was owing -to the effect produced on his mind by what had passed between -Mr. Midwinter and himself on the previous day. Mr. Midwinter's -language, cruelly unjust as it was, had nevertheless convinced -him that no necessity whatever could excuse any proceeding so -essentially base in itself as the employment of a spy, and on -that conviction he was now determined to act. - -"But for your own positive directions to me to conceal nothing -that passes here in which your name is concerned, I should really -be ashamed to report what Mr. Pedgift said on his side. He has -behaved kindly to me, I know. But if he was my own brother, I -could never forgive him the tone in which he spoke of you, and -the obstinacy with which he tried to make Mr. Armadale change -his mind. - -"He began by attacking Mr. Midwinter. He declared that Mr. -Midwinter's opinion was the very worst opinion that could be -taken; for it was quite plain that you, dear madam, had twisted -him round your finger. Producing no effect by this coarse -suggestion (which nobody who knows you could for a moment -believe), Mr. Pedgift next referred to Miss Milroy, and asked Mr. -Armadale if he had given up all idea of protecting her. What this -meant I cannot imagine. I can only report it for your private -consideration. Mr. Armadale briefly answered that he had his own -plan for protecting Miss Milroy, and that the circumstances were -altered in that quarter, or words to a similar effect. Still Mr. -Pedgift persisted. He went on (I blush to mention) from bad to -worse. He tried to persuade Mr. Armadale next to bring an action -at law against one or other of the persons who had been most -strongly condemning his conduct in the neighborhood, for the -purpose--I really hardly know how to write it--of getting you -into the witness-box. And worse yet: when Mr. Armadale still said -No, Mr. Pedgift, after having, as I suspected by the sound of his -voice, been on the point of leaving the room, artfully came back, -and proposed sending for a detective officer from London, simply -to look at you. 'The whole of this mystery about Miss Gwilt's -true character,' he said, 'may turn on a question of identity. -It won't cost much to have a man down from London; and it's -worth trying whether her face is or is not known at headquarters -to the police.' I again and again assure you, dearest lady, that -I only repeat those abominable words from a sense of duty toward -yourself. I shook--I declare I shook from head to foot when -I heard them. - -"To resume, for there is more to tell you. - -"Mr. Armadale (to his credit--I don't deny it, though I don't -like him) still said No. He appeared to be getting irritated -under Mr. Pedgift's persistence, and he spoke in a somewhat hasty -way. 'You persuaded me on the last occasion when we talked about -this,' he said, 'to do something that I have been since heartily -ashamed of. You won't succeed in persuading me, Mr. Pedgift, -a second time.' Those were his words. Mr. Pedgift took him up -short; Mr. Pedgift seemed to be nettled on his side. - -"'If that is the light in which you see my advice, sir,' he -said, 'the less you have of it for the future, the better. Your -character and position are publicly involved in this matter -between yourself and Miss Gwilt; and you persist, at a most -critical moment, in taking a course of your own, which I believe -will end badly. After what I have already said and done in this -very serious case, I can't consent to go on with it with both -my hands tied, and I can't drop it with credit to myself while -I remain publicly known as your solicitor. You leave me no -alternative, sir, but to resign the honor of acting as your legal -adviser.' 'I am sorry to hear it,' says Mr. Armadale, 'but I have -suffered enough already through interfering with Miss Gwilt. -I can't and won't stir any further in the matter.' '_You_ may not -stir any further in it, sir,' says Mr. Pedgift, 'and _I_ shall -not stir any further in it, for it has ceased to be a question -of professional interest to me. But mark my words, Mr. Armadale, -you are not at the end of this business yet. Some other person's -curiosity may go on from the point where you (and I) have -stopped; and some other person's hand may let the broad daylight -in yet on Miss Gwilt.' - -"I report their language, dear madam, almost word for word, -I believe, as I heard it. It produced an indescribable impression -on me; it filled me, I hardly know why, with quite a panic of -alarm. I don't at all understand it, and I understand still less -what happened immediately afterward. - -"Mr. Pedgift's voice, when he said those last words, sounded -dreadfully close to me. He must have been speaking at the open -window, and he must, I fear, have seen me under it. I had time, -before he left the house, to get out quietly from among the -laurels, but not to get back to the office. Accordingly I walked -away along the drive toward the lodge, as if I was going on some -errand connected with the steward's business. - -"Before long, Mr. Pedgift overtook me in his gig, and stopped. -'So _you_ feel some curiosity about Miss Gwilt, do you?' he said. -'Gratify your curiosity by all means; _I_ don't object to it.' -I felt naturally nervous, but I managed to ask him what he meant. -He didn't answer; he only looked down at me from the gig in -a very odd manner, and laughed. 'I have known stranger things -happen even than _that_!' he said to himself suddenly, and drove -off. - -"I have ventured to trouble you with this last incident, though -it may seem of no importance in your eyes, in the hope that -your superior ability may be able to explain it. My own poor -faculties, I confess, are quite unable to penetrate Mr. Pedgift's -meaning. All I know is that he has no right to accuse me of any -such impertinent feeling as curiosity in relation to a lady whom -I ardently esteem and admire. I dare not put it in warmer words. - -"I have only to add that I am in a position to be of continued -service to you here if you wish it. Mr. Armadale has just been -into the office, and has told me briefly that, in Mr. Midwinter's -continued absence, I am still to act as steward's deputy till -further notice. - -"Believe me, dear madam, anxiously and devotedly yours, FELIX -BASHWOOD." - -4. _From Allan Armadale to the Reverend Decimus Brock_. - -Thorpe Ambrose, Tuesday. - -"MY DEAR MR. BROCK--I am in sad trouble. Midwinter has quarreled -with me and left me; and my lawyer has quarreled with me and left -me; and (except dear little Miss Milroy, who has forgiven me) all -the neighbors have turned their backs on me. There is a good deal -about 'me' in this, but I can't help it. I am very miserable -alone in my own house. Do pray come and see me! You are the only -old friend I have left, and I do long so to tell you about it. - -"N. B.--On my word of honor as a gentleman, I am not to blame. -Yours affectionately, - -"ALLAN ARMADALE. - -"P. S.--I would come to you (for this place is grown quite -hateful to me), but I have a reason for not going too far away -from Miss Milroy just at present." - -5. _From Robert Stapleton to Allan Armadale, Esq._ - -"Bascombe Rectory, Thursday Morning. - -"RESPECTED SIR--I see a letter in your writing, on the table -along with the others, which I am sorry to say my master is not -well enough to open. He is down with a sort of low fever. The -doctor says it has been brought on with worry and anxiety which -master was not strong enough to bear. This seems likely; for -I was with him when he went to London last month, and what with -his own business, and the business of looking after that person -who afterward gave us the slip, he was worried and anxious all -the time; and for the matter of that, so was I. - -"My master was talking of you a day or two since. He seemed -unwilling that you should know of his illness, unless he got -worse. But I think you ought to know of it. At the same time he -is not worse; perhaps a trifle better. The doctor says he must be -kept very quiet, and not agitated on any account. So be pleased -to take no notice of this--I mean in the way of coming to the -rectory. I have the doctor's orders to say it is not needful, -and it would only upset my master in the state he is in now. - -"I will write again if you wish it. Please accept of my duty, -and believe me to remain, sir, your humble servant, - -"ROBERT STAPLETON. - -"P. S.--The yacht has been rigged and repainted, waiting your -orders. She looks beautiful." - -6. _From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt_. - -"Diana Street, July 24th. - -"MISS GWILT--The post hour has passed for three mornings -following, and has brought me no answer to my letter. Are you -purposely bent on insulting me? or have you left Thorpe Ambrose? -In either case, I won't put up with your conduct any longer. -The law shall bring you to book, if I can't. - -"Your first note of hand (for thirty pounds) falls due on Tuesday -next, the 29th. If you had behaved with common consideration -toward me, I would have let you renew it with pleasure. As things -are, I shall have the note presented; and, if it is not paid, -I shall instruct my man of business to take the usual course. - -"Yours, MARIA OLDERSHAW." - -7. _From Miss Gwilt to Mrs. Oldershaw_. - -"5 Paradise Place, Thorpe Ambrose, July 25th. - -MRS. OLDERSHAW--The time of your man of business being, no doubt, -of some value, I write a line to assist him when he takes the -usual course. He will find me waiting to be arrested in the -first-floor apartments, at the above address. In my present -situation, and with my present thoughts, the best service you -can possibly render me is to lock me up. - -"L. G." - -8. _From Mrs. Oldershaw to Miss Gwilt_. - -"Diana Street, July 26th. - -"MY DARLING LYDIA--The longer I live in this wicked world -the more plainly I see that women's own tempers are the worst -enemies women have to contend with. What a truly regretful -style of correspondence we have fallen into! What a sad want -of self-restraint, my dear, on your side and on mine! - -"Let me, as the oldest in years, be the first to make the needful -excuses, the first to blush for my own want of self-control. Your -cruel neglect, Lydia, stung me into writing as I did. I am so -sensitive to ill treatment, when it is inflicted on me by a -person whom I love and admire; and, though turned sixty, I am -still (unfortunately for myself) so young at heart. Accept my -apologies for having made use of my pen, when I ought to have -been content to take refuge in my pocket-handkerchief. Forgive -your attached Maria for being still young at heart! - -"But oh, my dear--though I own I threatened you--how hard of you -to take me at my word! How cruel of you, if your debt had been -ten times what it is, to suppose me capable (whatever I might -say) of the odious inhumanity of arresting my bosom friend! -Heavens! have I deserved to be taken at my word in this -unmercifully exact way, after the years of tender intimacy -that have united us? But I don't complain; I only mourn over -the frailty of our common human nature. Let us expect as little -of each other as possible, my dear; we are both women, and we -can't help it. I declare, when I reflect on the origin of our -unfortunate sex--when I remember that we were all originally made -of no better material than the rib of a man (and that rib of so -little importance to its possessor that he never appears to have -missed it afterward), I am quite astonished at our virtues, and -not in the least surprised at our faults. - -"I am wandering a little; I am losing myself in serious thought, -like that sweet character in Shakespeare who was 'fancy free.' -One last word, dearest, to say that my longing for an answer -to this proceeds entirely from my wish to hear from you again -in your old friendly tone, and is quite unconnected with any -curiosity to know what you are doing at Thorpe Ambrose--except -such curiosity as you yourself might approve. Need I add that -I beg you as a favor to _me_ to renew, on the customary terms? -I refer to the little bill due on Tuesday next, and I venture -to suggest that day six weeks. - -"Yours, with a truly motherly feeling, - -"MARIA OLDERSHAW." - -9. _From Miss Gwilt to Mrs. Oldershaw_. - -"Paradise Place, July 27th. - -"I have just got your last letter. The brazen impudence of it -has roused me. I am to be treated like a child, am I?--to be -threatened first, and then, if threatening fails, to be coaxed -afterward? You _shall_ coax me; you shall know, my motherly -friend, the sort of child you have to deal with. - -"I had a reason, Mrs. Oldershaw, for the silence which has so -seriously offended you. I was afraid--actually afraid--to let -you into the secret of my thoughts. No such fear troubles me -now. My only anxiety this morning is to make you my best -acknowledgments for the manner in which you have written to me. -After carefully considering it, I think the worst turn I can -possibly do you is to tell you what you are burning to know. So -here I am at my desk, bent on telling it. If you don't bitterly -repent, when you are at the end of this letter, not having held -to your first resolution, and locked me up out of harm's way -while you had the chance, my name is not Lydia Gwilt. - -"Where did my last letter end? I don't remember, and don't care. -Make it out as you can--I am not going back any further than this -day week. That is to say, Sunday last. - -"There was a thunder-storm in the morning. It began to clear off -toward noon. I didn't go out: I waited to see Midwinter or to -hear from him. (Are you surprised at my not writing 'Mr.' before -his name? We have got so familiar, my dear, that 'Mr.' would be -quite out of place.) He had left me the evening before, under -very interesting circumstances. I had told him that his friend -Armadale was persecuting me by means of a hired spy. He had -declined to believe it, and had gone straight to Thorpe Ambrose -to clear the thing up. I let him kiss my hand before he went. -He promised to come back the next day (the Sunday). I felt I had -secured my influence over him; and I believed he would keep his -word. - -"Well, the thunder passed away as I told you. The weather cleared -up; the people walked out in their best clothes; the dinners came -in from the bakers; I sat dreaming at my wretched little hired -piano, nicely dressed and looking my best--and still no Midwinter -appeared. It was late in the afternoon, and I was beginning to -feel offended, when a letter was brought to me. It had been left -by a strange messenger who went away again immediately. I looked -at the letter. Midwinter at last--in writing, instead of in -person. I began to feel more offended than ever; for, as I told -you, I thought I had used my influence over him to better -purpose. - -"The letter, when I read it, set my mind off in a new direction. -It surprised, it puzzled, it interested me. I thought, and -thought, and thought of him, all the rest of the day. - -"He began by asking my pardon for having doubted what I told him. -Mr. Armadale's own lips had confirmed me. They had quarreled (as -I had anticipated they would); and he, and the man who had once -been his dearest friend on earth, had parted forever. So far, -I was not surprised. I was amused by his telling me in his -extravagant way that he and his friend were parted forever; and -I rather wondered what he would think when I carried out my plan, -and found my way into the great house on pretense of reconciling -them. - -"But the second part of the letter set me thinking. Here it is, -in his own words. - - -"'It is only by struggling against myself (and no language -can say how hard the struggle has been) that I have decided -on writing, instead of speaking to you. A merciless necessity -claims my future life. I must leave Thorpe Ambrose, I must leave -England, without hesitating, without stopping to look back. -There are reasons--terrible reasons, which I have madly trifled -with--for my never letting Mr. Armadale set eyes on me, or hear -of me again, after what has happened between us. I must go, never -more to live under the same roof, never more to breathe the same -air with that man. I must hide myself from him under an assumed -name; I must put the mountains and the seas between us. I have -been warned as no human creature was ever warned before. -I believe--I dare not tell you why--I believe that, if the -fascination you have for me draws me back to you, fatal -consequences will come of it to the man whose life has been so -strangely mingled with your life and mine--the man who was once -_your_ admirer and _my_ friend. And yet, feeling this, seeing it -in my mind as plainly as I see the sky above my head, there is -a weakness in me that still shrinks from the one imperative -sacrifice of never seeing you again. I am fighting with it as -a man fights with the strength of his despair. I have been near -enough, not an hour since, to see the house where you live, and -have forced myself away again out of sight of it. Can I force -myself away further still, now that my letter is written--now, -when the useless confession escapes me, and I own to loving you -with the first love I have ever known, with the last love I shall -ever feel? Let the coming time answer the question; I dare not -write of it or think of it more.' - - -"Those were the last words. In that strange way the letter ended. - -"I felt a perfect fever of curiosity to know what he meant. His -loving me, of course, was easy enough to understand. But what did -he mean by saying he had been warned? Why was he never to live -under the same roof, never to breathe the same air again, with -young Armadale? What sort of quarrel could it be which obliged -one man to hide himself from another under an assumed name, and -to put the mountains and the seas between them? Above all, if -he came back, and let me fascinate him, why should it be fatal -to the hateful lout who possesses the noble fortune and lives -in the great house? - -"I never longed in my life as I longed to see him again and put -these questions to him. I got quite superstitious about it as -the day drew on. They gave me a sweet-bread and a cherry pudding -for dinner. I actually tried if he would come back by the stones -in the plate! He will, he won't, he will, he won't--and so on. -It ended in 'He won't.' I rang the bell, and had the things taken -away. I contradicted Destiny quite fiercely. I said, 'He will!' -and I waited at home for him. - -"You don't know what a pleasure it is to me to give you all -these little particulars. Count up--my bosom friend, my second -mother--count up the money you have advanced on the chance of -my becoming Mrs. Armadale, and then think of my feeling this -breathless interest in another man. Oh, Mrs. Oldershaw, how -intensely I enjoy the luxury of irritating you! - -"The day got on toward evening. I rang again, and sent down to -borrow a railway time-table. What trains were there to take him -away on Sunday? The national respect for the Sabbath stood my -friend. There was only one train, which had started hours before -he wrote to me. I went and consulted my glass. It paid me the -compliment of contradicting the divination by cherry-stones. -My glass said: 'Get behind the window-curtain; he won't pass -the long lonely evening without coming back again to look at -the house.' I got behind the window-curtain, and waited with -his letter in my hand. - -"The dismal Sunday light faded, and the dismal Sunday quietness -in the street grew quieter still. The dusk came, and I heard -a step coming with it in the silence. My heart gave a little -jump--only think of my having any heart left! I said to myself: -'Midwinter!' And Midwinter it was. - -"When he came in sight he was walking slowly, stopping -and hesitating at every two or three steps. My ugly little -drawing-room window seemed to be beckoning him on in spite -of himself. After waiting till I saw him come to a standstill, -a little aside from the house, but still within view of my -irresistible window, I put on my things and slipped out by the -back way into the garden. The landlord and his family were at -supper, and nobody saw me. I opened the door in the wall, and -got round by the lane into the street. At that awkward moment -I suddenly remembered, what I had forgotten before, the spy set -to watch me, who was, no doubt, waiting somewhere in sight of -the house. - -"It was necessary to get time to think, and it was (in my state -of mind) impossible to let Midwinter go without speaking to him. -In great difficulties you generally decide at once, if you decide -at all. I decided to make an appointment with him for the next -evening, and to consider in the interval how to manage the -interview so that it might escape observation. This, as I felt -at the time, was leaving my own curiosity free to torment me -for four-and-twenty mortal hours; but what other choice had I? -It was as good as giving up being mistress of Thorpe Ambrose -altogether, to come to a private understanding with Midwinter -in the sight and possibly in the hearing of Armadale's spy. - -"Finding an old letter of yours in my pocket, I drew back into -the lane, and wrote on the blank leaf, with the little pencil -that hangs at my watch-chain: 'I must and will speak to you. -It is impossible tonight, but be in the street tomorrow at this -time, and leave me afterward forever, if you like. When you have -read this, overtake me, and say as you pass, without stopping or -looking round, "Yes, I promise."' - -"I folded up the paper, and came on him suddenly from behind. -As he started and turned round, I put the note into his hand, -pressed his hand, and passed on. Before I had taken ten steps I -heard him behind me. I can't say he didn't look round--I saw his -big black eyes, bright and glittering in the dusk, devour me from -head to foot in a moment; but otherwise he did what I told him. -'I can deny you nothing,' he whispered; 'I promise.' He went on -and left me. I couldn't help thinking at the time how that brute -and booby Armadale would have spoiled everything in the same -situation. - -"I tried hard all night to think of a way of making our interview -of the next evening safe from discovery, and tried in vain. Even -as early as this, I began to feel as if Midwinter's letter had, -in some unaccountable manner, stupefied me. - -"Monday morning made matters worse. News came from my faithful -ally, Mr. Bashwood, that Miss Milroy and Armadale had met and -become friends again. You may fancy the state I was in! An hour -or two later there came more news from Mr. Bashwood--good news -this time. The mischievous idiot at Thorpe Ambrose had shown -sense enough at last to be ashamed of himself. He had decided -on withdrawing the spy that very day, and he and his lawyer had -quarreled in consequence. - -"So here was the obstacle which I was too stupid to remove for -myself obligingly removed for me! No more need to fret about the -coming interview with Midwinter; and plenty of time to consider -my next proceedings, now that Miss Milroy and her precious swain -had come together again. Would you believe it, the letter, or -the man himself (I don't know which), had taken such a hold on me -that, though I tried and tried, I could think of nothing else; -and this when I had every reason to fear that Miss Milroy was in -a fair way of changing her name to Armadale, and when I knew that -my heavy debt of obligation to her was not paid yet? Was there -ever such perversity? I can't account for it; can you? - -"The dusk of the evening came at last. I looked out of the -window--and there he was! - -"I joined him at once; the people of the house, as before, being -too much absorbed in their eating and drinking to notice anything -else. 'We mustn't be seen together here,' I whispered. 'I must go -on first, and you must follow me.' - -"He said nothing in the way of reply. What was going on in -his mind I can't pretend to guess; but, after coming to his -appointment, he actually hung back as if he was half inclined -to go away again. - -"'You look as if you were afraid of me,' I said. - -"'I _am_ afraid of you,' he answered--'of you, and of myself.' - -"It was not encouraging; it was not complimentary. But I was -in such a frenzy of curiosity by this time that, if he had been -ruder still, I should have taken no notice of it. I led the way -a few steps toward the new buildings, and stopped and looked -round after him. - -"'Must I ask it of you as a favor,' I said, 'after your giving -me your promise, and after such a letter as you have written -to me?' - -"Something suddenly changed him; he was at my side in an instant. -'I beg your pardon, Miss Gwilt; lead the way where you please.' -He dropped back a little after that answer, and I heard him say -to himself, 'What _is_ to be _will_ be. What have I to do with -it, and what has she?' - -"It could hardly have been the words, for I didn't understand -them--it must have been the tone he spoke in, I suppose, that -made me feel a momentary tremor. I was half inclined, without -the ghost of a reason for it, to wish him good-night, and go -in again. Not much like me, you will say. Not much, indeed! -It didn't last a moment. Your darling Lydia soon came to her -senses again. - -"I led the way toward the unfinished cottages, and the country -beyond. It would have been much more to my taste to have had him -into the house, and have talked to him in the light of the -candles. But I had risked it once already; and in this -scandal-mongering place, and in my critical position, I was -afraid to risk it again. The garden was not to be thought of -either, for the landlord smokes his pipe there after his supper. -There was no alternative but to take him away from the town. - -"From time to time, I looked back as I went on. There he was, -always at the same distance, dim and ghost-like in the dusk, -silently following me. - -"I must leave off for a little while. The church bells have -broken out, and the jangling of them drives me mad. In these -days, when we have all got watches and clocks, why are bells -wanted to remind us when the service begins? We don't require -to be rung into the theater. How excessively discreditable to -the clergy to be obliged to ring us into the church! - ----------- - -"They have rung the congregation in at last; and I can take up -my pen, and go on again. - -"I was a little in doubt where to lead him to. The high-road was -on one side of me; but, empty as it looked, somebody might be -passing when we least expected it. The other way was through -the coppice. I led him through the coppice. - -"At the outskirts of the trees, on the other side, there was -a dip in the ground with some felled timber lying on it, and a -little pool beyond, still and white and shining in the twilight. -The long grazing-grounds rose over its further shore, with the -mist thickening on them, and a dim black line far away of cattle -in slow procession going home. There wasn't a living creature -near; there wasn't a sound to be heard. I sat down on one -of the felled trees and looked back for him. 'Come,' I said, -softly--'come and sit by me here.' - -"Why am I so particular about all this? I hardly know. The place -made an unaccountably vivid impression on me, and I can't help -writing about it. If I end badly--suppose we say on the -scaffold?--I believe the last thing I shall see, before the -hangman pulls the drop, will be the little shining pool, and the -long, misty grazing-grounds, and the cattle winding dimly home in -the thickening night. Don't be alarmed, you worthy creature! My -fancies play me strange tricks sometimes; and there is a little -of last night's laudanum, I dare say, in this part of my letter. - -"He came--in the strangest silent way, like a man walking in -his sleep--he came and sat down by me. Either the night was very -close, or I was by this time literally in a fever: I couldn't -bear my bonnet on; I couldn't bear my gloves. The want to look -at him, and see what his singular silence meant, and the -impossibility of doing it in the darkening light, irritated my -nerves, till I thought I should have screamed. I took his hand, -to try if that would help me. It was burning hot; and it closed -instantly on mine--you know how. Silence, after _that_, was not -to be thought of. The one safe way was to begin talking to him -at once. - -"'Don't despise me,' I said. 'I am obliged to bring you to this -lonely place; I should lose my character if we were seen -together.' - -"I waited a little. His hand warned me once more not to let the -silence continue. I determined to _make_ him speak to me this -time. - -"'You have interested me, and frightened me,' I went on. 'You -have written me a very strange letter. I must know what it -means.' - -"'It is too late to ask. _You_ have taken the way, and _I_ have -taken the way, from which there is no turning back.' He made that -strange answer in a tone that was quite new to me--a tone that -made me even more uneasy than his silence had made me the moment -before. 'Too late,' he repeated--'too late! There is only one -question to ask me now.' - -"'What is it?' - -"As I said the words, a sudden trembling passed from his hand -to mine, and told me instantly that I had better have held my -tongue. Before I could move, before I could think, he had me -in his arms. 'Ask me if I love you,' he whispered. At the same -moment his head sank on my bosom; and some unutterable torture -that was in him burst its way out, as it does with _us_, in -a passion of sobs and tears. - -"My first impulse was the impulse of a fool. I was on the point -of making our usual protest and defending myself in our usual -way. Luckily or unluckily, I don't know which, I have lost the -fine edge of the sensitiveness of youth; and I checked the first -movement of my hands, and the first word on my lips. Oh, dear, -how old I felt, while he was sobbing his heart out on my breast! -How I thought of the time when he might have possessed himself -of my love! All he had possessed himself of now was--my waist. - -"I wonder whether I pitied him? It doesn't matter if I did. At -any rate, my hand lifted itself somehow, and my fingers twined -themselves softly in his hair. Horrible recollections came back -to me of other times, and made me shudder as I touched him. And -yet I did it. What fools women are! - -"'I won't reproach you,' I said, gently. 'I won't say this is -a cruel advantage to take of me, in such a position as mine. You -are dreadfully agitated; I will let you wait a little and compose -yourself.' - -"Having got as far as that, I stopped to consider how I should -put the questions to him that I was burning to ask. But I was too -confused, I suppose, or perhaps too impatient to consider. I let -out what was uppermost in my mind, in the words that came first. - -"'I don't believe you love me,' I said. 'You write strange -things to me; you frighten me with mysteries. What did you mean -by saying in your letter that it would be fatal to Mr. Armadale -if you came back to me? What danger can there be to Mr. -Armadale--?' - -"Before I could finish the question, he suddenly lifted his head -and unclasped his arms. I had apparently touched some painful -subject which recalled him to himself. Instead of my shrinking -from _him_, it was he who shrank from _me_. I felt offended with -him; why, I don't know--but offended I was; and I thanked him -with my bitterest emphasis for remembering what was due to me, -_at last_! - -"'Do you believe in Dreams?' he burst out, in the most strangely -abrupt manner, without taking the slightest notice of what I had -said to him. 'Tell me,' he went on, without allowing me time to -answer, 'were you, or was any relation of yours, ever connected -with Allan Armadale's father or mother? Were you, or was anybody -belonging to you, ever in the island of Madeira?' - -"Conceive my astonishment, if you can. I turned cold. In an -instant I turned cold all over. He was plainly in the secret -of what had happened when I was in Mrs. Armadale's service -in Madeira--in all probability before he was born! That was -startling enough of itself. And he had evidently some reason -of his own for trying to connect _me_ with those events--which -was more startling still. - -"'No,' I said, as soon as I could trust myself to speak. 'I know -nothing of his father or mother.' - -"'And nothing of the island of Madeira?' - -"'Nothing of the island of Madeira.' - -"He turned his head away, and began talking to himself. - -"'Strange!' he said. 'As certainly as I was in the Shadow's -place at the window, _she_ was in the Shadow's place at the -pool!' - -"Under other circumstances, his extraordinary behavior might have -alarmed me. But after his question about Madeira, there was some -greater fear in me which kept all common alarm at a distance. -I don't think I ever determined on anything in my life as I -determined on finding out how he had got his information, and who -he really was. It was quite plain to me that I had roused some -hidden feeling in him by my question about Armadale, which was -as strong in its way as his feeling for _me_. What had become -of my influence over him? - -"I couldn't imagine what had become of it; but I could and did -set to work to make him feel it again. - -"'Don't treat me cruelly,' I said; 'I didn't treat _you_ cruelly -just now. Oh, Mr. Midwinter, it's so lonely, it's so dark--don't -frighten me!' - -"'Frighten you!' He was close to me again in a moment. 'Frighten -you!' He repeated the word with as much astonishment as if I had -woke him from a dream, and charged him with something that he had -said in his sleep. - -"It was on the tip of my tongue, finding how I had surprised -him, to take him while he was off his guard, and to ask why my -question about Armadale had produced such a change in his -behavior to me. But after what had happened already, I was -afraid to risk returning to the subject too soon. Something or -other--what they call an instinct, I dare say--warned me to let -Armadale alone for the present, and to talk to him first about -himself. As I told you in one of my early letters, I had noticed -signs and tokens in his manner and appearance which convinced me, -young as he was, that he had done something or suffered something -out of the common in his past life. I had asked myself more and -more suspiciously every time I saw him whether he was what he -appeared to be; and first and foremost among my other doubts was -a doubt whether he was passing among us by his real name. Having -secrets to keep about my own past life, and having gone myself -in other days by more than one assumed name, I suppose I am all -the readier to suspect other people when I find something -mysterious about them. Any way, having the suspicion in my mind, -I determined to startle him, as he had startled me, by an -unexpected question on my side--a question about his name. - -"While I was thinking, he was thinking; and, as it soon appeared, -of what I had just said to him. 'I am so grieved to have -frightened you,' he whispered, with that gentleness and humility -which we all so heartily despise in a man when he speaks to other -women, and which we all so dearly like when he speaks to -ourselves. 'I hardly know what I have been saying,' he went on; -'my mind is miserably disturbed. Pray forgive me, if you can; -I am not myself to-night.' - -"'I am not angry,' I said; 'I have nothing to forgive. We -are both imprudent; we are both unhappy.' I laid my head -on his shoulder. 'Do you really love me?' I asked him, softly, -in a whisper. - -"His arm stole round me again; and I felt the quick beat of his -heart get quicker and quicker. 'If you only knew!' he whispered -back; 'if you only knew--' He could say no more. I felt his face -bending toward mine, and dropped my head lower, and stopped him -in the very act of kissing me. - -"'No,' I said; 'I am only a woman who has taken your fancy. -You are treating me as if I was your promised wife.' - -"'_Be_ my promised wife!' he whispered, eagerly, and tried -to raise my head. I kept it down. The horror of these old -remembrances that you know of came back and made me tremble -a little when he asked me to be his wife. I don't think I was -actually faint; but something like faintness made me close my -eyes. The moment I shut them, the darkness seemed to open as if -lightning had split it; and the ghosts of _those other men_ rose -in the horrid gap, and looked at me. - -"'Speak to me!' he whispered, tenderly. 'My darling, my angel, -speak to me!' - -"His voice helped me to recover myself. I had just sense enough -left to remember that the time was passing, and that I had not -put my question to him yet about his name. - -"'Suppose I felt for you as you feel for me?' I said. 'Suppose -I loved you dearly enough to trust you with the happiness of all -my life to come?' - -"I paused a moment to get my breath. It was unbearably still -and close; the air seemed to have died when the night came. - -"'Would you be marrying me honorably,' I went on, 'if you -married me in your present name?' - -"His arm dropped from my waist, and I felt him give one great -start. After that he sat by me, still, and cold, and silent, as -if my question had struck him dumb. I put my arm round his neck, -and lifted my head again on his shoulder. Whatever the spell was -I had laid on him, my coming closer in that way seemed to break -it. - -"'Who told you?' He stopped. 'No,' he went on, 'nobody can have -told you. What made you suspect--?' He stopped again. - -"'Nobody told me,' I said; 'and I don't know what made me -suspect. Women have strange fancies sometimes. Is Midwinter -really your name?' - -"'I can't deceive you,' he answered, after another interval -of silence; 'Midwinter is _not_ really my name.' - -"I nestled a little closer to him. - -" What _is_ your name?' I asked. - -"He hesitated. - -"I lifted my face till my cheek just touched his. I persisted, -with my lips close at his ear: - -"'What, no confidence in me even yet! No confidence in the woman -who has almost confessed she loves you--who has almost consented -to be your wife!' - -"He turned his face to mine. For the second time he tried to kiss -me, and for the second time I stopped him. - -"'If I tell you my name,' he said, 'I must tell you more.' - -"I let my cheek touch his again. - -"'Why not?' I said. 'How can I love a man--much less marry -him--if he keeps himself a stranger to me?' - -"There was no answering that, as I thought. But he did answer -it. - -"'It is a dreadful story,' he said. 'It may darken all your -life, if you know it, as it has darkened mine.' - -"I put my other arm round him, and persisted. 'Tell it me; -I'm not afraid; tell it me.' - -"He began to yield to my other arm. - -"'Will you keep it a sacred secret?' he said. 'Never to be -breathed--never to be known but to you and me?' - -"I promised him it should be a secret. I waited in a perfect -frenzy of expectation. Twice he tried to begin, and twice his -courage failed him. - -"'I can't!' he broke out in a wild, helpless way. I can't tell -it!' - -"My curiosity, or more likely my temper, got beyond all control. -He had irritated me till I was reckless what I said or what -I did. I suddenly clasped him close, and pressed my lips to his. -'I love you!' I whispered in a kiss. '_Now_ will you tell me?' - -"For the moment he was speechless. I don't know whether I did it -purposely to drive him wild. I don't know whether I did it -involuntarily in a burst of rage. Nothing is certain but that -I interpreted his silence the wrong way. I pushed him back from -me in a fury the instant after I had kissed him. 'I hate you!' -I said. 'You have maddened me into forgetting myself. Leave me. -I don't care for the darkness. Leave me instantly, and never see -me again!' - -"He caught me by the hand and stopped me. He spoke in a new -voice; he suddenly _commanded_, as only men can. - -"'Sit down,' he said. 'You have given me back my courage--you -shall know who I am.' - -"In the silence and the darkness all round us, I obeyed him, -and sat down. - -"In the silence and the darkness all round us, he took me -in his arms again, and told me who he was. - ----------- - -"Shall I trust you with his story? Shall I tell you his real -name? Shall I show you, as I threatened, the thoughts that have -grown out of my interview with him and out of all that has -happened to me since that time? - -"Or shall I keep his secret as I promised? and keep my own secret -too, by bringing this weary, long letter to an end at the very -moment when you are burning to hear more! - -"Those are serious questions, Mrs. Oldershaw--more serious than -you suppose. I have had time to calm down, and I begin to see, -what I failed to see when I first took up my pen to write to you, -the wisdom of looking at consequences. Have I frightened myself -in trying to frighten _you_? It is possible--strange as it may -seem, it is really possible. - -"I have been at the window for the last minute or two, thinking. -There is plenty of time for thinking before the post leaves. The -people are only now coming out of church. - -"I have settled to put my letter on one side, and to take a look -at my diary. In plainer words I must see what I risk if I decide -on trusting you; and my diary will show me what my head is too -weary to calculate without help. I have written the story of my -days (and sometimes the story of my nights) much more regularly -than usual for the last week, having reasons of my own for being -particularly careful in this respect under present circumstances. -If I end in doing what it is now in my mind to do, it would be -madness to trust to my memory. The smallest forgetfulness of the -slightest event that has happened from the night of my interview -with Midwinter to the present time might be utter ruin to me. - -"'Utter ruin to her!' you will say. 'What kind of ruin does she -mean?' - -"Wait a little, till I have asked my diary whether I can safely -tell you." - -CHAPTER X. - -MISS GWILT'S DIARY. - -"July 21st, Monday night, eleven o'clock.--Midwinter has just -left me. We parted by my desire at the path out of the coppice; -he going his way to the hotel, and I going mine to my lodgings. - -"I have managed to avoid making another appointment with him by -arranging to write to him to-morrow morning. This gives me the -night's interval to compose myself, and to coax my mind back (if -I can) to my own affairs. Will the night pass, and the morning -find me still thinking of the Letter that came to him from his -father's deathbed? of the night he watched through on the Wrecked -Ship; and, more than all, of the first breathless moment when he -told me his real Name? - -"Would it help me to shake off these impressions, I wonder, if -I made the effort of writing them down? There would be no danger, -in that case, of my forgetting anything important. And perhaps, -after all, it may be the fear of forgetting something which I -ought to remember that keeps this story of Midwinter's weighing -as it does on my mind. At any rate, the experiment is worth -trying. In my present situation I _must_ be free to think of -other things, or I shall never find my way through all the -difficulties at Thorpe Ambrose that are still to come. - -"Let me think. What _haunts_ me, to begin with? - -"The Names haunt me. I keep saying and saying to myself: Both -alike!--Christian name and surname both alike! A light-haired -Allan Armadale, whom I have long since known of, and who is the -son of my old mistress. A dark-haired Allan Armadale, whom I only -know of now, and who is only known to others under the name of -Ozias Midwinter. Stranger still; it is not relationship, it is -not chance, that has made them namesakes. The father of the light -Armadale was the man who was _born_ to the family name, and who -lost the family inheritance. The father of the dark Armadale -was the man who _took_ the name, on condition of getting the -inheritance--and who got it. - -"So there are two of them--I can't help thinking of it--both -unmarried. The light-haired Armadale, who offers to the woman who -can secure him, eight thousand a year while he lives; who leaves -her twelve hundred a year when he dies; who must and shall marry -me for those two golden reasons; and whom I hate and loathe as I -never hated and loathed a man yet. And the dark-haired Armadale, -who has a poor little income, which might perhaps pay his wife's -milliner, if his wife was careful; who has just left me, -persuaded that I mean to marry him; and whom--well, whom I -_might_ have loved once, before I was the woman I am now. - -"And Allan the Fair doesn't know he has a namesake. And Allan -the Dark has kept the secret from everybody but the Somersetshire -clergyman (whose discretion he can depend on) and myself. - -"And there are two Allan Armadales--two Allan Armadales--two -Allan Armadales. There! three is a lucky number. Haunt me again, -after that, if you can! - -"What next? The murder in the timber ship? No; the murder is -a good reason why the dark Armadale, whose father committed it, -should keep his secret from the fair Armadale, whose father -was killed; but it doesn't concern _me_. I remember there was -a suspicion in Madeira at the time of something wrong. _Was_ it -wrong? Was the man who had been tricked out of his wife to blame -for shutting the cabin door, and leaving the man who had tricked -him to drown in the wreck? Yes; the woman wasn't worth it. - -"What am I sure of that really concerns myself? - -"I am sure of one very important thing. I am sure that -Midwinter--I must call him by his ugly false name, or I may -confuse the two Armadales before I have done--I am sure that -Midwinter is perfectly ignorant that I and the little imp of -twelve years old who waited on Mrs. Armadale in Madeira, and -copied the letters that were supposed to arrive from the West -Indies, are one and the same. There are not many girls of twelve -who could have imitated a man's handwriting, and held their -tongues about it afterward, as I did; but that doesn't matter -now. What does matter is that Midwinter's belief in the Dream -is Midwinter's only reason for trying to connect me with Allan -Armadale, by associating me with Allan Armadale's father and -mother. I asked him if he actually thought me old enough to have -known either of them. And he said No, poor fellow, in the most -innocent, bewildered way. Would he say No if he saw me now? Shall -I turn to the glass and see if I look my five-and-thirty years? -or shall I go on writing? I will go on writing. - -"There is one thing more that haunts me almost as obstinately -as the Names. - -"I wonder whether I am right in relying on Midwinter's -superstition (as I do) to help me in keeping him at arms-length. -After having let the excitement of the moment hurry me into -saying more than I need have said, he is certain to press me; -he is certain to come back, with a man's hateful selfishness -and impatience in such things, to the question of marrying me. -Will the Dream help me to check him? After alternately believing -and disbelieving in it, he has got, by his own confession, to -believing in it again. Can I say I believe in it, too? I have -better reasons for doing so than he knows of. I am not only -the person who helped Mrs. Armadale's marriage by helping her -to impose on her own father: I am the woman who tried to drown -herself; the woman who started the series of accidents which put -young Armadale in possession of his fortune; the woman who has -come Thorpe Ambrose to marry him for his fortune, now he has got -it; and more extraordinary still, the woman who stood in the -Shadow's place at the pool! These may be coincidences, but they -are strange coincidences. I declare I begin to fancy that _I_ -believe in the Dream too! - -"Suppose I say to him, 'I think as you think. I say what you said -in your letter to me, Let us part before the harm is done. Leave -me before the Third Vision of the Dream comes true. Leave me, and -put the mountains and the seas between you and the man who bears -your name!' - -"Suppose, on the other side, that his love for me makes him -reckless of everything else? Suppose he says those desperate -words again, which I understand now: What _is_ to be, _will_ be. -What have I to do with it, and what has she?' Suppose--suppose-- - -"I won't write any more. I hate writing. It doesn't relieve -me--it makes me worse. I'm further from being able to think of -all that I _must_ think of than I was when I sat down. It is past -midnight. To-morrow has come already; and here I am as helpless -as the stupidest woman living! Bed is the only fit place for me. - -"Bed? If it was ten years since, instead of to-day; and if I had -married Midwinter for love, I might be going to bed now with -nothing heavier on my mind than a visit on tiptoe to the nursery, -and a last look at night to see if my children were sleeping -quietly in their cribs. I wonder whether I should have loved -my children if I had ever had any? Perhaps, yes--perhaps, no. -It doesn't matter. - - -"Tuesday morning, ten o'clock.--Who was the man who invented -laudanum? I thank him from the bottom of my heart whoever he was. -If all the miserable wretches in pain of body and mind, whose -comforter he has been, could meet together to sing his praises, -what a chorus it would be! I have had six delicious hours of -oblivion; I have woke up with my mind composed; I have written -a perfect little letter to Midwinter; I have drunk my nice cup -of tea, with a real relish of it; I have dawdled over my morning -toilet with an exquisite sense of relief--and all through the -modest little bottle of Drops, which I see on my bedroom -chimney-piece at this moment. 'Drops,' you are a darling! If -I love nothing else, I love _you_. - -"My letter to Midwinter has been sent through the post; and -I have told him to reply to me in the same manner. - -"I feel no anxiety about his answer--he can only answer in one -way. I have asked for a little time to consider, because my -family circumstances require some consideration, in his interests -as well as in mine. I have engaged to tell him what those -circumstances are (what shall I say, I wonder?) when we next -meet; and I have requested him in the meantime to keep all that -has passed between us a secret for the present. As to what he -is to do himself in the interval while I am supposed to be -considering, I have left it to his own discretion--merely -reminding him that his attempting to see me again (while our -positions toward each other cannot be openly avowed) might injure -my reputation. I have offered to write to him if he wishes it; -and I have ended by promising to make the interval of our -necessary separation as short as I can. - -"This sort of plain, unaffected letter--which I might have -written to him last night, if his story had not been running in -my head as it did--has one defect, I know. It certainly keeps him -out of the way, while I am casting my net, and catching my gold -fish at the great house for the second time; but it also leaves -an awkward day of reckoning to come with Midwinter if I succeed. -How am I to manage him? What am I to do? I ought to face those -two questions as boldly as usual; but somehow my courage seems to -fail me, and I don't quite fancy meeting _that_ difficulty, till -the time comes when it _must_ be met. Shall I confess to my diary -that I am sorry for Midwinter, and that I shrink a little from -thinking of the day when he hears that I am going to be mistress -at the great house? - -"But I am not mistress yet; and I can't take a step in the -direction of the great house till I have got the answer to -my letter, and till I know that Midwinter is out of the way. -Patience! patience! I must go and forget myself at my piano. -There is the 'Moonlight Sonata' open, and tempting me, on the -music-stand. Have I nerve enough to play it, I wonder? Or will -it set me shuddering with the mystery and terror of it, as it did -the other day? - - -"Five o'clock.--I have got his answer. The slightest request -I can make is a command to him. He has gone; and he sends me -his address in London. 'There are two considerations' (he says) -'which help to reconcile me to leaving you. The first is that -_you_ wish it, and that it is only to be for a little while. The -second is that I think I can make some arrangements in London for -adding to my income by my own labor. I have never cared for money -for myself; but you don't know how I am beginning already to -prize the luxuries and refinements that money can provide, for my -wife's sake.' Poor fellow! I almost wish I had not written to him -as I did; I almost wish I had not sent him away from me. - -"Fancy if Mother Oldershaw saw this page in my diary! I have had -a letter from her this morning--a letter to remind me of my -obligations, and to tell me she suspects things are all going -wrong. Let her suspect! I shan't trouble myself to answer; I -can't be worried with that old wretch in the state I am in now. - -"It is a lovely afternoon--I want a walk--I mustn't think of -Midwinter. Suppose I put on my bonnet, and try my experiment at -once at the great house? Everything is in my favor. There is no -spy to follow me, and no lawyer to keep me out, this time. Am I -handsome enough, today? Well, yes; handsome enough to be a match -for a little dowdy, awkward, freckled creature, who ought to be -perched on a form at school, and strapped to a backboard to -straighten her crooked shoulders. - - "'The nursery lisps out in all they utter; - Besides, they always smell of bread-and-butter.' - -"How admirably Byron has described girls in their teens! - - -"Eight o'clock.--I have just got back from Armadale's house. I -have seen him, and spoken to him; and the end of it may be set -down in three plain words. I have failed. There is no more chance -of my being Mrs. Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose than there is of my -being Queen of England. - -"Shall I write and tell Oldershaw? Shall I go back to London? Not -till I have had time to think a little. Not just yet. - -"Let me think; I have failed completely--failed, with all the -circumstances in favor of success. I caught him alone on the -drive in front of the house. He was excessively disconcerted, -but at the same time quite willing to hear me. I tried him, first -quietly--then with tears, and the rest of it. I introduced myself -in the character of the poor innocent woman whom he had been the -means of injuring. I confused, I interested, I convinced him. -I went on to the purely Christian part of my errand, and spoke -with such feeling of his separation from his friend, for which -I was innocently responsible, that I turned his odious rosy face -quite pale, and made him beg me at last not to distress him. But, -whatever other feelings I roused in him, I never once roused his -old feeling for _me_. I saw it in his eyes when he looked at me; -I felt it in his fingers when we shook hands. We parted friends, -and nothing more. - -"It is for this, is it, Miss Milroy, that I resisted temptation, -morning after morning, when I knew you were out alone in the -park? I have just left you time to slip in, and take my place in -Armadale's good graces, have I? I never resisted temptation yet -without suffering for it in some such way as this! If I had only -followed my first thoughts, on the day when I took leave of you, -my young lady--well, well, never mind that now. I have got the -future before me; you are not Mrs. Armadale yet! And I can tell -you one other thing--whoever else he marries, he will never marry -_you_. If I am even with you in no other way, trust me, whatever -comes of it, to be even with you there! - -"I am not, to my own surprise, in one of my furious passions. -The last time I was in this perfectly cool state, under serious -provocation, something came of it, which I daren't write down, -even in my own private diary. I shouldn't be surprised if -something comes of it now. - -"On my way back, I called at Mr. Bashwood's lodgings in the town. -He was not at home, and I left a message telling him to come here -tonight and speak to me. I mean to relieve him at once of the -duty of looking after Armadale and Miss Milroy. I may not see my -way yet to ruining her prospects at Thorpe Ambrose as completely -as she has ruined mine. But when the time comes, and I do see it, -I don't know to what lengths my sense of injury may take me; and -there may be inconvenience, and possibly danger, in having such -a chicken-hearted creature as Mr. Bashwood in my confidence. - -"I suspect I am more upset by all this than I supposed. -Midwinter's story is beginning to haunt me again, without rhyme -or reason. - -"A soft, quick, trembling knock at the street door! I know who -it is. No hand but old Bashwood's could knock in that way. - - -"Nine o'clock.--I have just got rid of him. He has surprised me -by coming out in a new character. - -"It seems (though I didn't detect him) that he was at the great -house while I was in company with Armadale. He saw us talking on -the drive, and he afterward heard what the servants said, who saw -us too. The wise opinion below stairs is that we have 'made it -up,' and that the master is likely to marry me after all. 'He's -sweet on her red hair,' was the elegant expression they used -in the kitchen. 'Little missie can't match her there; and little -missie will get the worst of it.' How I hate the coarse ways -of the lower orders! - -"While old Bashwood was telling me this, I thought he looked -even more confused and nervous than usual. But I failed to see -what was really the matter until after I had told him that he was -to leave all further observation of Mr. Armadale and Miss Milroy -to me. Every drop of the little blood there is in the feeble old -creature's body seemed to fly up into his face. He made quite an -overpowering effort; he really looked as if he would drop down -dead of fright at his own boldness; but be forced out the -question for all that, stammering, and stuttering, and kneading -desperately with both hands at the brim of his hideous great hat. -'I beg your pardon, Miss Gwi-Gwi-Gwilt! You are not really -go-go-going to marry Mr. Armadale, are you? Jealous--if ever I -saw it in a man's face yet, I saw it in his--actually jealous of -Armadale at his age! If I had been in the humor for it, I should -have burst out laughing in his face. As it was, I was angry, and -lost all patience with him. I told him he was an old fool, and -ordered him to go on quietly with his usual business until I sent -him word that he was wanted again. He submitted as usual; but -there was an indescribable something in his watery old eyes, when -he took leave of me, which I have never noticed in them before. -Love has the credit of working all sorts of strange -transformations. Can it be really possible that Love has made -Mr. Bashwood man enough to be angry with me? - -"Wednesday.--My experience of Miss Milroy's habits suggested a -suspicion to me last night which I thought it desirable to clear -up this morning. - -"It was always her way, when I was at the cottage, to take a walk -early in the morning before breakfast. Considering that I used -often to choose that very time for _my_ private meetings with -Armadale, it struck me as likely that my former pupil might be -taking a leaf out of my book, and that I might make some -desirable discoveries if I turned my steps in the direction -of the major's garden at the right hour. I deprived myself -of my Drops, to make sure of waking; passed a miserable night -in consequence; and was ready enough to get up at six o'clock, -and walk the distance from my lodgings to the cottage in the -fresh morning air. - -"I had not been five minutes on the park side of the garden -inclosure before I sat her come out. - -"She seemed to have had a bad night too; her eyes were heavy and -red, and her lips and cheeks looked swollen as if she had been -crying. There was something on her mind, evidently; something, -as it soon appeared, to take her out of the garden into the park. -She walked (if one can call it walking; with such legs as hers!) -straight to the summer house, and opened the door, and crossed -the bridge, and went on quicker and quicker toward the low ground -in the park, where the trees are thickest. I followed her over -the open space with perfect impunity in the preoccupied state she -was in; and, when she began to slacken her pace among the trees, -I was among the trees too, and was not afraid of her seeing me. - -"Before long, there was a crackling and trampling of heavy feet -coming up toward us through the under-wood in a deep dip of the -ground. I knew that step as well as she knew it. 'Here I am,' -she said, in a faint little voice. I kept behind the trees a few -yards off, in some doubt on which side Armadale would come out of -the under-wood to join her. He came out up the side of the dell, -opposite to the tree behind which I was standing. They sat down -together on the bank. I sat down behind the tree, and looked at -them through the under-wood, and heard without the slightest -difficulty every word that they said. - -"The talk began by his noticing that she looked out of spirits, -and asking if anything had gone wrong at the cottage. The artful -little minx lost no time in making the necessary impression on -him; she began to cry. He took her hand, of course, and tried, -in his brutishly straightforward way, to comfort her. No; she -was not to be comforted. A miserable prospect was before her; she -had not slept the whole night for thinking of it. Her father had -called her into his room the previous evening, had spoken about -the state of her education, and had told her in so many words -that she was to go to school. The place had been found, and the -terms had been settled; and as soon as her clothes could he got -ready, miss was to go. - -"'While that hateful Miss Gwilt was in the house,' says this -model young person, 'I would have gone to school willingly--I -wanted to go. But it's all different now; I don't think of it in -the same way; I feel too old for school. I'm quite heart-broken, -Mr. Armadale.' There she stopped as if she had meant to say more, -and gave him a look which finished the sentence plainly: 'I'm -quite heart-broken, Mr. Armadale, now we are friendly again, at -going away from you!' For downright brazen impudence, which a -grown woman would be ashamed of, give me the young girls whose -'modesty' is so pertinaciously insisted on by the nauseous -domestic sentimentalists of the present day! - -"Even Armadale, booby as he is, understood her. After bewildering -himself in a labyrinth of words that led nowhere, he took -her--one can hardly say round the waist, for she hasn't got -one--he took her round the last hook-and-eye of her dress, and, -by way of offering her a refuge from the indignity of being sent -to school at her age, made her a proposal of marriage in so many -words. - -"If I could have killed them both at that moment by lifting up -my little finger, I have not the least doubt I should have lifted -it. As things were, I only waited to see what Miss Milroy would -do. - -"She appeared to think it necessary--feeling, I suppose, that she -had met him without her father's knowledge, and not forgetting -that I had had the start of her as the favored object of Mr. -Armadale's good opinion--to assert herself by an explosion of -virtuous indignation. She wondered how he could think of such -a thing after his conduct with Miss Gwilt, and after her father -had forbidden him the house! Did he want to make her feel how -inexcusably she had forgotten what was due to herself? Was it -worthy of a gentleman to propose what he knew as well as she did -was impossible? and so on, and so on. Any man with brains in his -head would have known what all this rodomontade really meant. -Armadale took it so seriously that he actually attempted to -justify himself. - -"He declared, in his headlong, blundering way, that he was quite -in earnest; he and her father might make it up and be friends -again; and, if the major persisted in treating him as a stranger, -young ladies and gentlemen in their situation had made runaway -marriages before now, and fathers and mothers who wouldn't -forgive them before had forgiven them afterward. Such -outrageously straightforward love-making as this left Miss -Milroy, of course, but two alternatives--to confess that she had -been saying No when she meant Yes, or to take refuge in another -explosion. She was hypocrite enough to prefer another explosion. -'How dare you, Mr. Armadale? Go away directly! It's -inconsiderate, it's heartless, it's perfectly disgraceful to say -such things to me!' and so on, and so on. It seems incredible, -but it is not the less true, that he was positively fool enough -to take her at her word. He begged her pardon, and went away like -a child that is put in the corner--the most contemptible object -in the form of man that eyes ever looked on! - -"She waited, after he had gone, to compose herself, and I waited -behind the trees to see how she would succeed. Her eyes wandered -round slyly to the path by which he had left her. She smiled -(grinned would be the truer way of putting it, with such a mouth -as hers); took a few steps on tiptoe to look after him; turned -back again, and suddenly burst into a violent fit of crying. I am -not quite so easily taken in as Armadale, and I saw what it all -meant plainly enough. - -"'To-morrow,' I thought to myself, 'you will be in the park -again, miss, by pure accident. The next day, you will lead him on -into proposing to you for the second time. The day after, he will -venture back to the subject of runaway marriages, and you will -only be becomingly confused. And the day after that, if he has -got a plan to propose, and if your clothes are ready to be packed -for school, you will listen to him.' Yes, yes; Time is always on -the man's side, where a woman is concerned, if the man is only -patient enough to let Time help him. - -"I let her leave the place and go back to the cottage, quite -unconscious that I had been looking at her. I waited among the -trees, thinking. The truth is, I was impressed by what I had -heard and seen, in a manner that it is not very easy to describe. -It put the whole thing before me in a new light. It showed -me--what I had never even suspected till this morning--that she -is really fond of him. - -"Heavy as my debt of obligation is to her, there is no fear _now_ -of my failing to pay it to the last farthing. It would have been -no small triumph for me to stand between Miss Milroy and her -ambition to be one of the leading ladies of the county. But it -is infinitely more, where her first love is concerned, to stand -between Miss Milroy and her heart's desire. Shall I remember my -own youth and spare her? No! She has deprived me of the one -chance I had of breaking the chain that binds me to a past life -too horrible to be thought of. I am thrown back into a position, -compared to which the position of an outcast who walks the -streets is endurable and enviable. No, Miss Milroy--no, Mr. -Armadale; I will spare neither of you. - -"I have been back some hours. I have been thinking, and nothing -has come of it. Ever since I got that strange letter of -Midwinter's last Sunday, my usual readiness in emergencies has -deserted me. When I am not thinking of him or of his story, my -mind feels quite stupefied. I, who have always known what to do -on other occasions, don't know what to do now. It would be easy -enough, of course, to warn Major Milroy of his daughter's -proceedings. But the major is fond of his daughter; Armadale -is anxious to be reconciled with him; Armadale is rich and -prosperous, and ready to submit to the elder man; and sooner or -later they will be friends again, and the marriage will follow. -Warning Major Milroy is only the way to embarrass them for the -present; it is not the way to part them for good and all. - -"What _is_ the way? I can't see it. I could tear my own hair off -my head! I could burn the house down! If there was a train of -gunpowder under the whole world, I could light it, and blow the -whole world to destruction--I am in such a rage, such a frenzy -with myself for not seeing it! - -"Poor dear Midwinter! Yes, '_dear_.' I don't care. I'm lonely and -helpless. I want somebody who is gentle and loving to make much -of me; I wish I had his head on my bosom again; I have a good -mind to go to London and marry him. Am I mad? Yes; all people who -are as miserable as I am are mad. I must go to the window and get -some air. Shall I jump out? No; it disfigures one so, and the -coroner's inquest lets so many people see it. - -"The air has revived me. I begin to remember that I have Time -on my side, at any rate. Nobody knows but me of their secret -meetings in the park the first thing in the morning. If jealous -old Bashwood, who is slinking and sly enough for anything, tries -to look privately after Armadale, in his own interests, he will -try at the usual time when he goes to the steward's office. He -knows nothing of Miss Milroy's early habits; and he won't be on -the spot till Armadale has got back to the house. For another -week to come, I may wait and watch them, and choose my own time -and way of interfering the moment I see a chance of his getting -the better of her hesitation, and making her say Yes. - -"So here I wait, without knowing how things will end with -Midwinter in London; with my purse getting emptier and emptier, -and no appearance so far of any new pupils to fill it; with -Mother Oldershaw certain to insist on having her money back the -moment she knows I have failed; without prospects, friends, or -hopes of any kind--a lost woman, if ever there was a lost woman -yet. Well! I say it again and again and again--I don't care! Here -I stop, if I sell the clothes off my back, if I hire myself at -the public-house to play to the brutes in the tap-room; here I -stop till the time comes, and I see the way to parting Armadale -and Miss Milroy forever! - - -"Seven o'clock.--Any signs that the time is coming yet? I hardly -know; there are signs of a change, at any rate, in my position -in the neighborhood. - -"Two of the oldest and ugliest of the many old and ugly ladies -who took up my case when I left Major Milroy's service have just -called, announcing themselves, with the insufferable impudence of -charitable Englishwomen, as a deputation from my patronesses. It -seems that the news of my reconciliation with Armadale has spread -from the servants' offices at the great house, and has reached -the town, with this result. - -"It is the unanimous opinion of my 'patronesses' (and the opinion -of Major Milroy also, who has been consulted) that I have acted -with the most inexcusable imprudence in going to Armadale's -house, and in there speaking on friendly terms with a man whose -conduct toward myself has made his name a by-word in the -neighborhood. My total want of self-respect in this matter has -given rise to a report that I am trading as cleverly as ever on -my good looks, and that I am as likely as not to end in making -Armadale marry me, after all. My 'patronesses' are, of course, -too charitable to believe this. They merely feel it necessary to -remonstrate with me in a Christian spirit, and to warn me that -any second and similar imprudence on my part would force all my -best friends in the plate to withdraw the countenance and -protection which I now enjoy. - -"Having addressed me, turn and turn about, in these terms -(evidently all rehearsed beforehand), my two Gorgon visitors -straightened themselves in their chairs, and looked at me as much -as to say, 'You may often have heard of Virtue, Miss Gwilt, but -we don't believe you ever really saw it in full bloom till we -came and called on you.' - -"Seeing they were bent on provoking me, I kept my temper, and -answered them in my smoothest, sweetest, and most lady-like -manner. I have noticed that the Christianity of a certain class -of respectable people begins when they open their prayer-books at -eleven o'clock on Sunday morning, and ends when they shut them up -again at one o'clock on Sunday afternoon. Nothing so astonishes -and insults Christians of this sort as reminding them of their -Christianity on a week-day. On this hint, as the man says in the -play, I spoke. - -"'What have I done that is wrong?' I asked, innocently. -'Mr. Armadale has injured me; and I have been to his house -and forgiven him the injury. Surely there must be some mistake, -ladies? You can't have really come here to remonstrate with me -in a Christian spirit for performing an act of Christianity?' - -"The two Gorgons got up. I firmly believe some women have cats' -tails as well as cats' faces. I firmly believe the tails of those -two particular cats wagged slowly under their petticoats, and -swelled to four times their proper size. - -"'Temper we were prepared for, Miss Gwilt,' they said, 'but -not Profanity. We wish you good-evening.' - -"So they left me, and so 'Miss Gwilt' sinks out of the -patronizing notice of the neighborhood - -"I wonder what will come of this trumpery little quarrel? One -thing will come of it which I can see already. The report will -reach Miss Milroy's ears; she will insist on Armadale's -justifying himself; and Armadale will end in satisfying her of -his innocence by making another proposal. This will be quite -likely to hasten matters between them; at least it would with me. -If I was in her place, I should say to myself, 'I will make sure -of him while I can.' Supposing it doesn't rain to-morrow morning, -I think I will take another early walk in the direction of the -park. - - -"Midnight.--As I can't take my drops, with a morning walk before -me, I may as well give up all hope of sleeping, and go on with my -diary. Even with my drops, I doubt if my head would be very quiet -on my pillow to-night. Since the little excitement of the scene -with my 'lady-patronesses' has worn off, I have been troubled -with misgivings which would leave me but a poor chance, under any -circumstances, of getting much rest. - -"I can't imagine why, but the parting words spoken to Armadale by -that old brute of a lawyer have come back to my mind! Here they -are, as reported in Mr. Bashwood's letter: 'Some other person's -curiosity may go on from the point where you (and I) have -stopped, and some other person's hand may let the broad daylight -in yet on Miss Gwilt.' - -"What does he mean by that? And what did he mean afterward when -he overtook old Bashwood in the drive, by telling him to gratify -his curiosity? Does this hateful Pedgift actually suppose there -is any chance--? Ridiculous! Why, I have only to _look_ at the -feeble old creature, and he daren't lift his little finger unless -I tell him. _He_ try to pry into my past life, indeed! Why, -people with ten times his brains, and a hundred times his -courage, have tried--and have left off as wise as they began. - -"I don't know, though; it might have been better if I had kept my -temper when Bashwood was here the other night. And it might be -better still if I saw him to-morrow, and took him back into my -good graces by giving him something to do for me. Suppose I tell -him to look after the two Pedgifts, and to discover whether there -is any chance of their attempting to renew their connection with -Armadale? No such thing is at all likely; but if I gave old -Bashwood this commission, it would flatter his sense of his own -importance to me, and would at the same time serve the excellent -purpose of keeping him out of my way. - - -"Thursday morning, nine o'clock.--I have just got back from the -park. - -"For once I have proved a true prophet. There they were together, -at the same early hour, in the same secluded situation among the -trees; and there was miss in full possession of the report of my -visit to the great house, and taking her tone accordingly. - -"After saying one or two things about me, which I promise him not -to forget, Armadale took the way to convince her of his constancy -which I felt beforehand he would be driven to take. He repeated -his proposal of marriage, with excellent effect this time. Tears -and kisses and protestations followed; and my late pupil opened -her heart at last, in the most innocent manner. Home, she -confessed, was getting so miserable to her now that it was only -less miserable than going to school. Her mother's temper was -becoming more violent and unmanageable every day. The nurse, who -was the only person with any influence over her, had gone away in -disgust. Her father was becoming more and more immersed in his -clock, and was made more and more resolute to send her away from -home by the distressing scenes which now took place with her -mother almost day by day. I waited through these domestic -disclosures on the chance of hearing any plans they might have -for the future discussed between them; and my patience, after no -small exercise of it, was rewarded at last. - -"The first suggestion (as was only natural where such a fool as -Armadale was concerned) came from the girl. - -"She started an idea which I own I had not anticipated. She -proposed that Armadale should write to her father; and, cleverer -still, she prevented all fear of his blundering by telling him -what he was to say. He was to express himself as deeply -distressed at his estrangement from the major, and to request -permission to call at the cottage, and say a few words in his own -justification. That was all. The letter was not to be sent that -day, for the applicants for the vacant place of Mrs. Milroy's -nurse were coming, and seeing them and questioning them would put -her father, with his dislike of such things, in no humor to -receive Armadale's application indulgently. The Friday would be -the day to send the letter, and on the Saturday morning if the -answer was unfortunately not favorable, they might meet again, 'I -don't like deceiving my father; he has always been so kind to me. -And there will be no need to deceive him, Allan, if we can only -make you friends again.' Those were the last words the little -hypocrite said, when I left them. - -"What will the major do? Saturday morning will show. I won't -think of it till Saturday morning has come and gone. They are not -man and wife yet; and again and again I say it, though my brains -are still as helpless as ever, man and wife they shall never be. - -"On my way home again, I caught Bashwood at his breakfast, with -his poor old black tea-pot, and his little penny loaf, and his -one cheap morsel of oily butter, and his darned dirty tablecloth. -It sickens me to think of it. - -"I coaxed and comforted the miserable old creature till the tears -stood in his eyes, and he quite blushed with pleasure. He -undertakes to look after the Pedgifts with the utmost alacrity. -Pedgift the elder he described, when once roused, as the most -obstinate man living; nothing will induce him to give way, -unless Armadale gives way also on his side. Pedgift the younger -is much the more likely of the two to make attempts at a -reconciliation. Such, at least, is Bashwood's opinion. It is of -very little consequence now what happens either way. The only -important thing is to tie my elderly admirer safely again to my -apron-string. And this is done. - -"The post is late this morning. It has only just come in, and has -brought me a letter from Midwinter. - - -"It is a charming letter; it flatters me and flutters me as if I -was a young girl again. No reproaches for my never having written -to him; no hateful hurrying of me, in plain words, to marry him. -He only writes to tell me a piece of news. He has obtained, -through his lawyers, a prospect of being employed as occasional -correspondent to a newspaper which is about to be started in -London. The employment will require him to leave England for -the Continent, which would exactly meet his own wishes for the -future, but he cannot consider the proposal seriously until he -has first ascertained whether it would meet my wishes too. He -knows no will but mine, and he leaves me to decide, after first -mentioning the time allowed him before his answer must be sent -in. It is the time, of course (if I agree to his going abroad), -in which I must marry him. But there is not a word about this in -his letter. He asks for nothing but a sight of my handwriting to -help him through the interval while we are separated from each -other. - -"That is the letter; not very long, but so prettily expressed. - -"I think I can penetrate the secret of his fancy for going -abroad. That wild idea of putting the mountains and the seas -between Armadale and himself is still in his mind. As if either -he or I could escape doing what we are fated to do--supposing -we really are fated--by putting a few hundred or a few thousand -miles between Armadale and ourselves! What strange absurdity -and inconsistency! And yet how I like him for being absurd and -inconsistent; for don't I see plainly that I am at the bottom of -it all? Who leads this clever man astray in spite of himself? Who -makes him too blind to see the contradiction in his own conduct, -which he would see plainly in the conduct of another person? -How interested I do feel in him! How dangerously near I am to -shutting my eyes on the past, and letting myself love him! Was -Eve fonder of Adam than ever, I wonder, after she had coaxed him -into eating the apple? I should have quite doted on him if I had -been in her place. (Memorandum: To write Midwinter a charming -little letter on my side, with a kiss in it; and as time is -allowed him before he sends in his answer, to ask for time, too, -before I tell him whether I will or will not go abroad.) - - -"Five o'clock.--A tiresome visit from my landlady; eager for a -little gossip, and full of news which she thinks will interest -me. - -"She is acquainted, I find, with Mrs. Milroy's late nurse; and -she has been seeing her friend off at the station this afternoon. -They talked, of course, of affairs at the cottage, and my name -found its way into the conversation. I am quite wrong, it seems, -if the nurse's authority is to be trusted, in believing Miss -Milroy to be responsible for sending Mr. Armadale to my reference -in London. Miss Milroy really knew nothing about it, and it all -originated in her mother's mad jealousy of me. The present -wretched state of things at the cottage is due entirely to the -same cause. Mrs. Milroy is firmly persuaded that my remaining -at Thorpe Ambrose is referable to my having some private means -of communicating with the major which it is impossible for her -to discover. With this conviction in her mind, she has become -so unmanageable that no person, with any chance of bettering -herself, could possibly remain in attendance an her; and sooner -or later, the major, object to it as he may, will be obliged to -place her under proper medical care. - -"That is the sum and substance of what the wearisome landlady, -had to tell me. Unnecessary to say that I was not in the least -interested by it. Even if the nurse's s assertion is to be -depended on--which I persist in doubting--it is of no importance -now. I know that Miss Milroy, and nobody but Miss Milroy has -utterly ruined my prospect of becoming Mrs. Armadale of Thorpe -Ambrose, and I care to know nothing more. If her mother was -really alone in the attempt to expose my false reference, her -mother seems to be suffering for it, at any rate. And so good-by -to Mrs. Milroy; and Heaven defend me from any more last glimpses -at the cottages seen through the medium of my landlady's -spectacles! - - -"Nine o'clock.--Bashwood has just left me, having come with news -from the great house. Pedgift the younger has made his attempt -at bringing about a reconciliation this very day, and has failed. -I am the sole cause of the failure. Armadale is quite willing to -be reconciled if Pedgift the elder will avoid all future occasion -of disagreement between them by never recurring to the subject -of Miss Gwilt. This, however, happens to be exactly the condition -which Pedgift's father--with his opinion of me and my -doings--should consider it his duty to Armadale _not_ to accept. -So lawyer and client remain as far apart as ever, and the -obstacle of the Pedgifts is cleared out of my way. - -"It might have been a very awkward obstacle, so far as Pedgift -the elder is concerned, if one of his suggestions had been -carried out; I mean, if an officer of the London police had been -brought down here to look at me. It is a question, even now, -whether I had better not take to the thick veil again, which I -always wear in London and other large places. The only difficulty -is that it would excite remark in this inquisitive little town -to see me wearing a thick veil, for the first time, in the summer -weather. - -"It is close on ten o'clock; I have been dawdling over my diary -longer than I supposed. - -"No words can describe how weary and languid I feel. Why don't I -take my sleeping drops and go to bed? There is no meeting between -Armadale and Miss Milroy to force me into early rising to-morrow -morning. Am I trying, for the hundredth time, to see my way -clearly into the future--trying, in my present state of fatigue, -to be the quick-witted woman I once was, before all these -anxieties came together and overpowered me? or am I perversely -afraid of my bed when I want it most? I don't know; I am tired -and miserable; I am looking wretchedly haggard and old. With a -little encouragement, I might be fool enough to burst out crying. -Luckily, there is no one to encourage me. What sort of a night -is it, I wonder? - -"A cloudy night, with the moon showing at intervals, and the wind -rising. I can just hear it moaning among the ins and outs of the -unfinished cottages at the end of the street. My nerves must be -a little shaken, I think. I was startled just now by a shadow on -the wall. It was only after a moment or two that I mustered sense -enough to notice where the candle was, and to see that the shadow -was my own. - -"Shadows remind me of Midwinter; or, if the shadows don't, -something else does. I must have another look at his letter, -and then I will positively go to bed. - - -"I shall end in getting fond of him. If I remain much longer in -this lonely uncertain state--so irresolute, so unlike my usual -self--I shall end in getting fond of him. What madness! As if -_I_ could ever be really fond of a man again! - -"Suppose I took one of my sudden resolutions, and married him. -Poor as he is, he would give me a name and a position if I became -his wife. Let me see how the name--his own name--would look, if -I really did consent to it for mine. - -"'Mrs. Armadale!' Pretty. - -"'Mrs. Allan Armadale!' Prettier still. - -"My nerves _must_ be shaken. Here is my own handwriting startling -me now! It is so strange; it is enough to startle anybody. The -similarity in the two names never struck me in this light before. -Marry which of the two I might, my name would, of course, be the -same. I should have been Mrs. Armadale, if I had married the -light-haired Allan at the great house. And I can be Mrs. Armadale -still, if I marry the dark-haired Allan in London. It's almost -maddening to write it down--to feel that something ought to come -of it--and to find nothing come. - -"How _can_ anything come of it? If I did go to London, and marry -him (as of course I must marry him) under his real name, would -he let me be known by it afterward? With all his reasons for -concealing his real name, he would insist--no, he is too fond of -me to do that--he would entreat me to take the name which he has -assumed. Mrs. Midwinter. Hideous! Ozias, too, when I wanted to -address him familiarly, as his wife should. Worse than hideous! - -"And yet there would be some reason for humoring him in this -if he asked me. - -"Suppose the brute at the great house happened to leave this -neighborhood as a single man; and suppose, in his absence, any -of the people who know him heard of a Mrs. Allan Armadale, they -would set her down at once as his wife. Even if they actually saw -me--if I actually came among them with that name, and if he was -not present to contradict it--his own servants would be the first -to say, 'We knew she would marry him, after all!' And my -lady-patronesses, who will be ready to believe anything of me -now we have quarreled, would join the chorus _sotto voce:_ 'Only -think, my dear, the report that so shocked us actually turns out -to be true!' No. If I marry Midwinter, I must either be -perpetually putting my husband and myself in a false position--or -I must leave his real name, his pretty, romantic name, behind me -at the church door. - -"My husband! As if I was really going to marry him! I am _not_ -going to marry him, and there's an end of it. - - -"Half-past ten.--Oh, dear! oh, dear! how my temples throb, and -how hot my weary eyes feel! There is the moon looking at me -through the window. How fast the little scattered clouds are -flying before the wind! Now they let the moon in; and now they -shut the moon out. What strange shapes the patches of yellow -light take, and lose again, all in a moment! No peace and quiet -for me, look where I may. The candle keeps flickering, and the -very sky itself is restless to-night. - -"'To bed! to bed!' as Lady Macbeth says. I wonder, by-the-by, -what Lady Macbeth would have done in my position? She would have -killed somebody when her difficulties first began. Probably -Armadale. - - -"Friday morning.--A night's rest, thanks again to my Drops. -I went to breakfast in better spirits, and received a morning -welcome in the shape of a letter from Mrs. Oldershaw. - -"My silence has produced its effect on Mother Jezebel. She -attributes it to the right cause, and she shows her claws at -last. If I am not in a position to pay my note of hand for thirty -pounds, which is due on Tuesday next, her lawyer is instructed to -'take the usual course.' _If_ I am not in a position to pay it! -Why, when I have settled to-day with my landlord, I shall have -barely five pounds left! There is not the shadow of a prospect -between now and Tuesday of my earning any money; and I don't -possess a friend in this place who would trust me with sixpence. -The difficulties that are swarming round me wanted but one more -to complete them, and that one has come. - -"Midwinter would assist me, of course, if I could bring myself -to ask him for assistance. But _that_ means marrying him. Am I -really desperate enough and helpless enough to end it in that -way? No; not yet. - -"My head feels heavy; I must get out into the fresh air, and -think about it. - - -"Two o'clock.--I believe I have caught the infection of -Midwinter's superstition. I begin to think that events are -forcing me nearer and nearer to some end which I don't see yet, -but which I am firmly persuaded is now not far off. - -"I have been insulted--deliberately insulted before witnesses--by -Miss Milroy. - -"After walking, as usual, in the most unfrequented place I could -pick out, and after trying, not very successfully, to think to -some good purpose of what I am to do next, I remembered that I -needed some note-paper and pens, and went back to the town to the -stationer's shop. It might have been wiser to have sent for what -I wanted. But I was weary of myself, and weary of my lonely -rooms; and I did my own errand, for no better reason than that -it was something to do. - -"I had just got into the shop, and was asking for what I wanted, -when another customer came in. We both looked up, and recognized -each other at the same moment: Miss Milroy. - -"A woman and a lad were behind the counter, besides the man who -was serving me. The woman civilly addressed the new customer. -'What can we have the pleasure of doing for you, miss?' After -pointing it first by looking me straight in the face, she -answered, 'Nothing, thank you, at present. I'll come back when -the shop is empty.' - -"She went out. The three people in the shop looked at me in -silence. In silence, on my side, I paid for my purchases, and -left the place. I don't know how I might have felt if I had been -in my usual spirits. In the anxious, unsettled state I am in now, -I can't deny it, the girl stung me. - -"In the weakness of the moment (for it was nothing else), I was -on the point of matching her petty spitefulness by spitefulness -quite as petty on my side. I had actually got as far as the whole -length of the street on my way to the major's cottage, bent on -telling him the secret of his daughter's morning walks, before -my better sense came back to me. When I did cool down, I turned -round at once, and took the way home. No, no, Miss Milroy; mere -temporary mischief-making at the cottage, which would only end -in your father forgiving you, and in Armadale profiting by his -indulgence, will nothing like pay the debt I owe you. I don't -forget that your heart is set on Armadale; and that the major, -however he may talk, has always ended hitherto in giving you your -own way. My head may be getting duller and duller, but it has not -quite failed me yet. - -"In the meantime, there is Mother Oldershaw's letter waiting -obstinately to be answered; and here am I, not knowing what to do -about it yet. Shall I answer it or not? It doesn't matter for the -present; there are some hours still to spare before the post goes -out. - -"Suppose I asked Armadale to lend me the money? I should enjoy -getting _something_ out of him; and I believe, in his present -situation with Miss Milroy, he would do anything to be rid of me. -Mean enough this, on my part. Pooh! When you hate and despise a -man, as I hate and despise Armadale, who cares for looking mean -in _his_ eyes? - -"And yet my pride--or my something else, I don't know -what--shrinks from it. - -"Half-past two--only half-past two. Oh, the dreadful weariness -of these long summer days! I can't keep thinking and thinking any -longer; I must do something to relieve my mind. Can I go to my -piano? No; I'm not fit for it. Work? No; I shall get thinking -again if I take to my needle. A man, in my place, would find -refuge in drink. I'm not a man, and I can't drink. I'll dawdle -over my dresses, and put my things tidy. - -* * * * * * - -"Has an hour passed? More than an hour. It seems like a minute. - -"I can't look back through these leaves, but I know I wrote -somewhere that I felt myself getting nearer and nearer to some -end that was still hidden from me. The end is hidden no longer. -The cloud is off my mind, the blindness has gone from my eyes. -I see it! I see it! - -"It came to me--I never sought it. If I was lying on my -death-bed, I could swear, with a safe conscience, I never sought -it. - -"I was only looking over my things; I was as idly and as -frivolously employed as the most idle and most frivolous woman -living. I went through my dresses, and my linen. What could be -more innocent? Children go through their dresses and their linen. - -"It was, such a long summer day, and I was so tired of myself. -I went to my boxes next. I looked over the large box first, which -I usually leave open; and then I tried the small box, which -I always keep locked. - -"From one thing to the other, I came at last to the bundle of -letters at the bottom--the letters of the man for whom I once -sacrificed and suffered everything; the man who has made me what -I am. - -"A hundred times I had determined to burn his letters; but I have -never burned them. This, time, all I said was, 'I won't read his -letters!' And I did read them. - -"The villain--the false, cowardly, heartless villain--what have -I to do with his letters now? Oh, the misery of being a woman! -Oh, the meanness that our memory of a man can tempt us to, when -our love for him is dead and gone! I read the letters--I was so -lonely and so miserable, I read the letters. - -"I came to the last--the letter he wrote to encourage me, when I -hesitated as the terrible time came nearer and nearer; the letter -that revived me when my resolution failed at the eleventh hour. -I read on, line after line, till I came to these words: - - -"'...I really have no patience with such absurdities as you -have written to me. You say I am driving you on to do what -is beyond a woman's courage. Am I? I might refer you to any -collection of Trials, English or foreign. to show that you were -utterly wrong. But such collections may be beyond your reach; -and I will only refer you to a case in yesterday's newspaper. -The circumstances are totally different from our circumstances; -but the example of resolution in a woman is an example worth -your notice. - -"'You will find, among the law reports, a married woman charged -with fraudulently representing herself to be the missing widow of -an officer in the merchant service, who was supposed to have been -drowned. The name of the prisoner's husband (living) and the name -of the officer (a very common one, both as to Christian and -surname) happened to be identically the same. There was money to -be got by it (sorely wanted by the prisoner's husband, to whom -she was devotedly attached), if the fraud had succeeded. The -woman took it all on herself. Her husband was helpless and ill, -and the bailiffs were after him. The circumstances, as you may -read for yourself, were all in her favor, and were so well -managed by her that the lawyers themselves acknowledged she might -have succeeded, if the supposed drowned man had not turned up -alive and well in the nick of time to confront her. The scene -took place at the lawyer's office, and came out in the evidence -at the police court. The woman was handsome, and the sailor was -a good-natured man. He wanted, at first, if the lawyers would -have allowed him, to let her off. He said to her, among other -things: "You didn't count on the drowned man coming back, alive -and hearty, did you, ma'am?" "It's lucky for you," she said, -"I didn't count on it. You have escaped the sea, but you wouldn't -have escaped _me_." "Why, what would you have done, if you -_had_ known I was coming back?" says the sailor. She looked him -steadily in the face, and answered: "I would have killed you." -There! Do you think such a woman as that would have written to -tell me I was pressing her further than she had courage to go? -A handsome woman, too, like yourself. You would drive some men -in my position to wish they had her now in your place.' - - -"I read no further. When I had got on, line by line, to those -words, it burst on me like a flash of lightning. In an instant I -saw it as plainly as I see it now. It is horrible, it is unheard -of, it outdares all daring; but, if I can only nerve myself to -face one terrible necessity, it is to be done. _I may personate -the richly provided widow of Allan Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose, -if I can count on Allan Armadale's death in a given time_. - -"There, in plain words, is the frightful temptation under which -I now feel myself sinking. It is frightful in more ways than one; -for it has come straight out of that other temptation to which -I yielded in the by-gone time. - -"Yes; there the letter has been waiting for me in my box, to -serve a purpose never thought of by the villain who wrote it. -There is the Case, as he called it--only quoted to taunt me; -utterly unlike my own case at the time--there it has been, -waiting and lurking for me through all the changes in my life, -till it has come to be like _my_ case at last. - -"It might startle any woman to see this, and even this is not -the worst. The whole thing has been in my Diary, for days past, -without my knowing it! Every idle fancy that escaped me has been -tending secretly that one way! And I never saw, never suspected -it, till the reading of the letter put my own thoughts before me -in a new light--till I saw the shadow of my own circumstances -suddenly reflected in one special circumstance of that other -woman's case! - -"It is to be done, if I can but look the necessity in the face. -It is to be done, _if I can count on Allan Armadale's death in -a given time_. - -"All but his death is easy. The whole series of events under -which I have been blindly chafing and fretting for more than a -week past have been, one and all--though I was too stupid to see -it--events in my favor; events paving the way smoothly and more -smoothly straight to the end. - -"In three bold steps--only three!--that end might be reached. -Let Midwinter marry me privately, under his real name--step the -first! Let Armadale leave Thorpe Ambrose a single man, and die -in some distant place among strangers--step the second! - -"Why am I hesitating? Why not go on to step the third, and last? - -"I _will_ go on. Step the third, and last, is my appearance, -after the announcement of Armadale's death has reached this -neighborhood, in the character of Armadale's widow, with my -marriage certificate in my hand to prove my claim. It is as clear -as the sun at noonday. Thanks to the exact similarity between the -two names, and thanks to the careful manner in which the secret -of that similarity has been kept, I may be the wife of the dark -Allan Armadale, known as such to nobody but my husband and -myself; and I may, out of that very position, claim the character -of widow of the light Allan Armadale, with proof to support me -(in the shape of my marriage certificate) which would be proof -in the estimation of the most incredulous person living. - -"To think of my having put all this in my Diary! To think of my -having actually contemplated this very situation, and having seen -nothing more in it, at the time, than a reason (if I married -Midwinter) for consenting to appear in the world under my -husband's assumed name! - -"What is it daunts me? The dread of obstacles? The fear of -discovery? - -"Where are the obstacles? Where is the fear of discovery? - -"I am actually suspected all over the neighborhood of intriguing -to be mistress of Thorpe Ambrose. I am the only person who knows -the real turn that Armadale's inclinations have taken. Not a -creature but myself is as yet aware of his early morning meetings -with Miss Milroy. If it is necessary to part them, I can do it at -any moment by an anonymous line to the major. If it is necessary -to remove Armadale from Thorpe Ambrose, I can get him away at -three days' notice. His own lips informed me, when I last spoke -to him, that he would go to the ends of the earth to be friends -again with Midwinter, if Midwinter would let him. I have only to -tell Midwinter to write from London, and ask to be reconciled; -and Midwinter would obey me--and to London Armadale would go. -Every difficulty, at starting, is smoothed over ready to my hand. -Every after-difficulty I could manage for myself. In the whole -venture--desperate as it looks to pass myself off for the widow -of one man, while I am all the while the wife of the other--there -is absolutely no necessity that wants twice considering, but the -one terrible necessity of Armadale's death. - -"His death! It might be a terrible necessity to any other woman; -but is it, ought it to be terrible to Me? - -"I hate him for his mother's sake. I hate him for his own sake. I -hate him for going to London behind my back, and making inquiries -about me. I hate him for forcing me out of my situation before I -wanted to go. I hate him for destroying all my hopes of marrying -him, and throwing me back helpless on my own miserable life. But, -oh, after what I have done already in the past time, how can I? -how can I? - -"The girl, too--the girl who has come between us; who has taken -him away from me; who has openly insulted me this very day--how -the girl whose heart is set on him would feel it if he died! What -a vengeance on _her_, if I did it! And when I was received as -Armadale's widow what a triumph for _me_. Triumph! It is more -than triumph--it is the salvation of me. A name that can't be -assailed, a station that can't be assailed, to hide myself in -from my past life! Comfort, luxury, wealth! An income of twelve -hundred a year secured to me secured by a will which has been -looked at by a lawyer: secured independently of anything Armadale -can say or do himself! I never had twelve hundred a year. At my -luckiest time, I never had half as much, really my own. What have -I got now? Just five pounds left in the world--and the prospect -next week of a debtor's prison. - -"But, oh, after what I have done already in the past time, how -can I? how can I? - -"Some women--in my place, and with my recollections to look back -on--would feel it differently. Some women would say, 'It's easier -the second time than the first.' Why can't I? why can't I? - -"Oh, you Devil tempting me, is there no Angel near to raise some -timely obstacle between this and to-morrow which might help me to -give it up? - -"I shall sink under it--I shall sink, if I write or think of it -any more! I'll shut up these leaves and go out again. I'll get -some common person to come with me, and we will talk of common -things. I'll take out the woman of the house, and her children. -We will go and see something. There is a show of some kind in the -town--I'll treat them to it. I'm not such an ill-natured woman -when I try; and the landlady has really been kind to me. Surely -I might occupy my mind a little in seeing her and her children -enjoying themselves. - - -"A minute since, I shut up these leaves as I said I would; and -now I have opened them again, I don't know why. I think my brain -is turned. I feel as if something was lost out of my mind; I feel -as if I ought to find it here - -"I have found it! _Midwinter!!!_ - -"Is it possible that I can have been thinking of the reasons For -and Against, for an hour past--writing Midwinter's name over -and over again--speculating seriously on marrying him--and all -the time not once remembering that, even with every other -impediment removed, _he_ alone, when the time came, would be an -insurmountable obstacle in my way? Has the effort to face the -consideration of Armadale's death absorbed me to _that_ degree? -I suppose it has. I can't account for such extraordinary -forgetfulness on my part in any other way. - -"Shall I stop and think it out, as I have thought out all the -rest? Shall I ask myself if the obstacle of Midwinter would, -after all, when the time came, be the unmanageable obstacle that -it looks at present? No! What need is there to think of it? I -have made up my mind to get the better of the temptation. I have -made up my mind to give my landlady and her children a treat; I -have made up my mind to close my Diary. And closed it shall be. - - -"Six o'clock.--The landlady's gossip is unendurable; the -landlady's children distract me. I have left them to run back -here before post time and write a line to Mrs. Oldershaw. - -"The dread that I shall sink under the temptation has grown -stronger and stronger on me. I have determined to put it beyond -my power to have my own way and follow my own will. Mother -Oldershaw shall be the salvation of me for the first time since I -have known her. If I can't pay my note of hand, she threatens me -with an arrest. Well, she _shall_ arrest me. In the state my mind -is in now, the best thing that can happen to me is to be taken -away from Thorpe Ambrose, whether I like it or not. I will write -and say that I am to be found here I will write and tell her, in -so many words, that the best service she can render me is to lock -me up. - - -"Seven o'clock.--The letter has gone to the post. I had begun -to feel a little easier, when the children came in to thank me -for taking them to the show. One of them is a girl, and the girl -upset me. She is a forward child, and her hair is nearly the -color of mine. She said, 'I shall be like you when I have grown -bigger, shan't I?' Her idiot of a mother said, 'Please to excuse -her, miss,' and took her out of the room, laughing. Like me! -I don't pretend to be fond of the child; but think of her being -like me! - - -"Saturday morning.--I have done well for once in acting on -impulse, and writing as I did to Mrs. Oldershaw. The only new -circumstance that has happened is another circumstance in my -favor! - -"Major Milroy has answered Armadale's letter, entreating -permission to call at the cottage and justify himself. His -daughter read it in silence, when Armadale handed it to her at -their meeting this morning, in the park. But they talked about -it afterward, loud enough for me to hear them. The major persists -in the course he has taken. He says his opinion of Armadale's -conduct has been formed, not on common report, but on Armadale's -own letters, and he sees no reason to alter the conclusion at -which he arrived when the correspondence between them was closed. - -"This little matter had, I confess, slipped out of my memory. -It might have ended awkwardly for _me_. If Major Milroy had been -less obstinately wedded to his own opinion, Armadale might have -justified himself; the marriage engagement might have been -acknowledged; and all _my_ power of influencing the matter might -have been at an end. As it is, they must continue to keep the -engagement strictly secret; and Miss Milroy, who has never -ventured herself near the great house since the thunder-storm -forced her into it for shelter, will be less likely than ever -to venture there now. I can part them when I please; with an -anonymous line to the major, I can part them when I please! - -"After having discussed the letter, the talk between them turned -on what they were to do next. Major Milroy's severity, as it soon -appeared, produced the usual results. Armadale returned to the -subject of the elopement; and this time she listened to him. -There is everything to drive her to it. Her outfit of clothes -is nearly ready; and the summer holidays, at the school which -has been chosen for her, end at the end of next week. When I left -them, they had decided to meet again and settle something on -Monday. - -"The last words I heard him address to her, before I went away, -shook me a little. He said: 'There is one difficulty, Neelie, -that needn't trouble us, at any rate. I have got plenty of -money.' And then he kissed her. The way to his life began to look -an easier way to me when he talked of his money, and kissed her. - -"Some hours have passed, and the more I think of it, the more I -fear the blank interval between this time and the time when Mrs. -Oldershaw calls in the law, and protects me against myself. It -might have been better if I had stopped at home this morning. But -how could I? After the insult she offered me yesterday, I tingled -all over to go and look at her. - -"To-day; Sunday; Monday; Tuesday. They can't arrest me for the -money before Wednesday. And my miserable five pounds are -dwindling to four! And he told her he had plenty of money! And -she blushed and trembled when he kissed her. It might have been -better for him, better for her, and better for me, if my debt had -fallen due yesterday, and if the bailiffs had their hands on me -at this moment. - -"Suppose I had the means of leaving Thorpe Ambrose by the next -train, and going somewhere abroad, and absorbing myself in some -new interest, among new people. Could I do it, rather than look -again at that easy way to his life which would smooth the way -to everything else? - -"Perhaps I might. But where is the money to come from? Surely -some way of getting it struck me a day or two since? Yes; that -mean idea of asking Armadale to help me! Well; I _will_ be mean -for once. I'll give him the chance of making a generous use of -that well-filled purse which it is such a comfort to him to -reflect on in his present circumstances. It would soften my heart -toward any man if he lent me money in my present extremity; and, -if Armadale lends me money, it might soften my heart toward him. -When shall I go? At once! I won't give myself time to feel the -degradation of it, and to change my mind. - - -"Three 'clock.--I mark the hour. He has sealed his own doom. -He has insulted me. - -"Yes! I have suffered it once from Miss Milroy. And I have now -suffered it a second time from Armadale himself. An insult--a -marked, merciless, deliberate insult in the open day! - -"I had got through the town, and had advanced a few hundred -yards along the road that leads to the great house, when I saw -Armadale at a little distance, coming toward me. He was walking -fast--evidently with some errand of his own to take him to the -town. The instant he caught sight of me he stopped, colored up, -took off his hat, hesitated, and turned aside down a lane behind -him, which I happen to know would take him exactly in the -contrary direction to the direction in which he was walking when -he first saw me. His conduct said in so many words, 'Miss Milroy -may hear of it; I daren't run the risk of being seen speaking to -you.' Men have used me heartlessly; men have done and said hard -things to me; but no man living ever yet treated me as if I was -plague-struck, and as if the very air about me was infected by -my presence! - -"I say no more. When he walked away from me down that lane, he -walked to his death. I have written to Midwinter to expect me -in London nest week, and to be ready for our marriage soon -afterward. - - -"Four o'clock.--Half an hour since, I put on my bonnet to go out -and post the letter to Midwinter myself. And here I am, still in -my room, with my mind torn by doubts, and my letter on the table. - -"Armadale counts for nothing in the perplexities that are now -torturing me. It is Midwinter who makes me hesitate. Can I take -the first of those three steps that lead me to the end, without -the common caution of looking at consequences? Can I marry -Midwinter, without knowing beforehand how to meet the obstacle -of my husband, when the time comes which transforms me from the -living Armadale's wife to the dead Armadale's widow? - -"Why can't I think of it, when I know I _must_ think of it? Why -can't I look at it as steadily as I have looked at all the rest? -I feel his kisses on my lips; I feel his tears on my bosom; I -feel his arms round me again. He is far away in London; and yet, -he is here and won't let me think of it! - -"Why can't I wait a little? Why can't I let Time help me? Time? -It's Saturday! What need is there to think of it, unless I like? -There is no post to London to-day. I _must_ wait. If I posted the -letter, it wouldn't go. Besides, to- morrow I may hear from Mrs. -Oldershaw. I ought to wait to hear from Mrs. Oldershaw. I can't -consider myself a free woman till I know what Mrs. Oldershaw -means to do. There is a necessity for waiting till to-morrow. -I shall take my bonnet off, and lock the letter up in my desk. - - -"Sunday morning.--There is no resisting it! One after another -the circumstances crowd on me. They come thicker and thicker, -and they all force me one way. - -"I have got Mother Oldershaw's answer. The wretch fawns on me, -and cringes to me. I can see, as plainly as if she had -acknowledged it, that she suspects me of seeing my own way to -success at Thorpe Ambrose without her assistance. Having found -threatening me useless, she tries coaxing me now. I am her -darling Lydia again! She is quite shocked that I could imagine -she ever really intended to arrest her bosom friend; and she has -only to entreat me, as a favor to herself, to renew the bill! - -"I say once more, no mortal creature could resist it! Time after -time I have tried to escape the temptation; and time after time -the circumstances drive me back again. I can struggle no longer. -The post that takes the letters to-night shall take my letter to -Midwinter among the rest. - -"To-night! If I give myself till to-night, something else may -happen. If I give myself till to-night, I may hesitate again. I'm -weary of the torture of hesitating. I must and will have relief -in the present, cost what it may in the future. My letter to -Midwinter will drive me mad if I see it staring and staring at me -in my desk any longer. I can post it in ten minutes' time--and I -will! - -"It is done. The first of the three steps that lead me to the end -is a step taken. My mind is quieter--the letter is in the post. - -"By to-morrow Midwinter will receive it. Before the end of the -week Armadale must be publicly seen to leave Thorpe Ambrose; and -I must be publicly seen to leave with him. - -"Have I looked at the consequences of my marriage to Midwinter? -No! Do I know how to meet the obstacle of my husband, when the -time comes which transforms me from the living Armadale's wife -to the dead Armadale's widow? - -"No! When the time comes, I must meet the obstacle as I best may. -I am going blindfold, then--so far as Midwinter is concerned-- -into this frightful risk? Yes; blindfold. Am I out of my senses? -Very likely. Or am I a little too fond of him to look the thing -in the face? I dare say. Who cares? - -"I won't, I won't, I won't think of it! Haven't I a will of my -own? And can't I think, if I like, of something else? - -"Here is Mother Jezebel's cringing letter. _That_ is something -else to think of. I'll answer it. I am in a fine humor for -writing to Mother Jezebel. - -* * * * * * * - -_Conclusion of Miss Gwilt's Letter to Mrs. Oldershaw_. - -"...I told you, when I broke off, that I would wait before I -finished this, and ask my Diary if I could safely tell you what -I have now got it in my mind to do. Well, I have asked; and my -Diary says, 'Don't tell her!' Under these circumstances I close -my letter--with my best excuses for leaving you in the dark. - -"I shall probably be in London before long--and I may tell you -by word of mouth what I don't think it safe to write here. Mind, -I make no promise! It all depends on how I feel toward you at -the time. I don't doubt your discretion; but (under certain -circumstances) I am not so sure of your courage. L. G." - -"P. S.--My best thanks for your permission to renew the bill. I -decline profiting by the proposal. The money will be ready when -the money is due. I have a friend now in London who will pay it -if I ask him. Do you wonder who the friend is? You will wonder at -one or two other things, Mrs. Oldershaw, before many weeks more -are over your head and mine." - -CHAPTER XI. - -LOVE AND LAW. - -On the morning of Monday, the 28th of July, Miss Gwilt--once more -on the watch for Allan and Neelie--reached her customary post of -observation in the park, by the usual roundabout way. - -She was a little surprised to find Neelie alone at the place of -meeting. She was more seriously astonished, when the tardy Allan -made his appearance ten minutes later, to see him mounting the -side of the dell, with a large volume under his arm, and to hear -him say, as an apology for being late, that "he had muddled away -his time in hunting for the Books; and that he had only found -one, after all, which seemed in the least likely to repay either -Neelie or himself for the trouble of looking into it." - -If Miss Gwilt had waited long enough in the park, on the previous -Saturday, to hear the lovers' parting words on that occasion, she -would have been at no loss to explain the mystery of the volume -under Allan's arm, and she would have understood the apology -which he now offered for being late as readily as Neelie herself. - -There is a certain exceptional occasion in life--the occasion -of marriage--on which even girls in their teens sometimes become -capable (more or less hysterically) of looking at consequences. -At the farewell moment of the interview on Saturday, Neelie's -mind had suddenly precipitated itself into the future; and -she had utterly confounded Allan by inquiring whether the -contemplated elopement was an offense punishable by the Law? -Her memory satisfied her that she had certainly read somewhere, -at some former period, in some book or other (possibly a novel), -of an elopement with a dreadful end--of a bride dragged home in -hysterics--and of a bridegroom sentenced to languish in prison, -with all his beautiful hair cut off, by Act of Parliament, close -to his head. Supposing she could bring herself to consent to the -elopement at all--which she positively declined to promise--she -must first insist on discovering whether there was any fear of -the police being concerned in her marriage as well as the parson -and the clerk. Allan, being a man, ought to know; and to Allan -she looked for information--with this preliminary assurance to -assist him in laying down the law, that she would die of a broken -heart a thousand times over, rather than be the innocent means of -sending him to languish in prison, and of cutting his hair off, -by Act of Parliament, close to his head. "It's no laughing -matter," said Neelie, resolutely, in conclusion; "I decline even -to think of our marriage till my mind is made easy first on the -subject of the Law." - -"But I don't know anything about the law, not even as much as -you do," said Allan. "Hang the law! I don't mind my head being -cropped. Let's risk it." - -"Risk it?" repeated Neelie, indignantly. "Have you no -consideration for me? I won't risk it! Where there's a will, -there's a way. We must find out the law for ourselves." - -"With all my heart," said Allan. "How?" - -"Out of books, to be sure! There must be quantities of -information in that enormous library of yours at the great house. -If you really love me, you won't mind going over the backs of a -few thousand books, for my sake!" - -"I'll go over the backs of ten thousand!" cried Allan, warmly. -"Would you mind telling me what I'm to look for?" - -"For 'Law,' to be sure! When it says 'Law' on the back, open it, -and look inside for Marriage--read every word of it--and then -come here and explain it to me. What! you don't think your head -is to be trusted to do such a simple thing as that?" - -"I'm certain it isn't," said Allan. "Can't you help me?" - -"Of course I can, if you can't manage without me! Law may be -hard, but it can't be harder than music; and I must, and will, -satisfy my mind. Bring me all the books you can find, on Monday -morning--in a wheelbarrow, if there are a good many of them, -and if you can't manage it in any other way." - -The result of this conversation was Allan's appearance in the -park, with a volume of Blackstone's Commentaries under his arm, -on the fatal Monday morning, when Miss Gwilt's written engagement -of marriage was placed in Midwinter's hands. Here again, in this, -as in all other human instances, the widely discordant elements -of the grotesque and the terrible were forced together by that -subtle law of contrast which is one of the laws of mortal life. -Amid all the thickening complications now impending over their -heads--with the shadow of meditated murder stealing toward one of -them already from the lurking-place that hid Miss Gwilt--the two -sat down, unconscious of the future, with the book between them; -and applied themselves to the study of the law of marriage, with -a grave resolution to understand it, which, in two such students, -was nothing less than a burlesque in itself! - - -"Find the place," said Neelie, as soon as they were comfortably -established. "We must manage this by what they call a division -of labor. You shall read, and I'll take notes." - -She produced forthwith a smart little pocket-book and pencil, -and opened the book in the middle, where there was a blank page -on the right hand and the left. At the top of the right-hand page -she wrote the word _Good_. At the top of the left-hand page she -wrote the word _Bad_. "'Good' means where the law is on our -side," she explained; "and 'Bad' means where the law is against -us. We will have 'Good' and 'Bad' opposite each other, all down -the two pages; and when we get to the bottom, we'll add them up, -and act accordingly. They say girls have no heads for business. -Haven't they! Don't look at me--look at Blackstone, and begin." - -"Would you mind giving one a kiss first?" asked Allan. - -"I should mind it very much. In our serious situation, when we -have both got to exert our intellects, I wonder you can ask for -such a thing!" - -"That's why I asked for it," said the unblushing Allan. "I feel -as if it would clear my head." - -"Oh, if it would clear your head, that's quite another thing! -I must clear your head, of course, at any sacrifice. Only one, -mind," she whispered, coquettishly; "and pray be careful of -Blackstone, or you'll lose the place." - -There was a pause in the conversation. Blackstone and the -pocket-book both rolled on the ground together. - -"If this happens again," said Neelie, picking up the pocket-book, -with her eyes and her complexion at their brightest and best, "I -shall sit with my back to you for the rest of the morning. _Will_ -you go on?" - -Allan found his place for the second time, and fell headlong into -the bottomless abyss of the English Law. - -"Page 280," he began. "Law of husband and wife. Here's a bit I -don't understand, to begin with: 'It may be observed generally -that the law considers marriage in the light of a Contract.' What -does that mean? I thought a contract was the sort of a thing a -builder signs when he promises to have the workmen out of the -house in a given time, and when the time comes (as my poor mother -used to say) the workmen never go." - -"Is there nothing about Love?" asked Neelie. "Look a little lower -down." - -"Not a word. He sticks to his confounded 'Contract' all the way -through." - -"Then he's a brute! Go on to something else that's more in our -way." - -"Here's a bit that's more in our way: 'Incapacities. If -any persons under legal incapacities come together, it is -a meretricious, and not a matrimonial union.' (Blackstone's -a good one at long words, isn't he? I wonder what he means by -meretricious?) 'The first of these legal disabilities is a prior -marriage, and having another husband or wife living--'" - -"Stop!" said Neelie; "I must make a note of that." She gravely -made her first entry on the page headed "Good," as follows: "I -have no husband, and Allan has no wife. We are both entirely -unmarried at the present time." - -"All right, so far," remarked Allan, looking over her shoulder. - -"Go on," said Neelie. "What next?" - -"'The next disability,'" proceeded Allan, "'is want of age. The -age for consent to matrimony is, fourteen in males, and twelve -in females.' Come!" cried Allan, cheerfully, "Blackstone begins -early enough, at any rate!" - -Neelie was too business-like to make any other remark, on her -side, than the necessary remark in the pocket-book. She made -another entry under the head of "Good": "I am old enough to -consent, and so is Allan too. Go on," resumed Neelie, looking -over the reader's shoulder. "Never mind all that prosing of -Blackstone's, about the husband being of years of discretion, -and the wife under twelve. Abominable wretch! the wife under -twelve! Skip to the third incapacity, if there is one." - -"'The third incapacity,'" Allan went on, "'is want of reason.'" - -Neelie immediately made a third entry on the side of "Good": -"Allan and I are both perfectly reasonable. Skip to the next -page." - -Allan skipped. "'A fourth incapacity is in respect of proximity -of relationship.'" - -A fourth entry followed instantly on the cheering side of the -pocket-book: "He loves me, and I love him--without our being -in the slightest degree related to each other. Any more?" asked -Neelie, tapping her chin impatiently with the end of the pencil. - -"Plenty more," rejoined Allan; "all in hieroglyphics. Look here: -'Marriage Acts, 4 Geo. IV., c. 76, and 6 and 7 Will. IV., c. 85 -(_q_).' Blackstone's intellect seems to be wandering here. Shall -we take another skip, and see if he picks himself up again on the -next page?" - -"Wait a little," said Neelie; "what's that I see in the middle?" -She read for a minute in silence, over Allan's shoulder, and -suddenly clasped her hands in despair. "I knew I was right!" she -exclaimed. "Oh, heavens, here it is!" - -"Where?" asked Allan. "I see nothing about languishing in prison, -and cropping a fellow's hair close to his head, unless it's in -the hieroglyphics. Is '4 Geo. IV.' short for 'Lock him up'? and -does 'c. 85 (_q_)' mean, 'Send for the hair-cutter'?" - -"Pray be serious," remonstrated Neelie. "We are both sitting on -a volcano. There," she said pointing to the place. "Read it! If -anything can bring you to a proper sense of our situation, _that_ -will." - -Allan cleared his throat, and Neelie held the point of her pencil -ready on the depressing side of the account--otherwise the "Bad" -page of the pocket-book. - -"'And as it is the policy of our law,'" Allan began, "'to prevent -the marriage of persons under the age of twenty-one, without the -consent of parents and guardians'"--(Neelie made her first entry -on the side of "Bad!" "I'm only seventeen next birthday, and -circumstances forbid me to confide my attachment to papa")--"'it -is provided that in the case of the publication of banns of a -person under twenty-one, not being a widower or widow, who are -deemed emancipated'"--(Neelie made another entry on the -depressing side: "Allan is not a widower, and I am not a widow; -consequently, we are neither of us emancipated")--"'if the -parent or guardian openly signifies his dissent at the time the -banns are published'"--("which papa would be certain to do")-- -"'such publication would be void.' I'll take breath here if -you'll allow me," said Allan. "Blackstone might put it in shorter -sentences, I think, if he can't put it in fewer words. Cheer up, -Neelie! there must be other ways of marrying, besides this -roundabout way, that ends in a Publication and a Void. Infernal -gibberish! I could write better English myself." - -"We are not at the end of it yet," said Neelie. "The Void is -nothing to what is to come." - -"Whatever it is," rejoined Allan, "we'll treat it like a dose -of physic--we'll take it at once, and be done with it." He went -on reading: "'And no license to marry without banns shall be -granted, unless oath shall be first made by one of the parties -that he or she believes that there is no impediment of kindred -or alliance'--well, I can take my oath of that with a safe -conscience! What next? 'And one of the said parties must, for the -space of fifteen days immediately preceding such license, have -had his or her usual place of abode within the parish or chapelry -within which such marriage is to be solemnized!' Chapelry! I'd -live fifteen days in a dog-kennel with the greatest pleasure. -I say, Neelie, all this seems like plain sailing enough. What -are you shaking your head about? Go on, and I shall see? Oh, -all right; I'll go on. Here we are: 'And where one of the said -parties, not being a widower or widow, shall be under the age of -twenty-one years, oath must first be made that the consent of the -person or persons whose consent is required has been obtained, -or that there is no person having authority to give such consent. -The consent required by this act is that of the father--'" At -those last formidable words Allan came to a full stop. "The -consent of the father," he repeated, with all needful seriousness -of look and manner. "I couldn't exactly swear to that, could I?" - -Neelie answered in expressive silence. She handed him the -pocket-book, with the final entry completed, on the side of -"Bad," in these terms: "Our marriage is impossible, unless Allan -commits perjury." - -The lovers looked at each other, across the insuperable obstacle -of Blackstone, in speechless dismay. - -"Shut up the book," said Neelie, resignedly. "I have no doubt we -should find the police, and the prison, and the hair-cutting--all -punishments for perjury, exactly as I told you!--if we looked at -the next page. But we needn't trouble ourselves to look; we have -found out quite enough already. It's all over with us. I must go -to school on Saturday, and you must manage to forget me as soon -as you can. Perhaps we may meet in after-life, and you may be a -widower and I may be a widow, and the cruel law may consider us -emancipated, when it's too late to be of the slightest use. -By that time, no doubt, I shall be old and ugly, and you will -naturally have ceased to care about me, and it will all end in -the grave, and the sooner the better. Good-by," concluded Neelie, -rising mournfully, with the tears in her eyes. "It's only -prolonging our misery to stop here, unless--unless you have -anything to propose?" - -"I've got something to propose," cried the headlong Allan. "It's -an entirely new idea. Would you mind trying the blacksmith at -Gretna Green?" - -"No earthly consideration," answered Neelie, indignantly, "would -induce me to be married by a blacksmith!" - -"Don't be offended," pleaded Allan; "I meant it for the best. -Lots of people in our situation have tried the blacksmith, and -found him quite as good as a clergyman, and a most amiable man, -I believe, into the bargain. Never mind! We must try another -string to our bow." - -"We haven't got another to try," said Neelie. - -"Take my word for it," persisted Allan, stoutly, "there must be -ways and means of circumventing Blackstone (without perjury), if -we only knew of them. It's a matter of law, and we must consult -somebody in the profession. I dare say it's a risk. But nothing -venture, nothing have. What do you say to young Pedgift? He's a -thorough good fellow. I'm sure we could trust young Pedgift to -keep our secret." - -"Not for worlds!" exclaimed Neelie. "You may be willing to trust -your secrets to the vulgar little wretch; I won't have him -trusted with mine. I hate him. No!" she concluded, with a -mounting color and a peremptory stamp of her foot on the grass. -"I positively forbid you to take any of the Thorpe Ambrose people -into your confidence. They would instantly suspect me, and it -would be all over the place in a moment. My attachment may be an -unhappy one," remarked Neelie, with her handkerchief to her eyes, -"and papa may nip it in the bud, but I won't have it profaned by -the town gossip!" - -"Hush! hush!" said Allan. "I won't say a word at Thorpe Ambrose, -I won't indeed!" He paused, and considered for a moment. "There's -another way!" he burst out, brightening up on the instant. "We've -got the whole week before us. I'll tell you what I'll do, I'll go -to London!" - -There was a sudden rustling--heard neither by one nor the -other--among the trees behind them that screened Miss Gwilt. One -more of the difficulties in her way (the difficulty of getting -Allan to London) now promised to be removed by an act of Allan's -own will. - -"To London?" repeated Neelie, looking up in astonishment. - -"To London!" reiterated Allan. "That's far enough away from -Thorpe Ambrose, surely? Wait a minute, and don't forget that this -is a question of law. Very well, I know some lawyers in London -who managed all my business for me when I first came in for this -property; they are just the men to consult. And if they decline -to be mixed up in it, there's their head clerk, who is one of -the best fellows I ever met with in my life. I asked him to go -yachting with me, I remember; and, though he couldn't go, he said -he felt the obligation all the same. That's the man to help us. -Blackstone's a mere infant to him. Don't say it's absurd; don't -say it's exactly like _me_. Do pray hear me out. I won't breathe -your name or your father's. I'll describe you as 'a young lady -to whom I am devotedly attached.' And if my friend the clerk -asks where you live, I'll say the north of Scotland, or the west -of Ireland, or the Channel Islands, or anywhere else you like. -My friend the clerk is a total stranger to Thorpe Ambrose and -everybody in it (which is one recommendation); and in five -minutes' time he'd put me up to what to do (which is another). If -you only knew him! He's one of those extraordinary men who appear -once or twice in a century--the sort of man who won't allow you -to make a mistake if you try. All I have got to say to him -(putting it short) is, 'My dear fellow, I want to be privately -married without perjury.' All he has got to say to me (putting it -short) is, 'You must do so-and-so and so-and-so, and you must be -careful to avoid this, that, and the other.' I have nothing -in the world to do but to follow his directions; and you have -nothing in the world to do but what the bride always does -when the bridegroom is ready and willing!" His arm stole round -Neelie's waist, and his lips pointed the moral of the last -sentence with that inarticulate eloquence which is so uniformly -successful in persuading a woman against her will. - -All Neelie's meditated objections dwindled, in spite of her, to -one feeble little question. "Suppose I allow you to go, Allan?" -she whispered, toying nervously with the stud in the bosom of -his shirt. "Shall you be very long away?" - -"I'll be off to-day," said Allan, "by the eleven o'clock train. -And I'll be back to-morrow, if I and my friend the clerk can -settle it all in time. If not, by Wednesday at latest." - -"You'll write to me every day?" pleaded Neelie, clinging a little -closer to him. "I shall sink under the suspense, if you don't -promise to write to me every day." - -Allan promised to write twice a day, if she liked--letter- -writing, which was such an effort to other men, was no effort -to _him_! - -"And mind, whatever those people may say to you in London," -proceeded Neelie, "I insist on your coming back for me. I -positively decline to run away, unless you promise to fetch me." - -Allan promised for the second time, on his sacred word of honor, -and at the full compass of his voice. But Neelie was not -satisfied even yet. She reverted to first principles, and -insisted on knowing whether Allan was quite sure he loved her. -Allan called Heaven to witness how sure he was; and got another -question directly for his pains. Could he solemnly declare that -he would never regret taking Neelie away from home? Allan called -Heaven to witness again, louder than ever. All to no purpose! The -ravenous female appetite for tender protestations still hungered -for more. "I know what will happen one of these days," persisted -Neelie. "You will see some other girl who is prettier than I am; -and you will wish you had married her instead of me!" - -As Allan opened his lips for a final outburst of asseveration, -the stable clock at the great house was faintly audible in the -distance striking the hour. Neelie started guiltily. It was -breakfast-time at the cottage--in other words, time to take -leave. At the last moment her heart went back to her father; -and her head sank on Allan's bosom as she tried to say, Good-by. -"Papa has always been so kind to me, Allan," she whispered, -holding him back tremulously when he turned to leave her. "It -seems so guilty and so heartless to go away from him and be -married in secret. Oh, do, do think before you really go to -London; is there no way of making him a little kinder and juster -to _you_?" The question was useless; the major's resolutely -unfavorable reception of Allan's letter rose in Neelie's memory, -and answered her as the words passed her lips. With a girl's -impulsiveness she pushed Allan away before he could speak, and -signed to him impatiently to go. The conflict of contending -emotions, which she had mastered thus far, burst its way outward -in spite of her after he had waved his hand for the last time, -and had disappeared in the depths of the dell. When she turned -from the place, on her side, her long-restrained tears fell -freely at last, and made the lonely way back to the cottage the -dimmest prospect that Neelie had seen for many a long day past. - -As she hurried homeward, the leaves parted behind her, and Miss -Gwilt stepped softly into the open space. She stood there in -triumph, tall, beautiful, and resolute. Her lovely color -brightened while she watched Neelie's retreating figure hastening -lightly away from her over the grass. - -"Cry, you little fool!" she said, with her quiet, clear tones, -and her steady smile of contempt. "Cry as you have never cried -yet! You have seen the last of your sweetheart." - -CHAPTER XII. - -A SCANDAL AT THE STATION. - -An hour later, the landlady at Miss Gwilt's lodgings was lost in -astonishment, and the clamorous tongues of the children were in -a state of ungovernable revolt. "Unforeseen circumstances" had -suddenly obliged the tenant of the first floor to terminate the -occupation of her apartments, and to go to London that day by the -eleven o'clock train. - -"Please to have a fly at the door at half-past ten," said Miss -Gwilt, as the amazed landlady followed her upstairs. "And excuse -me, you good creature, if I beg and pray not to be disturbed till -the fly comes. "Once inside the room, she locked the door, and -then opened her writing-desk. "Now for my letter to the major!" -she said. "How shall I word it?" - -A moment's consideration apparently decided her. Searching -through her collection of pens, she carefully selected the worst -that could be found, and began the letter by writing the date -of the day on a soiled sheet of note-paper, in crooked, clumsy -characters, which ended in a blot made purposely with the feather -of the pen. Pausing, sometimes to think a little, sometimes to -make another blot, she completed the letter in these words: - - -"HON'D SIR--It is on my conscience to tell you something, which -I think you ought to know. You ought to know of the goings-on of -Miss, your daughter, with young Mister Armadale. I wish you to -make sure, and, what is more, I advise you to be quick about it, -if she is going the way you want her to go, when she takes her -morning walk before breakfast. I scorn to make mischief, where -there is true love on both sides. But I don't think the young man -means truly by Miss. What I mean is, I think Miss only has his -fancy. Another person, who shall be nameless betwixt us, has his -true heart. Please to pardon my not putting my name; I am only a -humble person, and it might get me into trouble. This is all at -present, dear sir, from yours, - -"A WELL-WISHER." - - -"There!" said Miss Gwilt, as she folded the letter up. "If I had -been a professed novelist, I could hardly have written more -naturally in the character of a servant than that!" She wrote the -necessary address to Major Milroy; looked admiringly for the last -time at the coarse and clumsy writing which her own delicate hand -had produced; and rose to post the letter herself, before she -entered next on the serious business of packing up. "Curious!" -she thought, when the letter had been posted, and she was back -again making her traveling preparations in her own room; "here -I am, running headlong into a frightful risk--and I never was in -better spirits in my life!" - -The boxes were ready when the fly was at the door, and Miss Gwilt -was equipped (as becomingly as usual) in her neat traveling -costume. The thick veil, which she was accustomed to wear in -London, appeared on her country straw bonnet for the first time." -One meets such rude men occasionally in the railway," she said -to the landlady. "And though I dress quietly, my hair is so very -remarkable." She was a little paler than usual; but she had never -been so sweet-tempered and engaging, so gracefully cordial and -friendly, as now, when the moment of departure had come. The -simple people of the house were quite moved at taking leave of -her. She insisted on shaking hands with the landlord--on speaking -to him in her prettiest way, and sunning him in her brightest -smiles. "Come!" she said to the landlady, "you have been so kind, -you have been so like a mother to me, you must give me a kiss at -parting." She embraced the children all together in a lump, with -a mixture of humor and tenderness delightful to see, and left a -shilling among them to buy a cake. "If I was only rich enough to -make it a sovereign," she whispered to the mother, "how glad I -should be!" The awkward lad who ran on errands stood waiting at -the fly door. He was clumsy, he was frowsy, he had a gaping mouth -and a turn-up nose; but the ineradicable female delight in being -charming accepted him, for all that, in the character of a last -chance. "You dear, dingy John!" she said, kindly, at the carriage -door. "I am so poor I have only sixpence to give you--with my -very best wishes. Take my advice, John--grow to be a fine man, -and find yourself a nice sweetheart! Thank you a thousand times!" -She gave him a friendly little pat on the cheek with two of her -gloved fingers, and smiled, and nodded, and got into the fly. - -"Armadale next!" she said to herself as the carriage drove off. - -Allan's anxiety not to miss the train had brought him to the -station in better time than usual. After taking his ticket and -putting his portmanteau under the porter's charge, he was pacing -the platform and thinking of Neelie, when he heard the rustling -of a lady's dress behind him, and, turning round to look, found -himself face to face with Miss Gwilt. - -There was no escaping her this time. The station wall was on his -right hand, and the line was on his left; a tunnel was behind -him, and Miss Gwilt was in front, inquiring in her sweetest tones -whether Mr. Armadale was going to London. - -Allan colored scarlet with vexation and surprise. There he was -obviously waiting for the train; and there was his portmanteau -close by, with his name on it, already labeled for London! What -answer but the true one could he make after that? Could he let -the train go without him, and lose the precious hours so vitally -important to Neelie and himself? Impossible! Allan helplessly -confirmed the printed statement on his portmanteau, and heartily -wished himself at the other end of the world as he said the -words. - -"How very fortunate!" rejoined Miss Gwilt. "I am going to London -too. Might I ask you Mr. Armadale (as you seem to be quite -alone), to be my escort on the journey?" - -Allan looked at the little assembly of travelers, and travelers' -friends, collected on the platform, near the booking-office door. -They were all Thorpe Ambrose people. He was probably known by -sight, and Miss Gwilt was probably known by sight, to every one -of them. In sheer desperation, hesitating more awkwardly than -ever, he produced his cigar case. "I should be delighted," he -said, with an embarrassment which was almost an insult under the -circumstances. "But I--I'm what the people who get sick over a -cigar call a slave to smoking." - -"I delight in smoking!" said Miss Gwilt, with undiminished -vivacity and good humor. "It's one of the privileges of the men -which I have always envied. I'm afraid, Mr. Armadale, you must -think I am forcing myself on you. It certainly looks like it. -The real truth is, I want particularly to say a word to you in -private about Mr. Midwinter." - -The train came up at the same moment. Setting Midwinter out of -the question, the common decencies of politeness left Allan no -alternative but to submit. After having been the cause of her -leaving her situation at Major Milroy's, after having pointedly -avoided her only a few days since on the high-road, to have -declined going to London in the same carriage with Miss Gwilt -would have been an act of downright brutality which it was -simply impossible to commit. "Damn her!" said Allan, internally, -as he handed his traveling companion into an empty carriage, -officiously placed at his disposal, before all the people at the -station, by the guard. "You shan't be disturbed, sir," the man -whispered, confidentially, with a smile and a touch of his hat. -Allan could have knocked him down with the utmost pleasure. -"Stop!" he said, from the window. "I don't want the carriage--" -It was useless; the guard was out of hearing; the whistle blew, -and the train started for London. - -The select assembly of travelers' friends, left behind on -the platform, congregated in a circle on the spot, with the -station-master in the center. - -The station-master--otherwise Mr. Mack--was a popular character -in the neighborhood. He possessed two social qualifications -which invariably impress the average English mind--he was an -old soldier, and he was a man of few words. The conclave on the -platform insisted on taking his opinion, before it committed -itself positively to an opinion of its own. A brisk fire of -remarks exploded, as a matter of course, on all sides; but -everybody's view of the subject ended interrogatively, in a -question aimed pointblank at the station-master's ears. - -"She's got him, hasn't she?" "She'll come back 'Mrs. Armadale,' -won't she?" "He'd better have stuck to Miss Milroy, hadn't he?" -"Miss Milroy stuck to _him_. She paid him a visit at the great -house, didn't she?" "Nothing of the sort; it's a shame to take -the girl's character away. She was caught in a thunder-storm -close by; he was obliged to give her shelter; and she's never -been near the place since. Miss Gwilt's been there, if you like, -with no thunderstorm to force _her_ in; and Miss Gwilt's off with -him to London in a carriage all to themselves, eh, Mr. Mack?" -"Ah, he's a soft one, that Armadale! with all his money, to take -up with a red-haired woman, a good eight or nine years older than -he is! She's thirty if she's a day. That's what I say, Mr. Mack. -What do you say?" "Older or younger, she'll rule the roast at -Thorpe Ambrose; and I say, for the sake of the place, and for the -sake of trade, let's make the best of it; and Mr. Mack, as a man -of the world, sees it in the same light as I do, don't you, sir?" - -"Gentlemen," said the station-master, with his abrupt military -accent, and his impenetrable military manner, "she's a devilish -fine woman. And when I was Mr. Armadale's age, it's my opinion, -if her fancy had laid that way, she might have married Me." - -With that expression of opinion the station-master wheeled to -the right, and intrenched himself impregnably in the stronghold -of his own office. - -The citizens of Thorpe Ambrose looked at the closed door, and -gravely shook their heads. Mr. Mack had disappointed them. No -opinion which openly recognizes the frailty of human nature is -ever a popular opinion with mankind. "It's as good as saying -that any of _us_ might have married her if _we_ had been Mr. -Armadale's age!" Such was the general impression on the minds -of the conclave, when the meeting had been adjourned, and the -members were leaving the station. - -The last of the party to go was a slow old gentleman, with a -habit of deliberately looking about him. Pausing at the door, -this observant person stared up the platform and down the -platform, and discovered in the latter direction, standing behind -an angle of the wall, an elderly man in black, who had escaped -the notice of everybody up to that time. "Why, bless my soul!" -said the old gentleman, advancing inquisitively by a step at a -time, "it can't be Mr. Bashwood!" - -It _was_ Mr. Bashwood--Mr. Bashwood, whose constitutional -curiosity had taken him privately to the station, bent on solving -the mystery of Allan's sudden journey to London--Mr. Bashwood, -who had seen and heard, behind his angle in the wall, what -everybody else had seen and heard, and who appeared to have been -impressed by it in no ordinary way. He stood stiffly against the -wall, like a man petrified, with one hand pressed on his bare -head, and the other holding his hat--he stood, with a dull flush -on his face, and a dull stare in his eyes, looking straight into -the black depths of the tunnel outside the station, as if the -train to London had disappeared in it but the moment before. - -"Is your head bad?" asked the old gentleman. "Take my advice. -Go home and lie down." - -Mr. Bashwood listened mechanically, with his usual attention, -and answered mechanically, with his usual politeness. - -"Yes, sir," he said, in a low, lost tone, like a man between -dreaming and waking; "I'll go home and lie down." - -"That's right," rejoined the old gentleman, making for the door. -"And take a pill, Mr. Bashwood--take a pill." - -Five minutes later, the porter charged with the business of -locking up the station found Mr. Bashwood, still standing -bare-headed against the wall, and still looking straight into -the black depths of the tunnel, as if the train to London had -disappeared in it but a moment since. - -"Come, sir!" said the porter; "I must lock up. Are you out -of sorts? Anything wrong with your inside? Try a drop of -gin-and-bitters." - -"Yes," said Mr. Bashwood, answering the porter, exactly as he had -answered the old gentleman; "I'll try a drop of gin-and-bitters." - -The porter took him by the arm, and led him out. "You'll get it -there," said the man, pointing confidentially to a public-house; -"and you'll get it good." - -"I shall get it there," echoed Mr. Bashwood, still mechanically -repeating what was said to him; "and I shall get it good." - -His will seemed to be paralyzed; his actions depended absolutely -on what other people told him to do. He took a few steps in the -direction of the public-house, hesitated, staggered, and caught -at the pillar of one of the station lamps near him. - -The porter followed, and took him by the arm once more. - -"Why, you've been drinking already!" exclaimed the man, with a -suddenly quickened interest in Mr. Bashwood's case. "What was it? -Beer?" - -Mr. Bashwood, in his low, lost tones, echoed the last word. - -It was close on the porter's dinner-time. But, when the lower -orders of the English people believe they have discovered an -intoxicated man, their sympathy with him is boundless. The -porter let his dinner take its chance, and carefully assisted -Mr. Bashwood to reach the public-house. "Gin-and-bitters will put -you on your legs again," whispered this Samaritan setter-right -of the alcoholic disasters of mankind. - -If Mr. Bashwood had really been intoxicated, the effect of the -porter's remedy would have been marvelous indeed. Almost as -soon as the glass was emptied, the stimulant did its work. The -long-weakened nervous system of the deputy-steward, prostrated -for the moment by the shock that had fallen on it, rallied again -like a weary horse under the spur. The dull flush on his cheeks, -the dull stare in his eyes, disappeared simultaneously. After a -momentary effort, he recovered memory enough of what had passed -to thank the porter, and to ask whether he would take something -himself. The worthy creature instantly accepted a dose of his own -remedy--in the capacity of a preventive--and went home to dinner -as only those men can go home who are physically warmed by -gin-and-bitters and morally elevated by the performance of -a good action. - -Still strangely abstracted (but conscious now of the way by which -he went), Mr. Bashwood left the public-house a few minutes later, -in his turn. He walked on mechanically, in his dreary black -garments, moving like a blot on the white surface of the -sun-brightened road, as Midwinter had seen him move in the early -days at Thorpe Ambrose, when they had first met. Arrived at -the point where he had to choose between the way that led into -the town and the way that led to the great house, he stopped, -incapable of deciding, and careless, apparently, even of making -the attempt. "I'll be revenged on her!" he whispered to himself, -still absorbed in his jealous frenzy of rage against the woman -who had deceived him. "I'll be revenged on her," he repeated, -in louder tones, "if I spend every half-penny I've got!" - -Some women of the disorderly sort, passing on their way to the -town, heard him. "Ah, you old brute," they called out, with the -measureless license of their class, "whatever she did, she served -you right!" - -The coarseness of the voices startled him, whether he -comprehended the words or not. He shrank away from more -interruption and more insult, into the quieter road that led -to the great house. - -At a solitary place by the wayside he stopped and sat down. -He took off his hat and lifted his youthful wig a little from -his bald old head, and tried desperately to get beyond the one -immovable conviction which lay on his mind like lead--the -conviction that Miss Gwilt had been purposely deceiving him from -the first. It was useless. No effort would free him from that one -dominant impression, and from the one answering idea that it had -evoked--the idea of revenge. He got up again, and put on his hat -and walked rapidly forward a little way--then turned without -knowing why, and slowly walked back again "If I had only dressed -a little smarter!" said the poor wretch, helplessly. "If I had -only been a little bolder with her, she might have overlooked -my being an old man!" The angry fit returned on him. He clinched -his clammy, trembling hands, and shook them fiercely in the empty -air. "I'll be revenged on her," he reiterated. "I'll be revenged -on her, if I spend every half-penny I've got!" It was terribly -suggestive of the hold she had taken on him, that his vindictive -sense of injury could not get far enough away from her to reach -the man whom he believed to be his rival, even yet. In his rage, -as in his love, he was absorbed, body and soul, by Miss Gwilt. - -In a moment more, the noise of running wheels approaching from -behind startled him. He turned and looked round. There was Mr. -Pedgift the elder, rapidly overtaking him in the gig, just as Mr. -Pedgift had overtaken him once already, on that former occasion -when he had listened under the window at the great house, and -when the lawyer had bluntly charged him with feeling a curiosity -about Miss Gwilt! - -In an instant the inevitable association of ideas burst on his -mind. The opinion of Miss Gwilt, which he had heard the lawyer -express to Allan at parting, flashed back into his memory, side -by side with Mr. Pedgift's sarcastic approval of anything in -the way of inquiry which his own curiosity might attempt. "I -may be even with her yet," he thought, "if Mr. Pedgift will help -me!--Stop, sir!" he called out, desperately, as the gig came up -with him. "If you please, sir, I want to speak to you." - -Pedgift Senior slackened the pace of his fast-trotting mare, -without pulling up. "Come to the office in half an hour," he -said; "I'm busy now." Without waiting for an answer, without -noticing Mr. Bashwood's bow, he gave the mare the rein again, -and was out of sight in another minute. - -Mr. Bashwood sat down once more in a shady place by the roadside. -He appeared to be incapable of feeling any slight but the one -unpardonable slight put upon him by Miss Gwilt. He not only -declined to resent, he even made the best of Mr. Pedgift's -unceremonious treatment of him. "Half an hour," he said, -resignedly. "Time enough to compose myself; and I want time. -Very kind of Mr. Pedgift, though he mightn't have meant it." - -The sense of oppression in his head forced him once again -to remove his hat. He sat with it on his lap, deep in thought; -his face bent low, and the wavering fingers of one hand drumming -absently on the crown of the hat. If Mr. Pedgift the elder, -seeing him as he sat now, could only have looked a little way -into the future, the monotonously drumming hand of the -deputy-steward might have been strong enough, feeble as it was, -to stop the lawyer by the roadside. It was the worn, weary, -miserable old hand of a worn, weary, miserable old man; but -it was, for all that (to use the language of Mr. Pedgift's own -parting prediction to Allan), the hand that was now destined -to "let the light in on Miss Gwilt." - -CHAPTER XIII. - -AN OLD MAN'S HEART. - -Punctual to the moment, when the half hour's interval had -expired, Mr. Bashwood was announced at the office as waiting -to see Mr. Pedgift by special appointment. - -The lawyer looked up from his papers with an air of annoyance: -he had totally forgotten the meeting by the roadside. "See what -he wants," said Pedgift Senior to Pedgift Junior, working in the -same room with him. "And if it's nothing of importance, put it -off to some other time." - -Pedgift Junior swiftly disappeared and swiftly returned. - -"Well?" asked the father. - -"Well," answered the son, "he is rather more shaky and -unintelligible than usual. I can make nothing out of him, except -that he persists in wanting to see you. My own idea," pursued -Pedgift Junior, with his usual, sardonic gravity, "is that he -is going to have a fit, and that he wishes to acknowledge your -uniform kindness to him by obliging you with a private view -of the whole proceeding." - -Pedgift Senior habitually matched everybody--his son included-- -with their own weapons. "Be good enough to remember, Augustus," -he rejoined, "that my Room is not a Court of Law. A bad joke -is not invariably followed by 'roars of laughter' _here_. Let -Mr. Bashwood come in." - -Mr. Bashwood was introduced, and Pedgift Junior withdrew. "You -mustn't bleed him, sir," whispered the incorrigible joker, as -he passed the back of his father's chair. "Hot-water bottles -to the soles of his feet, and a mustard plaster on the pit of -his stomach--that's the modern treatment." - -"Sit down, Bashwood," said Pedgift Senior when they were alone. -"And don't forget that time's money. Out with it, whatever it is, -at the quickest possible rate, and in the fewest possible words." - -These preliminary directions, bluntly but not at all unkindly -spoken, rather increased than diminished the painful agitation -under which Mr. Bashwood was suffering. He stammered more -helplessly, he trembled more continuously than usual, as he made -his little speech of thanks, and added his apologies at the end -for intruding on his patron in business hours. - -"Everybody in the place, Mr. Pedgift, sir, knows your time is -valuable. Oh, dear, yes! oh, dear, yes! most valuable, most -valuable! Excuse me, sir, I'm coming out with it. Your goodness ---or rather your business--no, your goodness gave me half an hour -to wait--and I have thought of what I had to say, and prepared -it, and put it short." Having got as far as that, he stopped -with a pained, bewildered look. He had put it away in his memory, -and now, when the time came, he was too confused to find it. -And there was Mr. Pedgift mutely waiting; his face and manner -expressive alike of that silent sense of the value of his own -time which every patient who has visited a great doctor, every -client who has consulted a lawyer in large practice, knows so -well. "Have you heard the news, sir?" stammered Mr. Bashwood, -shifting his ground in despair, and letting the uppermost idea -in his mind escape him, simply because it was the one idea in him -that was ready to come out. - -"Does it concern _me_?" asked Pedgift Senior, mercilessly brief, -and mercilessly straight in coming to the point. - -"It concerns a lady, sir--no, not a lady--a young man, I ought -to say, in whom you used to feel some interest. Oh, Mr. Pedgift, -sir, what do you think! Mr. Armadale and Miss Gwilt have gone -up to London together to-day--alone, sir--alone in a carriage -reserved for their two selves. Do you think he's going to marry -her? Do you really think, like the rest of them, he's going to -marry her?" - -He put the question with a sudden flush in his face and a sudden -energy in his manner. His sense of the value of the lawyer's -time, his conviction of the greatness of the lawyer's -condescension, his constitutional shyness and timidity--all -yielded together to his one overwhelming interest in hearing Mr. -Pedgift's answer. He was loud for the first time in his life in -putting the question. - -"After my experience of Mr. Armadale," said the lawyer, instantly -hardening in look and manner, "I believe him to be infatuated -enough to marry Miss Gwilt a dozen times over, if Miss Gwilt -chose to ask him. Your news doesn't surprise me in the least, -Bashwood. I'm sorry for him. I can honestly say that, though he -_has_ set my advice at defiance. And I'm more sorry still," he -continued, softening again as his mind reverted to his interview -with Neelie under the trees of the park--"I'm more sorry still -for another person who shall be nameless. But what have I to do -with all this? And what on earth is the matter with you?" he -resumed, noticing for the first time the abject misery in Mr. -Bashwood's manner, the blank despair in Mr. Bashwood's face, -which his answer had produced. "Are you ill? Is there something -behind the curtain that you're afraid to bring out? I don't -understand it. Have you come here--here in my private room, in -business hours--with nothing to tell me but that young Armadale -has been fool enough to ruin his prospects for life? Why, I -foresaw it all weeks since, and what is more, I as good as told -him so at the last conversation I had with him in the great -house." - -At those last words, Mr. Bashwood suddenly rallied. The lawyer's -passing reference to the great house had led him back in a moment -to the purpose that he had in view. - -"That's it, sir!" he said, eagerly; "that's what I wanted to -speak to you about; that's what I've been preparing in my mind. -Mr. Pedgift, sir, the last time you were at the great house, when -you came away in your gig, you--you overtook me on the drive." - -"I dare say I did," remarked Pedgift, resignedly. "My mare -happens to be a trifle quicker on her legs than you are on yours, -Bashwood. Go on, go on. We shall come in time, I suppose, to what -you are driving at." - -"You stopped, and spoke to me, sir," proceeded Mr. Bashwood, -advancing more and more eagerly to his end. "You said you -suspected me of feeling some curiosity about Miss Gwilt, and you -told me (I remember the exact words, sir)--you told me to gratify -my curiosity by all means, for you didn't object to it." - -Pedgift Senior began for the first time to look interested -in hearing more. - -"I remember something of the sort," he replied; "and I also -remember thinking it rather remarkable that you should -_happen_--we won't put it in any more offensive way--to be -exactly under Mr. Armadale's open window while I was talking -to him. It might have been accident, of course; but it looked -rather more like curiosity. I could only judge by appearances," -concluded Pedgift, pointing his sarcasm with a pinch of snuff; -"and appearances, Bashwood, were decidedly against you." - -"I don't deny it, sir. I only mentioned the circumstance because -I wished to acknowledge that I _was_ curious, and _am_ curious -about Miss Gwilt." - -"Why?" asked Pedgift Senior, seeing something under the surface -in Mr. Bashwood's face and manner, but utterly in the dark thus -far as to what that something might be. - -There was silence for a moment. The moment passed, Mr. Bashwood -took the refuge usually taken by nervous, unready men, placed -in his circumstances, when they are at a loss for an answer. -He simply reiterated the assertion that he had just made. -"I feel some curiosity sir," he said, with a strange mixture -of doggedness and timidity, "about Miss Gwilt." - -There was another moment of silence. In spite of his practiced -acuteness and knowledge of the world, the lawyer was more puzzled -than ever. The case of Mr. Bashwood presented the one human -riddle of all others which he was least qualified to solve. -Though year after year witnesses in thousands and thousands -of cases, the remorseless disinheriting of nearest and dearest -relations, the unnatural breaking-up of sacred family ties, the -deplorable severance of old and firm friendships, due entirely -to the intense self-absorption which the sexual passion can -produce when it enters the heart of an old man, the association -of love with infirmity and gray hairs arouses, nevertheless, -all the world over, no other idea than the idea of extravagant -improbability or extravagant absurdity in the general mind. If -the interview now taking place in Mr. Pedgift's consulting-room -had taken place at his dinner-table instead, when wine had opened -his mind to humorous influences, it is possible that he might, by -this time, have suspected the truth. But, in his business hours, -Pedgift Senior was in the habit of investigating men's motives -seriously from the business point of view; and he was on that -very account simply incapable of conceiving any improbability -so startling, any absurdity so enormous, as the absurdity and -improbability of Mr. Bashwood's being in love. - -Some men in the lawyer's position would have tried to force their -way to enlightenment by obstinately repeating the unanswered -question. Pedgift Senior wisely postponed the question until he -had moved the conversation on another step. "Well," he resumed, -"let us say you feel a curiosity about Miss Gwilt. What next?" - -The palms of Mr. Bashwood's hands began to moisten under the -influence of his agitation, as they had moistened in the past -days when he had told the story of his domestic sorrows -to Midwinter at the great house. Once more he rolled his -handkerchief into a ball, and dabbed it softly to and fro -from one hand to the other. - -"May I ask if I am right, sir," he began, "in believing that you -have a very unfavorable opinion of Miss Gwilt? You are quite -convinced, I think--" - -"My good fellow," interrupted Pedgift Senior, "why need you be -in any doubt about it? You were under Mr. Armadale's open window -all the while I was talking to him; and your ears, I presume, -were not absolutely shut." - -Mr. Bashwood showed no sense of the interruption. The little -sting of the lawyer's sarcasm was lost in the nobler pain that -wrung him from the wound inflicted by Miss Gwilt. - -"You are quite convinced, I think, sir," he resumed, "that there -are circumstances in this lady's past life which would be highly -discreditable to her if they were discovered at the present -time?" - -"The window was open at the great house, Bashwood; and your ears, -I presume, were not absolutely shut." - -Still impenetrable to the sting, Mr. Bashwood persisted more -obstinately than ever. - -"Unless I am greatly mistaken," he said, "your long experience -in such things has even suggested to you, sir, that Miss Gwilt -might turn out to be known to the police?" - -Pedgift Senior's patience gave way. "You have been over ten -minutes in this room," he broke out. "Can you, or can you not, -tell me in plain English what you want?" - -In plain English--with the passion that had transformed him, the -passion which (in Miss Gwilt's own words) had made a man of him, -burning in his haggard cheeks--Mr. Bashwood met the challenge, -and faced the lawyer (as, the worried sheep faces the dog) on -his own ground. - -"I wish to say, sir," he answered, "that your opinion in this -matter is my opinion too. I believe there is something wrong in -Miss Gwilt's past life which she keeps concealed from everybody, -and I want to be the man who knows it." - -Pedgift Senior saw his chance, and instantly reverted to the -question that he had postponed. "Why?" he asked for the second -time. - -For the second time Mr. Bashwood hesitated. - -Could he acknowledge that he had been mad enough to love her, and -mean enough to be a spy for her? Could he say, She has deceived -me from the first, and she has deserted me, now her object is -served. After robbing me of my happiness, robbing me of my honor, -robbing me of my last hope left in life, she has gone from me -forever, and left me nothing but my old man's longing, slow and -sly, and strong and changeless, for revenge. Revenge that I may -have, if I can poison her success by dragging her frailties into -the public view. Revenge that I will buy (for what is gold or -what is life to me?) with the last farthing of my hoarded money -and the last drop of my stagnant blood. Could he say that to the -man who sat waiting for his answer? No; he could only crush it -down and be silent. - -The lawyer's expression began to harden once more. - -"One of us must speak out," he said; "and as you evidently -won't, I will. I can only account for this extraordinary anxiety -of yours to make yourself acquainted with Miss Gwilt's secrets, -in one of two ways. Your motive is either an excessively mean -one (no offense, Bashwood, I am only putting the case), or an -excessively generous one. After my experience of your honest -character and your creditable conduct, it is only your due that I -should absolve you at once of the mean motive. I believe you are -as incapable as I am--I can say no more--of turning to mercenary -account any discoveries you might make to Miss Gwilt's prejudice -in Miss Gwilt's past life. Shall I go on any further? or would -you prefer, on second thoughts, opening your mind frankly to me -of your own accord?" - -"I should prefer not interrupting you, sir," said Mr. Bashwood. - -"As you please," pursued Pedgift Senior. "Having absolved you -of the mean motive, I come to the generous motive next. It is -possible that you are an unusually grateful man; and it is -certain that Mr. Armadale has been remarkably kind to you. -After employing you under Mr. Midwinter, in the steward's office, -he has had confidence enough in your honesty and your capacity, -now his friend has left him, to put his business entirely and -unreservedly in your hands. It's not in my experience of human -nature--but it may be possible, nevertheless---that you are -so gratefully sensible of that confidence, and so gratefully -interested in your employer's welfare, that you can't see him, -in his friendless position, going straight to his own disgrace -and ruin, without making an effort to save him. To put it in two -words. Is it your idea that Mr. Armadale might be prevented from -marrying Miss Gwilt, if he could be informed in time of her real -character? And do you wish to be the man who opens his eyes to -the truth? If that is the case--" - -He stopped in astonishment. Acting under some uncontrollable -impulse, Mr. Bashwood had started to his feet. He stood, with -his withered face lit up by a sudden irradiation from within, -which made him look younger than his age by a good twenty -years--he stood, gasping for breath enough to speak, and -gesticulated entreatingly at the lawyer with both hands. - -"Say it again, sir!" he burst out, eagerly, recovering his breath -before Pedgift Senior had recovered his surprise. "The question -about Mr. Armadale, sir!--only once more!--only once more, Mr. -Pedgift, please!" - -With his practiced observation closely and distrustfully at work -on Mr. Bashwood' s face, Pedgift Senior motioned to him to sit -down again, and put the question for the second time. - -"Do I think," said Mr. Bashwood, repeating the sense, but not -the words of the question, "that Mr. Armadale might be parted -from Miss Gwilt, if she could be shown to him as she really is? -Yes, sir! And do I wish to be the man who does it? Yes, sir! -yes, sir!! yes, sir!!!" - -"It's rather strange," remarked the lawyer, looking at him -more and more distrustfully, "that you should be so violently -agitated, simply because my question happens to have hit the -mark." - -The question happened to have hit a mark which Pedgift little -dreamed of. It had released Mr. Bashwood's mind in an instant -from the dead pressure of his one dominant idea of revenge, and -had shown him a purpose to be achieved by the discovery of Miss -Gwilt's secrets which had never occurred to him till that moment. -The marriage which he had blindly regarded as inevitable was -a marriage that might be stopped--not in Allan's interests, but -in his own--and the woman whom he believed that he had lost might -yet, in spite of circumstances, be a woman won! His brain whirled -as he thought of it. His own roused resolution almost daunted -him, by its terrible incongruity with all the familiar habits -of his mind, and all the customary proceedings of his life. - -Finding his last remark unanswered, Pedgift Senior considered -a little before he said anything more. - -"One thing is clear," reasoned the lawyer with himself. "His true -motive in this matter is a motive which he is afraid to avow. -My question evidently offered him a chance of misleading me, and -he has accepted it on the spot. That's enough for _me_. If I was -Mr. Armadale's lawyer, the mystery might be worth investigating. -As things are, it's no interest of mine to hunt Mr. Bashwood -from one lie to another till I run him to earth at last. I have -nothing whatever to do with it; and I shall leave him free -to follow his own roundabout courses, in his own roundabout way." -Having arrived at that conclusion, Pedgift Senior pushed back -his chair, and rose briskly to terminate the interview. - -"Don't be alarmed, Bashwood," he began. "The subject of our -conversation is a subject exhausted, so far as I am concerned. -I have only a few last words to say, and it's a habit of mine, -as you know, to say my last words on my legs. Whatever else I may -be in the dark about, I have made one discovery, at any rate. -I have found out what you really want with me--at last! You want -me to help you." - -"If you would be so very, very kind, sir!" stammered Mr. -Bashwood. "If you would only give me the great advantage of -your opinion and advice." - -"Wait a bit, Bashwood We will separate those two things, if you -please. A lawyer may offer an opinion like any other man; but -when a lawyer gives his advice--by the Lord Harry, sir, it's -Professional! You're welcome to my opinion in this matter; I have -disguised it from nobody. I believe there have been events in -Miss Gwilt's career which (if they could be discovered) would -even make Mr. Armadale, infatuated as he is, afraid to marry -her--supposing, of course, that he really _is_ going to marry -her; for, though the appearances are in favor of it so far, -it is only an assumption, after all. As to the mode of proceeding -by which the blots on this woman's character might or might not -be brought to light in time--she may be married by license in -a fortnight if she likes--_that_ is a branch of the question on -which I positively decline to enter. It implies speaking in my -character as a lawyer, and giving you, what I decline positively -to give you, my professional advice." - -"Oh, sir, don't say that!" pleaded Mr. Bashwood. "Don't deny -me the great favor, the inestimable advantage of your advice! -I have such a poor head, Mr. Pedgift! I am so old and so slow, -sir, and I get so sadly startled and worried when I'm thrown out -of my ordinary ways. It's quite natural you should be a little -impatient with me for taking up your time--I know that time is -money, to a clever man like you. Would you excuse me--would you -please excuse me, if I venture to say that I have saved a little -something, a few pounds, sir; and being quite lonely, with nobody -dependent on me, I'm sure I may spend my savings as I please?" -Blind to every consideration but the one consideration of -propitiating Mr. Pedgift, he took out a dingy, ragged old -pocket-book, and tried, with trembling fingers, to open it on -the lawyer's table. - -"Put your pocket-book back directly," said Pedgift Senior. -"Richer men than you have tried that argument with me, and have -found that there is such a thing (off the stage) as a lawyer -who is not to be bribed. I will have nothing to do with the case, -under existing circumstances. If you want to know why, I beg -to inform you that Miss Gwilt ceased to be professionally -interesting to me on the day when I ceased to be Mr. Armadale's -lawyer. I may have other reasons besides, which I don't think -it necessary to mention. The reason already given is explicit -enough. Go your own way, and take your responsibility on your own -shoulders. You _may_ venture within reach of Miss Gwilt's claws -and come out again without being scratched. Time will show. In -the meanwhile, I wish you good-morning--and I own, to my shame, -that I never knew till today what a hero you were." - -This time, Mr. Bashwood felt the sting. Without another word -of expostulation or entreaty, without even saying "Good-morning" -on his side, he walked to the door, opened it, softly, and left -the room. - -The parting look in his face, and the sudden silence that had -fallen on him, were not lost on Pedgift Senior. "Bashwood will -end badly," said the lawyer, shuffling his papers, and returning -impenetrably to his interrupted work. - -The change in Mr. Bashwood's face and manner to something dogged -and self-contained was so startlingly uncharacteristic of him, -that it even forced itself on the notice of Pedgift Junior and -the clerks as he passed through the outer office. Accustomed to -make the old man their butt, they took a boisterously comic view -of the marked alteration in him. Deaf to the merciless raillery -with which he was assailed on all sides, he stopped opposite -young Pedgift, and, looking him attentively in the face, said, -in a quiet, absent manner, like a man thinking aloud, "I wonder -whether _you_ would help me?" - -"Open an account instantly," said Pedgift Junior to the clerks, -"in the name of Mr. Bashwood. Place a chair for Mr. Bashwood, -with a footstool close by, in case he wants it. Supply me with -a quire of extra double-wove satin paper, and a gross of picked -quills, to take notes of Mr. Bashwood's case; and inform my -father instantly that I am going to leave him and set up in -business for myself, on the strength of Mr. Bashwood's patronage. -Take a seat, sir, pray take a seat, and express your feelings -freely." - -Still impenetrably deaf to the raillery of which he was the -object, Mr. Bashwood waited until Pedgift Junior had exhausted -himself, and then turned quietly away. - -"I ought to have known better," he said, in the same absent -manner as before. "He is his father's son all over--he would -make game of me on my death-bed." He paused a moment at the door, -mechanically brushing his hat with his hand, and went out into -the street. - -The bright sunshine dazzled his eyes, the passing vehicles and -foot-passengers startled and bewildered him. He shrank into a -by-street, and put his hand over his eyes. "I'd better go home," -he thought, "and shut myself up, and think about it in my own -room." - -His lodging was in a small house, in the poor quarter of the -town. He let himself in with his key, and stole softly upstairs. -The one little room he possessed met him cruelly, look round it -where he might, with silent memorials of Miss Gwilt. On the -chimney-piece were the flowers she had given him at various -times, all withered long since, and all preserved on a little -china pedestal, protected by a glass shade. On the wall hung -a wretched colored print of a woman, which he had caused to be -nicely framed and glazed, because there was a look in it that -reminded him of her face. In his clumsy old mahogany writing-desk -were the few letters, brief and peremptory, which she had written -to him at the time when he was watching and listening meanly at -Thorpe Ambrose to please _her_. And when, turning his back on -these, he sat down wearily on his sofa-bedstead--there, hanging -over one end of it, was the gaudy cravat of blue satin, which he -had bought because she had told him she liked bright colors, and -which he had never yet had the courage to wear, though he had -taken it out morning after morning with the resolution to put it -on! Habitually quiet in his actions, habitually restrained in his -language, he now seized the cravat as if it was a living thing -that could feel, and flung it to the other end of the room with -an oath. - -The time passed; and still, though his resolution to stand -between Miss Gwilt and her marriage remained unbroken, he was -as far as ever from discovering the means which might lead him -to his end. The more he thought and thought of it, the darker -and the darker his course in the future looked to him. - -He rose again, as wearily as he had sat down, and went to his -cupboard. "I'm feverish and thirsty," he said; "a cup of tea -may help me." He opened his canister, and measured out his small -allowance of tea, less carefully than usual. "Even my own hands -won't serve me to-day!" he thought, as he scraped together the -few grains of tea that he had spilled, and put them carefully -back in the canister. - -In that fine summer weather, the one fire in the house was the -kitchen fire. He went downstairs for the boiling water, with his -teapot in his hand. - -Nobody but the landlady was in the kitchen. She was one of the -many English matrons whose path through this world is a path of -thorns; and who take a dismal pleasure, whenever the opportunity -is afforded them, in inspecting the scratched and bleeding feet -of other people in a like condition with themselves. Her one vice -was of the lighter sort--the vice of curiosity; and among the -many counterbalancing virtues she possessed was the virtue of -greatly respecting Mr. Bashwood, as a lodger whose rent was -regularly paid, and whose ways were always quiet and civil from -one year's end to another. - -"What did you please to want, sir?" asked the landlady. "Boiling -water, is it? Did you ever know the water boil, Mr. Bashwood, -when you wanted it? Did you ever see a sulkier fire than that? -I'll put a stick or two in, if you'll wait a little, and give me -the chance. Dear, dear me, you'll excuse my mentioning it, sir, -but how poorly you do look to-day!" - -The strain on Mr. Bashwood's mind was beginning to tell. -Something of the helplessness which he had shown at the station -appeared again in his face and manner as he put his teapot on -the kitchen table and sat down. - -"I'm in trouble, ma'am," he said, quietly; "and I find trouble -gets harder to bear than it used to be." - -"Ah, you may well say that!" groaned the landlady. "_I'm_ ready -for the undertaker, Mr. Bashwood, when _my_ time comes, whatever -you may be. You're too lonely, sir. When you're in trouble, it's -some help--though not much--to shift a share of it off on another -person's shoulders. If your good lady had only been alive now, -sir, what a comfort you would have found her, wouldn't you?" - -A momentary spasm of pain passed across Mr. Bashwood's face. -The landlady had ignorantly recalled him to the misfortunes -of his married life. He had been long since forced to quiet her -curiosity about his family affairs by telling her that he was -a widower, and that his domestic circumstances had not been happy -ones; but he had taken her no further into his confidence than -this. The sad story which he had related to Midwinter, of his -drunken wife who had ended her miserable life in a lunatic -asylum, was a story which he had shrunk from confiding to the -talkative woman, who would have confided it in her turn to every -one else in the house. - -"What I always say to my husband when he's low, sir," pursued the -landlady, intent on the kettle, "is, 'What would you do _now_, -Sam, without me?' When his temper don't get the better of him -(it will boil directly, Mr. Bashwood), he says, 'Elizabeth, -I could do nothing.' When his temper does get the better of him, -he says, 'I should try the public-house, missus; and I'll try it -now.' Ah, I've got _my_ troubles! A man with grown-up sons and -daughters tippling in a public-house! I don't call to mind, Mr. -Bashwood, whether _you_ ever had any sons and daughters? And -yet, now I think of it, I seem to fancy you said yes, you had. -Daughters, sir, weren't they? and, ah, dear! dear! to be sure! -all dead." - -"I had one daughter, ma'am," said Mr. Bashwood, patiently--"only -one, who died before she was a year old." - -"Only one!" repeated the sympathizing landlady. "It's as near -boiling as it ever will be, sir; give me the tea-pot. Only one! -Ah, it comes heavier (don't it?) when it's an only child? You -said it was an only child, I think, didn't you, sir?" - -For a moment, Mr. Bashwood looked at the woman with vacant eyes, -and without attempting to answer her. After ignorantly recalling -the memory of the wife who had disgraced him, she was now, as -ignorantly, forcing him back on the miserable remembrance of the -son who had ruined and deserted him. For the first time, since he -had told his story to Midwinter, at their introductory interview -in the great house, his mind reverted once more to the bitter -disappointment and disaster of the past. Again he thought of the -bygone days, when he had become security for his son, and when -that son's dishonesty had forced him to sell everything he -possessed to pay the forfeit that was exacted when the forfeit -was due. "I have a son, ma'am," he said, becoming conscious that -the landlady was looking at him in mute and melancholy surprise. -"I did my best to help him forward in the world, and he has -behaved very badly to me." - -"Did he, now?" rejoined the landlady, with an appearance of -the greatest interest. "Behaved badly to you--almost broke your -heart, didn't he? Ah, it will come home to him, sooner or later. -Don't you fear! 'Honor your father and mother,' wasn't put on -Moses's tables of stone for nothing, Mr. Bashwood. Where may -he be, and what is he doing now, sir?" - -The question was in effect almost the same as the question which -Midwinter had put when the circumstances had been described to -him. As Mr. Bashwood had answered it on the former occasion, -so (in nearly the same words) he answered it now. - -"My son is in London, ma'am, for all I know to the contrary. -He was employed, when I last heard of him, in no very creditable -way, at the Private Inquiry Office--" - -At those words he suddenly checked himself. His face flushed, -his eyes brightened; he pushed away the cup which had just been -filled for him, and rose from his seat. The landlady started back -a step. There was something in her lodger's face that she had -never seen in it before. - -"I hope I've not offended you, sir," said the woman, recovering -her self-possession, and looking a little too ready to take -offense on her side, at a moment's notice. - -"Far from it, ma'am, far from it!" he rejoined, in a strangely -eager, hurried way. "I have just remembered something--something -very important. I must go upstairs--it's a letter, a letter, a -letter. I'll come back to my tea, ma'am. I beg your pardon, I'm -much obliged to you, you've been very kind--I'll say good-by, if -you'll allow me, for the present." To the landlady's amazement, -he cordially shook hands with her, and made for the door, leaving -tea and tea-pot to take care of themselves. - -The moment he reached his own room, he locked himself in. For -a little while he stood holding by the chimney-piece, waiting -to recover his breath. The moment he could move again, he opened -his writing-desk on the table. "That for you, Mr. Pedgift and -Son!" he said, with a snap of his fingers as he sat down. "I've -got a son too!" - -There was a knock at the door--a knock, soft, considerate, and -confidential. The anxious landlady wished to know whether Mr. -Bashwood was ill, and begged to intimate for the second time -that she earnestly trusted she had given him no offense. - -"No! no!" he called through the door. "I'm quite well--I'm -writing, ma'am, I'm writing--please to excuse me. She's a good -woman; she's an excellent woman," he thought, when the landlady -had retired. "I'll make her a little present. My mind's so -unsettled, I might never have thought of it but for her. Oh, if -my boy is at the office still! Oh, if I can only write a letter -that will make him pity me!" - -He took up his pen, and sat thinking anxiously, thinking long, -before he touched the paper. Slowly, with many patient pauses to -think and think again, and with more than ordinary care to make -his writing legible, he traced these lines: - - -"MY DEAR JAMES--You will be surprised, I am afraid, to see my -handwriting. Pray don't suppose I am going to ask you for money, -or to reproach you for having sold me out of house and home when -you forfeited your security, and I had to pay. I am willing and -anxious to let by-gones be by-gones, and to forget the past. - -"It is in your power (if you are still at the Private Inquiry -Office) to do me a great service. I am in sore anxiety and -trouble on the subject of a person in whom I am interested. The -person is a lady. Please don't make game of me for confessing -this, if you can help it. If you knew what I am now suffering, -I think you would be more inclined to pity than to make game -of me. - -"I would enter into particulars, only I know your quick temper, -and I fear exhausting your patience. Perhaps it may be enough -to say that I have reason to believe the lady's past life has -not been a very creditable one, and that I am interested--more -interested than words can tell--in finding out what her life has -really been, and in making the discovery within a fortnight from -the present time. - -"Though I know very little about the ways of business in an -office like yours, I can understand that, without first having -the lady's present address, nothing can be done to help me. -Unfortunately, I am not yet acquainted with her present address. -I only know that she went to town to-day, accompanied by a -gentleman, in whose employment I now am, and who (as I believe) -will be likely to write to me for money before many days more -are over his head. - -"Is this circumstance of a nature to help us? I venture to say -'us,' because I count already, my dear boy, on your kind -assistance and advice. Don't let money stand between us; I have -saved a little something, and it is all freely at your disposal. -Pray, pray write to me by return of post! If you will only try -your best to end the dreadful suspense under which I am now -suffering, you will atone for all the grief and disappointment -you caused me in times that are past, and you will confer an -obligation that he will never forget on - -"Your affectionate father, - -"FELIX BASHWOOD." - - -After waiting a little, to dry his eyes, Mr. Bashwood added the -date and address, and directed the letter to his son, at "The -Private Inquiry Office, Shadyside Place, London." That done, he -went out at once, and posted his letter with his own hands. It -was then Monday; and, if the answer was sent by return of post, -the answer would be received on Wednesday morning. - -The interval day, the Tuesday, was passed by Mr. Bashwood in -the steward's office at the great house. He had a double motive -for absorbing himself as deeply as might be in the various -occupations connected with the management of the estate. In -the first place, employment helped him to control the devouring -impatience with which he looked for the coming of the next day. -In the second place, the more forward he was with the business of -the office, the more free he would be to join his son in London, -without attracting suspicion to himself by openly neglecting the -interests placed under his charge. - -Toward the Tuesday afternoon, vague rumors of something wrong -at the cottage found their way (through Major Milroy's servants) -to the servants at the great house, and attempted ineffectually -through this latter channel to engage the attention of Mr. -Bashwood, impenetrably fixed on other things. The major and Miss -Neelie had been shut up together in mysterious conference; and -Miss Neelie's appearance after the close of the interview plainly -showed that she had been crying. This had happened on the Monday -afternoon; and on the next day (that present Tuesday) the major -had startled the household by announcing briefly that his -daughter wanted a change to the air of the seaside, and that -he proposed taking her himself, by the next train, to Lowestoft. -The two had gone away together, both very serious and silent, -but both, apparently, very good friends, for all that. Opinions -at the great house attributed this domestic revolution to the -reports current on the subject of Allan and Miss Gwilt. Opinions -at the cottage rejected that solution of the difficulty, on -practical grounds. Miss Neelie had remained inaccessibly shut up -in her own room, from the Monday afternoon to the Tuesday morning -when her father took her away. The major, during the same -interval, had not been outside the door, and had spoken to nobody -And Mrs. Milroy, at the first attempt of her new attendant to -inform her of the prevailing scandal in the town, had sealed -the servant's lips by flying into one of her terrible passions -the instant Miss Gwilt's name was mentioned. Something must have -happened, of course, to take Major Milroy and his daughter so -suddenly from home; but that something was certainly not Mr. -Armadale's scandalous elopement, in broad daylight, with Miss -Gwilt. - -The afternoon passed, and the evening passed, and no other event -happened but the purely private and personal event which had -taken place at the cottage. Nothing occurred (for nothing in the -nature of things _could_ occur) to dissipate the delusion on -which Miss Gwilt had counted--the delusion which all Thorpe -Ambrose now shared with Mr. Bashwood, that she had gone privately -to London with Allan in the character of Allan's future wife. - -On the Wednesday morning, the postman, entering the street -in which Mr. Bashwood lived, was encountered by Mr. Bashwood -himself, so eager to know if there was a letter for him that he -had come out without his hat. There _was_ a letter for him--the -letter that he longed for from his vagabond son. - -These were the terms in which Bashwood the younger answered his -father's supplication for help--after having previously ruined -his father's prospects for life: - - -"Shadyside Place. Tuesday, July 29th. - -"MY DEAR DAD--We have some little practice in dealing with -mysteries at this office; but the mystery of your letter beats -me altogether. Are you speculating on the interesting hidden -frailties of some charming woman? Or, after _your_ experience of -matrimony, are you actually going to give me a stepmother at this -time of day? Whichever it is, upon my life your letter interests -me. - -"I am not joking, mind--though the temptation is not an easy one -to resist. On the contrary, I have given you a quarter of an hour -of my valuable time already. The place you date from sounded -somehow familiar to me. I referred back to the memorandum book, -and found that I was sent down to Thorpe Ambrose to make private -inquiries not very long since. My employer was a lively old lady, -who was too sly to give us her right name and address. As a -matter of course, we set to work at once, and found out who she -was. Her name is Mrs. Oldershaw; and, if you think of _her_ for -my stepmother, I strongly recommend you to think again before -you make her Mrs. Bashwood. - -"If it is not Mrs. Oldershaw, then all I can do, so far, is to -tell you how you may find out the unknown lady's address. Come -to town yourself as soon as you get the letter you expect from -the gentleman who has gone away with her (I hope he is not -a handsome young man, for your sake) and call here. I will send -somebody to help you in watching his hotel or lodgings; and if -he communicates with the lady, or the lady with him, you may -consider her address discovered from that moment. Once let me -identify her, and know where she is, and you shall see all her -charming little secrets as plainly as you see the paper on which -your affectionate son is now writing to you. - -"A word more about the terms. I am as willing as you are to be -friends again; but, though I own you were out of pocket by me -once, I can't afford to be out of pocket by you. It must be -understood that you are answerable for all the expenses of -the inquiry. We may have to employ some of the women attached -to this office, if your lady is too wideawake or too nice-looking -to be dealt with by a man. There will be cab hire, and -postage-stamps--admissions to public amusements, if she is -inclined that way--shillings for pew-openers, if she is serious, -and takes our people into churches to hear popular preachers, and -so on. My own professional services you shall have gratis; but I -can't lose by you as well. Only remember that, and you shall have -your way. By-gones shall be by-gones, and we will forget the -past. - -"Your affectionate son, - -"JAMES BASHWOOD." - - -In the ecstasy of seeing help placed at last within his reach, -the father put his son's atrocious letter to his lips. "My good -boy!" he murmured, tenderly--"my dear, good boy!" - -He put the letter down, and fell into a new train of thought. -The next question to face was the serious question of time. Mr. -Pedgift had told him Miss Gwilt might be married in a fortnight. -One day of the fourteen had passed already, and another was -passing. He beat his hand impatiently on the table at his side, -wondering how soon the want of money would force Allan to write -to him from London. "To-morrow?" he asked himself. "Or next day?" - -The morrow passed, and nothing happened. The next day came, and -the letter arrived! It was on business, as he had anticipated; -it asked for money, as he had anticipated; and there, at the end -of it, in a postscript, was the address added, concluding with -the words, "You may count on my staying here till further -notice." - -He gave one deep gasp of relief, and instantly busied himself ---though there were nearly two hours to spare before the train -started for London--in packing his bag. The last thing he put in -was his blue satin cravat. "She likes bright colors," he said, -"and she may see me in it yet!" - -CHAPTER XIV. - -MISS GWILT'S DIARY. - -"All Saints' Terrace, New Road, London, July 28th, Monday -night.--I can hardly hold my head up, I am so tired. But in my -situation, I dare not trust anything to memory. Before I go to -bed, I must write my customary record of the events of the day. - -"So far, the turn of luck in my favor (it was long enough before -it took the turn!) seems likely to continue. I succeeded in -forcing Armadale--the brute required nothing short of forcing!-- -to leave Thorpe Ambrose for London, alone in the same carriage -with me, before all the people in the station. There was a full -attendance of dealers in small scandal, all staring hard at us, -and all evidently drawing their own conclusions. Either I knew -nothing of Thorpe Ambrose--or the town gossip is busy enough -by this time with Mr. Armadale and Miss Gwilt. - -"I had some difficulty with him for the first half-hour after we -left the station. The guard (delightful man! I felt so grateful -to him!) had shut us up together, in expectation of half a crown -at the end of the journey. Armadale was suspicious of me, and he -showed it plainly. Little by little I tamed my wild beast--partly -by taking care to display no curiosity about his journey to town, -and partly by interesting him on the subject of his friend -Midwinter; dwelling especially on the opportunity that now -offered itself for a reconciliation between them. I kept harping -on this string till I set his tongue going, and made him amuse me -as a gentleman is bound to do when he has the honor of escorting -a lady on a long railway journey. - -"What little mind he has was full, of course, of his own affairs -and Miss Milroy's. No words can express the clumsiness he showed -in trying to talk about himself, without taking me into his -confidence or mentioning Miss Milroy's name. - -"He was going to London, he gravely informed me, on a matter of -indescribable interest to him. It was a secret for the present, -but he hoped to tell it me soon; it had made a great difference -already in the way in which he looked at the slanders spoken -of him in Thorpe Ambrose; he was too happy to care what the -scandal-mongers said of him now, and he should soon stop their -mouths by appearing in a new character that would surprise them -all. So he blundered on, with the firm persuasion that he was -keeping me quite in the dark. It was hard not to laugh, when -I thought of my anonymous letter on its way to the major; but -I managed to control myself--though, I must own, with some -difficulty. As the time wore on, I began to feel a terrible -excitement; the position was, I think, a little too much for me. -There I was, alone with him, talking in the most innocent, easy, -familiar manner, and having it in my mind all the time to brush -his life out of my way, when the moment comes, as I might brush -a stain off my gown. It made my blood leap, and my cheeks flush. -I caught myself laughing once or twice much louder than I ought; -and long before we got to London I thought it desirable to put -my face in hiding by pulling down my veil. - -"There was no difficulty, on reaching the terminus, in getting -him to come in the cab with me to the hotel where Midwinter -is staying. He was all eagerness to be reconciled with his dear -friend--principally, I have no doubt, because he wants the dear -friend to lend a helping hand to the elopement. The real -difficulty lay, of course, with Midwinter. My sudden journey -to London had allowed me no opportunity of writing to combat his -superstitious conviction that he and his former friend are better -apart. I thought it wise to leave Armadale in the cab at the -door, and to go into the hotel by myself to pave the way for him. - -"Fortunately, Midwinter had not gone out. His delight at seeing -me some days sooner than he had hoped had something infectious in -it, I suppose. Pooh! I may own the truth to my own diary! There -was a moment when _I_ forgot everything in the world but our two -selves as completely as he did. I felt as if I was back in my -teens--until I remembered the lout in the cab at the door. And -then I was five-and-thirty again in an instant. - -"His face altered when he heard who was below, and what it was -I wanted of him; he looked not angry, but distressed. He yielded, -however, before long, not to my reasons, for I gave him none, but -to my entreaties. His old fondness for his friend might possibly -have had some share in persuading him against his will; but my -own opinion is that he acted entirely under the influence of his -fondness for Me. - -"I waited in the sitting-room while he went down to the door; so -I knew nothing of what passed between them when they first saw -each other again. But oh, the difference between the two men when -the interval had passed, and they came upstairs together and -joined me. - -"They were both agitated, but in such different ways! The hateful -Armadale, so loud and red and clumsy; the dear, lovable -Midwinter, so pale and quiet, with such a gentleness in his voice -when he spoke, and such tenderness in his eyes every time they -turned my way. Armadale overlooked me as completely as if I had -not been in the room. _He_ referred to me over and over again -in the conversation; _he_ constantly looked at me to see what -I thought, while I sat in my corner silently watching them; _he_ -wanted to go with me and see me safe to my lodgings, and spare me -all trouble with the cabman and the luggage. When I thanked him -and declined, Armadale looked unaffectedly relieved at the -prospect of seeing my back turned, and of having his friend all -to himself. I left him, with his awkward elbows half over the -table, scrawling a letter (no doubt to Miss Milroy), and shouting -to the waiter that he wanted a bed at the hotel. I had calculated -on his staying, as a matter of course, where he found his friend -staying. It was pleasant to find my anticipations realized, and -to know that I have as good as got him now under my own eye. - -"After promising to let Midwinter know where he could see me -to-morrow, I went away in the cab to hunt for lodgings by myself. - -"With some difficulty I have succeeded in getting an endurable -sitting-room and bedroom in this house, where the people are -perfect strangers to me. Having paid a week's rent in advance -(for I naturally preferred dispensing with a reference), I find -myself with exactly three shillings and ninepence left in my -purse. It is impossible to ask Midwinter for money, after he -has already paid Mrs. Oldershaw's note of hand. I must borrow -something to-morrow on my watch and chain at the pawnbroker's. -Enough to keep me going for a fortnight is all, and more than -all, that I want. In that time, or in less than that time, -Midwinter will have married me. - - -"July 29th.--Two o'clock.--Early in the morning I sent a line -to Midwinter, telling him that he would find me here at three -this afternoon. That done, I devoted the morning to two errands -of my own. One is hardly worth mentioning--it was only to raise -money on my watch and chain. I got more than I expected; and more -(even supposing I buy myself one or two little things in the way -of cheap summer dress) than I am at all likely to spend before -the wedding-day. - -"The other errand was of a far more serious kind. It led me -into an attorney's office. - -"I was well aware last night (though I was too weary to put it -down in my diary), that I could not possibly see Midwinter this -morning--in the position he now occupies toward me--without at -least _appearing_ to take him into my confidence on the subject -of myself and my circumstances. Excepting one necessary -consideration which I must be careful not to overlook. there -is not the least difficulty in my drawing on my invention, and -telling him any story I please--for thus far I have told no story -to anybody. Midwinter went away to London before it was possible -to approach the subject. As to the Milroys (having provided them -with the customary reference), I could fortunately keep them -at arms-length on all questions relating purely to myself. And -lastly, when I affected my reconciliation with Armadale on -the drive in front of the house, he was fool enough to be too -generous to let me defend my character. When I had expressed my -regret for having lost my temper and threatened Miss Milroy, and -when I had accepted his assurance that my pupil had never done or -meant to do me any injury, he was too magnanimous to hear a word -on the subject of my private affairs. Thus I am quite unfettered -by any former assertions of my own; and I may tell any story I -please--with the one drawback hinted at already in the shape of -a restraint. Whatever I may invent in the way of pure fiction, -I must preserve the character in which I have appeared at Thorpe -Ambrose; for, with the notoriety that is attached to _my other -name_, I have no other choice but to marry Midwinter in my maiden -name as 'Miss Gwilt.' - -"This was the consideration that took me into the lawyer's -office. I felt that I must inform myself, before I saw Midwinter -later in the day, of any awkward consequences that may follow -the marriage of a widow if she conceals her widow's name. - -"Knowing of no other professional person whom I could trust, -I went boldly to the lawyer who had my interests in his charge, -at that terrible past time in my life, which I have more reason -than ever to shrink from thinking of now. He was astonished, -and, as I could plainly detect, by no means pleased to see me. -I had hardly opened my lips before he said he hoped I was not -consulting him _again_ (with a strong emphasis on the word) on -my own account. I took the hint, and put the question I had come -to ask, in the interests of that accommodating personage on such -occasions--an absent friend. The lawyer evidently saw through it -at once; but he was sharp enough to turn my 'friend' to good -account on his side. He said he would answer the question as -a matter of courtesy toward a lady represented by myself; but -he must make it a condition that this consultation of him -by deputy should go no further. - -"I accepted his terms; for I really respected the clever manner -in which he contrived to keep me at arms-length without violating -the laws of good-breeding. In two minutes I heard what he had to -say, mastered it in my own mind, and went out. - -"Short as it was, the consultation told me everything I wanted -to know. I risk nothing by marrying Midwinter in my maiden -instead of my widow's name. The marriage is a good marriage in -this way: that it can only be set aside if my husband finds out -the imposture, and takes proceedings to invalidate our marriage -in my lifetime. That is the lawyer's answer in the lawyer's own -words. It relieves me at once--in this direction, at any rate--of -all apprehension about the future. The only imposture my husband -will ever discover--and then only if he happens to be on the -spot--is the imposture that puts me in the place, and gives me -the income, of Armadale's widow; and by that time I shall have -invalidated my own marriage forever. - -"Half-past two! Midwinter will be here in half an hour. I must go -and ask my glass how I look. I must rouse my invention, and make -up my little domestic romance. Am I feeling nervous about it? -Something flutters in the place where my heart used to be. At -five-and-thirty, too! and after such a life as mine! - - -Six o'clock.--He has just gone. The day for our marriage is a day -determined on already. - -"I have tried to rest and recover myself. I can't rest. I have -come back to these leaves. There is much to be written in them -since Midwinter has been here, that concerns me nearly. - -"Let me begin with what I hate most to remember, and so be -the sooner done with it--let me begin with the paltry string -of falsehoods which I told him about my family troubles. - -"What _can_ be the secret of this man's hold on me? How is it -that he alters me so that I hardly know myself again? I was like -myself in the railway carriage yesterday with Armadale. It was -surely frightful to be talking to the living man, through the -whole of that long journey, with the knowledge in me all the -while that I meant to be his widow--and yet I was only excited -and fevered. Hour after hour I never shrunk once from speaking -to Armadale; but the first trumpery falsehood I told Midwinter -turned me cold when I saw that he believed it! I felt a dreadful -hysterical choking in the throat when he entreated me not to -reveal my troubles. And once--I am horrified when I think of -it--once, when he said, 'If I _could_ love you more dearly, -I should love you more dearly now,' I was within a hair-breadth -of turning traitor to myself. I was on the very point of crying -out to him, 'Lies! all lies! I'm a fiend in human shape! Marry -the wretchedest creature that prowls the streets, and you will -marry a better woman than me!' Yes! the seeing his eyes moisten, -the hearing his voice tremble, while I was deceiving him, shook -me in that way. I have seen handsomer men by hundreds, cleverer -men by dozens. What can this man have roused in me? Is it Love? -I thought I _had_ loved, never to love again. Does a woman not -love when the man's hardness to her drives her to drown herself? -A man drove _me_ to that last despair in days gone by. Did all -my misery at that time come from something which was not Love? -Have I lived to be five-and-thirty, and am I only feeling now -what Love really is?--now, when it is too late? Ridiculous! -Besides, what is the use of asking? What do I know about it? -What does any woman ever know? The more we think of it, the more -we deceive ourselves. I wish I had been born an animal. My beauty -might have been of some use to me then--it might have got me -a good master. - -"Here is a whole page of my diary filled; and nothing written yet -that is of the slightest use to me! My miserable made-up story -must be told over again here, while the incidents are fresh -in my memory--or how am I to refer to it consistently on -after-occasions when I may be obliged to speak of it again? - -"There was nothing new in what I told him; it was the commonplace -rubbish of the circulating libraries. A dead father; a lost -fortune; vagabond brothers, whom I dread ever seeing again; -a bedridden mother dependent on my exertions--No! I can't write -it down! I hate myself, I despise myself, when I remember that -_he_ believed it because I said it--that _he_ was distressed -by it because it was my story! I will face the chances of -contradicting myself--I will risk discovery and ruin--anything -rather than dwell on that contemptible deception of him a moment -longer. - -"My lies came to an end at last. And then he talked to me of -himself and of his prospects. Oh, what a relief it was to turn -to that at the time! What a relief it is to come to it now! - -"He has accepted the offer about which he wrote to me at Thorpe -Ambrose; and he is now engaged as occasional foreign -correspondent to the new newspaper. His first destination is -Naples. I wish it had been some other place, for I have certain -past associations with Naples which I am not at all anxious to -renew. It has been arranged that he is to leave England not later -than the eleventh of next month. By that time, therefore, I, who -am to go with him, must go with him as his wife. - -"There is not the slightest difficulty about the marriage. All -this part of it is so easy that I begin to dread an accident. - -"The proposal to keep the thing strictly private--which it might -have embarrassed me to make--comes from Midwinter. Marrying me -in his own name--the name that he has kept concealed from every -living creature but myself and Mr. Brock--it is his interest -that not a soul who knows him should be present at the ceremony; -his friend Armadale least of all. He has been a week in London -already. When another week has passed, he proposes to get the -License, and to be married in the church belonging to the parish -in which the hotel is situated. These are the only necessary -formalities. I had but to say 'Yes' (he told me), and to feel -no further anxiety about the future. I said 'Yes' with such -a devouring anxiety about the future that I was afraid he would -see it. What minutes the next few minutes were, when he whispered -delicious words to me, while I hid my face on his breast! - -"I recovered myself first, and led him back to the subject of -Armadale, having my own reasons for wanting to know what they -said to each other after I had left them yesterday. - -"The manner in which Midwinter replied showed me that he was -speaking under the restraint of respecting a confidence placed -in him by his friend. Long before he had done, I detected what -the confidence was. Armadale had been consulting him (exactly -as I anticipated) on the subject of the elopement. Although he -appears to have remonstrated against taking the girl secretly -away from her home, Midwinter seems to have felt some delicacy -about speaking strongly, remembering (widely different as the -circumstances are) that he was contemplating a private marriage -himself. I gathered, at any rate, that he had produced very -little effect by what he had said; and that Armadale had already -carried out his absurd intention of consulting the head-clerk -in the office of his London lawyers. - -"Having got as far as this, Midwinter put the question which -I felt must come sooner or later. He asked if I objected to our -engagement being mentioned, in the strictest secrecy, to his -friend. - -"'I will answer,' he said, 'for Allan's respecting any confidence -that I place in him. And I will undertake, when the time comes, -so to use my influence over him as to prevent his being present -at the marriage, and discovering (what he must never know) that -my name is the same as his own. It would help me,' he went on, -'to speak more strongly about the object that has brought him -to London, if I can requite the frankness with which he has -spoken of his private affairs to me by the same frankness on -my side.' - -"I had no choice but to give the necessary permission, and I gave -it. It is of the utmost importance to me to know what course -Major Milroy takes with his daughter and Armadale after receiving -my anonymous letter; and, unless I invite Armadale's confidence -in some way, I am nearly certain to be kept in the dark. Let him -once be trusted with the knowledge that I am to be Midwinter's -wife, and what he tells his friend about his love affair he will -tell me. - -"When it had been understood between us that Armadale was to -be taken into our confidence, we began to talk about ourselves -again. How the time flew! What a sweet enchantment it was to -forget everything in his arms! How he loves me!--ah, poor fellow, -how he loves me! - -"I have promised to meet him to-morrow morning in the Regent's -Park. The less he is seen here the better. The people in this -house are strangers to me, certainly; but it may be wise to -consult appearances, as if I was still at Thorpe Ambrose, and not -to produce the impression, even on their minds, that Midwinter -is engaged to me. If any after-inquiries are made, when I have -run my grand risk, the testimony of my London landlady might be -testimony worth having. - -"That wretched old Bashwood! Writing of Thorpe Ambrose reminds -me of him. What will he say when the town gossip tells him that -Armadale has taken me to London, in a carriage reserved for -ourselves? It really is too absurd in a man of Bashwood's age -and appearance to presume to be in love!.... - - -"July 30th.---News at last! Armadale has heard from Miss Milroy. -My anonymous letter has produced its effect. The girl is removed -from Thorpe Ambrose already; and the whole project of the -elopement is blown to the winds at once and forever. This was -the substance of what Midwinter had to tell me when I met him in -the Park. I affected to be excessively astonished, and to feel -the necessary feminine longing to know all the particulars. 'Not -that I expect to have my curiosity satisfied,' I added, 'for Mr. -Armadale and I are little better than mere acquaintances, after -all.' - -"'You are far more than a mere acquaintance in Allan's eyes,' -said Midwinter. 'Having your permission to trust him, I have -already told him how near and dear you are to me.' - -"Hearing this, I thought it desirable, before I put any questions -about Miss Milroy, to attend to my own interests first, and -to find out what effect the announcement of my coming marriage -had produced on Armadale. It was possible that he might be still -suspicious of me, and that the inquiries he made in London, at -Mrs. Milroy's instigation, might be still hanging on his mind. - -"'Did Mr. Armadale seem surprised,' I asked, 'when you told him -of our engagement, and when you said it was to be kept a secret -from everybody?' - -"'He seemed greatly surprised,' said Midwinter, 'to hear that we -were going to be married. All he said when I told him it must -be kept a secret was that he supposed there were reasons on your -side for making the marriage a private one.' - -"'What did you say,' I inquired, 'when he made that remark?' - -"'I said the reasons were on my side,' answered Midwinter. 'And -I thought it right to add--considering that Allan had allowed -himself to be misled by the ignorant distrust of you at Thorpe -Ambrose--that you had confided to me the whole of your sad family -story, and that you had amply justified your unwillingness; under -any ordinary circumstances, to speak of your private affairs.' - -("I breathed freely again. He had said just what was wanted, -just in the right way.) - -"'Thank you,' I said, 'for putting me right in your friend's -estimation. Does he wish to see me?' I added, by way of getting -back to the other subject of Miss Milroy and the elopement. - -"'He is longing to see you,' returned Midwinter. 'He is in great -distress, poor fellow--distress which I have done my best to -soothe, but which, I believe, would yield far more readily to -a woman's sympathy than to mine.' - -"'Where is he now?' I asked. - -"He was at the hotel; and to the hotel I instantly proposed -that we should go. It is a busy, crowded place; and (with -my veil down) I have less fear of compromising myself there -than at my quiet lodgings. Besides, it is vitally important -to me to know what Armadale does next, under this total change -of circumstances--for I must so control his proceedings as to -get him away from England if I can. We took a cab: such was -my eagerness to sympathize with the heart-broken lover, that -we took a cab! - -"Anything so ridiculous as Armadale's behavior under the double -shock of discovering that his young lady has been taken away -from him, and that I am to be married to Midwinter, I never -before witnessed in all my experience. To say that he was like -a child is a libel on all children who are not born idiots. He -congratulated me on my coming marriage, and execrated the unknown -wretch who had written the anonymous letter, little thinking that -he was speaking of one and the same person in one and the same -breath. Now he submissively acknowledged that Major Milroy had -his rights as a father, and now he reviled the major as having -no feeling for anything but his mechanics and his clock. At one -moment he started up, with the tears in his eyes, and declared -that his 'darling Neelie' was an angel on earth. At another he -sat down sulkily, and thought that a girl of her spirit might -have run away on the spot and joined him in London. After a good -half-hour of this absurd exhibition, I succeeded in quieting him; -and then a few words of tender inquiry produced what I had -expressly come to the hotel to see--Miss Milroy's letter. - -"It was outrageously long, and rambling, and confused; in short, -the letter of a fool. I had to wade through plenty of vulgar -sentiment and lamentation, and to lose time and patience over -maudlin outbursts of affection, and nauseous kisses inclosed in -circles of ink. However, I contrived to extract the information -I wanted at last; and here it is: - - -"The major, on receipt of my anonymous warning, appears to have -sent at once for his daughter, and to have shown her the letter. -'You know what a hard life I lead with your mother; don't make -it harder still, Neelie, by deceiving me.' That was all the poor -old gentleman said. I always did like the major; and, though he -was afraid to show it, I know he always liked me. His appeal to -his daughter (if _her_ account of it is to be believed) cut her -to the heart. She burst out crying (let her alone for crying at -the right moment!) and confessed everything. - -"After giving her time to recover herself (if he had given her -a good box on the ears it would have been more to the purpose!), -the major seems to have put certain questions, and to have become -convinced (as I was convinced myself) that his daughter's heart, -or fancy, or whatever she calls it, was really and truly set on -Armadale. The discovery evidently distressed as well as surprised -him. He appears to have hesitated, and to have maintained his own -unfavorable opinion of Miss Neelie's lover for some little time. -But his daughter's tears and entreaties (so like the weakness -of the dear old gentleman!) shook him at last. Though he firmly -refused to allow of any marriage engagement at present, he -consented to overlook the clandestine meetings in the park, and -to put Armadale's fitness to become his son-in-law to the test, -on certain conditions. - -"These conditions are, that for the next six months to come -all communication is to be broken off, both personally and by -writing, between Armadale and Miss Milroy. That space of time is -to be occupied by the young gentleman as he himself thinks best, -and by the young lady in completing her education at school. If, -when the six months have passed, they are both still of the same -mind, and if Armadale's conduct in the interval has been such -as to improve the major's opinion of him, he will be allowed -to present himself in the character of Miss Milroy's suitor, and, -in six months more, if all goes well, the marriage may take -place. - -"I declare I could kiss the dear old major, if I was only within -reach of him! If I had been at his elbow, and had dictated the -conditions myself, I could have asked for nothing better than -this. Six months of total separation between Armadale and Miss -Milroy! In half that time--with all communication cut off between -the two--it must go hard with me, indeed, if I don't find myself -dressed in the necessary mourning, and publicly recognized as -Armadale's widow. - -"But I am forgetting the girl's letter. She gives her father's -reasons for making his conditions, in her father's own words. -The major seems to have spoken so sensibly and so feelingly -that he left his daughter no decent alternative--and he leaves -Armadale no decent alternative--but to submit. As well as I can -remember, he seems to have expressed himself to Miss Neelie -in these, or nearly in these terms: - -"'Don't think I am behaving cruelly to you, my dear: I am merely -asking you to put Mr. Armadale to the proof. It is not only -right, it is absolutely necessary, that you should hold no -communication with him for some time to come; and I will show you -why. In the first place, if you go to school, the necessary rules -in such places--necessary for the sake of the other girls--would -not permit you to see Mr. Armadale or to receive letters from -him; and, if you are to become mistress of Thorpe Ambrose, to -school you must go, for you would be ashamed, and I should be -ashamed, if you occupied the position of a lady of station -without having the accomplishments which all ladies of station -are expected to possess. In the second place, I want to see -whether Mr. Armadale will continue to think of you as he thinks -now, without being encouraged in his attachment by seeing you, or -reminded of it by hearing from you. If I am wrong in thinking him -flighty and unreliable, and if your opinion of him is the right -one, this is not putting the young man to an unfair test--true -love survives much longer separations than a separation of six -months. And when that time is over, and well over; and when I -have had him under my own eye for another six months, and have -learned to think as highly of him as you do--even then, my dear, -after all that terrible delay, you will still be a married woman -before you are eighteen. Think of this, Neelie, and show that you -love me and trust me, by accepting my proposal. I will hold no -communication with Mr. Armadale myself. I will leave it to you -to write and tell him what has been decided on. He may write back -one letter, and one only, to acquaint you with his decision. -After that, for the sake of your reputation, nothing more is to -be said, and nothing more is to be done, and the matter is to be -kept strictly private until the six months' interval is at an -end.' - -"To this effect the major spoke. His behavior to that little slut -of a girl has produced a stronger impression on me than anything -else in the letter. It has set me thinking (me, of all the people -in the world!) of what they call 'a moral difficulty.' We are -perpetually told that there can be no possible connection between -virtue and vice. Can there not? Here is Major Milroy doing -exactly what an excellent father, at once kind and prudent, -affectionate and firm, would do under the circumstances; and by -that very course of conduct he has now smoothed the way for _me_, -as completely as if he had been the chosen accomplice of that -abominable creature, Miss Gwilt. Only think of my reasoning in -this way! But I am in such good spirits, I can do anything -to-day. I have not looked so bright and so young as I look now -for months past! - -"To return to the letter, for the last time--it is so excessively -dull and stupid that I really can't help wandering away from it -into reflections of my own, as a mere relief. - -"After solemnly announcing that she meant to sacrifice herself to -her beloved father's wishes (the brazen assurance of her setting -up for a martyr after what has happened exceeds anything I ever -heard or read of!), Miss Neelie next mentioned that the major -proposed taking her to the seaside for change of air, during -the few days that were still to elapse before she went to school. -Armadale was to send his answer by return of post, and to address -her, under cover to her father, at Lowestoft. With this, and with -a last outburst of tender protestation, crammed crookedly into -a corner of the page, the letter ended. (N.B.--The major's object -in taking her to the seaside is plain enough. He still privately -distrusts Armadale, and he is wisely determined to prevent any -more clandestine meetings in the park before the girl is safely -disposed of at school.) - - -"When I had done with the letter--I had requested permission -to read parts of it which I particularly admired, for the second -and third time!--we all consulted together in a friendly way -about what Armadale was to do. - -"He was fool enough, at the outset, to protest against submitting -to Major Milroy's conditions. He declared, with his odious red -face looking the picture of brute health, that he should never -survive a six months' separation from his beloved Neelie. -Midwinter (as may easily be imagined) seemed a little ashamed of -him, and joined me in bringing him to his senses. We showed him, -what would have been plain enough to anybody but a booby, that -there was no honorable or even decent alternative left but to -follow the example of submission set by the young lady. 'Wait, -and you will have her for your wife,' was what I said. 'Wait, -and you will force the major to alter his unjust opinion of you,' -was what Midwinter added. With two clever people hammering common -sense into his head at that rate, it is needless to say that -his head gave way, and he submitted. - -"Having decided him to accept the major's conditions (I was -careful to warn him, before he wrote to Miss Milroy, that my -engagement to Midwinter was to be kept as strictly secret from -her as from everybody else), the next question we had to settle -related to his future proceedings. I was ready with the necessary -arguments to stop him, if he had proposed returning to Thorpe -Ambrose. But he proposed nothing of the sort. On the contrary, he -declared, of his own accord, that nothing would induce him to go -back. The place and the people were associated with everything -that was hateful to him. There would be no Miss Milroy now to -meet him in the park, and no Midwinter to keep him company in -the solitary house. 'I'd rather break stones on the road,' was -the sensible and cheerful way in which he put it, 'than go back -to Thorpe Ambrose.' - -"The first suggestion after this came from Midwinter. The sly old -clergyman who gave Mrs. Oldershaw and me so much trouble has, it -seems, been ill, but has been latterly reported better. 'Why not -go to Somersetshire,' said Midwinter, 'and see your good friend, -and my good friend, Mr. Brock?' - -"Armadale caught at the proposal readily enough. He longed, in -the first place, to see 'dear old Brock,' and he longed, in -the second place, to see his yacht. After staying a few days more -in London with Midwinter, he would gladly go to Somersetshire. -But what after that? - -"Seeing my opportunity, _I_ came to the rescue this time. -'You have got a yacht, Mr. Armadale,' I said; 'and you know that -Midwinter is going to Italy. When you are tired of Somersetshire, -why not make a voyage to the Mediterranean, and meet your friend, -and your friend's wife, at Naples?' - -"I made the allusion to 'his friend's wife' with the most -becoming modesty and confusion. Armadale was enchanted. I had hit -on the best of all ways of occupying the weary time. He started -up, and wrung my hand in quite an ecstasy of gratitude. How I do -hate people who can only express their feelings by hurting other -people's hands! - -"Midwinter was as pleased with my proposal as Armadale; but he -saw difficulties in the way of carrying it out. He considered -the yacht too small for a cruise to the Mediterranean, and he -thought it desirable to hire a larger vessel. His friend thought -otherwise. I left them arguing the question. It was quite enough -for me to have made sure, in the first place, that Armadale will -not return to Thorpe Ambrose; and to have decided him, in the -second place, on going abroad. He may go how he likes. I should -prefer the small yacht myself; for there seems to be a chance -that the small yacht might do me the inestimable service of -drowning him.... - - -"Five o'clock.--The excitement of feeling that I had got -Armadale's future movements completely under my own control -made me so restless, when I returned to my lodgings, that I was -obliged to go out again, and do something. A new interest to -occupy me being what I wanted, I went to Pimlico to have it out -with Mother Oldershaw. - -"I walked; and made up my mind, on the way, that I would begin -by quarreling with her. - -"One of my notes of hand being paid already, and Midwinter being -willing to pay the other two when they fall due, my present -position with the old wretch is as independent a one as I could -desire. I always get the better of her when it comes to a -downright battle between us, and find her wonderfully civil -and obliging the moment I have made her feel that mine is the -strongest will of the two. In my present situation, she might be -of use to me in various ways, if I could secure her assistance, -without trusting her with secrets which I am now more than ever -determined to keep to myself. That was my idea as I walked to -Pimlico. Upsetting Mother Oldershaw's nerves, in the first place, -and then twisting her round my little finger, in the second, -promised me, as I thought, an interesting occupation for the rest -of the afternoon. - -"When I got to Pimlico, a surprise was in store for we. The house -was shut up--not only on Mrs. Oldershaw's side, but on Doctor -Downward's as well. A padlock was on the shop door; and a man -was hanging about on the watch, who might have been an ordinary -idler certainly, but who looked, to my mind, like a policeman -in disguise. - -"Knowing the risks the doctor runs in his particular form -of practice, I suspected at once that something serious had -happened, and that even cunning Mrs. Oldershaw was compromised -this time. Without stopping, or making any inquiry, therefore, -I called the first cab that passed me, and drove to the post- -office to which I had desired my letters to be forwarded if any -came for me after I left my Thorpe Ambrose lodging. - -"On inquiry a letter was produced for 'Miss Gwilt.' It was in -Mother Oldershaw's handwriting, and it told me (as I had -supposed) that the doctor had got into a serious difficulty--that -she was herself most unfortunately mixed up in the matter, and -that they were both in hiding for the present. The letter ended -with some sufficiently venomous sentences about my conduct at -Thorpe Ambrose, and with a warning that I have not heard the last -of Mrs. Oldershaw yet. It relieved me to find her writing in this -way--for she would have been civil and cringing if she had had -any suspicion of what I have really got in view. I burned the -letter as soon as the candles came up. And there, for the -present, is an end of the connection between Mother Jezebel and -me. I must do all my own dirty work now; and I shall be all the -safer, perhaps, for trusting nobody's hands to do it but my own. - - -"July 31st.--More useful information for me. I met Midwinter -again in the Park (on the pretext that my reputation might suffer -if he called too often at my lodgings), and heard the last news -of Armadale since I left the hotel yesterday. - -"After he had written to Miss Milroy, Midwinter took the -opportunity of speaking to him about the necessary business -arrangements during his absence from the great house. It was -decided that the servants should be put on board wages, and that -Mr. Bashwood should be left in charge. (Somehow, I don't like -this re-appearance of Mr. Bashwood in connection with my present -interests, but there is no help for it.) The next question--the -question of money--was settled at once by Mr. Armadale himself. -All his available ready-money (a large sum) is to be lodged by -Mr. Bashwood in Coutts's Bank, and to be there deposited in -Armadale's name. This, he said, would save him the worry of any -further letter-writing to his steward, and would enable him to -get what he wanted, when he went abroad, at a moment's notice. -The plan thus proposed, being certainly the simplest and the -safest, was adopted with Midwinter's full concurrence; and here -the business discussion would have ended, if the everlasting -Mr. Bashwood had not turned up again in the conversation, and -prolonged it in an entirely new direction. - -"On reflection, it seems to have struck Midwinter that the whole -responsibility at Thorpe Ambrose ought not to rest on Mr. -Bashwood's shoulders. Without in the least distrusting him, -Midwinter felt, nevertheless, that he ought to have somebody set -over him, to apply to in case of emergency. Armadale made no -objection to this; he only asked, in his helpless way, who the -person was to be? - -"The answer was not an easy one to arrive at. - -"Either of the two solicitors at Thorpe Ambrose might have been -employed, but Armadale was on bad terms with both of them. Any -reconciliation with such a bitter enemy as the elder lawyer, Mr. -Darch, was out of the question; and reinstating Mr. Pedgift in -his former position implied a tacit sanction on Armadale's part -of the lawyer's abominable conduct toward _me_, which was -scarcely consistent with the respect and regard that he felt for -a lady who was soon to be his friend's wife. After some further -discussion, Midwinter hit on a new suggestion which appeared to -meet the difficulty. He proposed that Armadale should write to a -respectable solicitor at Norwich, stating his position in general -terms, and requesting that gentleman to act as Mr. Bashwood's -adviser and superintendent when occasion required. Norwich being -within an easy railway ride of Thorpe Ambrose, Armadale saw no -objection to the proposal, and promised to write to the Norwich -lawyer. Fearing that he might make some mistake if he wrote -without assistance, Midwinter had drawn him out a draft of the -necessary letter, and Armadale was now engaged in copying the -draft, and also in writing to Mr. Bashwood to lodge the money -immediately in Coutts's Bank. - -"These details are so dry and uninteresting in themselves that -I hesitated at first about putting them down in my diary. But -a little reflection has convinced me that they are too important -to be passed over. Looked at from my point of view, they mean -this--that Armadale's own act is now cutting him off from all -communication with Thorpe Ambrose, even by letter. _He is as good -as dead already to everybody he leaves behind him_. The causes -which have led to such a result as that are causes which -certainly claim the best place I can give them in these pages. - - -"August 1st.--Nothing to record, but that I have had a long, -quiet, happy day with Midwinter. He hired a carriage, and we -drove to Richmond, and dined there. After to-day's experience, -it is impossible to deceive myself any longer. Come what may -of it, I love him. - -"I have fallen into low spirits since he left me. A persuasion -has taken possession of my mind that the smooth and prosperous -course of my affairs since I have been in London is too smooth -and prosperous to last. There is something oppressing me -to-night, which is more than the oppression of the heavy London -air. - - -"August 2d.--Three o'clock.--My presentiments, like other -people's, have deceived me often enough; but I am almost afraid -that my presentiment of last night was really prophetic, for once -in a way. - -"I went after breakfast to a milliner's in this neighborhood to -order a few cheap summer things, and thence to Midwinter's hotel -to arrange with him for another day in the country. I drove to -the milliner's and to the hotel, and part of the way back. Then, -feeling disgusted with the horrid close smell of the cab -(somebody had been smoking in it, I suppose), I got out to walk -the rest of the way. Before I had been two minutes on my feet, -I discovered that I was being followed by a strange man. - -"This may mean nothing but that an idle fellow has been struck by -my figure, and my appearance generally. My face could have made -no impression on him, for it was hidden as usual by my veil. -Whether he followed me (in a cab, of course) from the milliner's, -or from the hotel, I cannot say. Nor am I quite certain whether -he did or did not track me to this door. I only know that I lost -sight of him before I got back. There is no help for it but to -wait till events enlighten me. If there is anything serious in -what has happened, I shall soon discover it. - - -"Five o'clock.--It _is_ serious. Ten minutes since, I was in -my bedroom, which communicates with the sitting-room. I was -just coming out, when I heard a strange voice on the landing -outside--a woman's voice. The next instant the sitting-room -door was suddenly opened; the woman's voice said, 'Are these -the apartments you have got to let?' and though the landlady, -behind her, answered, 'No! higher up, ma'am,' the woman came on -straight to my bedroom, as if she had not heard. I had just time -to slam the door in her face before she saw me. The necessary -explanations and apologies followed between the landlady and -the stranger in the sitting-room, and then I was left alone -again. - -"I have no time to write more. It is plain that somebody has -an interest in trying to identify me, and that, but for my own -quickness, the strange woman would have accomplished this object -by taking me by surprise. She and the man who followed me in the -street are, I suspect, in league together; and there is probably -somebody in the background whose interests they are serving. Is -Mother Oldershaw attacking me in the dark? or who else can it be? -No matter who it is; my present situation is too critical to be -trifled with. I must get away from this house to-night, and leave -no trace behind me by which I can be followed to another place. - - -"August 3d.--Gary Street, Tottenham Court Road.--I got away last -night (after writing an excuse to Midwinter, in which 'my invalid -mother' figured as the all-sufficient cause of my disappearance); -and I have found refuge here. It has cost me some money; but my -object is attained! Nobody can possibly have traced me from All -Saints' Terrace to this address. - -"After paying my landlady the necessary forfeit for leaving her -without notice, I arranged with her son that he should take my -boxes in a cab to the cloak-room at the nearest railway station, -and send me the ticket in a letter, to wait my application for it -at the post-office. While he went his way in one cab, I went -mine in another, with a few things for the night in my little -hand-bag. - -"I drove straight to the milliner's shop, which I had observed, -when I was there yesterday, had a back entrance into a mews, -for the apprentices to go in and out by. I went in at once, -leaving the cab waiting for me at the door. 'A man is following -me,' I said, 'and I want to get rid of him. Here is my cab fare; -wait ten minutes before you give it to the driver, and let me out -at once by the back way!' In a moment I was out in the mews; -in another, I was in the next street; in a third, I hailed -a passing omnibus, and was a free woman again. - -"Having now cut off all communication between me and my last -lodgings, the next precaution (in case Midwinter or Armadale -are watched) is to cut off all communication, for some days -to come at least, between me and the hotel. I have written -to Midwinter--making my supposititious mother once more the -excuse--to say that I am tied to my nursing duties, and that -we must communicate by writing only for the present. Doubtful -as I still am of who my hidden enemy really is, I can do no more -to defend myself than I have done now. - - -"August 4th.--The two friends at the hotel had both written -to me. Midwinter expresses his regret at our separation, in -the tenderest terms. Armadale writes an entreaty for help under -very awkward circumstances. A letter from Major Milroy has been -forwarded to him from the great house, and he incloses it in -his letter to me. - -"Having left the seaside, and placed his daughter safely at the -school originally chosen for her (in the neighborhood of Ely), -the major appears to have returned to Thorpe Ambrose at the close -of last week; to have heard then, for the first time, the reports -about Armadale and me; and to have written instantly to Armadale -to tell him so. - -"The letter is stern and short. Major Milroy dismisses the report -as unworthy of credit, because it is impossible for him to -believe in such an act of 'cold-blooded treachery,' as the -scandal would imply, if the scandal were true. He simply writes -to warn Armadale that, if he is not more careful in his actions -for the future, he must resign all pretensions to Miss Milroy's -hand. 'I neither expect, nor wish for, an answer to this' (the -letter ends), 'for I desire to receive no mere protestations in -words. By your conduct, and by your conduct alone, I shall judge -you as time goes on. Let me also add that I positively forbid you -to consider this letter as an excuse for violating the terms -agreed on between us, by writing again to my daughter. You have -no need to justify yourself in her eyes, for I fortunately -removed her from Thorpe Ambrose before this abominable report -had time to reach her; and I shall take good care, for her sake, -that she is not agitated and unsettled by hearing it where she -is now.' - -"Armadale's petition to me, under these circumstances, entreats -(as I am the innocent cause of the new attack on his character) -that I will write to the major to absolve him of all indiscretion -in the matter, and to say that he could not, in common -politeness, do otherwise than accompany me to London. - -"I forgive the impudence of his request, in consideration of the -news that he sends me. It is certainly another circumstance in my -favor that the scandal at Thorpe Ambrose is not to be allowed to -reach Miss Milroy's ears. With her temper (if she did hear it) -she might do something desperate in the way of claiming her -lover, and might compromise me seriously. As for my own course -with Armadale, it is easy enough. I shall quiet him by promising -to write to Major Milroy; and I shall take the liberty, in my own -private interests, of not keeping my word. - -"Nothing in the least suspicious has happened to-day. Whoever -my enemies are, they have lost me, and between this and the time -when I leave England they shall not find me again. I have been to -the post-office, and have got the ticket for my luggage, inclosed -to me in a letter from All Saints' Terrace, as I directed. The -luggage itself I shall still leave at the cloak-room, until I see -the way before me more clearly than I see it now. - - -"August 5th.--Two letters again from the hotel. Midwinter writes -to remind me, in the prettiest possible manner, that he will have -lived long enough in the parish by to-morrow to be able to get -our marriage-license, and that he proposes applying for it in -the usual way at Doctors' Commons. Now, if I am ever to say it, -is the time to say No. I can't say No. There is the plain truth ---and there is an end of it! - -"Armadale's letter is a letter of farewell. He thanks me for -my kindness in consenting to write to the major, and bids me -good-by, till we meet again at Naples. He has learned from his -friend that there are private reasons which will oblige him to -forbid himself the pleasure of being present at our marriage. -Under these circumstances, there is nothing to keep him in -London. He has made all his business arrangements; he goes to -Somersetshire by to-night's train; and, after staying some time -with Mr. Brock, he will sail for the Mediterranean from the -Bristol Channel (in spite of Midwinter's objections) in his own -yacht. - -"The letter incloses a jeweler's box, with a ring in it-- -Armadale's present to me on my marriage. It is a ruby--but rather -a small one, and set in the worst possible taste. He would have -given Miss Milroy a ring worth ten times the money, if it had -been _her_ marriage present. There is no more hateful creature, -in my opinion, than a miserly young man. I wonder whether his -trumpery little yacht will drown him? - -"I am so excited and fluttered, I hardly know what I am writing. -Not that I shrink from what is coming--I only feel as if I was -being hurried on faster than I quite like to go. At this rate, -if nothing happens, Midwinter will have married me by the end -of the week. And then--! - - -"August 6th.--If anything could startle me now, I should feel -startled by the news that has reached me to-day. - -"On his return to the hotel this morning, after getting the -marriage-license, Midwinter found a telegram waiting for him. -It contained an urgent message from Armadale, announcing that -Mr. Brock had had a relapse, and that all hope of his recovery -was pronounced by the doctors to be at an end. By the dying -man's own desire, Midwinter was summoned to take leave of him, -and was entreated by Armadale not to lose a moment in starting -for the rectory by the first train. - -"The hurried letter which tells me this tells me also that, by -the time I receive it, Midwinter will be on his way to the West. -He promises to write at greater length, after he has seen Mr. -Brock, by to-night's post. - -"This news has an interest for me, which Midwinter little -suspects. There is but one human creature, besides myself, who -knows the secret of his birth and his name; and that one is the -old man who now lies waiting for him at the point of death. What -will they say to each other at the last moment? Will some chance -word take them back to the time when I was in Mrs. Armadale's -service at Madeira? Will they speak of Me? - - -"August 7th.--The promised letter has just reached me. No parting -words have been exchanged between them: it was all over before -Midwinter reached Somersetshire. Armadale met him at the rectory -gate with the news that Mr. Brock was dead. - -"I try to struggle against it, but, coming after the strange -complication of circumstances that has been closing round me -for weeks past, there is something in this latest event of all -that shakes my nerves. But one last chance of detection stood -in my way when I opened my diary yesterday. When I open it -to-day, that chance is removed by Mr. Brock's death. It means -something; I wish I knew what. - -"The funeral is to be on Saturday morning. Midwinter will attend -it as well as Armadale. But he proposes returning to London -first; and he writes word that he will call to-night, in the hope -of seeing me, on his way from the station to the hotel. Even if -there was any risk in it, I should see him, as things are now. -But there is no risk if he comes here from the station instead -of coming from the hotel. - - -"Five o'clock.--I was not mistaken in believing that my nerves -were all unstrung. Trifles that would not have cost me a second -thought at other times weigh heavily on my mind now. - -"Two hours since, in despair of knowing how to get through the -day, I bethought myself of the milliner who is making my summer -dress. I had intended to go and try it on yesterday; but it -slipped out of my memory in the excitement of hearing about Mr. -Brock. So I went this afternoon, eager to do anything that might -help me to get rid of myself. I have returned, feeling more -uneasy and more depressed than I felt when I went out; for I have -come back fearing that I may yet have reason to repent not having -left my unfinished dress on the milliner's hands. - -"Nothing happened to me, this time, in the street. It was only -in the trying-on room that my suspicions were roused; and there -it certainly did cross my mind that the attempt to discover me, -which I defeated at All Saints' Terrace, was not given up yet, -and that some of the shop-women had been tampered with, if not -the mistress herself. - -"Can I give myself anything in the shape of a reason for this -impression? Let me think a little. - -"I certainly noticed two things which were out of the ordinary -routine, under the circumstances. In the first place, there were -twice as many women as were needed in the trying-on room. This -looked suspicious; and yet I might have accounted for it in more -ways than one. Is it not the slack time now? and don't I know by -experience that I am the sort of woman about whom other women are -always spitefully curious? I thought again, in the second place, -that one of the assistants persisted rather oddly in keeping me -turned in a particular direction, with my face toward the glazed -and curtained door that led into the work-room. But, after all, -she gave a reason when I asked for it. She said the light fell -better on me that way; and, when I looked round, there was the -window to prove her right. Still, these trifles produced such an -effect on me, at the time, that I purposely found fault with the -dress, so as to have an excuse for trying it on again, before I -told them where I lived, and had it sent home. Pure fancy, I dare -say. Pure fancy, perhaps, at the present moment. I don't care; -I shall act on instinct (as they say), and give up the dress. -In plainer words still, I won't go back. - - -"Midnight.--Midwinter came to see me as he promised. An hour has -passed since we said good-night; and here I still sit, with my -pen in my hand, thinking of him. No words of mine can describe -what has passed between us. The end of it is all I can write -in these pages; and the end of it is that he has shaken my -resolution. For the first time since I saw the easy way to -Armadale's life at Thorpe Ambrose, I feel as if the man whom -I have doomed in my own thoughts had a chance of escaping me. - -"Is it my love for Midwinter that has altered me? Or is it _his_ -love for _me_ that has taken possession not only of all I wish to -give him, but of all I wish to keep from him as well? I feel as -if I had lost myself--lost myself, I mean, in _him_--all through -the evening. He was in great agitation about what had happened -in Somersetshire; and he made me feel as disheartened and as -wretched about it as he did. Though he never confessed it in -words, I know that Mr. Brock's death has startled him as an ill -omen for our marriage--I know it, because I feel Mr. Brock's -death as an ill omen too. The superstition--_his_ superstition-- -took so strong a hold on me, that when we grew calmer and he -spoke of time future--when he told me that he must either break -his engagement with his new employers or go abroad, as he is -pledged to go, on Monday next--I actually shrank at the thought -of our marriage following close on Mr. Brock's funeral; I -actually said to him, in the impulse of the moment, 'Go, and -begin your new life alone! go, and leave me here to wait for -happier times.' - -"He took me in his arms. He sighed, and kissed me with an angelic -tenderness. He said--oh, so softly and so sadly!--I have no life -now, apart from _you_.' As those words passed his lips, the -thought seemed to rise in my mind like an echo, 'Why not live out -all the days that are left to me, happy and harmless in a love -like this!' I can't explain it--I can't realize it. That was the -thought in me at the time; and that is the thought in me still. I -see my own hand while I write the words--and I ask myself whether -it is really the hand of Lydia Gwilt! - -"Armadale-- - -"No! I will never write, I will never think of Armadale again. - -"Yes! Let me write once more--let me think once more of him, -because it quiets me to know that he is going away, and that -the sea will have parted us before I am married. His old home -is home to him no longer, now that the loss of his mother has -been followed by the loss of his best and earliest friend. When -the funeral is over, he has decided to sail the same day for -the foreign seas. We may, or we may not, meet at Naples. Shall -I be an altered woman if we do? I wonder; I wonder! - - -"August 8th.--A line from Midwinter. He has gone back to -Somersetshire to be in readiness for the funeral to-morrow; and -he will return here (after bidding Armadale good-by) to-morrow -evening. - -"The last forms and ceremonies preliminary to our marriage have -been complied with. I am to be his wife on Monday next. The hour -must not be later than half-past ten--which will give us just -time, when the service is over, to get from the church door to -the railway, and to start on our journey to Naples the same day. - -"To-day--Saturday--Sunday! I am not afraid of the time; the time -will pass. I am not afraid of myself, if I can only keep all -thoughts but one out of my mind. I love him! Day and night, till -Monday comes, I will think of nothing but that. I love him! - - -"Four o'clock.--Other thoughts are forced into my mind in spite -of me. My suspicions of yesterday were no mere fancies; the -milliner has been tampered with. My folly in going back to her -house has led to my being traced here. I am absolutely certain -that I never gave the woman my address; and yet my new gown was -sent home to me at two o'clock to-day! - -"A man brought it with the bill, and a civil message, to say -that, as I had not called at the appointed time to try it on -again, the dress had been finished and sent to me. He caught me -in the passage; I had no choice but to pay the bill, and dismiss -him. Any other proceeding, as events have now turned out, would -have been pure folly. The messenger (not the man who followed me -in the street, but another spy sent to look at me, beyond all -doubt) would have declared he knew nothing about it, if I had -spoken to him. The milliner would tell me to my face, if I went -to her, that I had given her my address. The one useful thing -to do now is to set my wits to work in the interests of my own -security, and to step out of the false position in which my own -rashness has placed me--if I can. - - -"Seven o'clock.--My spirits have risen again. I believe I am in -a fair way of extricating myself already. - -"I have just come back from a long round in a cab. First, to the -cloak-room of the Great Western, to get the luggage which I sent -there from All Saints' Terrace. Next, to the cloak-room of the -Southeastern, to leave my luggage (labeled in Midwinter's name), -to wait for me till the starting of the tidal train on Monday. -Next, to the General Post-office, to post a letter to Midwinter -at the rectory, which he will receive to-morrow morning. Lastly, -back again to this house--from which I shall move no more till -Monday comes. - -"My letter to Midwinter will, I have little doubt, lead to his -seconding (quite innocently) the precautions that I am taking -for my own safety. The shortness of the time at our disposal on -Monday will oblige him to pay his bill at the hotel and to remove -his luggage before the marriage ceremony takes place. All I ask -him to do beyond this is to take the luggage himself to the -Southeastern (so as to make any inquiries useless which may -address themselves to the servants at the hotel)--and, that done, -to meet me at the church door, instead of calling for me here. -The rest concerns nobody but myself. When Sunday night or Monday -morning comes, it will be hard, indeed--freed as I am now from -all incumbrances--if I can't give the people who are watching me -the slip for the second time. - -"It seems needless enough to have written to Midwinter to-day, -when he is coming back to me to-morrow night. But it was -impossible to ask, what I have been obliged to ask of him, -without making my false family circumstances once more the -excuse; and having this to do--I must own the truth--I wrote -to him because, after what I suffered on the last occasion, -I can never again deceive him to his face. - - -"August 9th.--Two o'clock.--I rose early this morning, more -depressed in spirits than usual. The re-beginning of one's life, -at the re-beginning of every day, has already been something -weary and hopeless to me for years past. I dreamed, too, all -through the night--not of Midwinter and of my married life, as -I had hoped to dream--but of the wretched conspiracy to discover -me, by which I have been driven from one place to another, -like a hunted animal. Nothing in the shape of a new revelation -enlightened me in my sleep. All I could guess dreaming was what -I had guessed waking, that Mother Oldershaw is the enemy who -is attacking me in the dark. - -"My restless night has, however, produced one satisfactory -result. It has led to my winning the good graces of the servant -here, and securing all the assistance she can give me when the -time comes for making my escape. - -"The girl noticed this morning that I looked pale and anxious. -I took her into my confidence, to the extent of telling her that -I was privately engaged to be married, and that I had enemies who -were trying to part me from my sweetheart. This instantly roused -her sympathy, and a present of a ten-shilling piece for her kind -services to me did the rest. In the intervals of her housework -she has been with me nearly the whole morning; and I found out, -among other things, that _her_ sweetheart is a private soldier -in the Guards, and that she expects to see him to-morrow. I have -got money enough left, little as it is, to turn the head of any -Private in the British army; and, if the person appointed to -watch me to-morrow is a man, I think it just possible that he may -find his attention disagreeably diverted from Miss Gwilt in the -course of the evening. - -"When Midwinter came here last from the railway, he came at -half-past eight. How am I to get through the weary, weary hours -between this and the evening? I think I shall darken my bedroom, -and drink the blessing of oblivion from my bottle of Drops. - - -"Eleven o'clock.--We have parted for the last time before the day -comes that makes us man and wife. - -"He has left me, as he left me before, with an absorbing subject -of interest to think of in his absence. I noticed a change in him -the moment he entered the room. When he told me of the funeral, -and of his parting with Armadale on board the yacht, though he -spoke with feelings deeply moved, he spoke with a mastery over -himself which is new to me in my experience of him. It was the -same when our talk turned next on our own hopes and prospects. -He was plainly disappointed when he found that my family -embarrassments would prevent our meeting to-morrow, and plainly -uneasy at the prospect of leaving me to find my way by myself -on Monday to the church. But there was a certain hopefulness and -composure of manner underlying it all, which produced so strong -an impression on me that I was obliged to notice it. - -"'You know what odd fancies take possession of me sometimes,' I -said. 'Shall I tell you the fancy that has taken possession of me -now? I can't help thinking that something has happened since we -last saw each other which you have not told me yet. - -" Something _has_ happened,' he answered. 'And it is something -which you ought to know.' - -"With those words he took out his pocket-book, and produced two -written papers from it. One he looked at and put back. The other -he placed on the table. - -"'Before I tell you what this is, and how it came into my -possession,' he said, 'I must own something that I have concealed -from you. It is no more serious confession than the confession -of my own weakness.' - -"He then acknowledged to me that the renewal of his friendship -with Armadale had been clouded, through the whole period of their -intercourse in London, by his own superstitious misgivings. He -had obeyed the summons which called him to the rector's bedside, -with the firm intention of confiding his previsions of coming -trouble to Mr. Brock; and he had been doubly confirmed in his -superstition when he found that Death had entered the house -before him, and had parted them, in this world, forever. More -than this, he had traveled back to be present at the funeral, -with a secret sense of relief at the prospect of being parted -from Armadale, and with a secret resolution to make the -after-meeting agreed on between us three at Naples a meeting -that should never take place. With that purpose in his heart, -he had gone up alone to the room prepared for him on his arrival -at the rectory, and had opened a letter which he found waiting -for him on the table. The letter had only that day been -discovered--dropped and lost--under the bed on which Mr. Brock -had died. It was in the rector's handwriting throughout; and -the person to whom it was addressed was Midwinter himself. - -"Having told me this, nearly in the words in which I have written -it, he gave me the written paper that lay on the table between -us. - -" 'Read it,' he said; 'and you will not need to be told that my -mind is at peace again, and that I took Allan's hand at parting -with a heart that was worthier of Allan's love.' - -"I read the letter. There was no superstition to be conquered -in _my_ mind; there were no old feelings of gratitude toward -Armadale to be roused in _my_ heart; and yet, the effect which -the letter had had on Midwinter was, I firmly believe, more than -matched by the effect that the letter now produced on me. - -"It was vain to ask him to leave it, and to let me read it again -(as I wished) when I was left by myself. He is determined to keep -it side by side with that other paper which I had seen him take -out of his pocket-book, and which contains the written narrative -of Armadale's Dream. All I could do was to ask his leave to copy -it; and this he granted readily. I wrote the copy in his -presence; and I now place it here in my diary, to mark a day -which is one of the memorable days in my life. - -"Boscombe Rectory, August 2d. - -"MY DEAR MIDWINTER--For the first time since the beginning of -my illness, I found strength enough yesterday to look over my -letters. One among them is a letter from Allan, which has been -lying unopened on my table for ten days past. He writes to me -in great distress, to say that there has been dissension between -you, and that you have left him. If you still remember what -passed between us, when you first opened your heart to me in -the Isle of Man, you will be at no loss to understand how I have -thought over this miserable news, through the night that has now -passed, and you will not be surprised to hear that I have roused -myself this morning to make the effort of writing to you. - -"I want no explanation of the circumstances which have parted -you from your friend. If my estimate of your character is not -founded on an entire delusion, the one influence which can have -led to your estrangement from Allan is the influence of that evil -spirit of Superstition which I have once already cast out of your -heart--which I will once again conquer, please God, if I have -strength enough to make my pen speak my mind to you in this -letter. - -"It is no part of my design to combat the belief which I know you -to hold, that mortal creatures may be the objects of supernatural -intervention in their pilgrimage through this world. Speaking -as a reasonable man, I own that I cannot prove you to be wrong. -Speaking as a believer in the Bible, I am bound to go further, -and to admit that you possess a higher than any human warrant for -the faith that is in you. The one object which I have it at heart -to attain is to induce you to free yourself from the paralyzing -fatalism of the heathen and the savage, and to look at the -mysteries that perplex, and the portents that daunt you, from -the Christian's point of view. If I can succeed in this, I shall -clear your mind of the ghastly doubts that now oppress it, and -I shall reunite you to your friend, never to be parted from him -again. - -"I have no means of seeing and questioning you. I can only -send this letter to Allan to be forwarded, if he knows, or can -discover, your present address. Placed in this position toward -you, I am bound to assume all that _can_ be assumed in your -favor. I will take it for granted that something has happened -to you or to Allan which to your mind has not only confirmed -the fatalist conviction in which your father died, but has added -a new and terrible meaning to the warning which he sent you in -his death-bed letter. - -"On this common ground I meet you. On this common ground I appeal -to your higher nature and your better sense. - -"Preserve your present conviction that the events which have -happened (be they what they may) are not to be reconciled with -ordinary mortal coincidences and ordinary mortal laws; and view -your own position by the best and clearest light that your -superstition can throw on it. What are you? You are a helpless -instrument in the hands of Fate. You are doomed, beyond all human -capacity of resistance, to bring misery and destruction blindfold -on a man to whom you have harmlessly and gratefully united -yourself in the bonds of a brother's love. All that is morally -firmest in your will and morally purest in your aspirations -avails nothing against the hereditary impulsion of you toward -evil, caused by a crime which your father committed before you -were born. In what does that belief end? It ends in the darkness -in which you are now lost; in the self-contradictions in which -you are now bewildered; in the stubborn despair by which a man -profanes his own soul, and lowers himself to the level of the -brutes that perish. - -"Look up, my poor suffering brother--look up, my hardly tried, -my well-loved friend, higher than this! Meet the doubts that now -assail you from the blessed vantage-ground of Christian courage -and Christian hope; and your heart will turn again to Allan, and -your mind will be at peace. Happen what may, God is all-merciful, -God is all-wise: natural or supernatural, it happens through Him. -The mystery of Evil that perplexes our feeble minds, the sorrow -and the suffering that torture us in this little life, leave the -one great truth unshaken that the destiny of man is in the hands -of his Creator, and that God's blessed Son died to make us -worthier of it. Nothing that is done in unquestioning submission -to the wisdom of the Almighty is done wrong. No evil exists out -of which, in obedience to his laws, Good may not come. Be true -to what Christ tells you is true. Encourage in yourself, be the -circumstances what they may, all that is loving, all that is -grateful, all that is patient, all that is forgiving, toward your -fellow-men. And humbly and trustfully leave the rest to the God -who made you, and to the Saviour who loved you better than his -own life. - -"This is the faith in which I have lived, by the Divine help -and mercy, from my youth upward. I ask you earnestly, I ask you -confidently, to make it your faith, too. It is the mainspring of -all the good I have ever done, of all the happiness I have ever -known; it lightens my darkness, it sustains my hope; it comforts -and quiets me, lying here, to live or die, I know not which. -Let it sustain, comfort, and enlighten you. It will help you -in your sorest need, as it has helped me in mine. It will show -you another purpose in the events which brought you and Allan -together than the purpose which your guilty father foresaw. -Strange things, I do not deny it, have happened to you already. -Stranger things still may happen before long, which I may not -live to see. Remember, if that time comes, that I died firmly -disbelieving in your influence over Allan being other than an -influence for good. The great sacrifice of the Atonement--I say -it reverently--has its mortal reflections, even in this world. If -danger ever threatens Allan, you, whose father took his father's -life--YOU, and no other, may be the man whom the providence of -God has appointed to save him. - -"Come to me if I live. Go back to the friend who loves you, -whether I live or die. - -"Yours affectionately to the last, - -"DECIMUS BROCK." - -"'You, and no other, may be the man whom the providence of God -has appointed to save him!' - -"Those are the words which have shaken me to the soul. Those -are the words which make me feel as if the dead man had left -his grave, and had put his hand on the place in my heart where -my terrible secret lies hidden from every living creature but -myself. One part of the letter has come true already. The danger -that it foresees threatens Armadale at this moment--and threatens -him from Me! - -"If the favoring circumstances which have driven me thus far -drive me on to the end, and if that old man's last earthly -conviction is prophetic of the truth, Armadale will escape me, -do what I may. And Midwinter will be the victim who is sacrificed -to save his life. - -"It is horrible! it is impossible! it shall never be! At the -thinking of it only, my hand trembles and my heart sinks. I bless -the trembling that unnerves me! I bless the sinking that turns me -faint! I bless those words in the letter which have revived the -relenting thoughts that first came to me two days since! Is it -hard, now that events are taking me, smoothly and safely, nearer -and nearer to the End--is it hard to conquer the temptation to go -on? No! If there is only a chance of harm coming to Midwinter, -the dread of that chance is enough to decide me--enough to -strengthen me to conquer the temptation, for his sake. I have -never loved him yet, never, never, never as I love him now! - - -"Sunday, August 10th.--The eve of my wedding-day! I close and -lock this book, never to write in it, never to open it again. - -"I have won the great victory; I have trampled my own wickedness -under foot. I am innocent; I am happy again. My love! my angel! -when to-morrow gives me to you, I will not have a thought in my -heart which is not _your_ thought, as well as mine!" - -CHAPTER XV. - -THE WEDDING-DAY. - -The time was nine o'clock in the morning. The place was a private -room in one of the old-fashioned inns which still remain on -the Borough side of the Thames. The date was Monday, the 11th -of August. And the person was Mr. Bashwood, who had traveled -to London on a summons from his son, and had taken up his abode -at the inn on the previous day. - -He had never yet looked so pitiably old and helpless as he looked -now. The fever and chill of alternating hope and despair had -dried, and withered, and wasted him. The angles of his figure had -sharpened. The outline of his face had shrunk. His dress pointed -the melancholy change in him with a merciless and shocking -emphasis. Never, even in his youth, had he worn such clothes as -he wore now. With the desperate resolution to leave no chance -untried of producing an impression on Miss Gwilt, he had cast -aside his dreary black garments; he had even mustered the courage -to wear his blue satin cravat. His coat was a riding-coat of -light gray. He had ordered it, with a vindictive subtlety of -purpose, to be made on the pattern of a coat that he had seen -Allan wear. His waistcoat was white; his trousers were of the -gayest summer pattern, in the largest check. His wig was oiled -and scented, and brushed round, on either side, to hide the -wrinkles on his temples. He was an object to laugh at; he was an -object to weep over. His enemies, if a creature so wretched could -have had enemies, would have forgiven him, on seeing him in his -new dress. His friends--had any of his friends been left--would -have been less distressed if they had looked at him in his coffin -than if they had looked at him as he was now. Incessantly -restless, he paced the room from end to end. Now he looked at -his watch; now he looked out of the window; now he looked at -the well-furnished breakfast-table--always with the same wistful, -uneasy inquiry in his eyes. The waiter coming in, with the urn -of boiling water, was addressed for the fiftieth time in the one -form of words which the miserable creature seemed to be capable -of uttering that morning: "My son is coming to breakfast. My son -is very particular. I want everything of the best--hot things and -cold things--and tea and coffee--and all the rest of it, waiter; -all the rest of it." For the fiftieth time, he now reiterated -those anxious words. For the fiftieth time, the impenetrable -waiter had just returned his one pacifying answer, "All right, -sir; you may leave it to me"--when the sound of leisurely -footsteps was heard on the stairs; the door opened; and the -long-expected son sauntered indolently into the room, with a neat -little black leather bag in his hand. - -"Well done, old gentleman!" said Bashwood the younger, surveying -his father's dress with a smile of sardonic encouragement. -"You're ready to be married to Miss Gwilt at a moment's notice!" - -The father took the son's hand, and tried to echo the son's -laugh. - -"You have such good spirits, Jemmy," he said, using the name in -its familiar form, as he had been accustomed to use it in happier -days. "You always had good spirits, my dear, from a child. Come -and sit down; I've ordered you a nice breakfast. Everything of -the best! everything of the best! What a relief it is to see you! -Oh, dear, dear, what a relief it is to see you." He stopped -and sat down at the table, his face flushed with the effort -to control the impatience that was devouring him. "Tell me about -her!" he burst out, giving up the effort with a sudden -self-abandonment. "I shall die, Jemmy, if I wait for it any -longer. Tell me! tell me! tell me!" - -"One thing at a time," said Bashwood the younger, perfectly -unmoved by his father's impatience. "We'll try the breakfast -first, and come to the lady afterward! Gently does it, old -gentleman--gently does it!" - -He put his leather bag on a chair, and sat down opposite to -his father, composed, and smiling, and humming a little tune. - -No ordinary observation, applying the ordinary rules of analysis, -would have detected the character of Bashwood the younger in his -face. His youthful look, aided by his light hair and his plump -beardless cheeks, his easy manner and his ever-ready smile, -his eyes which met unshrinkingly the eyes of every one whom he -addressed, all combined to make the impression of him a favorable -impression in the general mind. No eye for reading character, but -such an eye as belongs to one person, perhaps, in ten thousand, -could have penetrated the smoothly deceptive surface of this man, -and have seen him for what he really was--the vile creature whom -the viler need of Society has fashioned for its own use. There -he sat--the Confidential Spy of modern times, whose business -is steadily enlarging, whose Private Inquiry Offices are steadily -on the increase. There he sat--the necessary Detective attendant -on the progress of our national civilization; a man who was, in -this instance at least, the legitimate and intelligible product -of the vocation that employed him; a man professionally ready -on the merest suspicion (if the merest suspicion paid him) to get -under our beds, and to look through gimlet-holes in our doors; -a man who would have been useless to his employers if he could -have felt a touch of human sympathy in his father's presence; -and who would have deservedly forfeited his situation if, under -any circumstances whatever, he had been personally accessible -to a sense of pity or a sense of shame. - -"Gently does it, old gentleman," he repeated, lifting the covers -from the dishes, and looking under them one after the other all -round the table. "Gently does it!" - -"Don't be angry with me, Jemmy," pleaded his father. "Try, if you -can, to think how anxious I must be. I got your letter so long -ago as yesterday morning. I have had to travel all the way from -Thorpe Ambrose--I have had to get through the dreadful long -evening and the dreadful long night--with your letter telling me -that you had found out who she is, and telling me nothing more. -Suspense is very hard to bear, Jemmy, when you come to my age. -What was it prevented you, my dear, from coming to me when I got -here yesterday evening?" - -"A little dinner at Richmond," said Bashwood the younger. "Give -me some tea." - -Mr. Bashwood tried to comply with the request; but the hand with -which he lifted the teapot trembled so unmanageably that the tea -missed the cup and streamed out on the cloth. "I'm very sorry; -I can't help trembling when I'm anxious," said the old man, as -his son took the tea-pot out of his hand. "I'm afraid you bear me -malice, Jemmy, for what happened when I was last in town. I own -I was obstinate and unreasonable about going back to Thorpe -Ambrose. I'm more sensible now. You were quite right in taking it -all on yourself, as soon as I showed you the veiled lady when we -saw her come out of the hotel; and you were quite right to send -me back the same day to my business in the steward's office -at the Great House." He watched the effect of these concessions -on his son, and ventured doubtfully on another entreaty. "If you -won't tell me anything else just yet," he said, faintly, "will -you tell me how you found her out. Do, Jemmy, do!" - -Bashwood the younger looked up from his plate. "I'll tell you -that," he said. "The reckoning up of Miss Gwilt has cost more -money and taken more time than I expected; and the sooner we come -to a settlement about it, the sooner we shall get to what you -want to know." - -Without a word of expostulation, the father laid his dingy old -pocket-book and his purse on the table before the son. Bashwood -the younger looked into the purse; observed, with a contemptuous -elevation of the eyebrows, that it held no more than a sovereign -and some silver; and returned it intact. The pocket-book, -on being opened next, proved to contain four five-pound notes. -Bashwood the younger transferred three of the notes to his own -keeping; and handed the pocket-book back to his father, with -a bow expressive of mock gratitude and sarcastic respect. - -"A thousand thanks," he said. "Some of it is for the people at -our office, and the balance is for myself. One of the few stupid -things, my dear sir, that I have done in the course of my life -was to write you word, when you first consulted me, that you -might have my services gratis. As you see, I hasten to repair -the error. An hour or two at odd times I was ready enough to give -you. But this business has taken days, and has got in the way of -other jobs. I told you I couldn't be out of pocket by you--I put -it in my letter, as plain as words could say it." - -"Yes, yes, Jemmy. I don't complain, my dear, I don't complain. -Never mind the money--tell me how you found her out." - -"Besides," pursued Bashwood, the younger, proceeding impenetrably -with his justification of himself, "I have given you the benefit -of my experience; I've done it cheap. It would have cost double -the money if another man had taken this in hand. Another man -would have kept a watch on Mr. Armadale as well as Miss Gwilt. -I have saved you that expense. You are certain that Mr. Armadale -is bent on marrying her. Very good. In that case, while we have -our eye on _her_, we have, for all useful purposes, got our eye -on _him_. Know where the lady is, and you know that the gentleman -can't be far off." - -"Quite true, Jemmy. But how was it Miss Gwilt came to give you -so much trouble?" - -"She's a devilish clever woman," said Bashwood the younger; -"that's how it was. She gave us the slip at a milliner's shop. -We made it all right with the milliner, and speculated on the -chance of her coming back to try on a gown she had ordered. The -cleverest women lose the use of their wits in nine cases out of -ten where there's a new dress in the case, and even Miss Gwilt -was rash enough to go back. That was all we wanted. One of the -women from our office helped to try on her new gown, and put her -in the right position to be seen by one of our men behind the -door. He instantly suspected who she was, on the strength of what -he had been told of her; for she's a famous woman in her way. -Of course, we didn't trust to that. We traced her to her new -address; and we got a man from Scotland Yard, who was certain to -know her, if our own man's idea was the right one. The man from -Scotland Yard turned milliner's lad for the occasion, and took -her gown home. He saw her in the passage, and identified her in -an instant. You're in luck, I can tell you. Miss Gwilt's a public -character. If we had had a less notorious woman to deal with, -she might have cost us weeks of inquiry, and you might have had -to pay hundreds of pounds. A day did it in Miss Gwilt's case; and -another day put the whole story of her life, in black and white, -into my hand. There it is at the present moment, old gentleman, -in my black bag." - -Bashwood the father made straight for the bag with eager eyes and -outstretched hand. Bashwood the son took a little key out of his -waistcoat pocket, winked, shook his head, and put the key back -again. - -"I haven't done breakfast yet," he said. "Gently does it, my dear -sir--gently does it." - -"I can't wait!" cried the old man, struggling vainly to preserve -his self-control. "It's past nine! It's a fortnight to-day since -she went to London with Mr. Armadale! She may be married to him -in a fortnight! She may be married to him this morning! I can't -wait! I can't wait!" - -"There's no knowing what you can do till you try," rejoined -Bashwood the younger. "Try, and you'll find you can wait. What -has become of your curiosity?" he went on, feeding the fire -ingeniously with a stick at a time. "Why don't you ask me what -I mean by calling Miss Gwilt a public character? Why don't you -wonder how I came to lay my hand on the story of her life, in -black and white? If you'll sit down again, I'll tell you. If you -won't, I shall confine myself to my breakfast." - -Mr. Bashwood sighed heavily, and went back to his chair. - -"I wish you were not so fond of your joke, Jemmy," he said. -"I wish, my dear, you were not quite so fond of your joke." - -"Joke?" repeated his son. "It would be serious enough in some -people's eyes, I can tell you. Miss Gwilt has been tried -for her life; and the papers in that black bag are the lawyer's -instructions for the Defense. Do you call that a joke?" - -The father started to his feet, and looked straight across the -table at the son with a smile of exultation that was terrible -to see. - -"She's been tried for her life!" he burst out, with a deep gasp -of satisfaction. "She's been tried for her life!" He broke into -a low, prolonged laugh, and snapped his fingers exultingly. -"Aha-ha-ha! Something to frighten Mr. Armadale in _that_!" - -Scoundrel as he was, the son was daunted by the explosion -of pent-up passion which burst on him in those words. - -"Don't excite yourself," he said, with a sullen suppression -of the mocking manner in which he had spoken thus far. - -Mr. Bashwood sat down again, and passed his handkerchief over his -forehead. "No," he said, nodding and smiling at his son. "No, -no--no excitement, as you say--I can wait now, Jemmy; I can wait -now." - -He waited with immovable patience. At intervals, he nodded, -and smiled, and whispered to himself, "Something to frighten -Mr. Armadale in _that_!" But he made no further attempt, by word, -look, or action, to hurry his son. - -Bashwood the younger finished his breakfast slowly, out of pure -bravado; lit a cigar with the utmost deliberation; looked at -his father, and, seeing him still as immovably patient as ever, -opened the black bag at last, and spread the papers on the table. - -"How will you have it?" he asked. "Long or short? I have got her -whole life here. The counsel who defended her at the trial was -instructed to hammer hard at the sympathies of the jury: he went -head over ears into the miseries of her past career, and shocked -everybody in court in the most workman-like manner. Shall I take -the same line? Do you want to know all about her, from the time -when she was in short frocks and frilled trousers? or do you -prefer getting on at once to her first appearance as a prisoner -in the dock?" - -"I want to know all about her," said his father, eagerly. "The -worst, and the best--the worst particularly. Don't spare my -feelings, Jemmy--whatever you do, don't spare my feelings! Can't -I look at the papers myself?" - -"No, you can't. They would be all Greek and Hebrew to you. Thank -your stars that you have got a sharp son, who can take the pith -out of these papers, and give it a smack of the right flavor -in serving it up. There are not ten men in England who could tell -you this woman's story as I can tell it. It's a gift, old -gentleman, of the sort that is given to very few people--and it -lodges here." - -He tapped his forehead smartly, and turned to the first page -of the manuscript before him, with an unconcealed triumph at the -prospect of exhibiting his own cleverness, which was the first -expression of a genuine feeling of any sort that had escaped him -yet. - - -"Miss Gwilt's story begins," said Bashwood the younger, "in the -market-place at Thorpe Ambrose. One day, something like a quarter -of a century ago, a traveling quack doctor, who dealt in -perfumery as well as medicines, came to the town with his cart, -and exhibited, as a living example of the excellence of his -washes and hair-oils and so on, a pretty little girl, with a -beautiful complexion and wonderful hair. His name was Oldershaw. -He had a wife, who helped him in the perfumery part of his -business, and who carried it on by herself after his death. -She has risen in the world of late years; and she is identical -with that sly old lady who employed me professionally a short -time since. As for the pretty little girl, you know who she -was as well as I do. While the quack was haranguing the mob and -showing them the child's hair, a young lady, driving through the -marketplace, stopped her carriage to hear what it was all about, -saw the little girl, and took a violent fancy to her on the spot. -The young lady was the daughter of Mr. Blanchard, of Thorpe -Ambrose. She went home, and interested her father in the fate -of the innocent little victim of the quack doctor. The same -evening, the Oldershaws were sent for to the great house and were -questioned. They declared themselves to be her uncle and aunt--a -lie, of course!--and they were quite willing to let her attend -the village school, while they stayed at Thorpe Ambrose, when -the proposal was made to them. The new arrangement was carried -out the next day. And the day after that, the Oldershaws had -disappeared, and had left the little girl on the squire's hands! -She evidently hadn't answered as they expected in the capacity -of an advertisement, and that was the way they took of providing -for her for life. There is the first act of the play for you! -Clear enough, so far, isn't it?" - -"Clear enough, Jemmy, to clever people. But I'm old and slow. -I don't understand one thing. Whose child was she?" - -"A very sensible question. Sorry to inform you that nobody can -answer it--Miss Gwilt herself included. These Instructions that -I'm refering to are founded, of course, on her own statements, -sifted by her attorney. All she could remember, on being -questioned, was that she was beaten and half starved, somewhere -in the country, by a woman who took in children at nurse. The -woman had a card with her, stating that her name was Lydia Gwilt, -and got a yearly allowance for taking care of her (paid through a -lawyer) till she was eight years old. At that time, the allowance -stopped; the lawyer had no explanation to offer; nobody came to -look after her; nobody wrote. The Oldershaws saw her, and thought -she might answer to exhibit; and the woman parted with her for a -trifle to the Oldershaws; and the Oldershaws parted with her for -good and all to the Blanchards. That's the story of her birth, -parentage, and education! She may be the daughter of a duke, -or the daughter of a costermonger. The circumstances may be -highly romantic, or utterly commonplace. Fancy anything you -like--there's nothing to stop you. When you've had your fancy -out, say the word, and I'll turn over the leaves and go on." - -"Please to go on, Jemmy--please to go on." - -"The next glimpse of Miss Gwilt," resumed Bashwood the younger, -turning over the papers, "is a glimpse at a family mystery. The -deserted child was in luck's way at last. She had taken the fancy -of an amiable young lady with a rich father, and she was petted -and made much of at the great house, in the character of Miss -Blanchard's last new plaything. Not long afterward Mr. Blanchard -and his daughter went abroad, and took the girl with them in the -capacity of Miss Blanchard's little maid. When they came back, -the daughter had married, and become a widow, in the interval; -and the pretty little maid, instead of returning with them to -Thorpe Ambrose, turns up suddenly, all alone, as a pupil at a -school in France. There she was, at a first-rate establishment, -with her maintenance and education secured until she married and -settled in life, on this understanding--that she never returned -to England. Those were all the particulars she could be prevailed -on to give the lawyer who drew up these instructions. She -declined to say what had happened abroad; she declined even, -after all the years that had passed, to mention her mistress's -married name. It's quite clear, of course, that she was in -possession of some family secret; and that the Blanchards paid -for her schooling on the Continent to keep her out of the way. -And it's equally plain that she would never have kept her secret -as she did if she had not seen her way to trading on it for her -own advantage at some future time. A clever woman, as I've told -you already! A devilish clever woman, who hasn't been knocked -about in the world, and seen the ups and downs of life abroad -and at home, for nothing." - -"Yes, yes, Jemmy; quite true. How long did she stop, please, -at the school in France?" - -Bashwood the younger referred to the papers. "She stopped at the -French school," he replied, "till she was seventeen. At that time -something happened at the school which I find mildly described in -these papers as 'something unpleasant.' The plain fact was that -the music-master attached to the establishment fell in love with -Miss Gwilt. He was a respectable middle-aged man, with a wife and -family; and, finding the circumstances entirely hopeless, he took -a pistol, and, rashly assuming that he had brains in his head, -tried to blow them out. The doctor saved his life, but not his -reason; he ended, where he had better have begun, in an asylum. -Miss Gwilt's beauty having been at the bottom of the scandal, -it was, of course, impossible--though she was proved to have been -otherwise quite blameless in the matter--for her to remain at the -school after what had happened. Her 'friends' (the Blanchards) -were communicated with. And her friends transferred her to -another school; at Brussels, this time--What are you sighing -about? What's wrong now?" - -"I can't help feeling a little for the poor music-master, Jemmy. -Go on." - -"According to her own account of it, dad, Miss Gwilt seems -to have felt for him too. She took a serious turn; and was -'converted' (as they call it) by the lady who had charge of her -in the interval before she went to Brussels. The priest at -the Belgium school appears to have been a man of some discretion, -and to have seen that the girl's sensibilities were getting into -a dangerously excited state. Before he could quiet her down, he -fell ill, and was succeeded by another priest, who was a fanatic. -You will understand the sort of interest he took in the girl, and -the way in which he worked on her feelings, when I tell you that -she announced it as her decision, after having been nearly two -years at the school, to end her days in a convent! You may well -stare! Miss Gwilt, in the character of a Nun, is the sort of -female phenomenon you don't often set eyes on." - -"Did she go into the convent?" asked Mr. Bashwood. "Did they let -her go in, so friendless and so young, with nobody to advise her -for the best?" - -"The Blanchards were consulted, as a matter of form," pursued -Bashwood the younger. "_They_ had no objection to her shutting -herself up in a convent, as you may well imagine. The pleasantest -letter they ever had from her, I'll answer for it, was the letter -in which she solemnly took leave of them in this world forever. -The people at the convent were as careful as usual not to commit -themselves. Their rules wouldn't allow her to take the veil till -she had tried the life for a year first, and then, if she had any -doubt, for another year after that. She tried the life for the -first year, accordingly, and doubted. She tried it for the second -year, and was wise enough, by that time, to give it up without -further hesitation. Her position was rather an awkward one when -she found herself at liberty again. The sisters at the convent -had lost their interest in her; the mistress at the school -declined to take her back as teacher, on the ground that she was -too nice-looking for the place; the priest considered her to be -possessed by the devil. There was nothing for it but to write -to the Blanchards again, and ask them to start her in life as -a teacher of music on her own account. She wrote to her former -mistress accordingly. Her former mistress had evidently doubted -the genuineness of the girl's resolution to be a nun, and had -seized the opportunity offered by her entry into the convent to -cut off all further communication between her ex-waiting-maid and -herself. Miss Gwilt's letter was returned by the post-office. She -caused inquiries to be made; and found that Mr. Blanchard was -dead, and that his daughter had left the great house for some -place of retirement unknown. The next thing she did, upon this, -was to write to the heir in possession of the estate. The letter -was answered by his solicitors, who were instructed to put the -law in force at the first attempt she made to extort money from -any member of the family at Thorpe Ambrose. The last chance was -to get at the address of her mistress's place of retirement. -The family bankers, to whom she wrote, wrote back to say that -they were instructed not to give the lady's address to any one -applying for it, without being previously empowered to do so by -the lady herself. That last letter settled the question--Miss -Gwilt could do nothing more. With money at her command, she might -have gone to England and made the Blanchards think twice before -they carried things with too high a hand. Not having a half-penny -at command, she was helpless. Without money and without friends, -you may wonder how she supported herself while the correspondence -was going on. She supported herself by playing the piano-forte -at a low concert-room in Brussels. The men laid siege to her, -of course, in all directions; but they found her insensible as -adamant. One of these rejected gentlemen was a Russian; and he -was the means of making her acquainted with a countrywoman of -his, whose name is unpronounceable by English lips. Let us give -her her title, and call her the baroness. The two women liked -each other at their first introduction; and a new scene opened -in Miss Gwilt's life. She became reader and companion to the -baroness. Everything was right, everything was smooth on the -surface. Everything was rotten and everything was wrong under -it." - -"In what way, Jemmy? Please to wait a little, and tell me in -what way." - -"In this way. The baroness was fond of traveling, and she had -a select set of friends about her who were quite of her way of -thinking. They went from one city on the Continent to another, -and were such charming people that they picked up acquaintances -everywhere. The acquaintances were invited to the baroness's -receptions, and card-tables were invariably a part of the -baroness's furniture. Do you see it now? or must I tell you, in -the strictest confidence, that cards were not considered sinful -on these festive occasions, and that the luck, at the end of the -evening, turned out to be almost invariably on the side of the -baroness and her friends? Swindlers, all of them; and there isn't -a doubt on my mind, whatever there may be on yours, that Miss -Gwilt's manners and appearance made her a valuable member of the -society in the capacity of a decoy. Her own statement is that she -was innocent of all knowledge of what really went on; that she -was quite ignorant of card-playing; that she hadn't such a thing -as a respectable friend to turn to in the world; and that she -honestly liked the baroness, for the simple reason that the -baroness was a hearty good friend to her from first to last. -Believe that or not, as you please. For five years she traveled -about all over the Continent with these card-sharpers in high -life, and she might have been among them at this moment, for -anything I know to the contrary, if the baroness had not caught -a Tartar at Naples, in the shape of a rich traveling Englishman, -named Waldron. Aha! that name startles you, does it? You've read -the Trial of the famous Mrs. Waldron, like the rest of the world? -And you know who Miss Gwilt is now, without my telling you?" - -He paused, and looked at his father in sudden perplexity. Far -from being overwhelmed by the discovery which had just burst on -him, Mr. Bashwood, after the first natural movement of surprise, -faced his son with a self-possession which was nothing short of -extraordinary under the circumstances. There was a new brightness -in his eyes, and a new color in his face. If it had been possible -to conceive such a thing of a man in his position, he seemed to -be absolutely encouraged instead of depressed by what he had just -heard. "Go on, Jemmy," he said, quietly; "I am one of the few -people who didn't read the trial; I only heard of it." - -Still wondering inwardly, Bashwood the younger recovered himself, -and went on. - -"You always were, and you always will be, behind the age," -he said. "When we come to the trial, I can tell you as much -about it as you need know. In the meantime, we must go back -to the baroness and Mr. Waldron. For a certain number of nights -the Englishman let the card-sharpers have it all their own way; -in other words, he paid for the privilege of making himself -agreeable to Miss Gwilt. When he thought he had produced the -necessary impression on her, he exposed the whole confederacy -without mercy. The police interfered; the baroness found herself -in prison; and Miss Gwilt was put between the two alternatives of -accepting Mr. Waldron's protection or being thrown on the world -again. She was amazingly virtuous, or amazingly clever, which -you please. To Mr. Waldron's astonishment, she told him that she -could face the prospect of being thrown on the world; and that -he must address her honorably or leave her forever. The end of it -was what the end always is, where the man is infatuated and the -woman is determined. To the disgust of his family and friends, -Mr. Waldron made a virtue of necessity, and married her." - -"How old was he?" asked Bashwood the elder, eagerly. - -Bashwood the younger burst out laughing. "He was about old -enough, daddy, to be your son, and rich enough to have burst that -precious pocket-book of yours with thousand-pound notes! Don't -hang your head. It wasn't a happy marriage, though he _was_ so -young and so rich. They lived abroad, and got on well enough at -first. He made a new will, of course, as soon as he was married, -and provided handsomely for his wife, under the tender pressure -of the honey-moon. But women wear out, like other things, with -time; and one fine morning Mr. Waldron woke up with a doubt -in his mind whether he had not acted like a fool. He was an -ill-tempered man; he was discontented with himself; and of course -he made his wife feel it. Having begun by quarreling with her, -he got on to suspecting her, and became savagely jealous of every -male creature who entered the house. They had no incumbrances in -the shape of children, and they moved from one place to another, -just as his jealousy inclined him, till they moved back to -England at last, after having been married close on four years. -He had a lonely old house of his own among the Yorkshire moors, -and there he shut his wife and himself up from every living -creature, except his servants and his dogs. Only one result -could come, of course, of treating a high-spirited young woman in -that way. It may be her fate, or it may be chance; but, whenever -a woman is desperate, there is sure to be a man handy to take -advantage of it. The man in this case was rather a 'dark horse,' -as they say on the turf. He was a certain Captain Manuel, a -native of Cuba, and (according to his own account) an ex-officer -in the Spanish navy. He had met Mr. Waldron's beautiful wife -on the journey back to England; had contrived to speak to her -in spite of her husband's jealousy; and had followed her to her -place of imprisonment in Mr. Waldron's house on the moors. The -captain is described as a clever, determined fellow--of the -daring piratical sort--with the dash of mystery about him that -women like--" - -"She's not the same as other women!" interposed Mr. Bashwood, -suddenly interrupting his son. "Did she--?" His voice failed him, -and he stopped without bringing the question to an end. - -"Did she like the captain?" suggested Bashwood the younger, with -another laugh. "According to her own account of it, she adored -him. At the same time her conduct (as represented by herself) was -perfectly innocent. Considering how carefully her husband watched -her, the statement (incredible as it appears) is probably true. -For six weeks or so they confined themselves to corresponding -privately, the Cuban captain (who spoke and wrote English -perfectly) having contrived to make a go-between of one of the -female servants in the Yorkshire house. How it might have ended -we needn't trouble ourselves to inquire--Mr. Waldron himself -brought matters to a crisis. Whether he got wind of the -clandestine correspondence or not, doesn't appear. But this -is certain, that he came home from a ride one day in a fiercer -temper than usual; that his wife showed him a sample of that high -spirit of hers which he had never yet been able to break; and -that it ended in his striking her across the face with his -riding-whip. Ungentlemanly conduct, I am afraid we must admit; -but, to all outward appearance, the riding-whip produced the most -astonishing results. From that moment the lady submitted as she -had never submitted before. For a fortnight afterward he did what -he liked, and she never thwarted him; he said what he liked, -and she never uttered a word of protest. Some men might have -suspected this sudden reformation of hiding something dangerous -under the surface. Whether Mr. Waldron looked at it in that -light, I can't tell you. All that is known is that, before the -mark of the whip was off his wife's face, he fell ill, and that -in two days afterward he was a dead man. What do you say to -that?" - -"I say he deserved it!" answered Mr. Bashwood, striking his hand -excitedly on the table, as his son paused and looked at him. - -"The doctor who attended the dying man was not of your way of -thinking," remarked Bashwood the younger, dryly. "He called in -two other medical men, and they all three refused to certify the -death. The usual legal investigation followed. The evidence of -the doctors and the evidence of the servants pointed irresistibly -in one and the same direction; and Mrs. Waldron was committed -for trial, on the charge of murdering her husband by poison. -A solicitor in first-rate criminal practice was sent for from -London to get up the prisoner's defense, and these 'Instructions' -took their form and shape accordingly.--What's the matter? What -do you want now?" - -Suddenly rising from his chair, Mr. Bashwood stretched across -the table, and tried to take the papers from his son. "I want -to look at them," he burst out, eagerly. "I want to see what -they say about the captain from Cuba. He was at the bottom of it, -Jemmy--I'll swear he was at the bottom of it!" - -"Nobody doubted that who was in the secret of the case at the -time," rejoined his son. "But nobody could prove it. Sit down -again, dad, and compose yourself. There's nothing here about -Captain Manuel but the lawyer's private suspicions of him, for -the counsel to act on or not, at the counsel's discretion. From -first to last she persisted in screening the captain. At the -outset of the business she volunteered two statements to the -lawyer--both of which he suspected to be false. In the first -place she declared that she was innocent of the crime. He wasn't -surprised, of course, so far; his clients were, as a general -rule, in the habit of deceiving him in that way. In the second -place, while admitting her private correspondence with the Cuban -captain, she declared that the letters on both sides related -solely to a proposed elopement, to which her husband's barbarous -treatment had induced her to consent. The lawyer naturally asked -to see the letters. 'He has burned all my letters, and I have -burned all his,' was the only answer he got. It was quite -possible that Captain Manuel might have burned _her_ letters when -he heard there was a coroner's inquest in the house. But it was -in her solicitor's experience (as it is in my experience too) -that, when a woman is fond of a man, in ninety-nine cases out -of a hundred, risk or no risk, she keeps his letters. Having his -suspicions roused in this way, the lawyer privately made some -inquiries about the foreign captain, and found that he was as -short of money as a foreign captain could be. At the same time, -he put some questions to his client about her expectations from -her deceased husband. She answered, in high indignation, that -a will had been found among her husband's papers, privately -executed only a few days before his death, and leaving her no -more, out of all his immense fortune, than five thousand pounds. -'Was there an older will, then,' says the lawyer, 'which the new -will revoked?' Yes, there was; a will that he had given into her -own possession--a will made when they were first married. -'Leaving his widow well provided for?' Leaving her just ten times -as much as the second will left her. 'Had she ever mentioned that -first will, now revoked, to Captain Manuel?' She saw the trap set -for her, and said, 'No, never!' without an instant's hesitation. -That reply confirmed the lawyer's suspicions. He tried to -frighten her by declaring that her life might pay the forfeit -of her deceiving him in this matter. With the usual obstinacy -of women, she remained just as immovable as ever. The captain, -on his side, behaved in the most exemplary manner. He confessed -to planning the elopement; he declared that he had burned all -the lady's letters as they reached him, out of regard for her -reputation; he remained in the neighborhood; and he volunteered -to attend before the magistrates. Nothing was discovered that -could legally connect him with the crime, or that could put him -into court on the day of the trial, in any other capacity than -the capacity of a witness. I don't believe myself that there's -any moral doubt (as they call it) that Manuel knew of the will -which left her mistress of fifty thousand pounds; and that he was -ready and willing, in virtue of that circumstance, to marry her -on Mr. Waldron's death. If anybody tempted her to effect her own -release from her husband by making herself a widow, the captain -must have been the man. And unless she contrived, guarded and -watched as she was, to get the poison for herself, the poison -must have come to her in one of the captain's letters." - -"I don't believe she used it, if it did come to her!" exclaimed -Mr. Bashwood. "I believe it was the captain himself who poisoned -her husband!" - -Bashwood the younger, without noticing the interruption, folded -up the Instructions for the Defense, which had now served their -purpose, put them back in his bag, and produced a printed -pamphlet in their place. - -"Here is one of the published Reports of the Trial," he said, -"which you can read at your leisure, if you like. We needn't -waste time now by going into details. I have told you already -how cleverly her counsel paved his way for treating the charge -of murder as the crowning calamity of the many that had already -fallen on an innocent woman. The two legal points relied on -for the defense (after this preliminary flourish) were: First, -that there was no evidence to connect her with the possession -of poison; and, secondly, that the medical witnesses, while -positively declaring that her husband had died by poison, -differed in their conclusions as to the particular drug that -had killed him. Both good points, and both well worked; but -the evidence on the other side bore down everything before it. -The prisoner was proved to have had no less than three excellent -reasons for killing her husband. He had treated her with almost -unexampled barbarity; he had left her in a will (unrevoked so far -as she knew) mistress of a fortune on his death; and she was, by -her own confession, contemplating an elopement with another man. -Having set forth these motives, the prosecution next showed by -evidence, which was never once shaken on any single point, that -the one person in the house who could by any human possibility -have administered the poison was the prisoner at the bar. What -could the judge and jury do, with such evidence before them as -this? The verdict was Guilty, as a matter of course; and the -judge declared that he agreed with it. The female part of the -audience was in hysterics; and the male part was not much better. -The judge sobbed, and the bar shuddered. She was sentenced to -death in such a scene as had never been previously witnessed -in an English court of justice. And she is alive and hearty at -the present moment; free to do any mischief she pleases, and to -poison, at her own entire convenience, any man, woman, or child -that happens to stand in her way. A most interesting woman! Keep -on good terms with her, my dear sir, whatever you do, for the Law -has said to her in the plainest possible English, 'My charming -friend, I have no terrors for _you_!'" - -"How was she pardoned?" asked Mr. Bashwood, breathlessly. "They -told me at the time, but I have forgotten. Was it the Home -Secretary? If it was, I respect the Home Secretary! I say the -Home Secretary was deserving of his place." - -"Quite right, old gentleman!" rejoined Bashwood the younger. "The -Home Secretary was the obedient humble servant of an enlightened -Free Press, and he _was_ deserving of his place. Is it possible -you don't know how she cheated the gallows? If you don't, I must -tell you. On the evening of the trial, two or three of the young -buccaneers of literature went down to two or three newspaper -offices, and wrote two or three heart-rending leading articles -on the subject of the proceedings in court. The next morning -the public caught light like tinder; and the prisoner was tried -over again, before an amateur court of justice, in the columns -of the newspapers. All the people who had no personal experience -whatever on the subject seized their pens, and rushed (by kind -permission of the editor) into print. Doctors who had _not_ -attended the sick man, and who had _not_ been present at the -examination of the body, declared by dozens that he had died -a natural death. Barristers without business, who had _not_ heard -the evidence, attacked the jury who had heard it, and judged the -judge, who had sat on the bench before some of them were born. -The general public followed the lead of the barristers and the -doctors, and the young buccaneers who had set the thing going. -Here was the law that they all paid to protect them actually -doing its duty in dreadful earnest! Shocking! shocking! The -British Public rose to protest as one man against the working -of its own machinery; and the Home Secretary, in a state of -distraction, went to the judge. The judge held firm. He had -said it was the right verdict at the time, and he said so still. -'But suppose,' says the Home Secretary, 'that the prosecution -had tried some other way of proving her guilty at the trial -than the way they did try, what would you and the jury have done -then?' Of course it was quite impossible for the judge to say. -This comforted the Home Secretary, to begin with. And, when he -got the judge's consent, after that, to having the conflict of -medical evidence submitted to one great doctor; and when the one -great doctor took the merciful view, after expressly stating, -in the first instance, that he knew nothing practically of the -merits of the case, the Home Secretary was perfectly satisfied. -The prisoner's death-warrant went into the waste-paper basket; -the verdict of the law was reversed by general acclamation; -and the verdict of the newspapers carried the day. But the best -of it is to come. You know what happened when the people found -themselves with the pet object of their sympathy suddenly cast -loose on their hands? A general impression prevailed directly -that she was not quite innocent enough, after all, to be let out -of prison then and there! Punish her a little--that was the state -of the popular feeling--punish her a little, Mr. Home Secretary, -on general moral grounds. A small course of gentle legal -medicine, if you love us, and then we shall feel perfectly easy -on the subject to the end of our days." - -"Don't joke about it!" cried his father. "Don't, don't, don't, -Jemmy! Did they try her again? They couldn't! They dursn't! -Nobody can be tried twice over for the same offense." - -"Pooh! pooh! she could be tried a second time for a second -offense," retorted Bashwood the younger--"and tried she was. -Luckily for the pacification of the public mind, she had rushed -headlong into redressing her own grievances (as women will), when -she discovered that her husband had cut her down from a legacy -of fifty thousand pounds to a legacy of five thousand by a stroke -of his pen. The day before the inquest a locked drawer in Mr. -Waldron's dressing-room table, which contained some valuable -jewelry, was discovered to have been opened and emptied; and -when the prisoner was committed by the magistrates, the precious -stones were found torn out of their settings and sewed up in -her stays. The lady considered it a case of justifiable -self-compensation. The law declared it to be a robbery committed -on the executors of the dead man. The lighter offense--which had -been passed over when such a charge as murder was brought against -her--was just the thing to revive, to save appearances in the -eyes of the public. They had stopped the course of justice, in -the case of the prisoner, at one trial; and now all they wanted -was to set the course of justice going again, in the case of the -prisoner, at another! She was arraigned for the robbery, after -having been pardoned for the murder. And, what is more, if her -beauty and her misfortunes hadn't made a strong impression on her -lawyer, she would not only have had to stand another trial, but -would have had even the five thousand pounds, to which she was -entitled by the second will, taken away from her, as a felon, -by the Crown." - -"I respect her lawyer! I admire her lawyer!" exclaimed Mr. -Bashwood. "I should like to take his hand, and tell him so." - -"He wouldn't thank you, if you did," remarked Bashwood the -younger. "He is under a comfortable impression that nobody knows -how he saved Mrs. Waldron's legacy for her but himself." - -"I beg your pardon, Jemmy," interposed his father. "But don't -call her Mrs. Waldron. Speak of her, please, by her name when she -was innocent, and young, and a girl at school. Would you mind, -for my sake, calling her Miss Gwilt?" - -"Not I! It makes no difference to me what name I give her. Bother -your sentiment! let's go on with the facts. This is what the -lawyer did before the second trial came off. He told her she -would be found guilty _again_, to a dead certainty. 'And this -time,' he said, 'the public will let the law take its course. -Have you got an old friend whom you can trust?' She hadn't such -a thing as an old friend in the world. 'Very well, then,' says -the lawyer, you must trust me. Sign this paper; and you will have -executed a fictitious sale of all your property to myself. When -the right time comes, I shall first carefully settle with your -husband's executors; and I shall then reconvey the money to you, -securing it properly (in case you ever marry again) in your own -possession. The Crown, in other transactions of this kind, -frequently waives its right of disputing the validity of the -sale; and, if the Crown is no harder on you than on other people, -when you come out of prison you will have your five thousand -pounds to begin the world with again.' Neat of the lawyer, when -she was going to be tried for robbing the executors, to put her -up to a way of robbing the Crown, wasn't it? Ha! ha! what a world -it is!" - -The last effort of the son's sarcasm passed unheeded by the -father. "In prison!" he said to himself. "Oh me, after all that -misery, in prison again!" - -"Yes," said Bashwood the younger, rising and stretching himself, -"that's how it ended. The verdict was Guilty; and the sentence -was imprisonment for two years. She served her time; and came -out, as well as I can reckon it, about three years since. If you -want to know what she did when she recovered her liberty, and how -she went on afterward, I may be able to tell you something about -it--say, on another occasion, when you have got an extra note or -two in your pocket-book. For the present, all you need know, you -do know. There isn't the shadow of a doubt that this fascinating -lady has the double slur on her of having been found guilty of -murder, and of having served her term of imprisonment for theft. -There's your money's worth for your money--with the whole of my -wonderful knack at stating a case clearly, thrown in for nothing. -If you have any gratitude in you, you ought to do something -handsome, one of these days, for your son. But for me, I'll tell -you what you would have done, old gentleman. If you could have -had your own way, you would have married Miss Gwilt." - -Mr. Bashwood rose to his feet, and looked his son steadily in -the face. - -"If I could have my own way," he said, "I would marry her now." - -Bashwood the younger started back a step. "After all I have told -you?" he asked, in the blankest astonishment. - -"After all you have told me." - -"With the chance of being poisoned, the first time you happened -to offend her?" - -"With the chance of being poisoned," answered Mr. Bashwood, -"in four-and-twenty hours." - -The Spy of the Private Inquiry Office dropped back into his -chair, cowed by his father's words and his father's looks. - -"Mad!" he said to himself. "Stark mad, by jingo!" - -Mr. Bashwood looked at his watch, and hurriedly took his hat -from a side-table. - -"I should like to hear the rest of it," he said. "I should like -to hear every word you have to tell me about her, to the very -last. But the time, the dreadful, galloping time, is getting on. -For all I know, they may be on their way to be married at this -very moment." - -"What are you going to do?" asked Bashwood the younger, getting -between his father and the door. - -"I am going to the hotel," said the old man, trying to pass him. -"I am going to see Mr. Armadale." - -"What for?" - -"To tell him everything you have told me." He paused after making -that reply. The terrible smile of triumph which had once already -appeared on his face overspread it again. "Mr. Armadale is -young; Mr. Armadale has all his life before him," he whispered, -cunningly, with his trembling fingers clutching his son's arm. -"What doesn't frighten _me_ will frighten _him_!" - -"Wait a minute," said Bashwood the younger. "Are you as certain -as ever that Mr. Armadale is the man?" - -"What man?" - -"The man who is going to marry her." - -"Yes! yes! yes! Let me go, Jemmy--let me go." - -The spy set his back against the door, and considered for a -moment. Mr. Armadale was rich--Mr. Armadale (if _he_ was not -stark mad too) might be made to put the right money-value on -information that saved him from the disgrace of marrying Miss -Gwilt. "It may be a hundred pounds in my pocket if I work it -myself," thought Bashwood the younger. "And it won't be a -half-penny if I leave it to my father." He took up his hat and -his leather bag. "Can you carry it all in your own addled old -head, daddy?" he asked, with his easiest impudence of manner. -"Not you! I'll go with you and help you. What do you think of -that?" - -The father threw his arms in an ecstasy round the son's neck. "I -can't help it, Jemmy," he said, in broken tones. "You are so good -to me. Take the other note, my dear--I'll manage without it--take -the other note." - -The son threw open the door with a flourish; and magnanimously -turned his back on the father's offered pocket-book. "Hang it, -old gentleman, I'm not quite so mercenary as _that_!" he said, -with an appearance of the deepest feeling. "Put up your -pocket-book, and let's be off." "If I took my respected parent's -last five-pound note," he thought to himself, as he led the way -downstairs, "how do I know he mightn't cry halves when he sees -the color of Mr. Armadale's money?" "Come along, dad!" he -resumed. "We'll take a cab and catch the happy bridegroom before -he starts for the church!" - -They hailed a cab in the street, and started for the hotel which -had been the residence of Midwinter and Allan during their stay -in London. The instant the door of the vehicle had closed, Mr. -Bashwood returned to the subject of Miss Gwilt. - -"Tell me the rest," he said, taking his son's hand, and patting -it tenderly. "Let's go on talking about her all the way to the -hotel. Help me through the time, Jemmy--help me through the -time." - -Bashwood the younger was in high spirits at the prospect of -seeing the color of Mr. Armadale's money. He trifled with his -father's anxiety to the very last. - -"Let's see if you remember what I've told you already," he began. -"There's a character in the story that's dropped out of it -without being accounted for. Come! can you tell me who it is?" - -He had reckoned on finding his father unable to answer the -question. But Mr. Bashwood's memory, for anything that related -to Miss Gwilt, was as clear and ready as his son's. "The foreign -scoundrel who tempted her, and let her screen him at the risk of -her own life," he said, without an instant's hesitation. "Don't -speak of him, Jemmy--don't speak of him again!" - -"I _must_ speak of him," retorted the other. "You want to know -what became of Miss Gwilt when she got out of prison, don't you? -Very good--I'm in a position to tell you. She became Mrs. Manuel. -It's no use staring at me, old gentleman. I know it officially. -At the latter part of last year, a foreign lady came to our -place, with evidence to prove that she had been lawfully married -to Captain Manuel, at a former period of his career, when he -had visited England for the first time. She had only lately -discovered that he had been in this country again; and she had -reason to believe that he had married another woman in Scotland. -Our people were employed to make the necessary inquiries. -Comparison of dates showed that the Scotch marriage--if it was -a marriage at all, and not a sham--had taken place just about -the time when Miss Gwilt was a free woman again. And a little -further investigation showed us that the second Mrs. Manuel was -no other than the heroine of the famous criminal trial--whom we -didn't know then, but whom we do know now, to be identical with -your fascinating friend, Miss Gwilt." - -Mr. Bashwood's head sank on his breast. He clasped his trembling -hands fast in each other, and waited in silence to hear the rest. - -"Cheer up!" pursued his son. "She was no more the captain's wife -than you are; and what is more, the captain himself is out of -your way now. One foggy day in December last he gave us the slip; -and was off to the continent, nobody knew where. He had spent -the whole of the second Mrs. Manuel's five thousand pounds, -in the time that had elapsed (between two and three years) since -she had come out of prison; and the wonder was, where he had got -the money to pay his traveling expenses. It turned out that -he had got it from the second Mrs. Manuel herself. She had filled -his empty pockets; and there she was, waiting confidently in -a miserable London lodging, to hear from him and join him as soon -as he was safely settled in foreign parts! Where had _she_ got -the money, you may ask naturally enough? Nobody could tell at the -time. My own notion is, now, that her former mistress must have -been still living, and that she must have turned her knowledge -of the Blanchards' family secret to profitable account at last. -This is mere guess-work, of course; but there's a circumstance -that makes it likely guess-work to my mind. She had an elderly -female friend to apply to at the time, who was just the woman to -help her in ferreting out her mistress's address. Can you guess -the name of the elderly female friend? Not you! Mrs. Oldershaw, -of course!" - -Mr. Bashwood suddenly looked up. "Why should she go back," he -asked, "to the woman who had deserted her when she was a child?" - -"I can't say," rejoined his son, "unless she went back in the -interests of her own magnificent head of hair. The -prison-scissors, I needn't tell you, had made short work of it -with Miss Gwilt's love-locks, in every sense of the word -and Mrs. Oldershaw, I beg to add, is the most eminent woman in -England, as restorer-general of the dilapidated heads and faces -of the female sex. Put two and two together; and perhaps you'll -agree with me, in this case, that they make four." - -"Yes, yes; two and two make four," repeated his father, -impatiently. "But I want to know something else. Did she hear -from him again? Did he send for her after he had gone away -to foreign parts?" - -"The captain? Why, what on earth can you be thinking of? Hadn't -he spent every farthing of her money? and wasn't he loose on the -Continent out of her reach? She waited to hear from him. I dare -say, for she persisted in believing in him. But I'll lay you any -wager you like, she never saw the sight of his handwriting again. -We did our best at the office to open her eyes; we told her -plainly that he had a first wife living, and that she hadn't the -shadow of a claim on him. She wouldn't believe us, though we met -her with the evidence. Obstinate, devilish obstinate. I dare say -she waited for months together before she gave up the last hope -of ever seeing him again." - -Mr. Bashwood looked aside quickly out of the cab window. "Where -could she turn for refuge next?" he said, not to his son, but -to himself. "What, in Heaven's name, could she do?" - -"Judging by my experience of women," remarked Bashwood the -younger, overhearing him, "I should say she probably tried -to drown herself. But that's only guess-work again: it's all -guess-work at this part of her story. You catch me at the end -of my evidence, dad, when you come to Miss Gwilt's proceedings -in the spring and summer of the present year. She might, or -she might not, have been desperate enough to attempt suicide; -and she might, or she might not, have been at the bottom of those -inquiries that I made for Mrs. Oldershaw. I dare say you'll see -her this morning; and perhaps, if you use your influence, you may -he able to make her finish her own story herself." - -Mr. Bashwood, still looking out of the cab window, suddenly laid -his hand on his son's arm. - -"Hush! hush!" he exclaimed, in violent agitation. "We have got -there at last. Oh, Jemmy, feel how my heart beats! Here is the -hotel." - -"Bother your heart," said Bashwood the younger. "Wait here while -I make the inquiries." - -"I'll come with you!" cried his father. "I can't wait! I tell -you, I can't wait!" - -They went into the hotel together, and asked for "Mr. Armadale." - -The answer, after some little hesitation and delay, was that Mr. -Armadale had gone away six days since. A second waiter added that -Mr. Armadale's friend--Mr. Midwinter--had only left that morning. -Where had Mr. Armadale gone? Somewhere into the country. Where -had Mr. Midwinter gone? Nobody knew. - -Mr. Bashwood looked at his son in speechless and helpless dismay. - -"Stuff and nonsense!" said Bashwood the younger, pushing his -father back roughly into the cab. "He's safe enough. We shall -find him at Miss Gwilt's." - -The old man took his son's hand and kissed it. "Thank you, my -dear," he said, gratefully. "Thank you for comforting me." - -The cab was driven next to the second lodging which Miss Gwilt -had occupied, in the neighborhood of Tottenham Court Road. - -"Stop here," said the spy, getting out, and shutting his father -into the cab. "I mean to manage this part of the business -myself." - -He knocked at the house door. "I have got a note for Miss Gwilt," -he said, walking into the passage, the moment the door was -opened. - -"She's gone," answered the servant. "She went away last night." - -Bashwood the younger wasted no more words with the servant. -He insisted on seeing the mistress. The mistress confirmed the -announcement of Miss Gwilt's departure on the previous evening. -Where had she gone to? The woman couldn't say. How had she left? -On foot. At what hour? Between nine and ten. What had she done -with her luggage? She had no luggage. Had a gentleman been to see -her on the previous day? Not a soul, gentle or simple, had come -to the house to see Miss Gwilt. - -The father's face, pale and wild, was looking out of the cab -window as the son descended the house steps. "Isn't she there, -Jemmy?" he asked, faintly--"isn't she there?" - -"Hold your tongue," cried the spy, with the native coarseness -of his nature rising to the surface at last. "I'm not at the end -of my inquiries yet." - -He crossed the road, and entered a coffee-shop situated exactly -opposite the house he had just left. - -In the box nearest the window two men were sitting talking -together anxiously. - -"Which of you was on duty yesterday evening, between nine and ten -o'clock?" asked Bashwood the younger, suddenly joining them, and -putting his question in a quick, peremptory whisper. - -"I was, sir," said one of the men, unwillingly. - -"Did you lose sight of the house?--Yes! I see you did." - -"Only for a minute, sir. An infernal blackguard of a soldier -came in--" - -"That will do," said Bashwood the younger. "I know what the -soldier did, and who sent him to do it. She has given us the slip -again. You are the greatest ass living. Consider yourself -dismissed." With those words, and with an oath to emphasize them, -he left the coffee-shop and returned to the cab. - -"She's gone!" cried his father. "Oh, Jemmy, Jemmy, I see it in -your face!" He fell back into his own corner of the cab, with -a faint, wailing cry. "They're married," he moaned to himself; -his hands falling helplessly on his knees; his hat falling -unregarded from his head. "Stop them!" he exclaimed, suddenly -rousing himself, and seizing his son in a frenzy by the collar -of the coat. - -"Go back to the hotel," shouted Bashwood the younger to the -cabman. "Hold your noise!" he added, turning fiercely on his -father. "I want to think." - -The varnish of smoothness was all off him by this time. His -temper was roused. His pride--even such a man has his pride! ---was wounded to the quick. Twice had he matched his wits against -a woman's; and twice the woman had baffled him. - -He got out, on reaching the hotel for the second time, and -privately tried the servants with the offer of money. The result -of the experiment satisfied him that they had, in this instance, -really and truly no information to sell. After a moment's -reflection, he stopped, before leaving the hotel, to ask -the way to the parish church. "The chance may be worth trying," -he thought to himself, as he gave the address to the driver. -"Faster!" he called out, looking first at his watch, and then at -his father. "The minutes are precious this morning; and the old -one is beginning to give in." - -It was true. Still capable of hearing and of understanding, Mr. -Bashwood was past speaking by this time. He clung with both hands -to his son's grudging arm, and let his head fall helplessly on -his son's averted shoulder. - -The parish church stood back from the street, protected by gates -and railings, and surrounded by a space of open ground. Shaking -off his father's hold, Bashwood the younger made straight for -the vestry. The clerk, putting away the books, and the clerk's -assistant, hanging up a surplice, were the only persons in the -room when he entered it and asked leave to look at the marriage -register for the day. - -The clerk gravely opened the book, and stood aside from the desk -on which it lay. - -The day's register comprised three marriages solemnized that -morning; and the first two signatures on the page were "Allan -Armadale" and "Lydia Gwilt!" - -Even the spy--ignorant as he was of the truth, unsuspicious as he -was of the terrible future consequences to which the act of that -morning might lead--even the spy started, when his eye first fell -on the page. It was done! Come what might of it, it was done now. -There, in black and white, was the registered evidence of the -marriage, which was at once a truth in itself, and a lie in the -conclusion to which it led! There--through the fatal similarity -in the names--there, in Midwinter's own signature, was the proof -to persuade everybody that, not Midwinter, but Allan, was the -husband of Miss Gwilt! - -Bashwood the younger closed the book, and returned it to the -clerk. He descended the vestry steps, with his hands thrust -doggedly into his pockets, and with a serious shock inflicted -on his professional self-esteem. - -The beadle met him under the church wall. He considered for -a moment whether it was worth while to spend a shilling in -questioning the man, and decided in the affirmative. If they -could be traced and overtaken, there might be a chance of seeing -the color of Mr. Armadale's money even yet. - -"How long is it," he asked, "since the first couple married here -this morning left the church?" - -"About an hour," said the beadle. - -"How did they go away?" - -The beadle deferred answering that second question until he had -first pocketed his fee. - -"You won't trace them from here, sir," he said, when he had got -his shilling. "They went away on foot." - -"And that is all you know about it?" - -"That, sir, is all I know about it." - -Left by himself, even the Detective of the Private Inquiry Office -paused for a moment before he returned to his father at the gate. -He was roused from his hesitation by the sudden appearance, -within the church inclosure, of the driver of the cab. - -"I'm afraid the old gentleman is going to be taken ill, sir," -said the man. - -Bashwood the younger frowned angrily, and walked back to the cab. -As he opened the door and looked in, his father leaned forward -and confronted him, with lips that moved speechlessly, and with -a white stillness over all the rest of his face. - -"She's done us," said the spy. "They were married here this -morning." - -The old man's body swayed for a moment from one side to the -other. The instant after, his eyes closed and his head fell -forward toward the front seat of the cab. "Drive to the -hospital!" cried his son. "He's in a fit. This is what comes of -putting myself out of my way to please my father," he muttered, -sullenly raising Mr. Bashwood's head, and loosening his cravat. -"A nice morning's work. Upon my soul, a nice morning's work!" - -The hospital was near, and the house surgeon was at his post. - -"Will he come out of it?" asked Bashwood the younger, roughly. - -"Who are _you_?" asked the surgeon, sharply, on his side. - -"I am his son." - -"I shouldn't have thought it," rejoined the surgeon, taking the -restoratives that were handed to him by the nurse, and turning -from the son to the father with an air of relief which he was -at no pains to conceal. "Yes," he added, after a minute or two; -"your father will come out of it this time." - -"When can he be moved away from here?" - -"He can be moved from the hospital in an hour or two." - -The spy laid a card on the table. "I'll come back for him or send -for him," he said. "I suppose I can go now, if I leave my name -and address?" With those words, he put on his hat, and walked -out. - -"He's a brute!" said the nurse. - -"No," said the surgeon, quietly. "He's a man." - -* * * * * * * - -Between nine and ten o'clock that night, Mr. Bashwood awoke in -his bed at the inn in the Borough. He had slept for some hours -since he had been brought back from the hospital; and his mind -and body were now slowly recovering together. - -A light was burning on the bedside table, and a letter lay on it, -waiting for him till he was awake. It was in his son's -handwriting, and it contained these words: - - -"MY DEAR DAD--Having seen you safe out of the hospital, and back -at your hotel, I think I may fairly claim to have done my duty by -you, and may consider myself free to look after my own affairs. -Business will prevent me from seeing you to-night; and I don't -think it at all likely I shall be in your neighborhood to-morrow -morning. My advice to you is to go back to Thorpe Ambrose, and -to stick to your employment in the steward's office. Wherever -Mr. Armadale may be, he must, sooner or later, write to you on -business. I wash my hands of the whole matter, mind, so far as -I am concerned, from this time forth. But if _you_ like to go on -with it, my professional opinion is (though you couldn't hinder -his marriage), you may part him from his wife. - -"Pray take care of yourself. - -"Your affectionate son, - -"JAMES BASHWOOD." - -The letter dropped from the old man's feeble hands. "I wish Jemmy -could have come to see me to-night," he thought. "But it's very -kind of him to advise me, all the same." - -He turned wearily on the pillow, and read the letter a second -time. "Yes," he said, "there's nothing left for me but to go -back. I'm too poor and too old to hunt after them all by myself." -He closed his eyes: the tears trickled slowly over his wrinkled -cheeks. "I've been a trouble to Jemmy," he murmured, faintly; -"I've been a sad trouble, I'm afraid, to poor Jemmy!" In a minute -more his weakness overpowered him, and he fell asleep again. - -The clock of the neighboring church struck. It was ten. As the -bell tolled the hour, the tidal train--with Midwinter and his -wife among the passengers--was speeding nearer and nearer to -Paris. As the bell tolled the hour, the watch on board Allan's -outward-bound yacht had sighted the light-house off the Land's -End, and had set the course of the vessel for Ushant and -Finisterre. - -THE END OF THE THIRD BOOK. - - -BOOK THE FOURTH. - -CHAPTER I. - -MISS GWILT'S DIARY. - -"NAPLES, October 10th.--It is two months to-day since I declared -that I had closed my Diary, never to open it again. - -"Why have I broken my resolution? Why have I gone back to this -secret friend of my wretchedest and wickedest hours? Because I am -more friendless than ever; because I am more lonely than ever, -though my husband is sitting writing in the next room to me. My -misery is a woman's misery, and it _will_ speak--here, rather -than nowhere; to my second self, in this book, if I have no one -else to hear me. - -"How happy I was in the first days that followed our marriage, -and how happy I made _him_! Only two months have passed, and that -time is a by-gone time already! I try to think of anything I -might have said or done wrongly, on my side--of anything he might -have said or done wrongly, on his; and I can remember nothing -unworthy of my husband, nothing unworthy of myself. I cannot even -lay my finger on the day when the cloud first rose between us. - -"I could bear it, if I loved him less dearly than I do. I could -conquer the misery of our estrangement, if he only showed the -change in him as brutally as other men would show it. - -"But this never has happened--never will happen. It is not -in his nature to inflict suffering on others. Not a hard word, -not a hard look, escapes him. It is only at night, when I hear -him sighing in his sleep, and sometimes when I see him dreaming -in the morning hours, that I know how hopelessly I am losing -the love he once felt for me. He hides, or tries to hide, it in -the day, for my sake. He is all gentleness, all kindness; but -his heart is not on his lips when he kisses me now; his hand -tells me nothing when it touches mine. Day after day the hours -that he gives to his hateful writing grow longer and longer; -day after day he becomes more and more silent in the hours that -he gives to me. - -"And, with all this, there is nothing that I can complain -of--nothing marked enough to justify me in noticing it. His -disappointment shrinks from all open confession; his resignation -collects itself by such fine degrees that even my watchfulness -fails to see the growth of it. Fifty times a day I feel the -longing in me to throw my arms round his neck, and say: 'For -God's sake, do anything to me, rather than treat me like this!' -and fifty times a day the words are forced back into my heart -by the cruel considerateness of his conduct; which gives me no -excuse for speaking them. I thought I had suffered the sharpest -pain that I could feel when my first husband laid his whip across -my face. I thought I knew the worst that despair could do on the -day when I knew that the other villain, the meaner villain still, -had cast me off. Live and learn. There is sharper pain than -I felt under Waldron's whip; there is bitterer despair than -the despair I knew when Manuel deserted me. - -"Am I too old for him? Surely not yet! Have I lost my beauty? -Not a man passes me in the street but his eyes tell me I am as -handsome as ever. - -"Ah, no! no! the secret lies deeper than _that_! I have thought -and thought about it till a horrible fancy has taken possession -of me. He has been noble and good in his past life, and I have -been wicked and disgraced. Who can tell what a gap that dreadful -difference may make between us, unknown to him and unknown to me? -It is folly, it is madness; but, when I lie awake by him in -the darkness, I ask myself whether any unconscious disclosure -of the truth escapes me in the close intimacy that now unites us? -Is there an unutterable Something left by the horror of my past -life, which clings invisibly to me still? And is he feeling the -influence of it, sensibly, and yet incomprehensibly to himself? -Oh me! is there no purifying power in such love as mine? Are -there plague-spots of past wickedness on my heart which no -after-repentance can wash out? - -"Who can tell? There is something wrong in our married life-- -I can only come back to that. There is some adverse influence -that neither he nor I can trace which is parting us further and -further from each other day by day. Well! I suppose I shall be -hardened in time, and learn to bear it. - -"An open carriage has just driven by my window, with a nicely -dressed lady in it. She had her husband by her side, and her -children on the seat opposite. At the moment when I saw her -she was laughing and talking in high spirits--a sparkling, -light-hearted, happy woman. Ah, my lady, when you were a few -years younger, if you had been left to yourself, and thrown -on the world like me-- - - -"October 11th.--The eleventh day of the month was the day (two -months since) when we were married. He said nothing about it -to me when we woke, nor I to him. But I thought I would make it -the occasion, at breakfast-time, of trying to win him back. - -"I don't think I ever took such pains with my toilet before. -I don't think I ever looked better than I looked when I went -downstairs this morning. He had breakfasted by himself, and -I found a little slip of paper on the table with an apology -written on it. The post to England, he said, went out that day - and his letter to the newspaper must be finished. In his place -I would have let fifty posts go out rather than breakfast without -him. I went into his room. There he was, immersed body and soul -in his hateful writing! 'Can't you give me a little time this -morning?' I asked. He got up with a start. 'Certainly, if you -wish it.' He never even looked at me as he said the words. -The very sound of his voice told me that all his interest -was centered in the pen that he had just laid down. 'I see you -are occupied,' I said; 'I don't wish it.' Before I had closed -the door on him he was back at his desk. I have often heard that -the wives of authors have been for the most part unhappy women. -And now I know why. - -"I suppose, as I said yesterday, I shall learn to bear it. (What -_stuff_, by-the-by, I seem to have written yesterday! How ashamed -I should be if anybody saw it but myself!) I hope the trumpery -newspaper he writes for won't succeed! I hope his rubbishing -letter will be well cut up by some other newspaper as soon as -it gets into print! - -"What am I to do with myself all the morning? I can't go out, -it's raining. If I open the piano, I shall disturb the -industrious journalist who is scribbling in the next room. -Oh, dear, it was lonely enough in my lodging in Thorpe Ambrose, -but how much lonelier it is here! Shall I read? No; books don't -interest me; I hate the whole tribe of authors. I think I shall -look back through these pages, and live my life over again when -I was plotting and planning, and finding a new excitement to -occupy me in every new hour of the day. - -"He might have looked at me, though he _was_ so busy with his -writing.--He might have said, 'How nicely you are dressed this -morning!' He might have remembered--never mind what! All he -remembers is the newspaper. - - -"Twelve o'clock.--I have been reading and thinking; and, thanks -to my Diary, I have got through an hour. - -"What a time it was--what a life it was, at Thorpe Ambrose! -I wonder I kept my senses. It makes my heart beat, it makes -my face flush, only to read about it now! - -"The rain still falls, and the journalist still scribbles. -I don't want to think the thoughts of that past time over -again. And yet, what else can I do? - -"Supposing--I only say supposing--I felt now, as I felt when -I traveled to London with Armadale; and when I saw my way to -his life as plainly as I saw the man himself all through the -journey...? - -"I'll go and look out of the window. I'll go and count the people -as they pass by. - -"A funeral has gone by, with the penitents in their black hoods, -and the wax torches sputtering in the wet, and the little bell -ringing, and the priests droning their monotonous chant. -A pleasant sight to meet me at the window! I shall go back to -my Diary. - -"Supposing I was not the altered woman I am--I only say, -supposing--how would the Grand Risk that I once thought of -running look now? I have married Midwinter in the name that -is really his own. And by doing that I have taken the first of -those three steps which were once to lead me, through Armadale's -life, to the fortune and the station of Armadale's widow. No -matter how innocent my intentions might have been on the wedding- -day--and they _were_ innocent--this is one of the unalterable -results of the marriage. Well, having taken the first step, then, -whether I would or no, how--supposing I meant to take the second -step, which I don't--how would present circumstances stand toward -me? Would they warn me to draw back, I wonder? or would they -encourage me to go on? - -"It will interest me to calculate the chances; and I can easily -tear the leaf out, and destroy it, if the prospect looks too -encouraging. - -"We are living here (for economy's sake) far away from the -expensive English quarter, in a suburb of the city, on the -Portici side. We have made no traveling acquaintances among -our own country people. Our poverty is against us; Midwinter's -shyness is against us; and (with the women) my personal -appearance is against us. The men from whom my husband gets -his information for the newspaper meet him at the cafe, and never -come here. I discourage his bringing any strangers to see me; -for, though years have passed since I was last at Naples, -I cannot be sure that some of the many people I once knew in -this place may not be living still. The moral of all this is -(as the children's storybooks say), that not a single witness -has come to this house who could declare, if any after-inquiry -took place in England, that Midwinter and I had been living here -as man and wife. So much for present circumstances as they -affect me. - -"Armadale next. Has any unforeseen accident led him to -communicate with Thorpe Ambrose? Has he broken the conditions -which the major imposed on him, and asserted himself in the -character of Miss Milroy's promised husband since I saw him last? - -"Nothing of the sort has taken place. No unforeseen accident -has altered his position--his tempting position--toward myself. -I know all that has happened to him since he left England, -through the letters which he writes to Midwinter, and which -Midwinter shows to me. - -"He has been wrecked, to begin with. His trumpery little yacht -has actually tried to drown him, after all, and has failed! It -happened (as Midwinter warned him it might happen with so small -a vessel) in a sudden storm. They were blown ashore on the coast -of Portugal. The yacht went to pieces, but the lives, and papers, -and so on, were saved. The men have been sent back to Bristol, -with recommendations from their master which have already got -them employment on board an outward-bound ship. And the master -himself is on his way here, after stopping first at Lisbon, and -next at Gibraltar, and trying ineffectually in both places to -supply himself with another vessel. His third attempt is to be -made at Naples, where there is an English yacht 'laid up,' as -they call it, to be had for sale or hire. He has had no occasion -to write home since the wreck; for he took away from Coutts's the -whole of the large sum of money lodged there for him, in circular -notes. And he has felt no inclination to go back to England -himself; for, with Mr. Brock dead, Miss Milroy at school, and -Midwinter here, he has not a living creature in whom he is -interested to welcome him if he returned. To see us, and to see -the new yacht, are the only two present objects he has in view. -Midwinter has been expecting him for a week past, and he may walk -into this very room in which I am writing, at this very moment, -for all I know to the contrary. - -"Tempting circumstances, these--with all the wrongs I have -suffered at his mother's hands and at his, still alive in my -memory; with Miss Milroy confidently waiting to take her place -at the head of his household; with my dream of living happy and -innocent in Midwinter's love dispelled forever, and with nothing -left in its place to help me against myself. I wish it wasn't -raining; I wish I could go out. - -"Perhaps something may happen to prevent Armadale from coming to -Naples? When he last wrote, he was waiting at Gibraltar for an -English steamer in the Mediterranean trade to bring him on here. -He may get tired of waiting before the steamer comes, or he may -hear of a yacht at some other place than this. A little bird -whispers in my ear that it may possibly be the wisest thing -he ever did in his life if he breaks his engagement to join us -at Naples. - -"Shall I tear out the leaf on which all these shocking things -have been written? No. My Diary is so nicely bound--it would be -positive barbarity to tear out a leaf. Let me occupy myself -harmlessly with something else. What shall it be? My -dressing-case--I will put my dressing-case tidy, and polish up -the few little things in it which my misfortunes have still left -in my possession. - -"I have shut up the dressing-case again. The first thing I found -in it was Armadale's shabby present to me on my marriage--the -rubbishing little ruby ring. That irritated me, to begin with. -The second thing that turned up was my bottle of Drops. I caught -myself measuring the doses with my eye, and calculating how many -of them would be enough to take a living creature over the -border-land between sleep and death. Why I should have locked -the dressing-case in a fright, before I had quite completed my -calculation, I don't know; but I did lock it. And here I am back -again at my Diary, with nothing, absolutely nothing, to write -about. Oh, the weary day! the weary day! Will nothing happen to -excite me a little in this horrible place? - - -"October 12th.--Midwinter's all-important letter to the newspaper -was dispatched by the post last night. I was foolish enough -to suppose that I might be honored by having some of his spare -attention bestowed on me to-day. Nothing of the sort! He had -a restless night, after all his writing, and got up with his head -aching, and his spirits miserably depressed. When he is in -this state, his favorite remedy is to return to his old vagabond -habits, and go roaming away by himself nobody knows where. -He went through the form this morning (knowing I had no riding -habit) of offering to hire a little broken-kneed brute of a pony -for me, in case I wished to accompany him! I preferred remaining -at home. I will have a handsome horse and a handsome habit, or -I won't ride at all. He went away, without attempting to persuade -me to change my mind. I wouldn't have changed it, of course; but -he might have tried to persuade me all the same. - -"I can open the piano in his absence--that is one comfort. And -I am in a fine humor for playing--that is another. There is -a sonata of Beethoven's (I forget the number), which always -suggests to me the agony of lost spirits in a place of torment. -Come, my fingers and thumbs, and take me among the lost spirits -this morning! - - -"October 13th.--Our windows look out on the sea. At noon to-day -we saw a steamer coming in, with the English flag flying. -Midwinter has gone to the port, on the chance that this may be -the vessel from Gibraltar, with Armadale on board. - -"Two o'clock.--It is the vessel from Gibraltar. Armadale has -added one more to the long list of his blunders: he has kept -his engagement to join us at Naples. - -"How will it end _now_? - -"Who knows? - - -"October 16th.--Two days missed out of my Diary! I can hardly -tell why, unless it is that Armadale irritates me beyond all -endurance. The mere sight of him takes me back to Thorpe Ambrose. -I fancy I must have been afraid of what I might write about him, -in the course of the last two days, if I indulged myself in -the dangerous luxury of opening these pages. - -"This morning I am afraid of nothing, and I take up my pen again -accordingly. - -"Is there any limit, I wonder, to the brutish stupidity of some -men? I thought I had discovered Armadale's limit when I was -his neighbor in Norfolk; but my later experience at Naples shows -me that I was wrong. He is perpetually in and out of this house -(crossing over to us in a boat from the hotel at Santa Lucia, -where he sleeps); and he has exactly two subjects of conversation ---the yacht for sale in the harbor here, and Miss Milroy. Yes! -he selects ME as the _confidante_ of his devoted attachment to -the major's daughter! 'It's so nice to talk to a woman about it!' -That is all the apology he has thought it necessary to make for -appealing to my sympathies--_my_ sympathies!--on the subject -of 'his darling Neelie,' fifty times a day. He is evidently -persuaded (if he thinks about it at all) that I have forgotten, -as completely as he has forgotten, all that once passed between -us when I was first at Thorpe Ambrose. Such an utter want of -the commonest delicacy and the commonest tact, in a creature -who is, to all appearance, possessed of a skin, and not a hide, -and who does, unless my ears deceive me, talk, and not bray, -is really quite incredible when one comes to think of it. But -it is, for all that, quite true. He asked me--he actually asked -me, last night--how many hundreds a year the wife of a rich man -could spend on her dress. 'Don't put it too low,' the idiot -added, with his intolerable grin. 'Neelie shall be one of -the best-dressed women in England when I have married her.' -And this to me, after having had him at my feet, and then losing -him again through Miss Milroy! This to me, with an alpaca gown -on, and a husband whose income must be helped by a newspaper! - -"I had better not dwell on it any longer. I had better think -and write of something else. - -"The yacht. As a relief from hearing about Miss Milroy, I declare -the yacht in the harbor is quite an interesting subject to me! -She (the men call a vessel 'She'; and I suppose, if the women -took an interest in such things, _they_ would call a vessel -'He')--she is a beautiful model; and her 'top-sides' (whatever -they may be) are especially distinguished by being built of -mahogany. But, with these merits, she has the defect, on the -other hand, of being old--which is a sad drawback--and the crew -and the sailing-master have been 'paid off,' and sent home to -England--which is additionally distressing. Still, if a new crew -and a new sailing-master can be picked up here, such a beautiful -creature (with all her drawbacks), is not to be despised. -It might answer to hire her for a cruise, and to see how she -behaves. (If she is of _my_ mind, her behavior will rather -astonish her new master!) The cruise will determine what faults -she has, and what repairs, through the unlucky circumstance of -her age, she really stands in need of. And then it will be time -to settle whether to buy her outright or not. Such is Armadale's -conversation when he is not talking of 'his darling Neelie.' And -Midwinter, who can steal no time from his newspaper work for -his wife, can steal hours for his friend, and can offer them -unreservedly to my irresistible rival, the new yacht. - -"I shall write no more to-day. If so lady-like a person as I am -could feel a tigerish tingling all over her to the very tips -of her fingers, I should suspect myself of being in that -condition at the present moment. But, with _my_ manners and -accomplishments, the thing is, of course, out of the question. -We all know that a lady has no passions. - - -"October 17th.--A letter for Midwinter this morning from the -slave-owners--I mean the newspaper people in London--which has -set him at work again harder than ever. A visit at luncheon-time -and another visit at dinner-time from Armadale. Conversation -at luncheon about the yacht. Conversation at dinner about Miss -Milroy. I have been honored, in regard to that young lady, by an -invitation to go with Armadale to-morrow to the Toledo, and help -him to buy some presents for the beloved object. I didn't fly out -at him--I only made an excuse. Can words express the astonishment -I feel at my own patience? No words can express it. - - -"October 18th.--Armadale came to breakfast this morning, by way -of catching Midwinter before he shuts himself up over his work. - -"Conversation the same as yesterday's conversation at lunch. -Armadale has made his bargain with the agent for hiring -the yacht. The agent (compassionating his total ignorance of -the language) has helped him to find an interpreter, but can't -help him to find a crew. The interpreter is civil and willing, -but doesn't understand the sea. Midwinter's assistance is -indispensable; and Midwinter is requested (and consents!) to work -harder than ever, so as to make time for helping his friend. When -the crew is found, the merits and defects of the vessel are to be -tried by a cruise to Sicily, with Midwinter on board to give -his opinion. Lastly (in case she should feel lonely), the ladies' -cabin is most obligingly placed at the disposal of Midwinter's -wife. All this was settled at the breakfast-table; and it ended -with one of Armadale's neatly-turned compliments, addressed -to myself: 'I mean to take Neelie sailing with me, when we are -married. And you have such good taste, you will be able to tell -me everything the ladies' cabin wants between that time and -this.' - -"If some women bring such men as this into the world, ought other -women to allow them to live? It is a matter of opinion. _I_ think -not. - -"What maddens me is to see, as I do see plainly, that Midwinter -finds in Armadale's company, and in Armadale's new yacht, -a refuge from me. He is always in better spirits when Armadale -is here. He forgets me in Armadale almost as completely as he -forgets me in his work. And I bear it! What a pattern wife, -what an excellent Christian I am! - - -"October 19th.--Nothing new. Yesterday over again. - - -"October 20th.--One piece of news. Midwinter is suffering from -nervous headache; and is working in spite of it, to make time -for his holiday with his friend. - - -"October 21st.--Midwinter is worse. Angry and wild and -unapproachable, after two bad nights, and two uninterrupted -days at his desk. Under any other circumstances he would take -the warning and leave off. But nothing warns him now. He is still -working as hard as ever, for Armadale's sake. How much longer -will my patience last? - - -"October 22d.--Signs, last night, that Midwinter is taxing his -brains beyond what his brains will bear. When he did fall asleep, -he was frightfully restless; groaning and talking and grinding -his teeth. From some of the words I heard, he seemed at one time -to be dreaming of his life when he was a boy, roaming the country -with the dancing dogs. At another time he was back again with -Armadale, imprisoned all night on the wrecked ship. Toward the -early morning hours he grew quieter. I fell asleep; and, waking -after a short interval, found myself alone. My first glance round -showed me a light burning in Midwinter's dressing-room. I rose -softly, and went to look at him. - -"He was seated in the great, ugly, old-fashioned chair, which -I ordered to be removed into the dressing-room out of the way -when we first came here. His head lay back, and one of his hands -hung listlessly over the arm of the chair. The other hand was -on his lap. I stole a little nearer, and saw that exhaustion had -overpowered him while he was either reading or writing, for there -were books, pens, ink, and paper on the table before him. What -had he got up to do secretly, at that hour of the morning? -I looked closer at the papers on the table. They were all neatly -folded (as he usually keeps them), with one exception; and that -exception, lying open on the rest, was Mr. Brock's letter. - -"I looked round at him again, after making this discovery, and -then noticed for the first time another written paper, lying -under the hand that rested on his lap. There was no moving it -away without the risk of waking him. Part of the open manuscript, -however, was not covered by his hand. I looked at it to see what -he had secretly stolen away to read, besides Mr. Brock's letter; -and made out enough to tell me that it was the Narrative of -Armadale's Dream. - -"That second discovery sent me back at once to my bed--with -something serious to think of. - -"Traveling through France, on our way to this place, Midwinter's -shyness was conquered for once, by a very pleasant man--an Irish -doctor--whom we met in the railway carriage, and who quite -insisted on being friendly and sociable with us all through -the day's journey. Finding that Midwinter was devoting himself to -literary pursuits, our traveling companion warned him not to pass -too many hours together at his desk. 'Your face tells me more -than you think,' the doctor said: 'If you are ever tempted to -overwork your brain, you will feel it sooner than most men. When -you find your nerves playing you strange tricks, don't neglect -the warning--drop your pen.' - -"After my last night's discovery in the dressing-room, it looks -as if Midwinter's nerves were beginning already to justify -the doctor's opinion of them. If one of the tricks they are -playing him is the trick of tormenting him again with his old -superstitious terrors, there will be a change in our lives here -before long. I shall wait curiously to see whether the conviction -that we two are destined to bring fatal danger to Armadale takes -possession of Midwinter's mind once more. If it does, I know what -will happen. He will not stir a step toward helping his friend to -find a crew for the yacht; and he will certainly refuse to sail -with Armadale, or to let me sail with him, on the trial cruise. - - -"October 23d.--Mr. Brock's letter has, apparently, not lost -its influence yet. Midwinter is working again to-day, and is -as anxious as ever for the holiday-time that he is to pass with -his friend. - -"Two o'clock.--Armadale here as usual; eager to know when -Midwinter will be at his service. No definite answer to be given -to the question yet, seeing that it all depends on Midwinter's -capacity to continue at his desk. Armadale sat down disappointed; -he yawned, and put his great clumsy hands in his pockets. I took -up a book. The brute didn't understand that I wanted to be left -alone; he began again on the unendurable subject of Miss Milroy, -and of all the fine things she was to have when he married her. -Her own riding-horse; her own pony-carriage; her own beautiful -little sitting-room upstairs at the great house, and so on. All -that I might have had once Miss Milroy is to have now--_if I let -her_. - - -"Six o'clock.--More of the everlasting Armadale! Half an hour -since, Midwinter came in from his writing, giddy and exhausted. -I had been pining all day for a little music, and I knew they -were giving 'Norma' at the theater here. It struck me that -an hour or two at the opera might do Midwinter good, as well as -me; and I said: 'Why not take a box at the San Carlo to-night?' -He answered, in a dull, uninterested manner, that he was not -rich enough to take a box. Armadale was present, and flourished -his well-filled purse in his usual insufferable way. '_I'm_ -rich enough, old boy, and it comes to the same thing.' With -those words he took up his hat, and trampled out on his great -elephant's feet to get the box. I looked after him from -the window as he went down the street. 'Your widow, with her -twelve hundred a year,' I thought to myself, 'might take a box -at the San Carlo whenever she pleased, without being beholden -to anybody.' The empty-headed wretch whistled as he went his way -to the theater, and tossed his loose silver magnificently -to every beggar who ran after him. - -* * * * * - -"Midnight.--I am alone again at last. Have I nerve enough to -write the history of this terrible evening, just as it has -passed? I have nerve enough, at any rate, to turn to a new leaf, -and try. - - -CHAPTER II. - -THE DIARY CONTINUED. - - -"We went to the San Carlo. Armadale's stupidity showed itself, -even in such a simple matter as taking a box. He had confounded -an opera with a play, and had chosen a box close to the stage, -with the idea that one's chief object at a musical performance -is to see the faces of the singers as plainly as possible! -Fortunately for our ears, Bellini's lovely melodies are, for the -most part, tenderly and delicately accompanied--or the orchestra -might have deafened us. - -"I sat back in the box at first, well out of sight; for it was -impossible to be sure that some of my old friends of former days -at Naples might not be in the theater. But the sweet music -gradually tempted me out of my seclusion. I was so charmed and -interested that I leaned forward without knowing it, and looked -at the stage. - -"I was made aware of my own imprudence by a discovery which, -for the moment, literally chilled my blood. One of the singers, -among the chorus of Druids, was looking at me while he sang with -the rest. His head was disguised in the long white hair, and the -lower part of his face was completely covered with the flowing -white beard proper to the character. But the eyes with which -he looked at me were the eyes of the one man on earth whom I have -most reason to dread ever seeing again--Manuel! - -"If it had not been for my smelling-bottle, I believe I should -have lost my senses. As it was, I drew back again into the -shadow. Even Armadale noticed the sudden change in me: he, as -well as Midwinter, asked if I was ill. I said I felt the heat, -but hoped I should be better presently; and then leaned back in -the box, and tried to rally my courage. I succeeded in recovering -self-possession enough to be able to look again at the stage -(without showing myself) the next time the chorus appeared. There -was the man again! But to my infinite relief he never looked -toward our box a second time. This welcome indifference, on his -part, helped to satisfy me that I had seen an extraordinary -accidental resemblance, and nothing more. I still hold to this -conclusion, after having had leisure to think; but my mind would -be more completely at ease than it is if I had seen the rest of -the man's face without the stage disguises that hid it from all -investigation. - -"When the curtain fell on the first act, there was a tiresome -ballet to be performed (according to the absurd Italian custom), -before the opera went on. Though I had got over my first fright, -I had been far too seriously startled to feel comfortable in the -theater. I dreaded all sorts of impossible accidents; and when -Midwinter and Armadale put the question to me, I told them I was -not well enough to stay through the rest of the performance. - -"At the door of the theater Armadale proposed to say good-night. -But Midwinter--evidently dreading the evening with _me_--asked -him to come back to supper, if I had no objection. I said the -necessary words, and we all three returned together to this -house. - -"Ten minutes' quiet in my own room (assisted by a little dose of -eau-de-cologne and water) restored me to myself. I joined the men -at the supper-table. They received my apologies for taking them -away from the opera, with the complimentary assurance that -I had not cost either of them the slightest sacrifice of his own -pleasure. Midwinter declared that he was too completely worn out -to care for anything but the two great blessings, unattainable -at the theater, of quiet and fresh air. Armadale said--with an -Englishman's exasperating pride in his own stupidity wherever -a matter of art is concerned--that he couldn't make head or tail -of the performance. The principal disappointment, he was good -enough to add, was mine, for I evidently understood foreign -music, and enjoyed it. Ladies generally did. His darling little -Neelie-- - -"I was in no humor to be persecuted with his 'Darling Neelie' -after what I had gone through at the theater. It might have been -the irritated state of my nerves, or it might have been the -eau-de-cologne flying to my head, but the bare mention of the -girl seemed to set me in a flame. I tried to turn Armadale's -attention in the direction of the supper-table. He was much -obliged, but he had no appetite for more. I offered him wine -next, the wine of the country, which is all that our poverty -allows us to place on the table. He was much obliged again. The -foreign wine was very little more to his taste than the foreign -music; but he would take some because I asked him; and he would -drink my health in the old-fashioned way, with his best wishes -for the happy time when we should all meet again at Thorpe -Ambrose, and when there would be a mistress to welcome me at -the great house. - -"Was he mad to persist in this way? No; his face answered for -him. He was under the impression that he was making himself -particularly agreeable to me. - -"I looked at Midwinter. He might have seen some reason for -interfering to change the conversation, if he had looked at me in -return. But he sat silent in his chair, irritable and overworked, -with his eyes on the ground, thinking. - -"I got up and went to the window. Still impenetrable to a sense -of his own clumsiness, Armadale followed me. If I had been strong -enough to toss him out of the window into the sea, I should -certainly have done it at that moment. Not being strong enough, -I looked steadily at the view over the bay, and gave him a hint, -the broadest and rudest I could think of, to go. - -"'A lovely night for a walk,' I said, 'if you are tempted to walk -back to the hotel.' - -"I doubt if he heard me. At any rate, I produced no sort of -effect on him. He stood staring sentimentally at the moonlight; -and--there is really no other word to express it--_blew_ a sigh. -I felt a presentiment of what was coming, unless I stopped his -mouth by speaking first. - -"'With all your fondness for England,' I said, 'you must own -that we have no such moonlight as that at home.' - -"He looked at me vacantly, and blew another sigh. - -"'I wonder whether it is fine to-night in England as it is here?' -he said. 'I wonder whether my dear little girl at home is looking -at the moonlight, and thinking of me?' - -"I could endure it no longer. I flew out at him at last. - -"'Good heavens, Mr. Armadale!' I exclaimed, 'is there only one -subject worth mentioning, in the narrow little world you live in? -I'm sick to death of Miss Milroy. Do pray talk of something -else?' - -"His great, broad, stupid face colored up to the roots of -his hideous yellow hair. 'I beg your pardon,' he stammered, -with a kind of sulky surprise. 'I didn't suppose--' He stopped -confusedly, and looked from me to Midwinter. I understood what -the look meant. 'I didn't suppose she could be jealous of Miss -Milroy after marrying _you_!' That is what he would have said -to Midwinter, if I had left them alone together in the room! - -"As it was, Midwinter had heard us. Before I could speak -again--before Armadale could add another word--he finished -his friend's uncompleted sentence, in a tone that I now heard, -and with a look that I now saw, for the first time. - -"'You didn't suppose, Allan,' he said, 'that a lady's temper -could be so easily provoked.' - -"The first bitter word of irony, the first hard look of contempt, -I had ever had from him! And Armadale the cause of it! - -"My anger suddenly left me. Something came in its place which -steadied me in an instant, and took me silently out of the room. - -"I sat down alone in the bedroom. I had a few minutes of thought -with myself, which I don't choose to put into words, even in -these secret pages. I got up, and unlocked--never mind what. -I went round to Midwinter's side of the bed, and took--no matter -what I took. The last thing I did before I left the room was -to look at my watch. It was half-past ten, Armadale's usual time -for leaving us. I went back at once and joined the two men again. - -"I approached Armadale good-humoredly, and said to him: - - -"No! On second thoughts. I won't put down what I said to him, -or what I did afterward. I'm sick of Armadale! he turns up at -every second word I write. I shall pass over what happened in -the course of the next hour--the hour between half-past ten and -half-past eleven--and take up my story again at the time when -Armadale had left us. Can I tell what took place, as soon as our -visitor's back was turned, between Midwinter and me in our own -room? Why not pass over what happened, in that case as well as in -the other? Why agitate myself by writing it down? I don't know! -Why do I keep a diary at all? Why did the clever thief the other -day (in the English newspaper) keep the very thing to convict him -in the shape of a record of everything he stole? Why are we not -perfectly reasonable in all that we do? Why am I not always on my -guard and never inconsistent with myself, like a wicked character -in a novel? Why? why? why? - -"I don't care why! I must write down what happened between -Midwinter and me to-night, _because_ I must. There's a reason -that nobody can answer--myself included. - -* * * * * * * - -"It was half-past eleven. Armadale had gone. I had put on -my dressing-gown, and had just sat down to arrange my hair -for the night, when I was surprised by a knock at the door, -and Midwinter came in. - -"He was frightfully pale. His eyes looked at me with a terrible -despair in them. He never answered when I expressed my surprise -at his coming in so much sooner than usual; he wouldn't even -tell me, when I asked the question, if he was ill. Pointing -peremptorily to the chair from which I had risen on his entering -the room, he told me to sit down again; and then, after a moment, -added these words: 'I have something serious to say to you.' - -"I thought of what I had done--or, no, of what I had tried to -do--in that interval between half-past ten and half-past eleven, -which I have left unnoticed in my diary--and the deadly sickness -of terror, which I never felt at the time, came upon me now. -I sat down again, as I had been told, without speaking to -Midwinter, and without looking at him. - -"He took a turn up and down the room, and then came and stood -over me. - -"'If Allan comes here to-morrow,' he began, 'and if you see -him--' - -"His voice faltered, and he said no more. There was some dreadful -grief at his heart that was trying to master him. But there are -times when his will is a will of iron. He took another turn -in the room, and crushed it down. He came back, and stood over me -again. - -"'When Allan comes here to-morrow,' he resumed, 'let him come -into my room, if he wants to see me. I shall tell him that I find -it impossible to finish the work I now have on hand as soon as -I had hoped, and that he must, therefore, arrange to find a crew -for the yacht without any assistance on my part. If he comes, -in his disappointment, to appeal to you, give him no hope of my -being free in time to help him if he waits. Encourage him to take -the best assistance he can get from strangers, and to set about -manning the yacht without any further delay. The more occupation -he has to keep him away from this house, and the less you -encourage him to stay here if he does come, the better I shall be -pleased. Don't forget that, and don't forget one last direction -which I have now to give you. When the vessel is ready for sea, -and when Allan invites us to sail with him, it is my wish that -you should positively decline to go. He will try to make you -change your mind; for I shall, of course, decline, on my side, -to leave you in this strange house, and in this foreign country, -by yourself. No matter what he says, let nothing persuade you -to alter your decision. Refuse, positively and finally! Refuse, -I insist on it, to set your foot on the new yacht!' - -"He ended quietly and firmly, with no faltering in his voice, -and no signs of hesitation or relenting in his face. The sense -of surprise which I might otherwise have felt at the strange -words he had addressed to me was lost in the sense of relief -that they brought to my mind. The dread of _those other words_ -that I had expected to hear from him left me as suddenly as it -had come. I could look at him, I could speak to him once more. - -"'You may depend,' I answered, 'on my doing exactly what you -order me to do. Must I obey you blindly? Or may I know your -reason for the extraordinary directions you have just given -to me?' - -"His, face darkened, and he sat down on the other side of -my dressing-table, with a heavy, hopeless sigh. - -"'You may know the reason,' he said, 'if you wish it.' He waited -a little, and considered. 'You have a right to know the reason,' -he resumed, 'for you yourself are concerned in it.' He waited a -little again, and again went on. 'I can only explain the strange -request I have just made to you in one way,' be said. 'I must ask -you to recall what happened in the next room, before Allan left -us to-night.' - -"He looked at me with a strange mixture of expressions in his -face. At one moment I thought he felt pity for me. At another, -it seemed more like horror of me. I began to feel frightened -again; I waited for his next words in silence. - -"'I know that I have been working too hard lately,' he went on, -'and that my nerves are sadly shaken. It is possible, in the -state I am in now, that I may have unconsciously misinterpreted, -or distorted, the circumstances that really took place. You -will do me a favor if you will test my recollection of what -has happened by your own. If my fancy has exaggerated anything, -if my memory is playing me false anywhere, I entreat you to stop -me, and tell me of it.' - -"I commanded myself sufficiently to ask what the circumstances -were to which he referred, and in what way I was personally -concerned in them. - -"'You were personally concerned in them in this way,' he -answered. 'The circumstances to which I refer began with your -speaking to Allan about Miss Milroy, in what I thought a very -inconsiderate and very impatient manner. I am afraid I spoke just -as petulantly on my side, and I beg your pardon for what I said -to you in the irritation of the moment. You left the room. After -a short absence, you came back again, and made a perfectly proper -apology to Allan, which he received with his usual kindness and -sweetness of temper. While this went on, you and he were both -standing by the supper-table; and Allan resumed some conversation -which had already passed between you about the Neapolitan wine. -He said he thought he should learn to like it in time, and he -asked leave to take another glass of the wine we had on the -table. Am I right so far?' - -"The words almost died on my lips; but I forced them out, and -answered him that he was right so far. - -"'You took the flask out of Allan's hand,' he proceeded. 'You -said to him, good-humoredly, "You know you don't really like the -wine, Mr. Armadale. Let me make you something which may be more -to your taste. I have a recipe of my own for lemonade. Will you -favor me by trying it?" In those words, you made your proposal -to him, and he accepted it. Did he also ask leave to look on, -and learn how the lemonade was made? and did you tell him that -he would only confuse you, and that you would give him the recipe -in writing, if he wanted it?' - -"This time the words did really die on my lips. I could only bow -my head, and answer 'Yes' mutely in that way. Midwinter went on. - -"'Allan laughed, and went to the window to look out at the Bay, -and I went with him. After a while Allan remarked, jocosely, -that the mere sound of the liquids you were pouring out made him -thirsty. When he said this, I turned round from the window. -I approached you, and said the lemonade took a long time to make. -You touched me, as I was walking away again, and handed me the -tumbler filled to the brim. At the same time, Allan turned round -from the window; and I, in my turn, handed the tumbler to _him_. ---Is there any mistake so far?' - -"The quick throbbing of my heart almost choked me. I could just -shake my head--I could do no more. - -"'I saw Allan raise the tumbler to his lips.--Did _you_ see it? -I saw his face turn white in an instant.--Did _you_? I saw the -glass fall from his hand on the floor. I saw him stagger, and -caught him before he fell. Are these things true? For God's sake, -search your memory, and tell me--are these things true?' - -"The throbbing at my heart seemed, for one breathless instant, -to stop. The next moment something fiery, something maddening, -flew through me. I started to my feet, with my temper in a flame, -reckless of all consequences, desperate enough to say anything. - -"'Your questions are an insult! Your looks are an insult!' -I burst out. '_Do you think I tried to poison him_?' - -"The words rushed out of my lips in spite of me. They were the -last words under heaven that any woman, in such a situation as -mine, ought to have spoken. And yet I spoke them! - -"He rose in alarm and gave me my smelling-bottle. 'Hush! hush!' -he said. 'You, too, are overwrought--you, too, are overexcited -by all that has happened to-night. You are talking wildly and -shockingly. Good God! how can you have so utterly misunderstood -me? Compose yourself--pray, compose yourself.' - -"He might as well have told a wild animal to compose herself. -Having been mad enough to say the words, I was mad enough next to -return to the subject of the lemonade, in spite of his entreaties -to me to be silent. - -"'I told you what I had put in the glass, the moment Mr. -Armadale fainted,' I went on; insisting furiously on defending -myself, when no attack was made on me. 'I told you I had taken -the flask of brandy which you kept at your bedside, and mixed -some of it with the lemonade. How could I know that he had a -nervous horror of the smell and taste of brandy? Didn't he say -to me himself, when he came to his senses, It's my fault; I ought -to have warned you to put no brandy in it? Didn't he remind you -afterward of the time when you and he were in the Isle of Man -together, and when the doctor there innocently made the same -mistake with him that I made to-night?' - -["I laid a great stress on my innocence--and with some reason -too. Whatever else I may be, I pride myself on not being a -hypocrite. I _was_ innocent--so far as the brandy was concerned. -I had put it into the lemonade, in pure ignorance of Armadale's -nervous peculiarity, to disguise the taste of--never mind what! -Another of the things I pride myself on is that I never wander -from my subject. What Midwinter said next is what I ought to be -writing about now.] - -"He looked at me for a moment, as if he thought I had taken -leave of my senses. Then he came round to my side of the table -and stood over me again. - -"'If nothing else will satisfy you that you are entirely -misinterpreting my motives,' he said, 'and that I haven't -an idea of blaming _you_ in the matter--read this.' - -"He took a paper from the breast-pocket of his coat, and spread -it open under my eyes. It was the Narrative of Armadale's Dream. - -"In an instant the whole weight on my mind was lifted off it. -I felt mistress of myself again--I understood him at last. - -"'Do you know what this is?' he asked. 'Do you remember what -I said to you at Thorpe Ambrose about Allan's Dream? I told you -then that two out of the three Visions had already come true. -I tell you now that the third Vision has been fulfilled in this -house to-night.' - -"He turned over the leaves of the manuscript, and pointed to -the lines that he wished me to read. - -"I read these, or nearly read these words, from the Narrative -of the Dream, as Midwinter had taken it down from Armadale's own -lips: - - -"'The darkness opened for the third time, and showed me -the Shadow of the Man and the Shadow of the Woman together. -The Man-Shade was the nearest; the Woman-Shadow stood back. From -where she stood, I heard a sound like the pouring out of a liquid -softly. I saw her touch the Shadow of the Man with one hand, and -give him a glass with the other. He took the glass and handed it -to me. At the moment when I put it to my lips, a deadly faintness -overcame me. When I recovered my senses again, the Shadows had -vanished, and the Vision was at an end.' - -"For the moment, I was as completely staggered by this -extraordinary coincidence as Midwinter himself. - -"He put one hand on the open narrative and laid the other heavily -on my arm. - -"'_Now_ do you understand my motive in coming here?' he asked. -'_Now_ do you see that the last hope I had to cling to was the -hope that your memory of the night's events might prove my memory -to be wrong? _Now_ do you know why I won't help Allan? Why -I won't sail with him? Why I am plotting and lying, and making -you plot and lie too, to keep my best and dearest friend out of -the house?' - -"'Have you forgotten Mr. Brock's letter?' I asked. - -"He struck his hand passionately on the open manuscript. 'If Mr. -Brook had lived to see what we have seen to-night he would have -felt what I feel, he would have said what I say!' His voice sank -mysteriously, and his great black eyes glittered at me as he made -that answer. 'Thrice the Shadows of the Vision warned Allan -in his sleep,' he went on; 'and thrice those Shadows have been -embodied in the after-time by You and by Me! You, and no other, -stood in the Woman's place at the pool. I, and no other, stood -in the Man's place at the window. And you and I together, when -the last Vision showed the Shadows together, stand in the Man's -place and the Woman's place still! For _this_, the miserable day -dawned when you and I first met. For _this_, your influence drew -me to you, when my better angel warned me to fly the sight of -your face. There is a curse on our lives! there is a fatality -in our footsteps! Allan's future depends on his separation from -us at once and forever. Drive him from the place we live in, -and the air we breathe. Force him among strangers--the worst and -wickedest of them will be more harmless, to him than we are! Let -his yacht sail, though he goes on his knees to ask us, without -you and without me; and let him know how I loved him in another -world than this, where the wicked cease from troubling, and the -weary are at rest!' - -"His grief conquered him; his voice broke into a sob when he -spoke those last words. He took the Narrative of the Dream from -the table, and left me as abruptly as he had come in. - -"As I heard his door locked between us, my mind went back to what -he had said to me about myself. In remembering 'the miserable -day' when we first saw each other, and 'the better angel' that -had warned him to 'fly the sight of my face,' I forgot all else. -It doesn't matter what I felt--I wouldn't own it, even if I had -a friend to speak to. Who cares for the misery of such a woman as -I am? who believes in it? Besides, he spoke under the influence -of a mad superstition that has got possession of him again. There -is every excuse for _him_--there is no excuse for _me_. If I -can't help being fond of him through it all, I must take the -consequences and suffer. I deserve to suffer; I deserve neither -love nor pity from anybody.--Good heavens, what a fool I am! And -how unnatural all this would be, if it was written in a book! - -"It has struck one. I can hear Midwinter still, pacing to and fro -in his room. - -"He is thinking, I suppose? Well! I can think too. What am I to -do next? I shall wait and see. Events take odd turns sometimes; -and events may justify the fatalism of the amiable man in the -next room, who curses the day when he first saw my face. He may -live to curse it for other reasons than he has now. If I am the -Woman pointed at in the Dream, there will be another temptation -put in my way before long; and there will be no brandy in -Armadale's lemonade if I mix it for him a second time. - - -"October 24th.--Barely twelve hours have passed since I wrote -my yesterday's entry; and that other temptation has come, tried, -amid conquered me already! - -"This time there was no alternative. Instant exposure and ruin -stared me in the face: I had no choice but to yield in my own -defense. In plainer words still, it was no accidental resemblance -that startled me at the theater last night. The chorus-singer -at the opera was Manuel himself! - -"Not ten minutes after Midwinter had left the sitting-room for -his study, the woman of the house came in with a dirty little -three-cornered note in her hand. One look at the writing on the -address was enough. He had recognized me in the box; and the -ballet between the acts of the opera had given him time to trace -me home. I drew that plain conclusion in the moment that elapsed -before I opened the letter. It informed me, in two lines, that he -was waiting in a by-street leading to the beach; and that, if I -failed to make my appearance in ten minutes, he should interpret -my absence as my invitation to him to call at the house. - -"What I went through yesterday must have hardened me, I suppose. -At any rate, after reading the letter, I felt more like the woman -I once was than I have felt for months past. I put on my bonnet -and went downstairs, and left the house as if nothing had -happened. - -"He was waiting for me at the entrance to the street. - -"In the instant when we stood face to face, all my wretched life -with him came back to me. I thought of my trust that he had -betrayed; I thought of the cruel mockery of a marriage that -he had practiced on me, when he knew that he had a wife living; -I thought of the time when I had felt despair enough at his -desertion of me to attempt my own life. When I recalled all this, -and when the comparison between Midwinter and the mean, miserable -villain whom I had once believed in forced itself into my mind, -I knew for the first time what a woman feels when every atom of -respect for herself has left her. If he had personally insulted -me at that moment, I believe I should have submitted to it. - -"But he had no idea of insulting me, in the more brutal meaning -of the word. He had me at his mercy, and his way of making me -feel it was to behave with an elaborate mockery of penitence and -respect. I let him speak as he pleased, without interrupting him, -without looking at him a second time, without even allowing my -dress to touch him, as we walked together toward the quieter part -of the beach. I had noticed the wretched state of his clothes, -and the greedy glitter in his eyes, in my first look at him. And -I knew it would end--as it did end--in a demand on me for money. - -"Yes! After taking from me the last farthing I possessed of my -own, and the last farthing I could extort for him from my old -mistress, he turned on me as we stood by the margin of the sea, -and asked if I could reconcile it to my conscience to let him -be wearing such a coat as he then had on his back, and earning -his miserable living as a chorus-singer at the opera! - -"My disgust, rather than my indignation, roused me into speaking -to him at last. - -"'You want money,' I said. 'Suppose I am too poor to give it -to you?' - -"'In that case,' he replied, 'I shall be forced to remember that -you are a treasure in yourself. And I shall be under the painful -necessity of pressing my claim to you on the attention of one -of those two gentlemen whom I saw with you at the opera--the -gentleman, of course, who is now honored by your preference, -and who lives provisionally in the light of your smiles.' - -"I made him no answer, for I had no answer to give. Disputing -his right to claim me from anybody would have been a mere waste -of words. He knew as well as I did that he had not the shadow -of a claim on me. But the mere attempt to raise it would, as he -was well aware, lead necessarily to the exposure of my whole past -life. - -"Still keeping silence, I looked out over the sea. I don't know -why, except that I instinctively looked anywhere rather than look -at _him_. - -"A little sailing-boat was approaching the shore. The man -steering was hidden from me by the sail; but the boat was so near -that I thought I recognized the flag on the mast. I looked at -my watch. Yes! It was Armadale coming over from Santa Lucia at -his usual time, to visit us in his usual way. - -"Before I had put my watch back in my belt, the means of -extricating myself from the frightful position I was placed -in showed themselves to me as plainly as I see them now. - -"I turned and led the way to the higher part of the beach, where -some fishing-boats were drawn up which completely screened us -from the view of any one landing on the shore below. Seeing -probably that I had a purpose of some kind, Manuel followed me -without uttering a word. As soon as we were safely under the -shelter of the boats, I forced myself, in my own defense, to look -at him again. - -"'What should you say,' I asked, 'if I was rich instead of poor? -What should you say if I could afford to give you a hundred -pounds?' - -"He started. I saw plainly that he had not expected so much as -half the sum I had mentioned. It is needless to add that his -tongue lied, while his face spoke the truth, and that when he -replied to me the answer was, 'Nothing like enough.' - -"'Suppose,' I went on, without taking any notice of what he had -said, 'that I could show you a way of helping yourself to twice -as much--three times as much--five times as much as a hundred -pounds, are you bold enough to put out your hand and take it?' - -"The greedy glitter came into his eyes once more. His voice -dropped low, in breathless expectation of my next words. - -"'Who is the person?' he asked. 'And what is the risk?' - -"I answered him at once, in the plainest terms. I threw Armadale -to him, as I might have thrown a piece of meat to a wild beast -who was pursuing me. - -"'The person is a rich young Englishman,' I said. 'He has just -hired the yacht called the _Dorothea_, in the harbor here; and -he stands in need of a sailing-master and a crew. You were once -an officer in the Spanish navy--you speak English and Italian -perfectly--you are thoroughly well acquainted with Naples and all -that belongs to it. The rich young Englishman is ignorant of the -language, and the interpreter who assists him knows nothing of -the sea. He is at his wits' end for want of useful help in this -strange place; he has no more knowledge of the world than that -child who is digging holes with a stick there in the sand; and -he carries all his money with him in circular notes. So much for -the person. As for the risk, estimate it for yourself.' - -"The greedy glitter in his eyes grew brighter and brighter with -every word I said. He was plainly ready to face the risk before -I had done speaking. - -"'When can I see the Englishman?' he asked, eagerly. - -"I moved to the seaward end of the fishing-boat, and saw that -Armadale was at that moment disembarking on the shore. - -"'You can see him now,' I answered, and pointed to the place. - -"After a long look at Armadale walking carelessly up the slope of -the beach, Manuel drew back again under the shelter of the boat. -He waited a moment, considering something carefully with himself, -and put another question to me, in a whisper this time. - -"'When the vessel is manned,' he said, 'and the Englishman sails -from Naples, how many friends sail with him?' - -"'He has but two friends here,' I replied; 'that other gentleman -whom you saw with me at the opera, and myself. He will invite us -both to sail with him; and when the time comes, we shall both -refuse.' - -"'Do you answer for that?' - -"'I answer for it positively.' - -"He walked a few steps away, and stood with his face hidden from -me, thinking again. All I could see was that he took off his hat -and passed his handkerchief over his forehead. All I could hear -was that he talked to himself excitedly in his own language. - -"There was a change in him when he came back. His face had turned -to a livid yellow, and his eyes looked at me with a hideous -distrust. - -"'One last question,' he said, and suddenly came closer to me, -suddenly spoke with a marked emphasis on his next words: '_What -is your interest in this_?' - -"I started back from him. The question reminded me that I _had_ -an interest in the matter, which was entirely unconnected with -the interest of keeping Manuel and Midwinter apart. Thus far -I had only remembered that Midwinter's fatalism had smoothed the -way for me, by abandoning Armadale beforehand to any stranger who -might come forward to help him. Thus far the sole object I had -kept in view was to protect myself, by the sacrifice of Armadale, -from the exposure that threatened me. I tell no lies to my Diary. -I don't affect to have felt a moment's consideration for the -interests of Armadale's purse or the safety of Armadale's life. -I hated him too savagely to care what pitfalls my tongue might be -the means of opening under his feet. But I certainly did not see -(until that last question was put to me) that, in serving his own -designs, Manuel might--if he dared go all lengths for the -money--be serving my designs too. The one overpowering anxiety -to protect myself from exposure before Midwinter had (I suppose) -filled all my mind, to the exclusion of everything else. - -"Finding that I made no reply for the moment, Manuel reiterated -his question, putting it in a new form. - -"'You have cast your Englishman at me,' he said, 'like the sop -to Cerberus. Would you have been quite so ready to do that if you -had not had a motive of your own? I repeat my question. You have -an interest in this--what is it?' - -"'I have two interests,' I answered. 'The interest of forcing -you to respect my position here, and the interest of ridding -myself of the sight of you at once and forever!' I spoke with -a boldness he had not yet heard from me. The sense that I was -making the villain an instrument in my hands, and forcing him -to help my purpose blindly, while he was helping his own, roused -my spirits, and made me feel like myself again. - -"He laughed. 'Strong language, on certain occasions, is a lady's -privilege,' he said. 'You may, or may not, rid yourself of the -sight of me, at once and forever. We will leave that question to -be settled in the future. But your other interest in this matter -puzzles me. You have told me all I need know about the Englishman -and his yacht, and you have made no conditions before you opened -your lips. Pray, how are you to force me, as you say, to respect -your position here?' - -"'I will tell you how,' I rejoined. 'You shall hear my conditions -first. I insist on your leaving me in five minutes more. I insist -on your never again coming near the house where I live; and -I forbid your attempting to communicate in any way either -with me or with that other gentleman whom you saw with me at -the theater--' - -"'And suppose I say no?' he interposed. 'In that case, what will -you do?' - -"'In that case,' I answered, 'I shall say two words in private -to the rich young Englishman, and you will find yourself back -again among the chorus at the opera.' - -"'You are a bold woman to take it for granted that I have -my designs on the Englishman already, and that I am certain -to succeed in them. How do you know--?' - -"'I know _you_,' I said. 'And that is enough.' - -"There was a moment's silence between us. He looked at me, and -I looked at him. We understood each other. - -"He was the first to speak. The villainous smile died out of his -face, and his voice dropped again distrustfully to its lowest -tones. - -"'I accept your terms,' he said. 'As long as your lips are -closed, my lips shall be closed too--except in the event of -my finding that you have deceived me; in which case the bargain -is at an end, and you will see me again. I shall present myself -to the Englishman to-morrow, with the necessary credentials to -establish me in his confidence. Tell me his name?' - -"I told it. - -"'Give me his address?' - -"I gave it, and turned to leave him. Before I had stepped out -of the shelter of the boats, I heard him behind me again. - -"'One last word,' he said. 'Accidents sometimes happen at sea. -Have you interest enough in the Englishman--if an accident -happens in his case--to wish to know what has become of him?' - -"I stopped, and considered on my side. I had plainly failed to -persuade him that I had no secret to serve in placing Armadale's -money and (as a probable consequence) Armadale's life at his -mercy. And it was now equally clear that he was cunningly -attempting to associate himself with my private objects (whatever -they might be) by opening a means of communication between us in -the future. There could be no hesitation about how to answer him -under such circumstances as these. If the 'accident' at which -he hinted did really happen to Armadale, I stood in no need of -Manuel's intervention to give me the intelligence of it. An easy -search through the obituary columns of the English papers would -tell me the news--with the great additional advantage that the -papers might be relied on, in such a matter as this, to tell -the truth. I formally thanked Manuel, and declined to accept his -proposal. 'Having no interest in the Englishman,' I said, 'I have -no wish whatever to know what becomes of him.' - -"He looked at me for a moment with steady attention, and with -an interest in me which he had not shown yet. - -"'What the game you are playing may be,' he rejoined, speaking -slowly and significantly, 'I don't pretend to know. But I venture -on a prophecy, nevertheless--_you will win it_! If we ever meet -again, remember I said that.' He took off his hat, and bowed to -me gravely. 'Go your way, madam. And leave me to go mine!' - -"With those words, he released me from the sight of him. I waited -a minute alone, to recover myself in the air, and then returned -to the house. - -"The first object that met my eyes, on entering the sitting-room, -was--Armadale himself! - -"He was waiting on the chance of seeing me, to beg that I would -exert my influence with his friend. I made the needful inquiry as -to what he meant, and found that Midwinter had spoken as he had -warned me he would speak when he and Armadale next met. He had -announced that he was unable to finish his work for the newspaper -as soon as he had hoped; and he had advised Armadale to find a -crew for the yacht without waiting for any assistance on his -part. - -"All that it was necessary for me to do, on hearing this, was -to perform the promise I had made to Midwinter, when he gave me -my directions how to act in the matter. Armadale's vexation on -finding me resolved not to interfere expressed itself in the form -of all others that is most personally offensive to me. He -declined to believe my reiterated assurances that I possessed no -influence to exert in his favor. 'If I was married to Neelie,' -he said, 'she could do anything she liked with me; and I am sure, -when you choose, you can do anything you like with Midwinter.' If -the infatuated fool had actually tried to stifle the last faint -struggles of remorse and pity left stirring in my heart, he could -have said nothing more fatally to the purpose than this! I gave -him a look which effectually silenced him, so far as I was -concerned. He went out of the room grumbling and growling to -himself. 'It's all very well to talk about manning the yacht. -I don't speak a word of their gibberish here; and the interpreter -thinks a fisherman and a sailor means the same thing. Hang me if -I know what to do with the vessel, now I have got her!' - -"He will probably know by to-morrow. And if he only comes here -as usual, I shall know too! - - -"October 25th.--Ten at night.--Manuel has got him! - -"He has just left us, after staying here more than an hour, and -talking the whole time of nothing but his own wonderful luck in -finding the very help he wanted, at the time when he needed it -most. - -"At noon to-day he was on the Mole, it seems, with his -interpreter, trying vainly to make himself understood by the -vagabond population of the water-side. Just as he was giving it -up in despair, a stranger standing by (Manuel had followed him, -I suppose, to the Mole from his hotel) kindly interfered to put -things right. He said, 'I speak your language and their language, -sir. I know Naples well; and I have been professionally -accustomed to the sea. Can I help you?' The inevitable result -followed. Armadale shifted all his difficulties on to the -shoulders of the polite stranger, in his usual helpless, headlong -way. His new friend, however, insisted, in the most honorable -manner, on complying with the customary formalities before he -would consent to take the matter into his own hands. He begged -leave to wait on Mr. Armadale, with his testimonials to character -and capacity. The same afternoon he had come by appointment -to the hotel, with all his papers, and with 'the saddest story' -of his sufferings and privations as 'a political refugee' that -Armadale had ever heard. The interview was decisive. Manuel left -the hotel, commissioned to find a crew for the yacht, and to fill -the post of sailing-master on the trial cruise. - -"I watched Midwinter anxiously, while Armadale was telling us -these particulars, and afterward, when he produced the new -sailing-master's testimonials, which he had brought with him -for his friend to see. - -"For the moment, Midwinter's superstitious misgivings seemed -to be all lost in his natural anxiety for his friend. He examined -the stranger's papers--after having told me that the sooner -Armadale was in the hands of strangers the better!--with the -closest scrutiny and the most business-like distrust. It is -needless to say that the credentials were as perfectly regular -and satisfactory as credentials could be. When Midwinter handed -them back, his color rose: he seemed to feel the inconsistency of -his conduct, and to observe for the first time that I was present -noticing it. 'There is nothing to object to in the testimonials, -Allan: I am glad you have got the help you want at last.' That -was all he said at parting. As soon as Armadale's back was -turned, I saw no more of him. He has locked himself up again -for the night, in his own room. - -"There is now--so far as I am concerned--but one anxiety left. -When the yacht is ready for sea, and when I decline to occupy the -lady's cabin, will Midwinter hold to his resolution, and refuse -to sail without me? - - -"October 26th.--Warnings already of the coming ordeal. A letter -from Armadale to Midwinter, which Midwinter has just sent in -to me. Here it is: - -"'DEAR MID--I am too busy to come to-day. Get on with your work, -for Heaven's sake! The new sailing-master is a man of ten -thousand. He has got an Englishman whom he knows to serve as mate -on board already; and he is positively certain of getting the -crew together in three or four days' time. I am dying for a whiff -of the sea, and so are you, or you are no sailor. The rigging -is set up, the stores are coming on board, and we shall bend the -sails to-morrow or next day. I never was in such spirits in my -life. Remember me to your wife, and tell her she will be doing me -a favor if she will come at once, and order everything she wants -in the lady's cabin. Yours affectionately, A. A.' - -"Under this was written, in Midwinter's hand: 'Remember what -I told you. Write (it will break it to him more gently in that -way), and beg him to accept your apologies, and to excuse you -from sailing on the trial cruise.' - -"I have written without a moment's loss of time. The sooner -Manuel knows (which he is certain to do through Armadale) that -the promise not to sail in the yacht is performed already, so far -as I am concerned, the safer I shall feel. - - -"October 27th.--A letter from Armadale, in answer to mine. He -is full of ceremonio us regrets at the loss of my company on -the cruise; and he politely hopes that Midwinter may yet induce -me to alter my mind. Wait a little, till he finds that Midwinter -won't sail with him either!.... - -"October 30th.--Nothing new to record until to-day. To-day -the change in our lives here has come at last! - -"Armadale presented himself this morning, in his noisiest high -spirits, to announce that the yacht was ready for sea, and to ask -when Midwinter would be able to go on board. I told him to make -the inquiry himself in Midwinter's room. He left me, with a last -request that I would consider my refusal to sail with him. -I answered by a last apology for persisting in my resolution, -and then took a chair alone at the window to wait the event of -the interview in the next room. - -"My whole future depended now on what passed between Midwinter -and his friend! Everything had gone smoothly up to this time. -The one danger to dread was the danger of Midwinter's resolution, -or rather of Midwinter's fatalism, giving way at the last moment. -If he allowed himself to be persuaded into accompanying Armadale -on the cruise, Manuel's exasperation against me would hesitate -at nothing--he would remember that I had answered to him for -Armadale's sailing from Naples alone; and he would be capable of -exposing my whole past life to Midwinter before the vessel left -the port. As I thought of this, and as the slow minutes followed -each other, and nothing reached my ears but the hum of voices in -the next room, my suspense became almost unendurable. It was vain -to try and fix my attention on what was going on in the street. -I sat looking mechanically out of the window, and seeing nothing. - -"Suddenly--I can't say in how long or how short a time--the hum -of voices ceased; the door opened; and Armadale showed himself -on the threshold, alone. - -"'I wish you good-by,' he said, roughly. 'And I hope, when I am -married, my wife may never cause Midwinter the disappointment -that Midwinter's wife has caused _me_!' - -"He gave me an angry look, and made me an angry bow, and, turning -sharply, left the room. - -"I saw the people in the street again! I saw the calm sea, and -the masts of the shipping in the harbor where the yacht lay! -I could think, I could breathe freely once more! The words that -saved me from Manuel--the words that might be Armadale's sentence -of death--had been spoken. The yacht was to sail without -Midwinter, as well as without me! - -"My first feeling of exultation was almost maddening. But it was -the feeling of a moment only. My heart sank in me again when -I thought of Midwinter alone in the next room. - -"I went out into the passage to listen, and heard nothing. -I tapped gently at his door, and got no answer. I opened the door -and looked in. He was sitting at the table, with his face hidden -in his hands. I looked at him in silence, and saw the glistening -of the tears as they trickled through his fingers. - -"'Leave me,' he said, without moving his hands. 'I must get over -it by myself.' - -"I went back into the sitting-room. Who can understand women? -we don't even understand ourselves. His sending me away from him -in that manner cut me to the heart. I don't believe the most -harmless and most gentle woman living could have felt it more -acutely than I felt it. And this, after what I have been doing! -this, after what I was thinking of, the moment before I went -into his room! Who can account for it? Nobody--I least of all! - -"Half an hour later his door opened, and I heard him hurrying -down the stairs. I ran on without waiting to think, and asked -if I might go with him. He neither stopped nor answered. I went -back to the window, and saw him pass, walking rapidly away, with -his back turned on Naples and the sea. - -"I can understand now that he might not have heard me. At the -time I thought him inexcusably and brutally unkind to me. I put -on my bonnet, in a frenzy of rage with him; I sent out for a -carriage, and told the man to take me where he liked. He took me, -as he took other strangers, to the Museum to see the statues and -the pictures. I flounced from room to room, with my face in a -flame, and the people all staring at me. I came to myself again, -I don't know how. I returned to the carriage, and made the man -drive me back in a violent hurry, I don't know why. I tossed off -my cloak and bonnet, and sat down once more at the window. The -sight of the sea cooled me. I forgot Midwinter, and thought of -Armadale and his yacht. There wasn't a breath of wind; there -wasn't a cloud in the sky; the wide waters of the Bay were as -smooth as the surface of a glass. - -"The sun sank; the short twilight came and went. I had some tea, -and sat at the table thinking and dreaming over it. When I roused -myself and went back to the window, the moon was up; but the -quiet sea was as quiet as ever. - -"I was still looking out, when I saw Midwinter in the street -below, coming back. I was composed enough by this time to -remember his habits, and to guess that he had been trying to -relieve the oppression on his mind by one of his long solitary -walks. When I heard him go into his own room, I was too prudent -to disturb him again: I waited his pleasure where I was. - -"Before long I heard his window opened, and I saw him, from my -window, step into the balcony, and, after a look at the sea, hold -up his hand to the air. I was too stupid, for the moment, to -remember that he had once been a sailor, and to know what this -meant. I waited, and wondered what would happen next. - -"He went in again; and, after an interval, came out once more, -and held up his hand as before to the air. This time he waited, -leaning on the balcony rail, and looking out steadily, with all -his attention absorbed by the sea. - -"For a long, long time he never moved. Then, on a sudden, I saw -him start. The next moment he sank on his knees, with his clasped -hands resting on the balcony rail. 'God Almighty bless and keep -you, Allan!' he said, fervently. 'Good-by, forever!' - -"I looked out to the sea. A soft, steady breeze was blowing, -and the rippled surface of the water was sparkling in the quiet -moonlight. I looked again, and there passed slowly, between me -and the track of the moon, a long black vessel with tall, -shadowy, ghostlike sails, gliding smooth and noiseless through -the water, like a snake. - -"The wind had come fair with the night; and Armadale's yacht -had sailed on the trial cruise. - -CHAPTER III. - -THE DIARY BROKEN OFF. - -"London, November 19th.--I am alone again in the Great City; -alone, for the first time since our marriage. Nearly a week since -I started on my homeward journey, leaving Midwinter behind me -at Turin. - -"The days have been so full of events since the month began, and -I have been so harassed, in mind and body both, for the greater -part of the time, that my Diary has been wretchedly neglected. A -few notes, written in such hurry and confusion that I can hardly -understand them myself, are all that I possess to remind me of -what has happened since the night when Armadale's yacht left -Naples. Let me try if I can set this right without more loss or -time; let me try if I can recall the circumstances in their order -as they have followed each other from the beginning of the month. - - -"On the 3d of November--being then still at Naples--Midwinter -received a hurried letter from Armadale, date 'Messina.' 'The -weather,' he said, 'had been lovely, and the yacht had made one -of the quickest passages on record. The crew were rather a rough -set to look at; but Captain Manuel and his English mate' (the -latter described as 'the best of good fellows') 'managed them -admirably.' After this prosperous beginning, Armadale had -arranged, as a matter of course, to prolong the cruise; and, -at the sailing-master's suggestion, he had decided to visit some -of the ports in the Adriatic, which the captain had described -as full of character, and well worth seeing. - -"A postscript followed, explaining that Armadale had written in -a hurry to catch the steamer to Naples, and that he had opened -his letter again, before sending it off, to add something that he -had forgotten. On the day before the yacht sailed, he had been -at the banker's to get 'a few hundreds in gold,' and he believed -he had left his cigar-case there. It was an old friend of his, -and he begged that Midwinter would oblige him by endeavoring -recover it, and keeping it for him till they met again. - -"That was the substance of the letter. - -"I thought over it carefully when Midwinter had left me alone -again, after reading it. My idea was then (and is still) -that Manuel had not persuaded Armadale to cruise in a sea -like the Adriatic, so much less frequented by ships than the -Mediterranean, for nothing. The terms, too, in which the trifling -loss of the cigar-case was mentioned struck me as being equally -suggestive of what was coming. I concluded that Armadale's -circular notes had not been transformed into those 'few hundreds -in gold' through any forethought or business knowledge of his -own. Manuel's influence, I suspected, had been exerted in this -matter also, and once more not without reason. At intervals -through the wakeful night these considerations came back again -and again to me; and time after time they pointed obstinately -(so far as my next movements were concerned) in one and the same -way--the way back to England. - -"How to get there, and especially how to get there unaccompanied -by Midwinter, was more than I had wit enough to discover that -night. I tried and tried to meet the difficulty, and fell asleep -exhausted toward the morning without having met it. - -"Some hours later, as soon as I was dressed, Midwinter came in, -with news received by that morning's post from his employers in -London. The proprietors of the newspaper had received from the -editor so favorable a report of his correspondence from Naples -that they had determined on advancing him to a place of greater -responsibility and greater emolument at Turin. His instructions -were inclosed in the letter, and he was requested to lose no time -in leaving Naples for his new post. - -"On hearing this, I relieved his mind, before he could put the -question, of all anxiety about my willingness to remove. Turin -had the great attraction, in my eyes, of being on the road to -England. I assured him at once that I was ready to travel as soon -as he pleased. - -"He thanked me for suiting myself to his plans, with more of his -old gentleness and kindness than I had seen in him for some time -past. The good news from Armadale on the previous day seemed to -have roused him a little from the dull despair in which he had -been sunk since the sailing of the yacht. And now the prospect of -advancement in his profession, and, more than that, the prospect -of leaving the fatal place in which the Third Vision of the Dream -had come true, had (as he owned himself) additionally cheered -and relieved him. He asked, before he went away to make the -arrangements for our journey, whether I expected to hear from my -'family' in England, and whether he should give instructions for -the forwarding of my letters with his own to the _poste restante_ -at Turin. I instantly thanked him, and accepted the offer. His -proposal had suggested to me, the moment he made it, that my -fictitious 'family circumstances' might be turned to good account -once more, as a reason for unexpectedly summoning me from Italy -to England. - -"On the ninth of the month we were installed at Turin. - -"On the thirteenth, Midwinter--being then very busy--asked if I -would save him a loss of time by applying for any letters which -might have followed us from Naples. I had been waiting for the -opportunity he now offered me; and I determined to snatch at it -without allowing myself time to hesitate. There were no letters -at the _poste restante_ for either of us. But when he put the -question on my return, I told him that there had been a letter -for me, with alarming news from 'home.' My 'mother' was -dangerously ill, and I was entreated to lose no time in hurrying -back to England to see her. - -"It seems quite unaccountable--now that I am away from him--but -it is none the less true, that I could not, even yet, tell him -a downright premeditated falsehood, without a sense of shrinking -and shame, which other people would think, and which I think -myself, utterly inconsistent with such a character as mine. -Inconsistent or not, I felt it. And what is stranger--perhaps -I ought to say madder--still, if he had persisted in his first -resolution to accompany me himself to England rather than allow -me to travel alone, I firmly believe I should have turned my back -on temptation for the second time, and have lulled myself to rest -once more in the old dream of living out my life happy and -harmless in my husband's love. - -"Am I deceiving myself in this? It doesn't matter--I dare say -I am. Never mind what _might_ have happened. What _did_ happen -is the only thing of any importance now. - -"It ended in Midwinter's letting me persuade him that I was old -enough to take care of myself on the journey to England, and -that he owed it to the newspaper people, who had trusted their -interests in his hands, not to leave Turin just as he was -established there. He didn't suffer at taking leave of me as he -suffered when he saw the last of his friend. I saw that, and set -down the anxiety he expressed that I should write to him at its -proper value. I have quite got over my weakness for him at last. -No man who really loved me would have put what he owed to a peck -of newspaper people before what he owed to his wife. I hate him -for letting me convince him! I believe he was glad to get rid -of me. I believe he has seen some woman whom he likes at Turin. -Well, let him follow his new fancy, if he pleases! I shall be -the widow of Mr. Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose before long; and -what will his likes or dislikes matter to me then? - -"The events on the journey were not worth mentioning, and my -arrival in London stands recorded already on the top of the new -page. - -"As for to-day, the one thing of any importance that I have done -since I got to the cheap and quiet hotel at which I am now -staying, has been to send for the landlord, and ask him to help -me to a sight of the back numbers of _The Times_ newspaper. He -has politely offered to accompany me himself to-morrow morning to -some place in the City where all the papers are kept, as he calls -it, in file. Till to-morrow, then, I must control my impatience -for news of Armadale as well as I can. And so good-night to the -pretty reflection of myself that appears in these pages! - - -"November 20th.--Not a word of news yet, either in the obituary -column or in any other part of the paper. I looked carefully -through each number in succession, dating from the day when -Armadale's letter was written at Messina to this present 20th -of the month, and I am certain, whatever may have happened, that -nothing is known in England as yet. Patience! The newspaper is to -meet me at the breakfast-table every morning till further notice; -and any day now may show me what I most want to see. - - -"November 21st.--No news again. I wrote to Midwinter to-day, -to keep up appearances. - -"When the letter was done, I fell into wretchedly low spirits--I -can't imagine why--and felt such a longing for a little company -that, in despair of knowing where else to go, I actually went to -Pimlico, on the chance that Mother Oldershaw might have returned -to her old quarters. - -"There were changes since I had seen the place during my former -stay in London. Doctor Downward's side of the house was still -empty. But the shop was being brightened up for the occupation -of a milliner and dress-maker. The people, when I went in to make -inquiries, were all strangers to me. They showed, however, no -hesitation in giving me Mrs. Oldershaw's address when I asked for -it--from which I infer that the little 'difficulty' which forced -her to be in hiding in August last is at an end, so far as she -is concerned. As for the doctor, the people at the shop either -were, or pretended to be, quite unable to tell me what had become -of him. - -"I don't know whether it was the sight of the place at Pimlico -that sickened me, or whether it was my own perversity, or what. -But now that I had got Mrs. Oldershaw's address, I felt as if -she was the very last person in the world that I wanted to see. -I took a cab, and told the man to drive to the street she lived -in, and then told him to drive back to the hotel. I hardly know -what is the matter with me--unless it is that I am getting more -impatient every hour for information about Armadale. When will -the future look a little less dark, I wonder? To-morrow is -Saturday. Will to-morrow's newspaper lift the veil? - - -"November 22d.--Saturday's newspaper _has_ lifted the veil! Words -are vain to express the panic of astonishment in which I write. -I never once anticipated it; I can't believe it or realize it, -now it has happened. The winds and waves themselves have turned -my accomplices! The yacht has foundered at sea, and every soul -on board has perished! - -"Here is the account cut out of this morning's newspaper: - -"'DISASTER AT SEA.--Intelligence has reached the Royal Yacht -Squadron and the insurers which leaves no reasonable doubt, we -regret to say, of the total loss, on the fifth of the present -month, of the yacht _Dorothea_, with every soul on board. The -particulars are as follows: At daylight, on the morning of the -sixth, the Italian brig _Speranza_, bound from Venice to Marsala -for orders, encountered some floating objects off Cape -Spartivento (at the southernmost extremity of Italy) which -attracted the curiosity of the people of the brig. The previous -day had been marked by one of the most severe of the sudden and -violent storms, peculiar to these southern seas, which has been -remembered for years. The _Speranza_ herself having been in -danger while the gale lasted, the captain and crew concluded that -they were on the traces of a wreck, and a boat was lowered for -the purpose of examining the objects in the water. A hen-coop, -some broken spars, and fragments of shattered plank were the -first evidences discovered of the terrible disaster that had -happened. Some of the lighter articles of cabin furniture, -wrenched and shattered, were found next. And, lastly, a memento -of melancholy interest turned up, in the shape of a lifebuoy, -with a corked bottle attached to it. These latter objects, -with the relics of cabin furniture, were brought on board the -_Speranza_. On the buoy the name of the vessel was painted, as -follows: "_Dorothea, R. Y. S._" (meaning Royal Yacht Squadron). -The bottle, on being uncorked, contained a sheet of note-paper, -on which the following lines were hurriedly traced in pencil: -"Off Cape Spartivento; two days out from Messina. Nov. 5th, -4 P.M." (being the hour at which the log of the Italian brig -showed the storm to have been at its height). "Both our boats -are stove in by the sea. The rudder is gone, and we have sprung -a leak astern which is more than we can stop. The Lord help us -all--we are sinking. (Signed) John Mitchenden, Mate." On reaching -Marsala, the captain of the brig made his report to the British -consul, and left the objects discovered in that gentleman's -charge. Inquiry at Messina showed that the ill-fated vessel had -arrived there from Naples. At the latter port it was ascertained -that the _Dorothea_ had been hired from the owner's agent by -an English gentleman, Mr. Armadale, of Thorpe Ambrose, Norfolk. -Whether Mr. Armadale had any friends on board with him has not -been clearly discovered. But there is unhappily no doubt that the -ill-fated gentleman himself sailed in the yacht from Naples, and -that he was also on board of the vessel when she left Messina.' - - -"Such is the story of the wreck, as the newspaper tells it in the -plainest and fewest words. My head is in a whirl; my confusion -is so great that I think of fifty different things in trying -to think of one. I must wait--a day more or less is of no -consequence now--I must wait till I can face my new position, -without feeling bewildered by it. - - -"November 23d.--Eight in the morning.--I rose an hour ago, and -saw my way clearly to the first step that I must take under -present circumstances. - -"It is of the utmost importance to me to know what is doing -at Thorpe Ambrose; and it would be the height of rashness, while -I am quite in the dark in this matter, to venture there myself. -The only other alternative is to write to somebody on the spot -for news; and the only person I can write to is--Bashwood. - -"I have just finished the letter. It is headed 'private and -confidential,' and signed 'Lydia Armadale.' There is nothing in -it to compromise me, if the old fool is mortally offended by my -treatment of him, and if he spitefully shows my letter to other -people. But I don't believe he will do this. A man at his age -forgives a woman anything, if the woman only encourages him. -I have requested him, as a personal favor, to keep our -correspondence for the present strictly private. I have hinted -that my married life with my deceased husband has not been a -happy one; and that I feel the injudiciousness of having married -a _young_ man. In the postscript I go further still, and venture -boldly on these comforting words: 'I can explain, dear Mr. -Bashwood, what may have seemed fake and deceitful in my conduct -toward you when you give me a personal opportunity.' If he was -on the right side of sixty, I should feel doubtful of results. -But he is on the wrong side of sixty, and I believe he will give -me my personal opportunity. - - -"Ten o'clock.--I have been looking over the copy of my marriage -certificate, with which I took care to provide myself on the -wedding-day; and I have discovered, to my inexpressible dismay, -an obstacle to my appearance in the character of Armadale's widow -which I now see for the first time. - -"The description of Midwinter (under his own name) which the -certificate presents answers in every important particular to -what would have been the description of Armadale of Thorpe -Ambrose, if I had really married him. 'Name and Surname'--Allan -Armadale. 'Age'--twenty-one, instead of twenty-two, which might -easily pass for a mistake. 'Condition'--Bachelor. 'Rank or -profession'--Gentleman. 'Residence at the time of Marriage'-- -Frant's Hotel, Darley Street. 'Father's Name and Surname'-- -Allan Armadale. 'Rank or Profession of Father'--Gentleman. Every -particular (except the year's difference in their two ages) which -answers for the one answers for the other. But suppose, when -I produce my copy of the certificate, that some meddlesome lawyer -insists on looking at the original register? Midwinter's writing -is as different as possible from the writing of his dead friend. -The hand in which he has written 'Allan Armadale' in the book has -not a chance of passing for the hand in which Armadale of Thorpe -Ambrose was accustomed to sign his name. - -"Can I move safely in the matter, with such a pitfall as I see -here open under my feet? How can I tell? Where can I find an -experienced person to inform me? I must shut up my diary and -think. - - -"Seven o'clock.--My prospects have changed again since I made my -last entry. I have received a warning to be careful in the future -which I shall not neglect; and I have (I believe) succeeded in -providing myself with the advice and assistance of which I stand -in need. - -"After vainly trying to think of some better person to apply to -in the difficulty which embarrassed me, I made a virtue of -necessity, and set forth to surprise Mrs. Oldershaw by a visit -from her darling Lydia! It is almost needless to add that -I determined to sound her carefully, and not to let any secret -of importance out of my own possession. - -"A sour and solemn old maid-servant admitted me into the house. -When I asked for her mistress, I was reminded with the bitterest -emphasis that I had committed the impropriety of calling on -a Sunday. Mrs. Oldershaw was at home, solely in consequence of -being too unwell to go to church! The servant thought it very -unlikely that she would see me. I thought it highly probable, -on the contrary, that she would honor me with an interview in -her own interests, if I sent in my name as 'Miss Gwilt'--and -the event proved that I was right. After being kept waiting some -minutes I was shown into the drawing-room. - -"There sat Mother Jezebel, with the air of a woman resting on -the high-road to heaven, dressed in a slate-colored gown, with -gray mittens on her hands, a severely simple cap on her head, -and a volume of sermons on her lap. She turned up the whites of -her eyes dev outly at the sight of me, and the first words she -said were--'Oh, Lydia! Lydia! why are you not at church?' - -"If I had been less anxious, the sudden presentation of Mrs. -Oldershaw in an entirely new character might have amused me. But -I was in no humor for laughing, and (my notes of hand being all -paid) I was under no obligation to restrain my natural freedom -of speech. 'Stuff and nonsense!' I said. 'Put your Sunday face -in your pocket. I have got some news for you, since I last wrote -from Thorpe Ambrose.' - -"The instant I mentioned 'Thorpe Ambrose,' the whites of the old -hypocrite's eyes showed themselves again, and she flatly refused -to hear a word more from me on the subject of my proceedings in -Norfolk. I insisted; but it was quite useless. Mother Oldershaw -only shook her head and groaned, and informed me that her -connection with the pomps and vanities of the world was at an end -forever. 'I have been born again, Lydia,' said the brazen old -wretch, wiping her eyes. 'Nothing will induce me to return to -the subject of that wicked speculation of yours on the folly of -a rich young man.' - -"After hearing this, I should have left her on the spot, but for -one consideration which delayed me a moment longer. - -"It was easy to see, by this time, that the circumstances -(whatever they might have been) which had obliged Mother -Oldershaw to keep in hiding, on the occasion of my former visit -to London, had been sufficiently serious to force her into giving -up, or appearing to give up, her old business. And it was hardly -less plain that she had found it to her advantage--everybody -in England finds it to their advantage in some way to cover the -outer side of her character carefully with a smooth varnish of -Cant. This was, however, no business of mine; and I should have -made these reflections outside instead of inside the house, if -my interests had not been involved in putting the sincerity of -Mother Oldershaw's reformation to the test--so far as it affected -her past connection with myself. At the time when she had fitted -me out for our enterprise, I remembered signing a certain -business document which gave her a handsome pecuniary interest -in my success, if I became Mrs. Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose. -The chance of turning this mischievous morsel of paper to good -account, in the capacity of a touchstone, was too tempting to be -resisted. I asked my devout friend's permission to say one last -word before I left the house. - -"'As you have no further interest in my wicked speculation -at Thorpe Ambrose,' I said, 'perhaps you will give me back -the written paper that I signed, when you were not quite such -an exemplary person as you are now?' - -"The shameless old hypocrite instantly shut her eyes and -shuddered. - -"'Does that mean Yes, or No'?' I asked. - -"'On moral and religious grounds, Lydia,' said Mrs. Oldershaw, -'it means No.' - -"'On wicked and worldly grounds,' I rejoined, 'I beg to thank -you for showing me your hand.' - -"There could, indeed, be no doubt now about the object she really -had in view. She would run no more risks and lend no more money; -she would leave me to win or lose single-handed. If I lost, she -would not be compromised. If I won, she would produce the paper -I had signed, and profit by it without remorse. In my present -situation, it was mere waste of time and words to prolong the -matter by any useless recrimination on my side. I put the warning -away privately in my memory for future use, and got up to go. - -"At the moment when I left my chair there was a sharp double -knock at the street door. Mrs. Oldershaw evidently recognized it. -She rose in a violent hurry, and rang the bell. 'I am too unwell -to see anybody,' she said, when the servant appeared. 'Wait a -moment, if you please,' she added, turning sharply on me, when -the woman had left us to answer the door. - -"It was small, very small, spitefulness on my part, I know; but -the satisfaction of thwarting Mother Jezebel, even in a trifle, -was not to be resisted. 'I can't wait,' I said; 'you reminded me -just now that I ought to be at church.' Before she could answer -I was out of the room. - -"As I put my foot on the first stair the street door was opened, -and a man's voice inquired whether Mrs. Oldershaw was at home. - -"I instantly recognized the voice. Doctor Downward! - -"The doctor repeated the servant's message in a tone which -betrayed unmistakable irritation at finding himself admitted -no further than the door. - -"'Your mistress is not well enough to see visitors? Give her -that card,' said the doctor, 'and say I expect her, the next time -I call, to be well enough to see _me_.' - -"If his voice had not told me plainly that he felt in no friendly -mood toward Mrs. Oldershaw, I dare say I should have let him go -without claiming his acquaintance; but, as things were, I felt -an impulse to speak to him or to anybody who had a grudge against -Mother Jezebel. There was more of my small spitefulness in this, -I suppose. Anyway, I slipped downstairs; and, following the -doctor out quietly, overtook him in the street. - -"I had recognized his voice, and I recognized his back as -I walked behind him. But when I called him by his name, and -when he turned round with a start and confronted me, I followed -his example, and started on my side. The doctor's face was -transformed into the face of a perfect stranger! His baldness -had hidden itself under an artfully grizzled wig. He had allowed -his whiskers to grow, and had dyed them to match his new head -of hair. Hideous circular spectacles bestrode his nose in place -of the neat double eyeglass that he used to carry in his hand; -and a black neckerchief, surmounted by immense shirt-collars, -appeared as the unworthy successor of the clerical white cravat -of former times. Nothing remained of the man I once knew but -the comfortable plumpness of his figure, and the confidential -courtesy and smoothness of his manner and his voice. - -"'Charmed to see you again,' said the doctor, looking about him -a little anxiously, and producing his card-case in a very -precipitate manner. 'But, my dear Miss Gwilt, permit me to -rectify a slight mistake on your part. Doctor Downward of Pimlico -is dead and buried; and you will infinitely oblige me if you will -never, on any consideration, mention him again!' - -"I took the card he offered me, and discovered that I was now -supposed to be speaking to 'Doctor Le Doux, of the Sanitarium, -Fairweather Vale, Hampstead!' - -"'You seem to have found it necessary,' I said, 'to change -a great many things since I last saw you? Your name, your -residence, your personal appearance--?' - -"'And my branch of practice,' interposed the doctor. 'I have -purchased of the original possessor (a person of feeble -enterprise and no resources) a name, a diploma, and a partially -completed sanitarium for the reception of nervous invalids. -We are open already to the inspection of a few privileged -friends--come and see us. Are you walking my way? Pray take -my arm, and tell me to what happy chance I am indebted for -the pleasure of seeing you again?' - -"I told him the circumstances exactly as they had happened, and -I added (with a view to making sure of his relations with his -former ally at Pimlico) that I had been greatly surprised to hear -Mrs. Oldershaw's door shut on such an old friend as himself. -Cautious as he was, the doctor's manner of receiving my remark -satisfied me at once that my suspicions of an estrangement were -well founded. His smile vanished, and he settled his hideous -spectacles irritably on the bridge of his nose. - -"'Pardon me if I leave you to draw your own conclusions,' he -said. 'The subject of Mrs. Oldershaw is, I regret to say, far -from agreeable to me under existing circumstances--a business -difficulty connected with our late partnership at Pimlico, -entirely without interest for a young and brilliant woman like -yourself. Tell me your news! Have you left your situation at -Thorpe Ambrose? Are you residing in London? Is there anything, -professional or otherwise, that I can do for you?' - -"That last question was a more important one than he supposed. -Before I answered it, I felt the necessity of parting company -with him and of getting a little time to think. - -"'You have kindly asked me, doctor, to pay you a visit,' I said. -'In your quiet house at Hampstead, I may possibly have something -to say to you which I can't say in this noisy street. When are -you at home at the Sanitarium? Should I find you there later in -the day?' - -"The doctor assured me that he was then on his way back, and -begged that I would name my own hour. I said, 'Toward the -afternoon;' and, pleading an engagement, hailed the first omnibus -that passed us. 'Don't forget the address,' said the doctor, as -he handed me in. 'I have got your card,' I answered, and so we -parted. - -"I returned to the hotel, and went up into my room, and thought -over it very anxiously. - -"The serious obstacle of the signature on the marriage register -still stood in my way as unmanageably as ever. All hope of -getting assistance from Mrs. Oldershaw was at an end. I could -only regard her henceforth as an enemy hidden in the dark--the -enemy, beyond all doubt now, who had had me followed and watched -when I was last in London. To what other counselor could I turn -for the advice which my unlucky ignorance of law and business -obliged me to seek from some one more experienced than myself? -Could I go to the lawyer whom I consulted when I was about to -marry Midwinter in my maiden name? Impossible! To say nothing -of his cold reception of me when I had last seen him, the advice -I wanted this time related (disguise the facts as I might) to -commission of a Fraud--a fraud of the sort that no prosperous -lawyer would consent to assist if he had a character to lose. -Was there any other competent person I could think of? There was -one, and one only--the doctor who had died at Pimlico, and had -revived again at Hampstead. - -"I knew him to be entirely without scruples; to have the business -experience that I wanted myself; and to be as cunning, as clever, -and as far-seeing a man as could be found in all London. Beyond -this, I had made two important discoveries in connection with him -that morning. In the first place, he was on bad terms with Mrs. -Oldershaw, which would protect me from all danger of the two -leaguing together against me if I trusted him. In the second -place, circumstances still obliged him to keep his identity -carefully disguised, which gave me a hold over him in no respect -inferior to any hold that _I_ might give him over _me_. In every -way he was the right man, the only man, for my purpose; and yet -I hesitated at going to him--hesitated for a full hour and more, -without knowing why! - -"It was two o'clock before I finally decided on paying the doctor -a visit. Having, after this, occupied nearly another hour in -determining to a hair-breadth how far I should take him into my -confidence, I sent for a cab at last, and set off toward three -in the afternoon for Hampstead. - - -"I found the Sanitarium with some little difficulty. - -"Fairweather Vale proved to be a new neighborhood, situated below -the high ground of Hampstead, on the southern side. The day was -overcast, and the place looked very dreary. We approached it -by a new road running between trees, which might once have been -the park avenue of a country house. At the end we came upon -a wilderness of open ground, with half-finished villas dotted -about, and a hideous litter of boards, wheelbarrows, and building -materials of all sorts scattered in every direction. At one -corner of this scene of desolation, stood a great overgrown -dismal house, plastered with drab-colored stucco, and surrounded -by a naked, unfinished garden, without a shrub or a flower in it, -frightful to behold. On the open iron gate that led into this -inclosure was a new brass plate, with 'Sanitarium' inscribed -on it in great black letters. The bell, when the cabman rang it, -pealed through the empty house like a knell; and the pallid, -withered old man-servant in black who answered the door looked as -if he had stepped up out of his grave to perform that service. He -let out on me a smell of damp plaster and new varnish; and he let -in with me a chilling draft of the damp November air. I didn't -notice it at the time, but, writing of it now, I remember that -I shivered as I crossed the threshold. - -"I gave my name to the servant as 'Mrs. Armadale,' and was shown -into the waiting-room. The very fire itself was dying of damp in -the grate. The only books on the table were the doctor's Works, -in sober drab covers; and the only object that ornamented the -walls was the foreign Diploma (handsomely framed and glazed), -of which the doctor had possessed himself by purchase, along with -the foreign name. - -"After a moment or two, the proprietor of the Sanitarium came in, -and held up his hands in cheerful astonishment at the sight of -me. - -"'I hadn't an idea who "Mrs. Armadale" was!' he said. 'My dear -lady, have _you_ changed your name too? How sly of you not -to tell me when we met this morning! Come into my private -snuggery--I can't think of keeping an old and dear friend -like you in the patients' waiting-room.' - -"The doctor's private snuggery was at the back of the house, -looking out on fields and trees, doomed but not yet destroyed -by the builder. Horrible objects in brass and leather and glass, -twisted and turned as if they were sentient things writhing in -agonies of pain, filled up one end of the room. A great book-case -with glass doors extended over the whole of the opposite wall, -and exhibited on its shelves long rows of glass jars, in which -shapeless dead creatures of a dull white color floated in yellow -liquid. Above the fireplace hung a collection of photographic -portraits of men and women, inclosed in two large frames hanging -side by side with a space between them. The left-hand frame -illustrated the effects of nervous suffering as seen in the face; -the right-hand frame exhibited the ravages of insanity from -the same point of view; while the space between was occupied by -an elegantly illuminated scroll, bearing inscribed on it the -time-honored motto, 'Prevention is better than Cure.' - -"'Here I am, with my galvanic apparatus, and my preserved -specimens, and all the rest of it,' said the doctor, placing -me in a chair by the fireside. 'And there is my System mutely -addressing you just above your head, under a form of exposition -which I venture to describe as frankness itself. This is no -mad-house, my dear lady. Let other men treat insanity, if they -like--_I_ stop it! No patients in the house as yet. But we -live in an age when nervous derangement (parent of insanity) -is steadily on the increase; and in due time the sufferers will -come. I can wait as Harvey waited, as Jenner waited. And now do -put your feet up on the fender, and tell me about yourself. You -are married, of course? And what a pretty name! Accept my best -and most heart-felt congratulations. You have the two greatest -blessings that can fall to a woman's lot; the two capital H's, -as I call them--Husband and Home.' - -"I interrupted the genial flow of the doctor's congratulations -at the first opportunity. - -"'I am married; but the circumstances are by no means of the -ordinary kind,' I said, seriously. My present position includes -none of the blessings that are usually supposed to fall to -a woman's lot. I am already in a situation of very serious -difficulty; and before long I may be in a situation of very -serious danger as well.' - -"The doctor drew his chair a little nearer to me, and fell at -once into his old professional manner and his old confidential -tone. - -"'If you wish to consult me,' he said, softly, 'you know that -I have kept some dangerous secrets in my time, and you also know -that I possess two valuable qualities as an adviser. I am not -easily shocked; and I can be implicitly trusted.' - -"I hesitated even now, at the eleventh hour, sitting alone with -him in his own room. It was so strange to me to be trusting to -anybody but myself! And yet, how could I help trusting another -person in a difficulty which turned on a matter of law? - -"'Just as you please, you know,' added the doctor. 'I never -invite confidences. I merely receive them.' - -"There was no help for it; I had come there not to hesitate, -but to speak. I risked it, and spoke. - -"'The matter on which I wish to consult you,' I said, 'is not -(as you seem to think) within your experience as a professional -man. But I believe you may be of assistance to me, if I trust -myself to your larger experience as a man of the world. I warn -you beforehand that I shall certainly surprise, and possibly -alarm, you before I have done.' - -"With that preface I entered on my story, telling him what -I had settled to tell him, and no more. - -"I made no secret, at the outset, of my intention to personate -Armadale's widow; and I mentioned without reserve (knowing -that the doctor could go to the office and examine the will -for himself) the handsome income that would be settled on me in -the event of my success. Some of the circumstances that followed -next in succession I thought it desirable to alter or conceal. I -showed him the newspaper account of the loss of the yacht, but I -said nothing about events at Naples. I informed him of the exact -similarity of the two names; leaving him to imagine that it was -accidental. I told him, as an important element in the matter, -that my husband had kept his real name a profound secret from -everybody but myself; but (to prevent any communication between -them) I carefully concealed from the doctor what the assumed -name under which Midwinter had lived all his life really was. -I acknowledged that I had left my husband behind me on the -Continent; but when the doctor put the question, I allowed -him to conclude--I couldn't, with all my resolution, tell him -positively!--that Midwinter knew of the contemplated Fraud, and -that he was staying away purposely, so as not to compromise me -by his presence. This difficulty smoothed over--or, as I feel it -now, this baseness committed--I reverted to myself, and came -back again to the truth. One after another I mentioned all the -circumstances connected with my private marriage, and with the -movements of Armadale and Midwinter, which rendered any discovery -of the false personation (through the evidence of other people) -a downright impossibility. 'So much,' I said, in conclusion, -'for the object in view. The next thing is to tell you plainly -of a very serious obstacle that stands in my way.' - -"The doctor, who had listened thus far without interrupting me, -begged permission here to say a few words on his side before -I went on. - -"The 'few words' proved to be all questions--clever, searching, -suspicious questions--which I was, however, able to answer with -little or no reserve, for they related, in almost every instance, -to the circumstances under which I had been married, and to the -chances for and against my lawful husband if he chose to assert -his claim to me at any future time. - -"My replies informed the doctor, in the first place, that I had -so managed matters at Thorpe Ambrose as to produce a general -impression that Armadale intended to marry me; in the second -place, that my husband's early life had not been of a kind to -exhibit him favorably in the eyes of the world; in the third -place, that we had been married, without any witnesses present -who knew us, at a large parish church in which two other couples -had been married the same morning, to say nothing of the dozens -on dozens of other couples (confusing all remembrance of us in -the minds of the officiating people) who had been married since. -When I had put the doctor in possession of these facts--and when -he had further ascertained that Midwinter and I had gone abroad -among strangers immediately after leaving the church; and that -the men employed on board the yacht in which Armadale had sailed -from Somersetshire (before my marriage) were now away in ships -voyaging to the other end of the world--his confidence in my -prospects showed itself plainly in his face. 'So far as I can -see,' he said, 'your husband's claim to you (after you have -stepped into the place of the dead Mr. Armadale's widow) would -rest on nothing but his own bare assertion. And _that_ I think -you may safely set at defiance. Excuse my apparent distrust of -the gentleman. But there might be a misunderstanding between you -in the future, and it is highly desirable to ascertain beforehand -exactly what he could or could not do under those circumstances. -And now that we have done with the main obstacle that _I_ see in -the way of your success, let us by all means come to the obstacle -that _you_ see next!' - -"I was willing enough to come to it. The tone in which he spoke -of Midwinter, though I myself was responsible for it, jarred on -me horribly, and roused for the moment some of the old folly of -feeling which I fancied I had laid asleep forever. I rushed at -the chance of changing the subject, and mentioned the discrepancy -in the register between the hand in which Midwinter had signed -the name of Allan Armadale, and the hand in which Armadale of -Thorpe Ambrose had been accustomed to write his name, with an -eagerness which it quite diverted the doctor to see. - -"'Is _that_ all?' he asked, to my infinite surprise and relief, -when I had done. 'My dear lady, pray set your mind at ease! -If the late Mr. Armadale's lawyers want a proof of your marriage, -they won't go to the church-register for it, I can promise you!' - -"'What!' I exclaimed, in astonishment. 'Do you mean to say that -the entry in the register is not a proof of my marriage?' - -"'It is a proof,' said the doctor, 'that you have been married -to somebody. But it is no proof that you have been married to Mr. -Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose. Jack Nokes or Tom Styles (excuse the -homeliness of the illustration!) might have got the license, and -gone to the church to be married to you under Mr. Armadale's -name; and the register (how could it do otherwise?) must in that -case have innocently assisted the deception. I see I surprise -you. My dear madam, when you opened this interesting business you -surprised _me_--I may own it now--by laying so much stress on the -curious similarity between the two names. You might have entered -on the very daring and romantic enterprise in which you are now -engaged, without necessarily marrying your present husband. Any -other man would have done just as well, provided he was willing -to take Mr. Armadale's name for the purpose.' - -"I felt my temper going at this. 'Any other man would _not_ -have done just as well,' I rejoined, instantly. 'But for the -similarity of the names, I should never have thought of the -enterprise at all.' - -"The doctor admitted that he had spoken too hastily. 'That -personal view of the subject had, I confess, escaped me,' he -said. 'However, let us get back to the matter in hand. In the -course of what I may term an adventurous medical life, I have -been brought more than once into contact with the gentlemen -of the law, and have had opportunities of observing their -proceedings in cases of, let us say, Domestic Jurisprudence. I -am quite sure I am correct in informing you that the proof which -will be required by Mr. Armadale's representatives will be the -evidence of a witness present at the marriage who can speak to -the identity of the bride and bridegroom from his own personal -knowledge.' - -"'But I have already told you,' I said, 'that there was no such -person present.' - -"'Precisely,' rejoined the doctor. 'In that case, what you now -want, before you can safely stir a step in the matter, is--if you -will pardon me the expression--a ready-made witness, possessed of -rare moral and personal resources, who can be trusted to assume -the necessary character, and to make the necessary Declaration -before a magistrate. Do you know of any such person?' asked the -doctor, throwing himself back in his chair, and looking at me -with the utmost innocence. - -"'I only know you,' I said. - -"The doctor laughed softly. 'So like a woman!' he remarked, -with the most exasperating good humor. 'The moment she sees -her object, she dashes at it headlong the nearest way. Oh, -the sex! the sex!' - -"'Never mind the sex!' I broke out, impatiently. 'I want -a serious answer--Yes or No?' - -"The doctor rose, and waved his hand with great gravity and -dignity all round the room. 'You see this vast establishment,' -he began; 'you can possibly estimate to some extent the immense -stake I have in its prosperity and success. Your excellent -natural sense will tell you that the Principal of this Sanitarium -must be a man of the most unblemished character--' - -"'Why waste so many words,' I said, 'when one word will do? -You mean No!' - -"The Principal of the Sanitarium suddenly relapsed into the -character of my confidential friend. - -"'My dear lady,' he said, 'it isn't Yes, and it isn't No, at a -moment's notice. Give me till to-morrow afternoon. By that time -I engage to be ready to do one of two things--either to withdraw -myself from this business at once, or to go into it with you -heart and soul. Do you agree to that? Very good; we may drop -the subject, then, till to-morrow. Where can I call on you when -I have decided what to do?' - -"There was no objection to my trusting him with my address -at the hotel. I had taken care to present myself there as -'Mrs. Armadale'; and I had given Midwinter an address at the -neighboring post-office to write to when he answered my letters. -We settled the hour at which the doctor was to call on me; -and, that matter arranged, I rose to go, resisting all offers -of refreshment, and all proposals to show me over the house. -His smooth persistence in keeping up appearances after we had -thoroughly understood each other disgusted me. I got away from -him as soon as I could, and came back to my diary and my own -room. - -"We shall see how it ends to-morrow. My own idea is that my -confidential friend will say Yes. - - -"November 24th.--The doctor has said Yes, as I supposed; but on -terms which I never anticipated. The condition on which I have -secured his services amounts to nothing less than the payment to -him, on my stepping into the place of Armadale's widow, of half -my first year's income--in other words, six hundred pounds! - -"I protested against this extortionate demand in every way -I could think of. All to no purpose. The doctor met me with -the most engaging frankness. Nothing, he said, but the accidental -embarrassment of his position at the present time would have -induced him to mix himself up in the matter at all. He would -honestly confess that he had exhausted his own resources, and -the resources of other persons whom he described as his 'backers,' -in the purchase and completion of the Sanitarium. Under those -circumstances, six hundred pounds in prospect was an object -to him. For that sum he would run the serious risk of advising -and assisting me. Not a farthing less would tempt him; and there -he left it, with his best and friendliest wishes, in my hands! - -"It ended in the only way in which it could end. I had no choice -but to accept the terms, and to let the doctor settle things -on the spot as he pleased. The arrangement once made between us, -I must do him the justice to say that he showed no disposition -to let the grass grow under his feet. He called briskly for pen, -ink and paper, and suggested opening the campaign at Thorpe -Ambrose by to-night's post. - -"We agreed on a form of letter which I wrote, and which he copied -on the spot. I entered into no particulars at starting. I simply -asserted that I was the widow of the deceased Mr. Armadale; -that I had been privately married to him; that I had returned -to England on his sailing in the yacht from Naples; and that I -begged to inclose a copy of my marriage certificate, as a matter -of form with which I presumed it was customary to comply. The -letter was addressed to 'The Representatives of the late Allan -Armadale, Esq., Thorpe Ambrose, Norfolk.' And the doctor himself -carried it away, and put it in the post. - -"I am not so excited and so impatient for results as I expected -to be, now that the first step is taken. The thought of Midwinter -haunts me like a ghost. I have been writing to him again--as -before, to keep up appearances. It will be my last letter, -I think. My courage feels shaken, my spirits get depressed, -when my thoughts go back to Turin. I am no more capable of facing -the consideration of Midwinter at this moment than I was in -the by-gone time, The day of reckoning with him, once distant -and doubtful, is a day that may come to me now, I know not how -soon. And here I am, trusting myself blindly to the chapter -of Accidents still! - - -"November 25th.--At two o'clock to-day the doctor called again -by appointment. He has been to his lawyers (of course without -taking them into our confidence) to put the case simply of -proving my marriage. The result confirms what he has already -told me. The pivot on which the whole matter will turn, if -my claim is disputed, will be the question of identity; and -it may be necessary for the witness to make his Declaration -in the magistrate's presence before the week is out. - -"In this position of affairs, the doctor thinks it important -that we should be within easy reach of each other, and proposes -to find a quiet lodging for me in his neighborhood. I am quite -willing to go anywhere; for, among the other strange fancies that -have got possession of me, I have an idea that I shall feel more -completely lost to Midwinter if I move out of the neighborhood in -which his letters are addressed to me. I was awake and thinking -of him again last night This morning I have finally decided to -write to him no more. - -"After staying half an hour, the doctor left me, having first -inquired whether I would like to accompany him to Hampstead to -look for lodgings. I informed him that I had some business of my -own which would keep me in London. He inquired what the business -was. 'You will see,' I said, 'to-morrow or next day.' - -"I had a moment's nervous trembling when I was by myself again. -My business in London, besides being a serious business in -a woman's eyes, took my mind back to Midwinter in spite of me. -The prospect of removing to my new lodging had reminded me of -the necessity of dressing in my new character. The time had come -now for getting _my widow's weeds_. - -"My first proceeding, after putting my bonnet on, was to provide -myself with money. I got what I wanted to fit me out for -the character of Armadale's widow by nothing less than the sale -of Armadale's own present to me on my marriage--the ruby ring! -It proved to be a more valuable jewel than I had supposed. I am -likely to be spared all money anxieties for some time to come. - -"On leaving the jeweler's, I went to the great mourning shop -in Regent Street. In four-and-twenty hours (if I can give them -no more) they have engaged to dress me in my widow's costume from -head to foot. I had another feverish moment when I left the shop; -and, by way of further excitement on this agitating day, I found -a surprise in store for me on my return to the hotel. An elderly -gentleman was announced to be waiting to see me. I opened my -sitting-room door, and there was old Bashwood! - -"He had got my letter that morning, and had started for London -by the next train to answer it in person. I had expected a great -deal from him, but I had certainly not expected _that_. It -flattered me. For the moment, I declare it flattered me! - -"I pass over the wretched old creature's raptures and reproaches, -and groans and tears, and weary long prosings about the lonely -months he had passed at Thorpe Ambrose, brooding over my -desertion of him. He was quite eloquent at times; but I don't -want his eloquence here. It is needless to say that I put myself -right with him, and consulted his feelings before I asked him -for his news. What a blessing a woman's vanity is sometimes! -I almost forgot my risks and responsibilities in my anxieties -to be charming. For a minute or two I felt a warm little flutter -of triumph. And it was a triumph--even with an old man! In -a quarter of an hour I had him smirking and smiling, hanging on -my lightest words in an ecstasy, and answering all the questions -I put to him like a good little child. - -"Here is his account of affairs at Thorpe Ambrose, as I gently -extracted it from him bit by bit: - -"In the first place, the news of Armadale's death has reached -Miss Milroy. It has so completely overwhelmed her that her father -has been compelled to remove her from the school. She is back -at the cottage, and the doctor is in daily attendance. Do I pity -her? Yes! I pity her exactly as much as she once pitied me! - -"In the next place, the state of affairs at the great house, -which I expected to find some difficulty in comprehending, turns -out to be quite intelligible, and certainly not discouraging -so far. Only yesterday, the lawyers on both sides came to an -understanding. Mr. Darch (the family solicitor of the Blanchards, -and Armadale's bitter enemy in past times) represents the -interests of Miss Blanchard, who (in the absence of any male -heir) is next heir to the estate, and who has, it appears, been -in London for some time past. Mr. Smart, of Norwich (originally -employed to overlook Bashwood), represents the deceased Armadale. -And this is what the two lawyers have settled between them. - -"Mr. Darch, acting for Miss Blanchard, has claimed the possession -of the estate, and the right of receiving the rents at the -Christmas audit, in her name. Mr. Smart, on his side, has -admitted that there is great weight in the family solicitor's -application. He cannot see his way, as things are now, to -contesting the question of Armadale's death, and he will consent -to offer no resistance to the application, if Mr. Darch will -consent, on his side, to assume the responsibility of taking -possession in Miss Blanchard's name. This Mr. Darch has already -done; and the estate is now virtually in Miss Blanchard's -possession. - -"One result of this course of proceeding will be (as Bashwood -thinks) to put Mr. Darch in the position of the person who really -decides on my claim to the widow's place and the widow's money. -The income being charged on the estate, it must come out of Miss -Blanchard's pocket; and the question of paying it would appear, -therefore, to be a question for Miss Blanchard's lawyer. -To-morrow will probably decide whether this view is the right -one, for my letter to Armadale's representatives will have been -delivered at the great house this morning. - -"So much for what old Bashwood had to tell me. Having recovered -my influence over him, and possessed myself of all his -information so far, the next thing to consider was the right use -to turn him to in the future. He was entirely at my disposal, for -his place at the steward's office has been already taken by Miss -Blanchard's man of business, and he pleaded hard to be allowed to -stay and serve my interests in London. There would not have been -the least danger in letting him stay, for I had, as a matter of -course, left him undisturbed in his conviction that I really am -the widow of Armadale of Thorpe Ambrose. But with the doctor's -resources at my command, I wanted no assistance of any sort in -London; and it occurred to me that I might make Bashwood more -useful by sending him back to Norfolk to watch events there in -my interests. - -"He looked sorely disappointed (having had an eye evidently to -paying his court to me in my widowed condition!) when I told him -of the conclusion at which I had arrived. But a few words of -persuasion, and a modest hint that he might cherish hopes in the -future if he served me obediently in the present, did wonders in -reconciling him to the necessity of meeting my wishes. He asked -helplessly for 'instructions' when it was time for him to leave -me and travel back by the evening train. I could give him none, -for I had no idea as yet of what the legal people might or might -not do. 'But suppose something happens,' he persisted, 'that I -don't understand, what am I to do, so far away from you?' I could -only give him one answer. 'Do nothing,' I said. 'Whatever it is, -hold your tongue about it, and write, or come up to London -immediately to consult me.' With those parting directions, -and with an understanding that we were to correspond regularly, -I let him kiss my hand, and sent him off to the train. - -"Now that I am alone again, and able to think calmly of the -interview between me and my elderly admirer, I find myself -recalling a certain change in old Bashwood's manner which -puzzled me at the time, and which puzzles me still. - -"Even in his first moments of agitation at seeing me, I thought -that his eyes rested on my face with a new kind of interest while -I was speaking to him. Besides this, he dropped a word or two -afterward, in telling me of his lonely life at Thorpe Ambrose, -which seemed to imply that he had been sustained in his solitude -by a feeling of confidence about his future relations with me -when we next met. If he had been a younger and a bolder man (and -if any such discovery had been possible), I should almost have -suspected him of having found out something about my past life -which had made him privately confident of controlling me, if -I showed any disposition to deceive and desert him again. But -such an idea as this in connection with old Bashwood is simply -absurd. Perhaps I am overexcited by the suspense and anxiety of -my present position? Perhaps the merest fancies and suspicions -are leading me astray? Let this be as it may, I have, at any -rate, more serious subjects than the subject of old Bashwood -to occupy me now. Tomorrow's post may tell me what Armadale's -representatives think of the claim of Armadale's widow. - - -"November 26th.--The answer has arrived this morning, in the form -(as Bashwood supposed) of a letter from Mr. Darch. The crabbed -old lawyer acknowledges my letter in three lines. Before he takes -any steps, or expresses any opinion on the subject, he wants -evidence of identity as well as the evidence of the certificate; -and he ventures to suggest that it may be desirable, before we -go any further, to refer him to my legal advisers. - -"Two o'clock.--The doctor called shortly after twelve to say -that he had found a lodging for me within twenty minutes' walk -of the Sanitarium. In return for his news, I showed him Mr. -Darch's letter. He took it away at once to his lawyers, and came -back with the necessary information for my guidance. I have -answered Mr. Darch by sending him the address of my legal -advisers--otherwise, the doctor's lawyers--without making any -comment on the desire that he has expressed for additional -evidence of the marriage. This is all that can be done to-day. -To-morrow will bring with it events of greater interest, for -to-morrow the doctor is to make his Declaration before the -magistrate, and to-morrow I am to move to my new lodging in -my widow's weeds. - - -"November 27th.--Fairweather Vale Villas.--The Declaration has -been made, with all the necessary formalities. And I have taken -possession, in my widow's costume, of my new rooms. - -"I ought to be excited by the opening of this new act in the -drama, and by the venturesome part that I am playing in it -myself. Strange to say, I am quiet and depressed. The thought of -Midwinter has followed me to my new abode, and is pressing on me -heavily at this moment. I have no fear of any accident happening, -in the interval that must still pass before I step publicly into -the place of Armadale's widow. But when that time comes, and when -Midwinter finds me (as sooner or later find me he must!) figuring -in my false character, and settled in the position that I have -usurped--_then_, I ask myself, What will happen? The answer still -comes as it first came to me this morning, when I put on my -widow's dress. Now, as then, the presentiment is fixed in my mind -that he will kill me. If it was not too late to draw back-- -Absurd! I shall shut up my journal. - - -"November 28th.--The lawyers have heard from Mr. Darch, and have -sent him the Declaration by return of post. - -"When the doctor brought me this news, I asked him whether -his lawyers were aware of my present address; and, finding that -he had not yet mentioned it to them, I begged that he would -continue to keep it a secret for the future. The doctor laughed. -'Are you afraid of Mr. Darch's stealing a march on us, and coming -to attack you personally?' he asked. I accepted the imputation, -as the easiest way of making him comply with my request. 'Yes,' -I said, 'I am afraid of Mr. Darch.' - -"My spirits have risen since the doctor left me. There is a -pleasant sensation of security in feeling that no strangers are -in possession of my address. I am easy enough in my mind to-day -to notice how wonderfully well I look in my widow's weeds, and -to make myself agreeable to the people of the house. - -"Midwinter disturbed me a little again last night; but I have got -over the ghastly delusion which possessed me yesterday. I know -better now than to dread violence from him when he discovers what -I have done. And there is still less fear of his stooping to -assert his claim to a woman who has practiced on him such -a deception as mine. The one serious trial that I shall be -put to when the day of reckoning comes will be the trial of -preserving my false character in his presence. I shall be safe -in his loathing and contempt for me, after that. On the day when -I have denied him to his face, I shall have seen the last of him -forever. - -"Shall I be able to deny him to his face? Shall I be able to look -at him and speak to him as if he had never been more to me than -a friend? How do I know till the time comes? Was there ever such -an infatuated fool as I am, to be writing of him at all, when -writing only encourages me to think of him? I will make a new -resolution. From this time forth, his name shall appear no more -in these pages. - - -"Monday, December 1st.--The last month of the worn-out old year -1851! If I allowed myself to look back, what a miserable year -I should see added to all the other miserable years that are -gone! But I have made my resolution to look forward only, and -I mean to keep it. - -"I have nothing to record of the last two days, except that -on the twenty-ninth I remembered Bashwood, and wrote to tell him -of my new address. This morning the lawyers heard again from -Mr. Darch. He acknowledges the receipt of the Declaration, but -postpones stating the decision at which he has arrived until he -has communicated with the trustees under the late Mr. Blanchard's -will, and has received his final instructions from his client, -Miss Blanchard. The doctor's lawyers declare that this last -letter is a mere device for gaining time--with what object they -are, of course, not in a position to guess. The doctor himself -says, facetiously, it is the usual lawyer's object of making -a long bill. My own idea is that Mr. Darch has his suspicions of -something wrong, and that his purpose in trying to gain time-- - -* * * * * * * - -"Ten, at night.--I had written as far as that last unfinished -sentence (toward four in the afternoon) when I was startled by -hearing a cab drive up to the door. I went to the window, and -got there just in time to see old Bashwood getting out with -an activity of which I should never have supposed him capable. -So little did I anticipate the tremendous discovery that was -going to burst on me in another minute, that I turned to -the glass, and wondered what the susceptible old gentleman -would say to me in my widow's cap. - -"The instant he entered the room, I saw that some serious -disaster had happened. His eyes were wild, his wig was awry. -He approached me with a strange mixture of eagerness and dismay. -'I've done as you told me,' he whispered, breathlessly. 'I've -held my tongue about it, and come straight to _you_!' He caught -me by the hand before I could speak, with a boldness quite new -in my experience of him. 'Oh how can I break it to you!' he burst -out. 'I'm beside myself when I think of it!' - -"'When you _can_ speak,' I said, putting him into a chair, -'speak out. I see in your face that you bring me news I don't -look for from Thorpe Ambrose.' - -"He put his hand into the breast-pocket of his coat, and drew out -a letter. He looked at the letter, and looked at me. 'New--new-- -news you don't look for,' he stammered; 'but not from Thorpe -Ambrose!' - -"'Not from Thorpe Ambrose!' - -"'No. From the sea!' - -"The first dawning of the truth broke on me at those words. -I couldn't speak--I could only hold out my hand to him for -the letter. - -"He still shrank from giving it to me. 'I daren't! I daren't!' -he said to himself, vacantly. 'The shock of it might be the death -of her.' - -"I snatched the letter from him. One glance at the writing on -the address was enough. My hands fell on my lap, with the letter -fast held in them. I sat petrified, without moving, without -speaking, without hearing a word of what Bashwood was saying -to me, and slowly realized the terrible truth. The man whose -widow I had claimed to be was a living man to confront me! -In vain I had mixed the drink at Naples--in vain I had betrayed -him into Manuel's hands. Twice I had set the deadly snare for -him, and twice Armadale had escaped me! "I came to my sense of -outward things again, and found Bashwood on his knees at my feet, -crying. - -"'You look angry,' he murmured, helplessly. 'Are you angry with -_me_? Oh, if you only knew what hopes I had when we last saw -each other, and how cruelly that letter has dashed them all to -the ground!' - -"I put the miserable old creature back from me, but very gently. -'Hush!' I said. 'Don't distress me now. I want composure; I want -to read the letter.' - -"He went away submissively to the other end of the room. As soon -as my eye was off him, I heard him say to himself, with impotent -malignity, 'If the sea had been of my mind, the sea would have -drowned him!' - -"One by one I slowly opened the folds of the letter; feeling, -while I did so, the strangest incapability of fixing my attention -on the very lines that I was burning to read. But why dwell any -longer on sensations which I can't describe? It will be more to -the purpose if I place the letter itself, for future reference, -on this page of my journal. - -'Fiume, Illyria, November 21, 1851. - -"MR. BASHWOOD--The address I date from will surprise you; and -you will be more surprised still when you hear how it is that -I come to write to you from a port on the Adriatic Sea. - -"I have been the victim of a rascally attempt at robbery and -murder. The robbery has succeeded; and it is only through the -mercy of God that the murder did not succeed too. - -"I hired a yacht rather more than a month ago at Naples; and -sailed (I am glad to think now) without any friend with me, for -Messina. From Messina I went for a cruise in the Adriatic. Two -days out we were caught in a storm. Storms get up in a hurry, -and go down in a hurry, in those parts. The vessel behaved nobly: -I declare I feel the tears in my eyes now, when I think of her -at the bottom of the sea! Toward sunset it began to moderate; and -by midnight, except for a long, smooth swell, the sea was as -quiet as need be. I went below, a little tired (having helped in -working the yacht while the gale lasted), and fell asleep in five -minutes. About two hours after, I was woke by something falling -into my cabin through a chink of the ventilator in the upper part -of the door. I jumped up, and found a bit of paper with a key -wrapped in it, and with writing on the inner side, in a hand -which it was not very easy to read. - -"Up to this time I had not had the ghost of a suspicion that -I was alone at sea with a gang of murderous vagabonds (excepting -one only) who would stick at nothing. I had got on very well with -my sailing-master (the worst scoundrel of the lot), and better -still with his English mate. The sailors, being all foreigners, -I had very little to say to. They did their work, and no quarrels -and nothing unpleasant happened. If anybody had told me, before I -went to bed on the night after the storm, that the sailing-master -and the crew and the mate (who had been no better than the rest -of them at starting) were all in a conspiracy to rob me of -the money I had on board, and then to drown me in my own vessel -afterward, I should have laughed in his face. Just remember that; -and then fancy for yourself (for I'm sure I can't tell you) what -I must have thought when I opened the paper round the key, and -read what I now copy (from the mate's writing), as follows: - - -"'SIR--Stay in your bed till you hear a boat shove off from the -starboard side, or you are a dead man. Your money is stolen; and -in five minutes' time the yacht will be scuttled, and the cabin -hatch will be nailed down on you. Dead men tell no tales; and the -sailing-master's notion is to leave proofs afloat that the vessel -has foundered with all on board. It was his doing, to begin with, -and we were all in it. I can't find it in my heart not to give -you a chance for your life. It's a bad chance, but I can do no -more. I should be murdered myself if I didn't seem to go with the -rest. The key of your cabin door is thrown back to you, inside -this. Don't be alarmed when you hear the hammer above. I shall do -it, and I shall have short nails in my hand as well as long, and -use the short ones only. Wait till you hear the boat with all of -us shove off, and then pry up the cabin hatch with your back. The -vessel will float a quarter of an hour after the holes are bored -in her. Slip into the sea on the port side, and keep the vessel -between you and the boat. You will find plenty of loose lumber, -wrenched away on purpose, drifting about to hold on by. It's -a fine night and a smooth sea, and there's a chance that a ship -may pick you up while there's life left in you. I can do no -more.--Yours truly, J. M.' - - -"As I came to those last words, I heard the hammering down of -the hatch over my head. I don't suppose I'm more of a coward than -most people, but there was a moment when the sweat poured down me -like rain. I got to be my own man again before the hammering was -done, and found myself thinking of somebody very dear to me in -England. I said to myself: 'I'll have a try for my life, for her -sake, though the chances are dead against me.' - -"I put a letter from that person I have mentioned into one of -the stoppered bottles of my dressing-case, along with the mate's -warning, in case I lived to see him again. I hung this, and -a flask of whisky, in a sling round my neck; and, after first -dressing myself in my confusion, thought better of it, and -stripped, again, for swimming, to my shirt and drawers. By the -time I had done that the hammering was over and there was such -a silence that I could hear the water bubbling into the scuttled -vessel amidships. The next noise was the noise of the boat -and the villains in her (always excepting my friend, the mate) -shoving off from the starboard side. I waited for the splash -of the oars in the water, and then got my back under the hatch. -The mate had kept his promise. I lifted it easily--crept across -the deck, under cover of the bulwarks, on all fours--and slipped -into the sea on the port side. Lots of things were floating -about. I took the first thing I came to--a hen-coop--and swam -away with it about a couple of hundred yards, keeping the yacht -between me and the boat. Having got that distance, I was seized -with a shivering fit, and I stopped (fearing the cramp next) -to take a pull at my flask. When I had closed the flask again, -I turned for a moment to look back, and saw the yacht in the act -of sinking. In a minute more there was nothing between me and -the boat but the pieces of wreck that had been purposely thrown -out to float. The moon was shining; and, if they had had a glass -in the boat, I believe they might have seen my head, though -I carefully kept the hen-coop between me and them. - -"As it was, they laid on their oars; and I heard loud voices -among them disputing. After what seemed an age to me, -I discovered what the dispute was about. The boat's head was -suddenly turned my way. Some cleverer scoundrel than the rest -(the sailing-master, I dare say) had evidently persuaded them -to row back over the place where the yacht had gone down, and -make quite sure that I had gone down with her. - -"They were more than half-way across the distance that separated -us, and I had given myself up for lost, when I heard a cry from -one of them, and saw the boat's progress suddenly checked. In -a minute or two more the boat's head was turned again; and they -rowed straight away from me like men rowing for their lives. - -"I looked on one side toward the land, and saw nothing. I looked -on the other toward the sea, and discovered what the boat's -crew had discovered before me--a sail in the distance, growing -steadily brighter and bigger in the moonlight the longer I looked -at it. In a quarter of an hour more the vessel was within hail -of me, and the crew had got me on board. - -"They were all foreigners, and they quite deafened me by their -jabber. I tried signs, but before I could make them understand me -I was seized with another shivering fit, and was carried below. -The vessel held on her course, I have no doubt, but I was in no -condition to know anything about it. Before morning I was in a -fever; and from that time I can remember nothing clearly till I -came to my senses at this place, and found myself under the care -of a Hungarian merchant, the consignee (as they call it) of the -coasting vessel that had picked me up. He speaks English as well -or better than I do; and he has treated me with a kindness which -I can find no words to praise. When he was a young man he was -in England himself, learning business, and he says he has -remembrances of our country which make his heart warm toward -an Englishman. He has fitted me out with clothes, and has lent me -the money to travel with, as soon as the doctor allows me to -start for home. Supposing I don't get a relapse, I shall be fit -to travel in a week's time from this. If I can catch the mail at -Trieste, and stand the fatigue, I shall be back again at Thorpe -Ambrose in a week or ten days at most after you get my letter. -You will agree with me that it is a terribly long letter. But -I can't help that. I seem to have lost my old knack at putting -things short, and finishing on the first page. However, I am near -the end now; for I have nothing left to mention but the reason -why I write about what has happened to me, instead of waiting -till I get home, and telling it all by word of mouth. - -"I fancy my head is still muddled by my illness. At any rate, -it only struck me this morning that there is barely a chance -of some vessel having passed the place where the yacht foundered, -and having picked up the furniture, and other things wrenched out -of her and left to float. Some false report of my being drowned -may, in that case, have reached England. If this has happened -(which I hope to God may be an unfounded fear on my part), go -directly to Major Milroy at the cottage. Show him this letter ---I have written it quite as much for his eye as for yours--and -then give him the inclosed note, and ask him if he doesn't think -the circumstances justify me in hoping he will send it to Miss -Milroy. I can't explain why I don't write directly to the major, -or to Miss Milroy, instead of to you. I can only say there are -considerations I am bound in honor to respect, which oblige me -to act in this roundabout way. - -"I don't ask you to answer this, for I shall be on my way home, -I hope, long before your letter could reach me in this -out-of-the-way place. Whatever you do, don't lose a moment -in going to Major Milroy. Go, on second thoughts, whether -the loss of the yacht is known in England or not. - -"Yours truly, ALLAN ARMADALE." - - -"I looked up when I had come to the end of the letter, and saw, -for the first time, that Bashwood had left his chair and had -placed himself opposite to me. He was intently studying my face, -with the inquiring expression of a man who was trying to read -my thoughts. His eyes fell guiltily when they met mine, and he -shrank away to his chair. Believing, as he did, that I was really -married to Armadale, was he trying to discover whether the news -of Armadale's rescue from the sea was good news or bad news in -my estimation? It was no time then for entering into explanations -with him. The first thing to be done was to communicate instantly -with the doctor. I called Bashwood back to me and gave him my -hand. - -"'You have done me a service,' I said, 'which makes us closer -friends than ever. I shall say more about this, and about other -matters of some interest to both of us, later in the day. I want -you now to lend me Mr. Armadale's letter (which I promise to -bring back) and to wait here till I return. Will you do that -for me, Mr. Bashwood?' - -"He would do anything I asked him, he said. I went into the -bedroom and put on my bonnet and shawl. - -"'Let me be quite sure of the facts before I leave you,' -I resumed, when I was ready to go out. 'You have not shown -this letter to anybody but me?' - -"'Not a living soul has seen it but our two selves.' - -"'What have you done with the note inclosed to Miss Milroy?' - -"He produced it from his pocket. I ran it over rapidly--saw that -there was nothing in it of the slightest importance--and put it -in the fire on the spot. That done, I left Bashwood in the -sitting-room, and went to the Sanitarium, with Armadale's letter -in my hand. - -"The doctor had gone out, and the servant was unable to say -positively at what time he would be back. I went into his study, -and wrote a line preparing him for the news I had brought with -me, which I sealed up, with Armadale's letter, in an envelope, -to await his return. Having told the servant I would call again -in an hour, I left the place. - -"It was useless to go back to my lodgings and speak to Bashwood, -until I knew first what the doctor meant to do. I walked about -the neighborhood, up and down new streets and crescents and -squares, with a kind of dull, numbed feeling in me, which -prevented, not only all voluntary exercise of thought, but -all sensation of bodily fatigue. I remembered the same feeling -overpowering me, years ago, on the morning when the people of -the prison came to take me into court to be tried for my life. -All that frightful scene came back again to my mind in the -strangest manner, as if it had been a scene in which some other -person had figured. Once or twice I wondered, in a heavy, -senseless way, why they had not hanged me! - -"When I went back to the Sanitarium, I was informed that -the doctor had returned half an hour since, and that he was -in his own room anxiously waiting to see me. - -"I went into the study, and found him sitting close by the fire -with his head down and his hands on his knees. On the table near -him, beside Armadale's letter and my note, I saw, in the little -circle of light thrown by the reading-lamp, an open railway -guide. Was he meditating flight? It was impossible to tell from -his face, when he looked up at me, what he was meditating, or how -the shock had struck him when he first discovered that Armadale -was a living man. - -"'Take a seat near the fire,' he said. 'It's very raw and cold -to-day.' - -"I took a chair in silence. In silence, on his side, the doctor -sat rubbing his knees before the fire. - -"'Have you nothing to say to me?' I asked. - -"He rose, and suddenly removed the shade from the reading-lamp, -so that the light fell on my face. - -"'You are not looking well,' he said. 'What's the matter?' - -"'My head feels dull, and my eyes are heavy and hot,' I replied. -'The weather, I suppose.' - -"It was strange how we both got further and further from the one -vitally important subject which we had both come together to -discuss! - -"'I think a cup of tea would do you good,' remarked the doctor. - -"I accepted his suggestion; and he ordered the tea. While it was -coming, he walked up and down the room, and I sat by the fire, -and not a word passed between us on either side. - -"The tea revived me; and the doctor noticed a change for -the better in my face. He sat down opposite to me at the table, -and spoke out at last. - -"'If I had ten thousand pounds at this moment,' he began, -'I would give the whole of it never to have compromised myself -in your desperate speculation on Mr. Armadale's death!' - -"He said those words with an abruptness, almost with a violence, -which was strangely uncharacteristic of his ordinary manner. -Was he frightened himself, or was he trying to frighten me? -I determined to make him explain himself at the outset, so far as -I was concerned. 'Wait a moment, doctor,' I said. 'Do you hold me -responsible for what has happened?' - -"'Certainly not,' he replied, stiffly. 'Neither you nor anybody -could have foreseen what has happened. When I say I would give -ten thousand pounds to be out of this business, I am blaming -nobody but myself. And when I tell you next that I, for one, -won't allow Mr. Armadale's resurrection from the sea to be the -ruin of me without a fight for it, I tell you, my dear madam, one -of the plainest truths I ever told to man or woman in the whole -course of my life. Don't suppose I am invidiously separating my -interests from yours in the common danger that now threatens us -both. I simply indicate the difference in the risk that we have -respectively run. _You_ have not sunk the whole of your resources -in establishing a Sanitarium; and _you_ have not made a false -declaration before a magistrate, which is punishable as perjury -by the law.' - -"I interrupted him again. His selfishness did me more good than -his tea: it roused my temper effectually. 'Suppose we let your -risk and my risk alone, and come to the point,' I said. 'What do -you mean by making a fight for it? I see a railway guide on your -table. Does making a fight for it mean--running away?' - -"'Running away?' repeated the doctor. 'You appear to forget -that every farthing I have in the world is embarked in this -establishment.' - -"'You stop here, then?' I said. - -"'Unquestionably!' - -"'And what do you mean to do when Mr. Armadale comes -to England?' - -"A solitary fly, the last of his race whom the winter had spared, -was buzzing feebly about the doctor's face. He caught it before -he answered me, and held it out across the table in his closed -hand. - -"'If this fly's name was Armadale,' he said, 'and if you had got -him as I have got him now, what would _you_ do?' - -"His eyes, fixed on my face up to this time, turned -significantly, as he ended this question, to my widow's dress. -I, too, looked at it when he looked. A thrill of the old deadly -hatred and the old deadly determination ran through me again. - -"'I should kill him,' I said. - -"The doctor started to his feet (with the fly still in his hand), -and looked at me--a little too theatrically--with an expression -of the utmost horror. - -"'Kill him!' repeated the doctor, in a paroxysm of virtuous -alarm. 'Violence--murderous violence--in My Sanitarium! You -take my breath away!' - -"I caught his eye while he was expressing himself in this -elaborately indignant manner, scrutinizing me with a searching -curiosity which was, to say the least of it, a little at variance -with the vehemence of his language and the warmth of his tone. -He laughed uneasily when our eyes met, and recovered his smoothly -confidential manner in the instant that elapsed before he spoke -again. - -"'I beg a thousand pardons,' he said. 'I ought to have known -better than to take a lady too literally at her word. Permit me -to remind you, however, that the circumstances are too serious -for anything in the nature of--let us say, an exaggeration or a -joke. You shall hear what I propose, without further preface.' He -paused, and resumed his figurative use of the fly imprisoned in -his hand. 'Here is Mr. Armadale. I can let him out, or keep him -in, just as I please--and he knows it. I say to him,' continued -the doctor, facetiously addressing the fly, 'Give me proper -security, Mr. Armadale, that no proceedings of any sort shall be -taken against either this lady or myself, and I will let you out -of the hollow of my hand. Refuse--and, be the risk what it may, -I will keep you in." Can you doubt, my dear madam, what Mr. -Armadale's answer is, sooner or later, certain to be? Can you -doubt,' said the doctor, suiting the action to the word, and -letting the fly go, 'that it will end to the entire satisfaction -of all parties, in this way?' - -"'I won't say at present,' I answered, 'whether I doubt or not. -Let me make sure that I understand you first. You propose, if I -am not mistaken, to shut the doors of this place on Mr. Armadale, -and not to let him out again until he has agreed to the terms -which it is our interest to impose on him? May I ask, in that -case, how you mean to make him walk into the trap that you have -set for him here?' - -"'I propose,' said the doctor, with his hand on the railway -guide, 'ascertaining first at what time during every evening of -this month the tidal trains from Dover and Folkestone reach the -London Bridge terminus. And I propose, next, posting a person -whom Mr. Armadale knows, and whom you and I can trust, to wait -the arrival of the trains, and to meet our man at the moment -when he steps out of the railway carriage.' - -"'Have you thought,' I inquired, 'of who the person is to be?' - -"'I have thought,' said the doctor, taking up Armadale's letter -'of the person to whom this letter is addressed.' - -"The answer startled me. Was it possible that he and Bashwood -knew one another? I put the question immediately. - -"'Until to-day I never so much as heard of the gentleman's -name,' said the doctor. 'I have simply pursued the inductive -process of reasoning, for which we are indebted to the immortal -Bacon. How does this very important letter come into your -possession? I can't insult you by supposing it to have been -stolen. Consequently, it has come to you with the leave and -license of the person to whom it is addressed. Consequently, -that person is in your confidence. Consequently, he is the first -person I think of. You see the process? Very good. Permit me -a question or two, on the subject of Mr. Bashwood, before we -go on any further.' - -"The doctor's questions went as straight to the point as usual. -My answers informed him that Mr. Bashwood stood toward Armadale -in the relation of steward; that he had received the letter -at Thorpe Ambrose that morning, and had brought it straight to -me by the first train; that he had not shown it, or spoken of it -before leaving, to Major Milroy or to any one else; that I had -not obtained this service at his hands by trusting him with -my secret; that I had communicated with him in the character of -Armadale's widow; that he had suppressed the letter, under those -circumstances, solely in obedience to a general caution I had -given him to keep his own counsel, if anything strange happened -at Thorpe Ambrose, until he had first consulted me; and, lastly, -that the reason why he had done as I told him in this matter, was -that in this matter, and in all others, Mr. Bashwood was blindly -devoted to my interests. - -"At that point in the interrogatory, the doctor's eyes began -to look at me distrustfully behind the doctor's spectacles. - -"'What is the secret of this blind devotion of Mr. Bashwood's -to your interests?' he asked. - -"I hesitated for a moment--in pity to Bashwood, not in pity -to myself. 'If you must know,' I answered, 'Mr. Bashwood is -in love with me.' - -"'Ay! ay!' exclaimed the doctor, with an air of relief. 'I begin -to understand now. Is he a young man?' - -"'He is an old man.' - -"The doctor laid himself back in his chair, and chuckled softly. -'Better and better!' he said. 'Here is the very man we want. -Who so fit as Mr. Armadale's steward to meet Mr. Armadale on his -return to London? And who so capable of influencing Mr. Bashwood -in the proper way as the charming object of Mr. Bashwood's -admiration?' - -"There could be no doubt that Bashwood was the man to serve the -doctor's purpose, and that my influence was to be trusted to make -him serve it. The difficulty was not here: the difficulty was -in the unanswered question that I had put to the doctor a minute -since. I put it to him again. - -"'Suppose Mr. Armadale's steward meets his employer at the -terminus,' I said. 'May I ask once more how Mr. Armadale is -to be persuaded to come here?' - -"'Don't think me ungallant,' rejoined the doctor in his gentlest -manner, 'if I ask, on my side, how are men persuaded to do -nine-tenths of the foolish acts of their lives? They are -persuaded by your charming sex. The weak side of every man is the -woman's side of him. We have only to discover the woman's side of -Mr. Armadale--to tickle him on it gently--and to lead him our way -with a silken string. I observe here,' pursued the doctor, -opening Armadale's letter, 'a reference to a certain young lady, -which looks promising. Where is the note that Mr. Armadale speaks -of as addressed to Miss Milroy?' - -"Instead of answering him, I started, in a sudden burst of -excitement, to my feet. The instant he mentioned Miss Milroy's -name all that I had heard from Bashwood of her illness, and -of the cause of it, rushed back into my memory. I saw the means -of decoying Armadale into the Sanitarium as plainly as I saw -the doctor on the other side of the table, wondering at the -extraordinary change in me. What a luxury it was to make Miss -Milroy serve my interests at last! - -"'Never mind the note,' I said. 'It's burned, for fear of -accidents. I can tell you all (and more) than the note could -have told you. Miss Milroy cuts the knot! Miss Milroy ends -the difficulty! She is privately engaged to him. She has heard -the false report of his death; and she has been seriously ill -at Thorpe Ambrose ever since. When Bashwood meets him at the -station, the very first question he is certain to ask--' - -"'I see!' exclaimed the doctor, anticipating me. 'Mr. Bashwood -has nothing to do but to help the truth with a touch of fiction. -When he tells his master that the false report has reached Miss -Milroy, he has only to add that the shock has affected her head, -and that she is here under medical care. Perfect! perfect! We -shall have him at the Sanitarium as fast as the fastest cab-horse -in London can bring him to us. And mind! no risk--no necessity -for trusting other people. This is not a mad-house; this is not -a licensed establishment; no doctors' certificates are necessary -here! My dear lady, I congratulate you; I congratulate myself. -Permit me to hand you the railway guide, with my best compliments -to Mr. Bashwood, and with the page turned down for him, as an -additional attention, at the right place.' - -"Remembering how long I had kept Bashwood waiting for me, I took -the book at once, and wished the doctor good-evening without -further ceremony. As he politely opened the door for me, he -reverted, without the slightest necessity for doing so, and -without a word from me to lead to it, to the outburst of virtuous -alarm which had escaped him at the earlier part of our interview. - -"'I do hope,' he said, 'that you will kindly forget and forgive -my extraordinary want of tact and perception when--in short, -when I caught the fly. I positively blush at my own stupidity -in putting a literal interpretation on a lady's little joke! -Violence in My Sanitarium!' exclaimed the doctor, with his eyes -once more fixed attentively on my face--'violence in this -enlightened nineteenth century! Was there ever anything so -ridiculous? Do fasten your cloak before you go out, it is so -cold and raw! Shall I escort you? Shall I send my servant? Ah, -you were always independent! always, if I may say so, a host -in yourself! May I call to-morrow morning, and hear what you -have settled with Mr. Bashwood?' - -"I said yes, and got away from him at last. In a quarter of -an hour more I was back at my lodgings, and was informed by -the servant that 'the elderly gentleman' was still waiting -for me. - -"I have not got the heart or the patience--I hardly know -which--to waste many words on what passed between me and -Bashwood. It was so easy, so degradingly easy, to pull the -strings of the poor old puppet in any way I pleased! I met none -of the difficulties which I should have been obliged to meet -in the case of a younger man, or of a man less infatuated -with admiration for me. I left the allusions to Miss Milroy -in Armadale's letter, which had naturally puzzled him, to be -explained at a future time. I never even troubled myself to -invent a plausible reason for wishing him to meet Armadale at -the terminus, and to entrap him by a stratagem into the doctor's -Sanitarium. All that I found it necessary to do was to refer -to what I had written to Mr. Bashwood, on my arrival in London, -and to what I had afterward said to him, when he came to answer -my letter personally at the hotel. - -"'You know already,' I said, 'that my marriage has not been a -happy one. Draw your own conclusions from that; and don't press -me to tell you whether the news of Mr. Armadale's rescue from the -sea is, or is not, the welcome news that it ought to be to his -wife!' That was enough to put his withered old face in a glow, -and to set his withered old hopes growing again. I had only -to add, 'If you will do what I ask you to do, no matter how -incomprehensible and how mysterious my request may seem to be; -and if you will accept my assurances that you shall run no risk -yourself, and that you shall receive the proper explanations at -the proper time, you will have such a claim on my gratitude and -my regard as no man living has ever had yet!' I had only to say -those words, and to point them by a look and a stolen pressure -of his hand, and I had him at my feet, blindly eager to obey me. -If he could have seen what I thought of myself; but that doesn't -matter: he saw nothing. - -"Hours have passed since I sent him away (pledged to secrecy, -possessed of his instructions, and provided with his time-table) -to the hotel near the terminus, at which he is to stay till -Armadale appears on the railway platform. The excitement of -the earlier part of the evening has all worn off; and the dull, -numbed sensation has got me again. Are my energies wearing out, -I wonder, just at the time when I most want them? Or is some -foreshadowing of disaster creeping over me which I don't yet -understand? - -"I might be in a humor to sit here for some time longer, thinking -thoughts like these, and letting them find their way into words -at their own will and pleasure, if my Diary would only let me. -But my idle pen has been busy enough to make its way to the end -of the volume. I have reached the last morsel of space left on -the last page; and whether I like it or not, I must close the -book this time for good and all, when I close it to-night. - -"Good-by, my old friend and companion of many a miserable day! -Having nothing else to be fond of, I half suspect myself of -having been unreasonably fond of _you_. - -"What a fool I am!" - -THE END OF THE FOURTH BOOK. - -BOOK THE LAST. - -CHAPTER I. - -AT THE TERMINUS. - - -On the night of the 2d of December, Mr. Bashwood took up his post -of observation at the terminus of the South-eastern Railway for -the first time. It was an earlier date, by six days, than the -date which Allan had himself fixed for his return. But the -doctor, taking counsel of his medical experience, had considered -it just probable that "Mr. Armadale might be perverse enough, -at his enviable age, to recover sooner than his medical advisers -might have anticipated." For caution's sake, therefore, Mr. -Bashwood was instructed to begin watching the arrival of the -tidal trains on the day after he had received his employer's -letter. - -From the 2d to the 7th of December, the steward waited punctually -on the platform, saw the trains come in, and satisfied himself, -evening after evening, that the travelers were all strangers to -him. From the 2d to the 7th of December, Miss Gwilt (to return to -the name under which she is best known in these pages) received -his daily report, sometimes delivered personally, sometimes sent -by letter. The doctor, to whom the reports were communicated, -received them in his turn with unabated confidence in the -precautions that had been adopted up to the morning of the 8th. -On that date the irritation of continued suspense had produced a -change for the worse in Miss Gwilt's variable temper, which was -perceptible to every one about her, and which, strangely enough, -was reflected by an equally marked change in the doctor's -manner when he came to pay his usual visit. By a coincidence -so extraordinary that his enemies might have suspected it of not -being a coincidence at all, the morning on which Miss Gwilt lost -her patience proved to be also the morning on which the doctor -lost his confidence for the first time. - -"No news, of course," he said, sitting down with a heavy sigh. -"Well! well!" - -Miss Gwilt looked up at him irritably from her work. - -"You seem strangely depressed this morning," she said. "What are -you afraid of now?" - -"The imputation of being afraid, madam," answered the doctor, -solemnly, "is not an imputation to cast rashly on any man--even -when he belongs to such an essentially peaceful profession as -mine. I am not afraid. I am (as you more correctly put it in -the first instance) strangely depressed. My nature is, as you -know, naturally sanguine, and I only see to-day what but for -my habitual hopefulness I might have seen, and ought to have -seen, a week since." - -Miss Gwilt impatiently threw down her work. "If words cost -money," she said, "the luxury of talking would be rather an -expensive luxury in your case!" - -"Which I might have seen, and ought to have seen," reiterated the -doctor, without taking the slightest notice of the interruption, -"a week since. To put it plainly, I feel by no means so certain -as I did that Mr. Armadale will consent, without a struggle, to -the terms which it is my interest (and in a minor degree yours) -to impose on him. Observe! I don't question our entrapping him -successfully into the Sanitarium: I only doubt whether he will -prove quite as manageable as I originally anticipated when we -have got him there. Say," remarked the doctor, raising his eyes -for the first time, and fixing them in steady inquiry on Miss -Gwilt--"say that he is bold, obstinate, what you please; and that -he holds out--holds out for weeks together, for months together, -as men in similar situations to his have held out before him. -What follows? The risk of keeping him forcibly in concealment--of -suppressing him, if I may so express myself--increases at -compound interest, and becomes Enormous! My house is at this -moment virtually ready for patients. Patients may present -themselves in a week's time. Patients may communicate with Mr. -Armadale, or Mr. Armadale may communicate with patients. A note -may be smuggled out of the house, and may reach the Commissioners -in Lunacy. Even in the case of an unlicensed establishment like -mine, those gentlemen--no! those chartered despots in a land of -liberty--have only to apply to the Lord Chancellor for an order, -and to enter (by heavens, to enter My Sanitarium!) and search the -house from top to bottom at a moment's notice! I don't wish to -despond; I don't wish to alarm you; I don't pretend to say that -the means we are taking to secure your own safety are any other -than the best means at our disposal. All I ask you to do is to -imagine the Commissioners in the house--and then to conceive the -consequences. The consequences!" repeated the doctor, getting -sternly on his feet, and taking up his hat as if he meant to -leave the room. - -"Have you anything more to say?" asked Miss Gwilt. - -"Have you any remarks," rejoined the doctor, "to offer on your -side?" - -He stood, hat in hand, waiting. For a full minute the two looked -at each other in silence. - -Miss Gwilt spoke first. - -"I think I understand you," she said, suddenly recovering her -composure. - -"I beg your pardon," returned the doctor, with his hand to -his ear. "What did you say?" - -"Nothing." - -"Nothing?" - -"If you happened to catch another fly this morning," said Miss -Gwilt, with a bitterly sarcastic emphasis on the words, "I might -be capable of shocking you by another 'little joke.'" - -The doctor held up both hands, in polite deprecation, and looked -as if he was beginning to recover his good humor again. - -"Hard," he murmured, gently, "not to have forgiven me that -unlucky blunder of mine, even yet!" - -"What else have you to say? I am waiting for you," said Miss -Gwilt. She turned her chair to the window scornfully, and took up -her work again, as she spoke. - -The doctor came behind her, and put his hand on the back of -her chair. - -"I have a question to ask, in the first place," he said; "and -a measure of necessary precaution to suggest, in the second. If -you will honor me with your attention, I will put the question -first." - -"I am listening." - -"You know that Mr. Armadale is alive," pursued the doctor, "and -you know that he is coming back to England. Why do you continue -to wear your widow's dress?" - -She answered him without an instant's hesitation, steadily going -on with her work. - -"Because I am of a sanguine disposition, like you. I mean to -trust to the chapter of accidents to the very last. Mr. Armadale -may die yet, on his way home." - -"And suppose he gets home alive--what then?" - -"Then there is another chance still left." - -"What is it, pray?" - -"He may die in your Sanitarium." - -"Madam!" remonstrated the doctor, in the deep bass which he -reserved for his outbursts of virtuous indignation. "Wait! you -spoke of the chapter of accidents," he resumed, gliding back -into his softer conversational tones. "Yes! yes! of course. -I understand you this time. Even the healing art is at the mercy -of accidents; even such a Sanitarium as mine is liable to be -surprised by Death. Just so! just so!" said the doctor, conceding -the question with the utmost impartiality. "There _is_ the -chapter of accidents, I admit--if you choose to trust to it. -Mind! I say emphatically, _if_ you choose to trust to it." - -There was another moment of silence--silence so profound that -nothing was audible in the room but the rapid _click_ of Miss -Gwilt's needle through her work. - -"Go on," she said; "you haven't done yet." - -"True!" said the doctor. "Having put my question, I have my -measure of precaution to impress on you next. You will see, -my dear madam, that I am not disposed to trust to the chapter -of accidents on my side. Reflection has convinced me that you -and I are not (logically speaking) so conveniently situated -as we might be in case of emergency. Cabs are, as yet, rare in -this rapidly improving neighborhood. I am twenty minutes' walk -from you; you are twenty minutes' walk from me. I know nothing -of Mr. Armadale's character; you know it well. It might be -necessary--vitally necessary--to appeal to your superior -knowledge of him at a moment's notice. And how am I to do that -unless we are within easy reach of each other, under the same -roof? In both our interests, I beg to invite you, my dear madam, -to become for a limited period an inmate of My Sanitarium." - -Miss Gwilt's rapid needle suddenly stopped. "I understand you," -she said again, as quietly as before. - -"I beg your pardon," said the doctor, with another attack -of deafness, and with his hand once more at his ear. - -She laughed to herself--a low, terrible laugh, which startled -even the doctor into taking his hand off the back of her chair. - -"An inmate of your Sanitarium?" she repeated. "You consult -appearances in everything else; do you propose to consult -appearances in receiving me into your house?" - -"Most assuredly!" replied the doctor, with enthusiasm. "I am -surprised at your asking me the question! Did you ever know -a man of any eminence in my profession who set appearances -at defiance? If you honor me by accepting my invitation, you -enter My Sanitarium in the most unimpeachable of all possible -characters--in the character of a Patient." - -"When do you want my answer?" - -"Can you decide to-day?" - -"To-morrow?" - -"Yes. Have you anything more to say?" - -"Nothing more." - -"Leave me, then. _I_ don't keep up appearances. I wish to be -alone, and I say so. Good-morning." - -"Oh, the sex! the sex!" said the doctor, with his excellent -temper in perfect working order again. "So delightfully -impulsive! so charmingly reckless of what they say or how they -say it! 'Oh, woman, in our hours of ease, uncertain, coy, and -hard to please!' There! there! there! Good-morning!" - -Miss Gwilt rose and looked after him contemptuously from -the window, when the street door had closed, and he had left -the house. - -"Armadale himself drove me to it the first time," she said. -"Manuel drove me to it the second time.--You cowardly scoundrel! -shall I let _you_ drive me to it for the third time, and the -last?" - -She turned from the window, and looked thoughtfully at her -widow's dress in the glass. - -The hours of the day passed--and she decided nothing. The night -came--and she hesitated still. The new morning dawned--and the -terrible question was still unanswered. - -By the early post there came a letter for her. It was Mr. -Bashwood's usual report. Again he had watched for Allan's -arrival, and again in vain. - -"I'll have more time!" she determined, passionately. "No man -alive shall hurry me faster than I like!" - -At breakfast that morning (the morning of the 9th) the doctor -was surprised in his study by a visit from Miss Gwilt. - -"I want another day," she said, the moment the servant had closed -the door on her. - -The doctor looked at her before he answered, and saw the danger -of driving her to extremities plainly expressed in her face. - -"The time is getting on," he remonstrated, in his most persuasive -manner. "For all we know to the contrary, Mr. Armadale may be -here to-night." - -"I want another day!" she repeated, loudly and passionately. - -"Granted!" said the doctor, looking nervously toward the door. -"Don't be too loud--the servants may hear you. Mind!" he added, -"I depend on your honor not to press me for any further delay." - -"You had better depend on my despair," she said, and left him. - -The doctor chipped the shell of his egg, and laughed softly. - -"Quite right, my dear!" he thought. "I remember where your -despair led you in past times; and I think I may trust it -to lead you the same way now." - -At a quarter to eight o'clock that night Mr. Bashwood took up his -post of observation, as usual, on the platform of the terminus at -London Bridge. He was in the highest good spirits; he smiled and -smirked in irrepressible exultation. The sense that he held in -reserve a means of influence over Miss Gwilt, in virtue of his -knowledge of her past career, had had no share in effecting -the transformation that now appeared in him. It had upheld his -courage in his forlorn life at Thorpe Ambrose, and it had given -him that increased confidence of manner which Miss Gwilt herself -had noticed; but, from the moment when he had regained his old -place in her favor, it had vanished as a motive power in him, -annihilated by the electric shock of her touch and her look. -His vanity--the vanity which in men at his age is only despair -in disguise--had now lifted him to the seventh heaven of fatuous -happiness once more. He believed in her again as he believed in -the smart new winter overcoat that he wore--as he believed in -the dainty little cane (appropriate to the dawning dandyism of -lads in their teens) that he flourished in his hand. He hummed! -The worn-out old creature, who had not sung since his childhood, -hummed, as he paced the platform, the few fragments he could -remember of a worn-out old song. - -The train was due as early as eight o'clock that night. At five -minutes past the hour the whistle sounded. In less than five -minutes more the passengers were getting out on the platform. - -Following the instructions that had been given to him, Mr. -Bashwood made his way, as well as the crowd would let him, along -the line of carriages, and, discovering no familiar face on that -first investigation, joined the passengers for a second search -among them in the custom-house waiting-room next. - -He had looked round the room, and had satisfied himself that the -persons occupying it were all strangers, when he heard a voice -behind him, exclaiming: "Can that be Mr. Bashwood!" He turned in -eager expectation, and found himself face to face with the last -man under heaven whom he had expected to see. - -The man was MIDWINTER. - - -CHAPTER II. - -IN THE HOUSE. - - -Noticing Mr. Bashwood's confusion (after a moment's glance at -the change in his personal appearance), Midwinter spoke first. - -"I see I have surprised you," he said. "You are looking, -I suppose, for somebody else? Have you heard from Allan? Is he -on his way home again already?" - -The inquiry about Allan, though it would naturally have suggested -itself to any one in Midwinter's position at that moment, added -to Mr. Bashwood's confusion. Not knowing how else to extricate -himself from the critical position in which he was placed, he -took refuge in simple denial. - -"I know nothing about Mr. Armadale--oh dear, no, sir, I know -nothing about Mr. Armadale," he answered, with needless eagerness -and hurry. "Welcome back to England, sir," he went on, changing -the subject in his nervously talkative manner. "I didn't know -you had been abroad. It's so long since we have had the -pleasure--since I have had the pleasure. Have you enjoyed -yourself, sir, in foreign parts? Such different manners from -ours--yes, yes, yes--such different manners from ours! Do you -make a long stay in England, now you have come back?" - -"I hardly know," said Midwinter. "I have been obliged to alter -my plans, and to come to England unexpectedly." He hesitated -a little; his manner changed, and he added, in lower tones: -"A serious anxiety has brought me back. I can't say what my plans -will be until that anxiety is set at rest." - -The light of a lamp fell on his face while he spoke, and Mr. -Bashwood observed, for the first time, that he looked sadly worn -and changed. - -"I'm sorry, sir--I'm sure I'm very sorry. If I could be of any -use--" suggested Mr. Bashwood, speaking under the influence in -some degree of his nervous politeness, and in some degree of his -remembrance of what Midwinter had done for him at Thorpe Ambrose -in the by-gone time. - -Midwinter thanked him and turned away sadly. "I am afraid you -can be of no use, Mr. Bashwood--but I am obliged to you for -your offer, all the same." He stopped, and considered a little, -"Suppose she should _not_ be ill? Suppose some misfortune should -have happened?" he resumed, speaking to himself, and turning -again toward the steward. "If she has left her mother, some trace -of her _might_ be found by inquiring at Thorpe Ambrose." - -Mr. Bashwood's curiosity was instantly aroused. The whole sex -was interesting to him now, for the sake of Miss Gwilt. - -"A lady, sir?" he inquired. "Are you looking for a lady?" - -"I am looking," said Midwinter, simply, "for my wife." - -"Married, sir!" exclaimed Mr. Bashwood. "Married since I last -had the pleasure of seeing you! Might I take the liberty of -asking--?" - -Midwinter's eyes dropped uneasily to the ground. - -"You knew the lady in former times," he said. "I have married -Miss Gwilt." - -The steward started back as he might have started back from -a loaded pistol leveled at his head. His eyes glared as if he -had suddenly lost his senses, and the nervous trembling to which -he was subject shook him from head to foot. - -"What's the matter?" said Midwinter. There was no answer. "What -is there so very startling," he went on, a little impatiently, -"in Miss Gwilt's being my wife?" - -"_Your_ wife?" repeated Mr. Bashwood, helplessly. "Mrs. -Armadale--!" He checked himself by a desperate effort, and -said no more. - -The stupor of astonishment which possessed the steward was -instantly reflected in Midwinter's face. The name in which he -had secretly married his wife had passed the lips of the last -man in the world whom he would have dreamed of admitting into -his confidence! He took Mr. Bashwood by the arm, and led him away -to a quieter part of the terminus than the part of it in which -they had hitherto spoken to each other. - -"You referred to my wife just now," he said; "and you spoke of -_Mrs. Armadale_ in the same breath. What do you mean by that?" - -Again there was no answer. Utterly incapable of understanding -more than that he had involved himself in some serious -complication which was a complete mystery to him, Mr. Bashwood -struggled to extricate himself from the grasp that was laid -on him, and struggled in vain. - -Midwinter sternly repeated the question. "I ask you again," -he said, "what do you mean by it?" - -"Nothing, sir! I give you my word of honor, I meant nothing!" -He felt the hand on his arm tightening its grasp; he saw, even -in the obscurity of the remote corner in which they stood, that -Midwinter's fiery temper was rising, and was not to be trifled -with. The extremity of his danger inspired him with the one ready -capacity that a timid man possesses when he is compelled by main -force to face an emergency--the capacity to lie. "I only meant -to say, sir," he burst out, with a desperate effort to look and -speak confidently, "that Mr. Armadale would be surprised--" - -"You said _Mrs._ Armadale!" - -"No, sir--on my word of honor, on my sacred word of honor, you -are mistaken--you are, indeed! I said _Mr._ Armadale--how could -I say anything else? Please to let me go, sir--I'm pressed for -time. I do assure you I'm dreadfully pressed for time!" - -For a moment longer Midwinter maintained his hold, and in -that moment he decided what to do. - -He had accurately stated his motive for returning to England as -proceeding from anxiety about his wife--anxiety naturally caused -(after the regular receipt of a letter from her every other, or -every third day) by the sudden cessation of the correspondence -between them on her side for a whole week. The first vaguely -terrible suspicion of some other reason for her silence than -the reason of accident or of illness, to which he had hitherto -attributed it, had struck through him like a sudden chill -the instant he heard the steward associate the name of "Mrs. -Armadale" with the idea of his wife. Little irregularities in -her correspondence with him, which he had thus far only thought -strange, now came back on his mind, and proclaimed themselves -to be suspicions as well. He had hitherto believed the reasons -she had given for referring him, when he answered her letters, -to no more definite address than an address at a post-office. -_Now_ he suspected her reasons of being excuses, for the first -time. He had hitherto resolved, on reaching London, to inquire -at the only place he knew of at which a clew to her could be -found--the address she had given him as the address at which -"her mother" lived. _Now_ (with a motive which he was afraid to -define even to himself, but which was strong enough to overbear -every other consideration in his mind) he determined, before all -things, to solve the mystery of Mr. Bashwood's familiarity with -a secret, which was a marriage secret between himself and his -wife. Any direct appeal to a man of the steward's disposition, -in the steward's present state of mind, would be evidently -useless. The weapon of deception was, in this case, a weapon -literally forced into Midwinter's hands. He let go of Mr. -Bashwood's arm, and accepted Mr. Bashwood's explanation. - -"I beg your pardon," he said; "I have no doubt you are right. -Pray attribute my rudeness to over-anxiety and over-fatigue. -I wish you good-evening." - -The station was by this time almost a solitude, the passengers -by the train being assembled at the examination of their luggage -in the custom-house waiting-room. It was no easy matter, -ostensibly to take leave of Mr. Bashwood, and really to keep him -in view. But Midwinter's early life with the gypsy master had -been of a nature to practice him in such stratagems as he was -now compelled to adopt. He walked away toward the waiting-room -by the line of empty carriages; opened the door of one of them, -as if to look after something that he had left behind, and -detected Mr. Bashwood making for the cab-rank on the opposite -side of the platform. In an instant Midwinter had crossed, and -had passed through the long row of vehicles, so as to skirt it -on the side furthest from the platform. He entered the second cab -by the left-hand door the moment after Mr. Bashwood had entered -the first cab by the right-hand door. "Double your fare, whatever -it is," he said to the driver, "if you keep the cab before you -in view, and follow it wherever it goes." In a minute more both -vehicles were on their way out of the station. - -The clerk sat in the sentry-box at the gate, taking down -the destinations of the cabs as they passed. Midwinter heard -the man who was driving him call out "Hampstead!" as he went -by the clerk's window. - -"Why did you say 'Hampstead'?" he asked, when they had left -the station. - -"Because the man before me said 'Hampstead,' sir," answered -the driver. - -Over and over again, on the wearisome journey to the northwestern -suburb, Midwinter asked if the cab was still in sight. Over and -over again, the man answered, "Right in front of us." - -It was between nine and ten o'clock when the driver pulled up -his horse at last. Midwinter got out, and saw the cab before them -waiting at a house door. As soon as he had satisfied himself -that the driver was the man whom Mr. Bashwood had hired, he paid -the promised reward, and dismissed his own cab. - -He took a turn backward and forward before the door. The vaguely -terrible suspicion which had risen in his mind at the terminus -had forced itself by this time into a definite form which was -abhorrent to him. Without the shadow of an assignable reason for -it, he found himself blindly distrusting his wife's fidelity, and -blindly suspecting Mr. Bashwood of serving her in the capacity -of go-between. In sheer horror of his own morbid fancy, he -determined to take down the number of the house, and the name -of the street in which it stood; and then, in justice to his -wife, to return at once to the address which she had given him -as the address at which her mother lived. He had taken out his -pocket-book, and was on his way to the corner of the street, -when he observed the man who had driven Mr. Bashwood looking -at him with an expression of inquisitive surprise. The idea -of questioning the cab-driver, while he had the opportunity, -instantly occurred to him. He took a half-crown from his pocket -and put it into the man's ready hand. - -"Has the gentleman whom you drove from the station gone into -that house?" he asked. - -"Yes, sir." - -"Did you hear him inquire for anybody when the door was opened?" - -"He asked for a lady, sir. Mrs.--" The man hesitated. "It wasn't -a common name, sir; I should know it again if I heard it." - -"Was it 'Midwinter'?" - -"No, sir. - -"Armadale?" - -"That's it, sir. Mrs. Armadale." - -"Are you sure it was 'Mrs.' and not 'Mr.'?" - -"I'm as sure as a man can be who hasn't taken any particular -notice, sir. - -The doubt implied in that last answer decided Midwinter to -investigate the matter on the spot. He ascended the house steps. -As he raised his hand to the bell at the side of the door, the -violence of his agitation mastered him physically for the moment. -A strange sensation, as of something leaping up from his heart -to his brain, turned his head wildly giddy. He held by the house -railings and kept his face to the air, and resolutely waited till -he was steady again. Then he rang the bell. - -"Is?"--he tried to ask for "Mrs. Armadale," when the maid-servant -had opened the door, but not even his resolution could force -the name to pass his lips--"is your mistress at home?" he asked. - -"Yes, sir." - -The girl showed him into a back parlor, and presented him to -a little old lady, with an obliging manner and a bright pair -of eyes. - -"There is some mistake," said Midwinter. "I wished to see--" -Once more he tried to utter the name, and once more he failed -to force it to his lips. - -"Mrs. Armadale?" suggested the little old lady, with a smile. - -"Yes." - -"Show the gentleman upstairs, Jenny." - -The girl led the way to the drawing-room floor. - -"Any name, sir?" - -"No name." - - -Mr. Bashwood had barely completed his report of what had happened -at the terminus; Mr. Bashwood's imperious mistress was still -sitting speechless under the shock of the discovery that had -burst on her--when the door of the room opened; and, without -a word of warning to proceed him, Midwinter appeared on the -threshold. He took one step into the room, and mechanically -pushed the door to behind him. He stood in dead silence, and -confronted his wife, with a scrutiny that was terrible in its -unnatural self-possession, and that enveloped her steadily in -one comprehensive look from head to foot. - -In dead silence on her side, she rose from her chair, In dead -silence she stood erect on the hearth-rug, and faced her husband -in widow's weeds. He took one step nearer to her, and stopped -again. He lifted his hand, and pointed with his lean brown finger -at her dress. - -"What does that mean?" he asked, without losing his terrible -self-possession, and without moving his outstretched hand. - -At the sound of his voice, the quick rise and fall of her -bosom--which had been the one outward betrayal thus far of -the inner agony that tortured her--suddenly stopped. She stood -impenetrably silent, breathlessly still--as if his question had -struck her dead, and his pointing hand had petrified her. - -He advanced one step nearer, and reiterated his words in a voice -even lower and quieter than the voice in which he had spoken -first. - -One moment more of silence, one moment more of inaction, might -have been the salvation of her. But the fatal force of her -character triumphed at the crisis of her destiny, and his. White -and still, and haggard and old, she met the dreadful emergency -with a dreadful courage, and spoke the irrevocable words which -renounced him to his face. - -"Mr. Midwinter," she said, in tones unnaturally hard and -unnaturally clear, "our acquaintance hardly entitles you to speak -to me in that manner." Those were her words. She never lifted -her eyes from the ground while she spoke them. When she had done, -the last faint vestige of color in her cheeks faded out. - -There was a pause. Still steadily looking at her, he set himself -to fix the language she had used to him in his mind. "She calls -me 'Mr. Midwinter,'" he said, slowly, in a whisper. "She speaks -of 'our acquaintance.'" He waited a little and looked round the -room. His wandering eyes encountered Mr. Bashwood for the first -time. He saw the steward standing near the fireplace, trembling, -and watching him. - -"I once did you a service," he said; "and you once told me you -were not an ungrateful man. Are you grateful enough to answer me -if I ask you something?" - -He waited a little again. Mr. Bashwood still stood trembling -at the fireplace, silently watching him. - -"I see you looking at me," he went on. "Is there some change in -me that I am not conscious of myself? Am I seeing things that you -don't see? Am I hearing words that you don't hear? Am I looking -or speaking like a man out of his senses?" - -Again he waited, and again the silence was unbroken. His eyes -began to glitter; and the savage blood that he had inherited -from his mother rose dark and slow in his ashy cheeks. - -"Is that woman," he asked, "the woman whom you once knew, -whose name was Miss Gwilt?" - -Once more his wife collected her fatal courage. Once more -his wife spoke her fatal words. - -"You compel me to repeat," she said, "that you are presuming -on our acquaintance, and that you are forgetting what is due -to me." - -He turned upon her, with a savage suddenness which forced a cry -of alarm from Mr. Bashwood's lips. - -"Are you, or are you not, My Wife?" he asked, through his set -teeth. - -She raised her eyes to his for the first time. Her lost spirit -looked at him, steadily defiant, out of the hell of its own -despair. - -"I am _not_ your wife," she said. - -He staggered back, with his hands groping for something to hold -by, like the hands of a man in the dark. He leaned heavily -against the wall of the room, and looked at the woman who had -slept on his bosom, and who had denied him to his face. - -Mr. Bashwood stole panic-stricken to her side. "Go in there!" he -whispered, trying to draw her toward the folding-doors which led -into the next room. "For God's sake, be quick! He'll kill you!" - -She put the old man back with her hand. She looked at him with -a sudden irradiation of her blank face. She answered him with -lips that struggled slowly into a frightful smile. - -"_Let_ him kill me," she said. - -As the words passed her lips, he sprang forward from the wall, -with a cry that rang through the house. The frenzy of a maddened -man flashed at her from his glassy eyes, and clutched at her in -his threatening hands. He came on till he was within arms-length -of her--and suddenly stood still. The black flush died out -of his face in the instant when he stopped. His eyelids fell, -his outstretched hands wavered and sank helpless. He dropped, -as the dead drop. He lay as the dead lie, in the arms of the wife -who had denied him. - -She knelt on the floor, and rested his head on her knee. She -caught the arm of the steward hurrying to help her, with a hand -that closed round it like a vise. "Go for a doctor," she said, -"and keep the people of the house away till he comes." There was -that in her eye, there was that in her voice, which would have -warned any man living to obey her in silence. In silence Mr. -Bashwood submitted, and hurried out of the room. - -The instant she was alone she raised him from her knee. With both -arms clasped round him, the miserable woman lifted his lifeless -face to hers and rocked him on her bosom in an agony of -tenderness beyond all relief in tears, in a passion of remorse -beyond all expression in words. In silence she held him to her -breast, in silence she devoured his forehead, his cheeks, -his lips, with kisses. Not a sound escaped her till she heard -the trampling footsteps outside, hurrying up the stairs. Then -a low moan burst from her lips, as she looked her last at him, -and lowered his head again to her knee, before the strangers -came in. - -The landlady and the steward were the first persons whom she saw -when the door was opened. The medical man (a surgeon living in -the street) followed. The horror and the beauty of her face as -she looked up at him absorbed the surgeon's attention for the -moment, to the exclusion of everything else. She had to beckon -to him, she had to point to the senseless man, before she could -claim his attention for his patient and divert it from herself. - -"Is he dead?" she asked. - -The surgeon carried Midwinter to the sofa, and ordered -the windows to be opened. "It is a fainting fit," he said; -"nothing more." - -At that answer her strength failed her for the first time. She -drew a deep breath of relief, and leaned on the chimney-piece -for support. Mr. Bashwood was the only person present who noticed -that she was overcome. He led her to the opposite end of the -room, where there was an easy-chair, leaving the landlady to hand -the restoratives to the surgeon as they were wanted. - -"Are you going to wait here till he recovers?" whispered the -steward, looking toward the sofa, and trembling as he looked. - -The question forced her to a sense of her position--to a -knowledge of the merciless necessities which that position now -forced her to confront. With a heavy sigh she looked toward -the sofa, considered with herself for a moment, and answered Mr. -Bashwood's inquiry by a question on her side. - -"Is the cab that brought you here from the railway still at -the door?" - -"Yes." - -"Drive at once to the gates of the Sanitarium, and wait there -till I join you." - -Mr. Bashwood hesitated. She lifted her eyes to his, and, with -a look, sent him out of the room. - -"The gentleman is coming to, ma'am," said the landlady, as -the steward closed the door. "He has just breathed again." - -She bowed in mute reply, rose, and considered with herself once -more--looked toward the sofa for the second time--then passed -through the folding-doors into her own room. - -After a short lapse of time the surgeon drew back from the sofa -and motioned to the landlady to stand aside. The bodily recovery -of the patient was assured. There was nothing to be done now but -to wait, and let his mind slowly recall its sense of what had -happened. - -"Where is she?" were the first words he said to the surgeon, -and the landlady anxiously watching him. - -The landlady knocked at the folding-doors, and received no -answer. She went in, and found the room empty. A sheet of -note-paper was on the dressing-table, with the doctor's fee -placed on it. The paper contained these lines, evidently written -in great agitation or in great haste: "It is impossible for me -to remain here to-night, after what has happened. I will return -to-morrow to take away my luggage, and to pay what I owe you." - -"Where is she?" Midwinter asked again, when the landlady returned -alone to the drawing-room. - -"Gone, sir." - -"I don't believe it!" - -The old lady's color rose. "If you know her handwriting, sir," -she answered, handing him the sheet of note-paper, "perhaps you -may believe _that_?" - -He looked at the paper. "I beg your pardon, ma'am," he said, -as he handed it back--"I beg your pardon, with all my heart." - -There was something in his face as he spoke those words which -more than soothed the old lady's irritation: it touched her -with a sudden pity for the man who had offended her. "I am afraid -there is some dreadful trouble, sir, at the bottom of all this," -she said, simply. "Do you wish me to give any message to the lady -when she comes back?" - -Midwinter rose and steadied himself for a moment against -the sofa. "I will bring my own message to-morrow," he said. -"I must see her before she leaves your house." - -The surgeon accompanied his patient into the street. "Can I see -you home?" he said, kindly. "You had better not walk, if it is -far. You mustn't overexert yourself; you mustn't catch a chill -this cold night." - -Midwinter took his hand and thanked him. "I have been used to -hard walking and cold nights, sir," he said; "and I am not easily -worn out, even when I look so broken as I do now. If you will -tell me the nearest way out of these streets, I think the quiet -of the country and the quiet of the night will help me. I have -something serious to do to-morrow," he added, in a lower tone; -"and I can't rest or sleep till I have thought over it to-night." - -The surgeon understood that he had no common man to deal with. -He gave the necessary directions without any further remark, -and parted with his patient at his own door. - -Left by himself, Midwinter paused, and looked up at the heavens -in silence. The night had cleared, and the stars were out--the -stars which he had first learned to know from his gypsy master on -the hillside. For the first time his mind went back regretfully -to his boyish days. "Oh, for the old life!" he thought, -longingly. "I never knew till now how happy the old life was!" - -He roused himself, and went on toward the open country. His face -darkened as he left the streets behind him and advanced into the -solitude and obscurity that lay beyond. - -"She has denied her husband to-night," he said. "She shall know -her master to-morrow." - -CHAPTER III. - -THE PURPLE FLASK. - - -The cab was waiting at the gates as Miss Gwilt approached the -Sanitarium. Mr. Bashwood got out and advanced to meet her. She -took his arm and led him aside a few steps, out of the cabman's -hearing. - -"Think what you like of me," she said, keeping her thick black -veil down over her face, "but don't speak to me to-night. Drive -back to your hotel as if nothing had happened. Meet the tidal -train to-morrow as usual, and come to me afterward at the -Sanitarium. Go without a word, and I shall believe there is one -man in the world who really loves me. Stay and ask questions, -and I shall bid you good-by at once and forever!" - -She pointed to the cab. In a minute more it had left the -Sanitarium and was taking Mr. Bashwood back to his hotel. - -She opened the iron gate and walked slowly up to the house door. -A shudder ran through her as she rang the bell. She laughed -bitterly. "Shivering again!" she said to herself. "Who would -have thought I had so much feeling left in me?" - -For once in her life the doctor's face told the truth, when -the study door opened between ten and eleven at night, and -Miss Gwilt entered the room. - -"Mercy on me!" he exclaimed, with a look of the blankest -bewilderment. "What does this mean?" - -"It means," she answered, "that I have decided to-night instead -of deciding to-morrow. You, who know women so well, ought to know -that they act on impulse. I am here on an impulse. Take me or -leave me, just as you like." - -"Take you or leave you?" repeated the doctor, recovering his -presence of mind. "My dear lady, what a dreadful way of putting -it! Your room shall be got ready instantly! Where is your -luggage? Will you let me send for it? No? You can do without your -luggage tonight? What admirable fortitude! You will fetch it -yourself to-morrow? What extraordinary independence! Do take off -your bonnet. Do draw in to the fire! What can I offer you?" - -"Offer me the strongest sleeping draught you ever made in your -life," she replied. "And leave me alone till the time comes -to take it. I shall be your patient in earnest!" she added, -fiercely, as the doctor attempted to remonstrate. "I shall be -the maddest of the mad if you irritate me to-night!" - -The Principal of the Sanitarium became gravely and briefly -professional in an instant. - -"Sit down in that dark corner," he said. "Not a soul shall -disturb you. In half an hour you will find your room ready, -and your sleeping draught on the table."--"It's been a harder -struggle for her than I anticipated," he thought, as he left -the room, and crossed to his Dispensary on the opposite side of -the hall. "Good heavens, what business has she with a conscience, -after such a life as hers has been!" - -The Dispensary was elaborately fitted up with all the latest -improvements in medical furniture. But one of the four walls of -the room was unoccupied by shelves, and here the vacant space was -filled by a handsome antique cabinet of carved wood, curiously -out of harmony, as an object, with the unornamented utilitarian -aspect of the place generally. On either side of the cabinet two -speaking-tubes were inserted in the wall, communicating with the -upper regions of the house, and labeled respectively "Resident -Dispenser" and "Head Nurse." Into the second of these tubes the -doctor spoke, on entering the room. An elderly woman appeared, -took her orders for preparing Mrs. Armadale's bed-chamber, -courtesied, and retired. - -Left alone again in the Dispensary, the doctor unlocked the -center compartment of the cabinet, and disclosed a collection of -bottles inside, containing the various poisons used in medicine. -After taking out the laudanum wanted for the sleeping draught, -and placing it on the dispensary table, he went back to the -cabinet, looked into it for a little while, shook his head -doubtfully, and crossed to the open shelves on the opposite side -of the room. - -Here, after more consideration, he took down one out of the row -of large chemical bottles before him, filled with a yellow -liquid; placing the bottle on the table, he returned to the -cabinet, and opened a side compartment, containing some specimens -of Bohemian glass-work. After measuring it with his eye, he took -from the specimens a handsome purple flask, high and narrow -in form, and closed by a glass stopper. This he filled with -the yellow liquid, leaving a small quantity only at the bottom -of the bottle, and locking up the flask again in the place from -which he had taken it. The bottle was next restored to its place, -after having been filled up with water from the cistern in -the Dispensary, mixed with certain chemical liquids in small -quantities, which restored it (so far as appearances went) -to the condition in which it had been when it was first removed -from the shelf. Having completed these mysterious proceedings, -the doctor laughed softly, and went back to his speaking-tubes -to summon the Resident Dispenser next. - -The Resident Dispenser made his appearance shrouded in the -necessary white apron from his waist to his feet. The doctor -solemnly wrote a prescription for a composing draught, and -handed it to his assistant. - -"Wanted immediately, Benjamin," he said in a soft and melancholy -voice. "A lady patient--Mrs. Armadale, Room No. 1, second floor. -Ah, dear, dear!" groaned the doctor, absently; "an anxious case, -Benjamin--an anxious case." He opened the brand-new ledger of the -establishment, and entered the Case at full length, with a brief -abstract of the prescription. "Have you done with the laudanum? -Put it back, and lock the cabinet, and give me the key. Is the -draught ready? Label it, 'To be taken at bedtime,' and give it -to the nurse, Benjamin--give it to the nurse." - -While the doctor's lips were issuing these directions, the -doctor's hands were occupied in opening a drawer under the desk -on which the ledger was placed. He took out some gayly printed -cards of admission "to view the Sanitarium, between the hours of -two and four P.M.," and filled them up with the date of the next -day, "December 10th." When a dozen of the cards had been wrapped -up in a dozen lithographed letters of invitation, and inclosed -in a dozen envelopes, he next consulted a list of the families -resident in the neighborhood, and directed the envelopes from -the list. Ringing a bell this time, instead of speaking through -a tube, he summoned the man-servant, and gave him the letters, to -be delivered by hand the first thing the next morning. "I think -it will do," said the doctor, taking a turn in the Dispensary -when the servant had gone out--"I think it will do." While he was -still absorbed in his own reflections, the nurse re-appeared to -announce that the lady's room was ready; and the doctor thereupon -formally returned to the study to communicate the information -to Miss Gwilt. - -She had not moved since he left her. She rose from her dark -corner when he made his announcement, and, without speaking -or raising her veil, glided out of the room like a ghost. - -After a brief interval, the nurse came downstairs again, with -a word for her master's private ear. - -"The lady has ordered me to call her to-morrow at seven o'clock, -sir," she said. "She means to fetch her luggage herself, and she -wants to have a cab at the door as soon as she is dressed. What -am I to do?" - -"Do what the lady tells you," said the doctor. "She may be safely -trusted to return to the Sanitarium." - -The breakfast hour at the Sanitarium was half-past eight o'clock. -By that time Miss Gwilt had settled everything at her lodgings, -and had returned with her luggage in her own possession. The -doctor was quite amazed at the promptitude of his patient. - -"Why waste so much energy?" he asked, when they met at -the breakfast-table. "Why be in such a hurry, my dear lady, -when you had all the morning before you?" - -"Mere restlessness!" she said, briefly. "The longer I live, -the more impatient I get." - -The doctor, who had noticed before she spoke that her face looked -strangely pale and old that morning, observed, when she answered -him, that her expression--naturally mobile in no ordinary -degree--remained quite unaltered by the effort of speaking. There -was none of the usual animation on her lips, none of the usual -temper in her eyes. He had never seen her so impenetrably and -coldly composed as he saw her now. "She has made up her mind at -last," he thought. "I may say to her this morning what I couldn't -say to her last night." - -He prefaced the coming remarks by a warning look at her widow's -dress. - -"Now you have got your luggage," he began, gravely, "permit me -to suggest putting that cap away, and wearing another gown." - -"Why?" - -"Do you remember what you told me a day or two since?" asked -the doctor. "You said there was a chance of Mr. Armadale's dying -in my Sanitarium?" - -"I will say it again, if you like." - -"A more unlikely chance," pursued the doctor, deaf as ever to all -awkward interruptions, "it is hardly possible to imagine! But as -long as it is a chance at all, it is worth considering. Say, -then, that he dies--dies suddenly and unexpectedly, and makes a -Coroner's Inquest necessary in the house. What is our course in -that case? Our course is to preserve the characters to which we -have committed ourselves--you as his widow, and I as the witness -of your marriage--and, _in_ those characters, to court the -fullest inquiry. In the entirely improbable event of his dying -just when we want him to die, my idea--I might even say, my -resolution--is to admit that we knew of his resurrection from the -sea; and to acknowledge that we instructed Mr. Bashwood to entrap -him into this house, by means of a false statement about Miss -Milroy. When the inevitable questions follow, I propose to assert -that he exhibited symptoms of mental alienation shortly after -your marriage; that his delusion consisted in denying that you -were his wife, and in declaring that he was engaged to be married -to Miss Milroy; that you were in such terror of him on this -account, when you heard he was alive and coming back, as to be -in a state of nervous agitation that required my care; that at -your request, and to calm that nervous agitation, I saw him -professionally, and got him quietly into the house by a humoring -of his delusion, perfectly justifiable in such a case; and, -lastly, that I can certify his brain to have been affected by -one of those mysterious disorders, eminently incurable, eminently -fatal, in relation to which medical science is still in the dark. -Such a course as this (in the remotely possible event which we -are now supposing) would be, in your interests and mine, -unquestionably the right course to take; and such a dress as -_that_ is, just as certainly, under existing circumstances, -the wrong dress to wear." - -"Shall I take it off at once?" she asked, rising from the -breakfast-table, without a word of remark on what had just -been said to her. - -"Anytime before two o'clock to-day will do," said the doctor. - -She looked at him with a languid curiosity--nothing more. -"Why before two?" she inquired. - -"Because this is one of my 'Visitors' Days,' And the visitors' -time is from two to four." - -"What have I to do with your visitors?" - -"Simply this. I think it important that perfectly respectable and -perfectly disinterested witnesses should see you, in my house, -in the character of a lady who has come to consult me." - -"Your motive seems rather far-fetched, Is it the only motive -you have in the matter?" - -"My dear, dear lady!" remonstrated the doctor, "have I any -concealments from _you_? Surely, you ought to know me better -than that?" - -"Yes," she said, with a we ary contempt. "It's dull enough of me -not to understand you by this time. Send word upstairs when I am -wanted." She left him, and went back to her room. - - -Two o'clock came; and in a quarter of an hour afterward the -visitors had arrived. Short as the notice had been, cheerless as -the Sanitarium looked to spectators from without, the doctor's -invitation had been largely accepted, nevertheless, by the female -members of the families whom he had addressed. In the miserable -monotony of the lives led by a large section of the middle -classes of England, anything is welcome to the women which offers -them any sort of harmless refuge from the established tyranny of -the principle that all human happiness begins and ends at home. -While the imperious needs of a commercial country limited the -representatives of the male sex, among the doctor's visitors, -to one feeble old man and one sleepy little boy, the women, poor -souls, to the number of no less than sixteen--old and young, -married and single--had seized the golden opportunity of a plunge -into public life. Harmoniously united by the two common objects -which they all had in view--in the first place, to look at each -other, and, in the second place, to look at the Sanitarium--they -streamed in neatly dressed procession through the doctor's dreary -iron gates, with a thin varnish over them of assumed superiority -to all unladylike excitement, most significant and most pitiable -to see! - -The proprietor of the Sanitarium received his visitors in the -hall with Miss Gwilt on his arm. The hungry eyes of every woman -in the company overlooked the doctor as if no such person had -existed; and, fixing on the strange lady, devoured her from head -to foot in an instant. - -"My First Inmate," said the doctor, presenting Miss Gwilt. "This -lady only arrived late last night; and she takes the present -opportunity (the only one my morning's engagements have allowed -me to give her) of going over the Sanitarium.--Allow me, ma'am," -he went on, releasing Miss Gwilt, and giving his arm to the -eldest lady among the visitors. "Shattered nerves--domestic -anxiety," he whispered, confidentially. "Sweet woman! sad case!" -He sighed softly, and led the old lady across the hall. - -The flock of visitors followed, Miss Gwilt accompanying them in -silence, and walking alone--among them, but not of them--the last -of all. - -"The grounds, ladies and gentlemen," said the doctor, wheeling -round, and addressing his audience from the foot of the stairs, -"are, as you have seen, in a partially unfinished condition. -Under any circumstances, I should lay little stress on the -grounds, having Hampstead Heath so near at hand, and carriage -exercise and horse exercise being parts of my System. In a lesser -degree, it is also necessary for me to ask your indulgence for -the basement floor, on which we now stand. The waiting-room and -study on that side, and the Dispensary on the other (to which I -shall presently ask your attention), are completed. But the large -drawing-room is still in the decorator's hands. In that room -(when the walls are dry--not a moment before) my inmates will -assemble for cheerful society. Nothing will be spared that -can improve, elevate, and adorn life at these happy little -gatherings. Every evening, for example, there will be music -for those who like it." - -At this point there was a faint stir among the visitors. A mother -of a family interrupted the doctor. She begged to know whether -music "every evening" included Sunday evening; and, if so, what -music was performed? - -"Sacred music, of course, ma'am," said the doctor. "Handel on -Sunday evening--and Haydn occasionally, when not too cheerful. -But, as I was about to say, music is not the only entertainment -offered to my nervous inmates. Amusing reading is provided for -those who prefer books." - -There was another stir among the visitors. Another mother of -a family wished to know whether amusing reading meant novels. - -"Only such novels as I have selected and perused myself, in -the first instance," said the doctor. "Nothing painful, ma'am! -There may be plenty that is painful in real life; but for that -very reason, we don't want it in books. The English novelist -who enters my house (no foreign novelist will be admitted) -must understand his art as the healthy-minded English reader -understands it in our time. He must know that our purer modern -taste, our higher modern morality, limits him to doing exactly -two things for us, when he writes us a book. All we want of him -is--occasionally to make us laugh; and invariably to make us -comfortable." - -There was a third stir among the visitors--caused plainly this -time by approval of the sentiments which they had just heard. The -doctor, wisely cautious of disturbing the favorable impression -that he had produced, dropped the subject of the drawing-room, -and led the way upstairs. As before, the company followed; and, -as before, Miss Gwilt walked silently behind them, last of all. -One after another the ladies looked at her with the idea of -speaking, and saw something in her face, utterly unintelligible -to them, which checked the well-meant words on their lips. The -prevalent impression was that the Principal of the Sanitarium had -been delicately concealing the truth, and that his first inmate -was mad. - -The doctor led the way--with intervals of breathing-time accorded -to the old lady on his arm--straight to the top of the house. -Having collected his visitors in the corridor, and having waved -his hand indicatively at the numbered doors opening out of it -on either side, he invited the company to look into any or all -of the rooms at their own pleasure. - -"Numbers one to four, ladies and gentlemen," said the doctor, -"include the dormitories of the attendants. Numbers four to eight -are rooms intended for the accommodation of the poorer class -of patients, whom I receive on terms which simply cover my -expenditure--nothing more. In the cases of these poorer persons -among my suffering fellow creatures, personal piety and the -recommendation of two clergymen are indispensable to admission. -Those are the only conditions I make; but those I insist on. Pray -observe that the rooms are all ventilated, and the bedsteads all -iron and kindly notice, as we descend again to the second floor, -that there is a door shutting off all communication between the -second story and the top story when necessary. The rooms on the -second floor, which we have now reached, are (with the exception -of my own room) entirely devoted to the reception of -lady-inmates--experience having convinced me that the greater -sensitiveness of the female constitution necessitates the higher -position of the sleeping apartment, with a view to the greater -purity and freer circulation of the air. Here the ladies -are established immediately under my care, while my assistant- -physician (whom I expect to arrive in a week's time) looks after -the gentlemen on the floor beneath. Observe, again, as we descend -to this lower, or first floor, a second door, closing all -communication at night between the two stories to every one but -the assistant physician and myself. And now that we have reached -the gentleman's part of the house, and that you have observed -for yourselves the regulations of the establishment, permit me -to introduce you to a specimen of my system of treatment next. -I can exemplify it practically, by introducing you to a room -fitted up, under my own direction, for the accommodation of -the most complicated cases of nervous suffering and nervous -delusion that can come under my care." - -He threw open the door of a room at one extremity of the -corridor, numbered Four. "Look in, ladies and gentlemen," he -said; "and, if you see anything remarkable, pray mention it." - -The room was not very large, but it was well lit by one broad -window. Comfortably furnished as a bedroom, it was only -remarkable among other rooms of the same sort in one way. It had -no fireplace. The visitors having noticed this, were informed -that the room was warmed in winter by means of hot water; and -were then invited back again into the corridor, to make the -discoveries, under professional direction, which they were unable -to make for themselves. - -"A word, ladies and gentlemen," said the doctor; "literally -a word, on nervous derangement first. What is the process of -treatment, when, let us say, mental anxiety has broken you down, -and you apply to your doctor? He sees you, hears you, and gives -you two prescriptions. One is written on paper, and made up at -the chemist's. The other is administered by word of mouth, at -the propitious moment when the fee is ready; and consists in -a general recommendation to you to keep your mind easy. That -excellent advice given, your doctor leaves you to spare yourself -all earthly annoyances by your own unaided efforts, until he -calls again. Here my System steps in and helps you! When _I_ -see the necessity of keeping your mind easy, I take the bull by -the horns and do it for you. I place you in a sphere of action -in which the ten thousand trifles which must, and do, irritate -nervous people at home are expressly considered and provided -against. I throw up impregnable moral intrenchments between Worry -and You. Find a door banging in _this_ house, if you can! Catch -a servant in _this_ house rattling the tea-things when he takes -away the tray! Discover barking dogs, crowing cocks, hammering -workmen, screeching children _here_--and I engage to close -My Sanitarium to-morrow! Are these nuisances laughing matters -to nervous people? Ask them! Can they escape these nuisances at -home? Ask them! Will ten minutes' irritation from a barking dog -or a screeching child undo every atom of good done to a nervous -sufferer by a month's medical treatment? There isn't a competent -doctor in England who will venture to deny it! On those plain -grounds my System is based. I assert the medical treatment -of nervous suffering to be entirely subsidiary to the moral -treatment of it. That moral treatment of it you find here. That -moral treatment, sedulously pursued throughout the day, follows -the sufferer into his room at night; and soothes, helps and cures -him, without his own knowledge--you shall see how." - -The doctor paused to take breath and looked, for the first time -since the visitors had entered the house, at Miss Gwilt. For the -first time, on her side, she stepped forward among the audience, -and looked at him in return. After a momentary obstruction in -the shape of a cough, the doctor went on. - -"Say, ladies and gentlemen," he proceeded, "that my patient -has just come in. His mind is one mass of nervous fancies and -caprices, which his friends (with the best possible intentions) -have been ignorantly irritating at home. They have been afraid -of him, for instance, at night. They have forced him to have -somebody to sleep in the room with him, or they have forbidden -him, in case of accidents, to lock his door. He comes to me -the first night, and says: 'Mind, I won't have anybody in my -room!'--'Certainly not!'--'I insist on locking my door.'--'By all -means!' In he goes, and locks his door; and there he is, soothed -and quieted, predisposed to confidence, predisposed to sleep, -by having his own way. 'This is all very well,' you may say; 'but -suppose something happens, suppose he has a fit in the night, -what then?' You shall see! Hallo, my young friend!" cried the -doctor, suddenly addressing the sleepy little boy. "Let's have -a game. You shall be the poor sick man, and I'll be the good -doctor. Go into that room and lock the door. There's a brave boy! -Have you locked it? Very good! Do you think I can't get at you -if I like? I wait till you're asleep--I press this little white -button, hidden here in the stencilled pattern of the outer -wall--the mortise of the lock inside falls back silently against -the door-post--and I walk into the room whenever I like. The same -plan is pursued with the window. My capricious patient won't open -it at night, when he ought. I humor him again. 'Shut it, dear -sir, by all means!' As soon as he is asleep, I pull the black -handle hidden here, in the corner of the wall. The window of -the room inside noiselessly opens, as you see. Say the patient's -caprice is the other way--he persists in opening the window when -he ought to shut it. Let him! by all means, let him! I pull -a second handle when he is snug in his bed, and the window -noiselessly closes in a moment. Nothing to irritate him, -ladies and gentlemen--absolutely nothing to irritate him! But -I haven't done with him yet. Epidemic disease, in spite of all -my precautions, may enter this Sanitarium, and may render the -purifying of the sick-room necessary. Or the patient's case may -be complicated by other than nervous malady--say, for instance, -asthmatic difficulty of breathing. In the one case, fumigation is -necessary; in the other, additional oxygen in the air will give -relief. The epidemic nervous patient says, 'I won't be smoked -under my own nose!' The asthmatic nervous patient gasps with -terror at the idea of a chemical explosion in his room. I -noiselessly fumigate one of them; I noiselessly oxygenize the -other, by means of a simple Apparatus fixed outside in the corner -here. It is protected by this wooden casing; it is locked with my -own key; and it communicates by means of a tube with the interior -of the room. Look at it!" - -With a preliminary glance at Miss Gwilt, the doctor unlocked -the lid of the wooden casing, and disclosed inside nothing more -remarkable than a large stone jar, having a glass funnel, and -a pipe communicating with the wall, inserted in the cork which -closed the mouth of it. With another look at Miss Gwilt, the -doctor locked the lid again, and asked, in the blandest manner, -whether his System was intelligible now? - -"I might introduce you to all sorts of other contrivances of the -same kind," he resumed, leading the way downstairs; "but it would -be only the same thing over and over again. A nervous patient who -always has his own way is a nervous patient who is never worried; -and a nervous patient who is never worried is a nervous patient -cured. There it is in a nutshell! Come and see the Dispensary, -ladies; the Dispensary and the kitchen next!" - -Once more, Miss Gwilt dropped behind the visitors, and waited -alone--looking steadfastly at the Room which the doctor had -opened, and at the apparatus which the doctor had unlocked. -Again, without a word passing between them, she had understood -him. She knew, as well as if he had confessed it, that he was -craftily putting the necessary temptation in her way, before -witnesses who could speak to the superficially innocent acts -which they had seen, if anything serious happened. The apparatus, -originally constructed to serve the purpose of the doctor's -medical crotchets, was evidently to be put to some other use, -of which the doctor himself had probably never dreamed till now. -And the chances were that, before the day was over, that other -use would be privately revealed to her at the right moment, in -the presence of the right witness. "Armadale will die this time," -she said to herself, as she went slowly down the stairs. -"The doctor will kill him, by my hands." - -The visitors were in the Dispensary when she joined them. All -the ladies were admiring the beauty of the antique cabinet; -and, as a necessary consequence, all the ladies were desirous of -seeing what was inside. The doctor--after a preliminary look at -Miss Gwilt--good-humoredly shook his head. "There is nothing to -interest you inside," he said. "Nothing but rows of little shabby -bottles containing the poisons used in medicine which I keep -under lock and key. Come to the kitchen, ladies, and honor me -with your advice on domestic matters below stairs." He glanced -again at Miss Gwilt as the company crossed the hall, with a look -which said plainly, "Wait here." - -In another quarter of an hour the doctor had expounded his views -on cookery and diet, and the visitors (duly furnished with -prospectuses) were taking leave of him at the door. "Quite an -intellectual treat!" they said to each other, as they streamed -out again in neatly dressed procession through the iron gates. -"And what a very superior man!" - -The doctor turned back to the Dispensary, humming absently to -himself, and failing entirely to observe the corner of the hall -in which Miss Gwilt stood retired. After an instant's hesitation, -she followed him. The assistant was in the room when she entered -it--summoned by his employer the moment before. - -"Doctor," she said, coldly and mechanically, as if she was -repeating a lesson, "I am as curious as the other ladies about -that pretty cabinet of yours. Now they are all gone, won't you -show the inside of it to _me_?" - -The doctor laughed in his pleasantest manner. - -"The old story," he said. "Blue-Beard's locked chamber, and -female curiosity! (Don't go, Benjamin, don't go.) My dear lady, -what interest can you possibly have in looking at a medical -bottle, simply because it happens to be a bottle of poison?" - -She repeated her lesson for the second time. - -"I have the interest of looking at it," she said, "and of -thinking, if it got into some people's hands, of the terrible -things it might do." - -The doctor glanced at his assistant with a compassionate smile. - -"Curious, Benjamin," he said, "the romantic view taken of these -drugs of ours by the unscientific mind! My dear lady," he added, -turning to Miss Gwilt, "if _that_ is the interest you attach to -looking at poisons, you needn't ask me to unlock my cabinet--you -need only look about you round the shelves of this room. There -are all sorts of medical liquids and substances in those bottles ---most innocent, most useful in themselves--which, in combination -with other substances and other liquids, become poisons as -terrible and as deadly as any that I have in my cabinet under -lock and key." - -She looked at him for a moment, and creased to the opposite side -of the room. - -"Show me one," she said, - -Still smiling as good-humoredly as ever, the doctor humored -his nervous patient. He pointed to the bottle from which he -had privately removed the yellow liquid on the previous day, -and which he had filled up again with a carefully-colored -imitation in the shape of a mixture of his own. - -"Do you see that bottle," he said--"that plump, round, -comfortable-looking bottle? Never mind the name of what is beside -it; let us stick to the bottle, and distinguish it, if you like, -by giving it a name of our own. Suppose we call it 'our Stout -Friend'? Very good. Our Stout Friend, by himself, is a most -harmless and useful medicine. He is freely dispensed every day -to tens of thousands of patients all over the civilized world. -He has made no romantic appearances in courts of law; he has -excited no breathless interest in novels; he has played no -terrifying part on the stage. There he is, an innocent, -inoffensive creature, who troubles nobody with the responsibility -of locking him up! _But_ bring him into contact with something -else--introduce him to the acquaintance of a certain common -mineral substance, of a universally accessible kind, broken into -fragments; provide yourself with (say) six doses of our Stout -Friend, and pour those doses consecutively on the fragments -I have mentioned, at intervals of not less than five minutes. -Quantities of little bubbles will rise at every pouring; -collect the gas in those bubbles, and convey it into a closed -chamber--and let Samson himself be in that closed chamber; our -stout Friend will kill him in half an hour! Will kill him slowly, -without his seeing anything, without his smelling anything, -without his feeling anything but sleepiness. Will kill him, and -tell the whole College of Surgeons nothing, if they examine him -after death, but that he died of apoplexy or congestion of the -lungs! What do you think of _that_, my dear lady, in the way of -mystery and romance? Is our harmless Stout Friend as interesting -_now_ as if he rejoiced in the terrible popular fame of the -Arsenic and the Strychnine which I keep locked up there? Don't -suppose I am exaggerating! Don't suppose I'm inventing a story -to put you off with, as the children say. Ask Benjamin there," -said the doctor, appealing to his assistant, with his eyes fixed -on Miss Gwilt. "Ask Benjamin," he repeated, with the steadiest -emphasis on the next words, "if six doses from that bottle, at -intervals of five minutes each, would not, under the conditions -I have stated, produce the results I have described?" - -The Resident Dispenser, modestly admiring Miss Gwilt at -a distance, started and colored up. He was plainly gratified by -the little attention which had included him in the conversation. - -"The doctor is quite right, ma'am," he said, addressing Miss -Gwilt, with his best bow; "the production of the gas, extended -over half an hour, would be quite gradual enough. And," added the -Dispenser, silently appealing to his employer to let him exhibit -a little chemical knowledge on his own account, "the volume of -the gas would be sufficient at the end of the time--if I am not -mistaken, sir?--to be fatal to any person entering the room in -less than five minutes." - -"Unquestionably, Benjamin," rejoined the doctor. "But I think we -have had enough of chemistry for the present," he added, turning -to Miss Gwilt. "With every desire, my dear lady, to gratify every -passing wish you may form, I venture to propose trying a more -cheerful subject. Suppose we leave the Dispensary, before it -suggests any more inquiries to that active mind of yours? No? You -want to see an experiment? You want to see how the little bubbles -are made? Well, well! there is no harm in that. We will let Mrs. -Armadale see the bubbles," continued the doctor, in the tone of -a parent humoring a spoiled child. "Try if you can find a few of -those fragments that we want, Benjamin. I dare say the workmen -(slovenly fellows!) have left something of the sort about the -house or the grounds." - -The Resident Dispenser left the room. - -As soon as his back was turned, the doctor began opening and -shutting drawers in various parts of the Dispensary, with the air -of a man who wants something in a hurry, and does not know where -to find it. "Bless my soul!" he exclaimed, suddenly stopping at -the drawer from which he had taken his cards of invitation on the -previous day, "what's this? A key? A duplicate key, as I'm alive, -of my fumigating apparatus upstairs! Oh dear, dear, how careless -I get," said the doctor, turning round briskly to Miss Gwilt. "I -hadn't the least idea that I possessed this second key. I should -never have missed it. I do assure you I should never have missed -it if anybody had taken it out of the drawer!" He bustled away -to the other end of the room--without closing the drawer, and -without taking away the duplicate key. - -In silence, Miss Gwilt listened till he had done. In silence, -she glided to the drawer. In silence, she took the key and hid it -in her apron pocket. - -The Dispenser came back, with the fragments required of him, -collected in a basin. "Thank you, Benjamin," said the doctor. -"Kindly cover them with water, while I get the bottle down." - -As accidents sometimes happen in the most perfectly regulated -families, so clumsiness sometimes possesses itself of the most -perfectly disciplined hands. In the process of its transfer from -the shelf to the doctor, the bottle slipped and fell smashed to -pieces on the floor. - -"Oh, my fingers and thumbs!" cried the doctor, with an air of -comic vexation, "what in the world do you mean by playing me such -a wicked trick as that? Well, well, well--it can't be helped. -Have we got any more of it, Benjamin?" - -"Not a drop, sir." - -"Not a drop!" echoed the doctor. "My dear madam, what excuses -can I offer you? My clumsiness has made our little experiment -impossible for to-day. Remind me to order some more to-morrow, -Benjamin, and don't think of troubling yourself to put that mess -to rights. I'll send the man here to mop it all up. Our Stout -Friend is harmless enough now, my dear lady--in combination -with a boarded floor and a coming mop! I'm so sorry; I really -am so sorry to have disappointed you." With those soothing words, -he offered his arm, and led Miss Gwilt out of the Dispensary. - -"Have you done with me for the present?" she asked, when they -were in the hall. - -"Oh, dear, dear, what a way of putting it!" exclaimed the doctor. -"Dinner at six," he added, with his politest emphasis, as she -turned from him in disdainful silence, and slowly mounted the -stairs to her own room. - - -A clock of the noiseless sort--incapable of offending irritable -nerves--was fixed in the wall, above the first-floor landing, at -the Sanitarium. At the moment when the hands pointed to a quarter -before six, the silence of the lonely upper regions was softly -broken by the rustling of Miss Gwilt's dress. She advanced along -the corridor of the first floor--paused at the covered apparatus -fixed outside the room numbered Four--listened for a moment--and -then unlocked the cover with the duplicate key. - -The open lid cast a shadow over the inside of the casing. All she -saw at first was what she had seen already--the jar, and the pipe -and glass funnel inserted in the cork. She removed the funnel; -and, looking about her, observed on the window-sill close by -a wax-tipped wand used for lighting the gas. She took the wand, -and, introducing it through the aperture occupied by the funnel, -moved it to and fro in the jar. The faint splash of some liquid, -and the grating noise of certain hard substances which she was -stirring about, were the two sounds that caught her ear. She drew -out the wand, and cautiously touched the wet left on it with -the tip of her tongue. Caution was quite needless in this case. -The liquid was--water. - -In putting the funnel back in its place, she noticed something -faintly shining in the obscurely lit vacant space at the side of -the jar. She drew it out, and produced a Purple Flask. The liquid -with which it was filled showed dark through the transparent -coloring of the glass; and fastened at regular intervals down one -side of the Flask were six thin strips of paper, which divided -the contents into six equal parts. - -There was no doubt now that the apparatus had been secretly -prepared for her--the apparatus of which she alone (besides -the doctor) possessed the key. - -She put back the Flask, and locked the cover of the casing. -For a moment she stood looking at it, with the key in her hand. -On a sudden, her lost color came back. On a sudden, its natural -animation returned, for the first time that day, to her face. -She turned and hurried breathlessly upstairs to her room on the -second floor. With eager hands she snatched her cloak out of the -wardrobe, and took her bonnet from the box. "I'm not in prison!" -she burst out, impetuously. "I've got the use of my limbs! I can -go--no matter where, as long as I am out of this house!" - -With her cloak on her shoulders, with her bonnet in her hand, she -crossed the room to the door. A moment more--and she would have -been out in the passage. In that moment the remembrance flashed -back on her of the husband whom she had denied to his face. She -stopped instantly, and threw the cloak and bonnet from her on -the bed. "No!" she said; "the gulf is dug between us--the worst -is done!" - -There was a knock at the door. The doctor's voice outside -politely reminded her that it was six o'clock. - -She opened the door, and stopped him on his way downstairs. - -"What time is the train due to-night?" she asked, in a whisper. - -"At ten," answered the doctor, in a voice which all the world -might hear, and welcome. - -"What room is Mr. Armadale to have when he comes?" - -"What room would you like him to have?" - -"Number Four." - -The doctor kept up appearances to the very last. - -"Number Four let it be," he said, graciously. "Provided, -of course, that Number Four is unoccupied at the time." - -* * * * * - -The evening wore on, and the night came. - -At a few minutes before ten, Mr. Bashwood was again at his post, -once more on the watch for the coming of the tidal train. - -The inspector on duty, who knew him by sight, and who had -personally ascertained that his regular attendance at the -terminus implied no designs on the purses and portmanteaus -of the passengers, noticed two new circumstances in connection -with Mr. Bashwood that night. In the first place, instead of -exhibiting his customary cheerfulness, he looked anxious and -depressed. In the second place, while he was watching for -the train, he was to all appearance being watched in his turn, -by a slim, dark, undersized man, who had left his luggage (marked -with the name of Midwinter) at the custom-house department -the evening before, and who had returned to have it examined -about half an hour since. - -What had brought Midwinter to the terminus? And why was he, -too, waiting for the tidal train? - -After straying as far as Hendon during his lonely walk of the -previous night, he had taken refuge at the village inn, and had -fallen asleep (from sheer exhaustion) toward those later hours -of the morning which were the hours that his wife's foresight had -turned to account. When he returned to the lodging, the landlady -could only inform him that her tenant had settled everything -with her, and had left (for what destination neither she nor -her servant could tell) more than two hours since. - -Having given some little time to inquiries, the result of which -convinced him that the clew was lost so far, Midwinter had -quitted the house, and had pursued his way mechanically to the -busier and more central parts of the metropolis. With the light -now thrown on his wife's character, to call at the address she -had given him as the address at which her mother lived would be -plainly useless. He went on through the streets, resolute to -discover her, and trying vainly to see the means to his end, till -the sense of fatigue forced itself on him once more. Stopping -to rest and recruit his strength at the first hotel he came to, -a chance dispute between the waiter and a stranger about a lost -portmanteau reminded him of his own luggage, left at the -terminus, and instantly took his mind back to the circumstances -under which he and Mr. Bashwood had met. In a moment more, -the idea that he had been vainly seeking on his way through -the streets flashed on him. In a moment more, he had determined -to try the chance of finding the steward again on the watch for -the person whose arrival he had evidently expected by the -previous evening's train. - -Ignorant of the report of Allan's death at sea; uninformed, at -the terrible interview with his wife, of the purpose which her -assumption of a widow's dress really had in view, Midwinter's -first vague suspicions of her fidelity had now inevitably -developed into the conviction that she was false. He could place -but one interpretation on her open disavowal of him, and on her -taking the name under which he had secretly married her. Her -conduct forced the conclusion on him that she was engaged in -some infamous intrigue; and that she had basely secured herself -beforehand in the position of all others in which she knew it -would be most odious and most repellent to him to claim his -authority over her. With that conviction he was now watching Mr. -Bashwood, firmly persuaded that his wife's hiding-place was known -to the vile servant of his wife's vices; and darkly suspecting, -as the time wore on, that the unknown man who had wronged him, -and the unknown traveler for whose arrival the steward was -waiting, were one and the same. - -The train was late that night, and the carriages were more than -usually crowded when they arrived at last. Midwinter became -involved in the confusion on the platform, and in the effort -to extricate himself he lost sight of Mr. Bashwood for the first -time. - -A lapse of some few minutes had passed before he again discovered -the steward talking eagerly to a man in a loose shaggy coat, -whose back was turned toward him. Forgetful of all the cautions -and restraints which he had imposed on himself before the train -appeared, Midwinter instantly advanced on them. Mr. Bashwood saw -his threatening face as he came on, and fell back in silence. -The man in the loose coat turned to look where the steward was -looking, and disclosed to Midwinter, in the full light of the -station-lamp, Allan's face! - -For the moment they both stood speechless, hand in hand, looking -at each other. Allan was the first to recover himself. - -"Thank God for this!" he said, fervently. "I don't ask how you -came here: it's enough for me that you have come. Miserable news -has met me already, Midwinter. Nobody but you can comfort me, and -help me to bear it." His voice faltered over those last words, -and he said no more. - -The tone in which he had spoken roused Midwinter to meet the -circumstances as they were, by appealing to the old grateful -interest in his friend which had once been the foremost interest -of his life. He mastered his personal misery for the first time -since it had fallen on him, and gently taking Allan aside, asked -what had happened. - -The answer--after informing him of his friend's reported death -at sea--announced (on Mr. Bashwood's authority) that the news had -reached Miss Milroy, and that the deplorable result of the shock -thus inflicted had obliged the major to place his daughter in the -neighborhood of London, under medical care. - -Before saying a word on his side, Midwinter looked distrustfully -behind him. Mr. Bashwood had followed them. Mr. Bashwood was -watching to see what they did next. - -"Was he waiting your arrival here to tell you this about Miss -Milroy?" asked Midwinter, looking again from the steward to -Allan. - -"Yes," said Allan. "He has been kindly waiting here, night after -night, to meet me, and break the news to me." - -Midwinter paused once more. The attempt to reconcile the -conclusion he had drawn from his wife's conduct with the -discovery that Allan was the man for whose arrival Mr. Bashwood -had been waiting was hopeless. The one present chance of -discovering a truer solution of the mystery was to press the -steward on the one available point in which he had laid himself -open to attack. He had positively denied on the previous evening -that he knew anything of Allan's movements, or that he had any -interest in Allan's return to England. Having detected Mr. -Bashwood in one lie told to himself. Midwinter instantly -suspected him of telling another to Allan. He seized the -opportunity of sifting the statement about Miss Milroy on -the spot. - -"How have you become acquainted with this sad news?" he inquired, -turning suddenly on Mr. Bashwood. - -"Through the major, of course," said Allan, before the steward -could answer. - -"Who is the doctor who has the care of Miss Milroy?" persisted -Midwinter, still addressing Mr. Bashwood. - -For the second time the steward made no reply. For the second -time, Allan answered for him. - -"He is a man with a foreign name," said Allan. "He keeps a -Sanitarium near Hampstead. What did you say the place was called, -Mr. Bashwood?" - -"Fairweather Vale, sir," said the steward, answering his -employer, as a matter of necessity, but answering very -unwillingly. - -The address of the Sanitarium instantly reminded Midwinter that -he had traced his wife to Fairweather Vale Villas the previous -night. He began to see light through the darkness, dimly, for -the first time. The instinct which comes with emergency, before -the slower process of reason can assert itself, brought him at a -leap to the conclusion that Mr. Bashwood--who had been certainly -acting under his wife's influence the previous day--might be -acting again under his wife's influence now. He persisted in -sifting the steward's statement, with the conviction growing -firmer and firmer in his mind that the statement was a lie, -and that his wife was concerned in it. - -"Is the major in Norfolk?" he asked, "or is he near his daughter -in London?" - -"In Norfolk," said Mr. Bashwood. Having answered Allan's look -of inquiry, instead of Midwinter's spoken question, in those -words, he hesitated, looked Midwinter in the face for the first -time, and added, suddenly: "I object, if you please, to be -cross-examined, sir. I know what I have told Mr. Armadale, and -I know no more." - -The words, and the voice in which they were spoken, were alike -at variance with Mr. Bashwood's usual language and Mr. Bashwood's -usual tone. There was a sullen depression in his face--there was -a furtive distrust and dislike in his eyes when they looked -at Midwinter, which Midwinter himself now noticed for the first -time. Before he could answer the steward's extraordinary -outbreak, Allan interfered. - -"Don't think me impatient," he said; "but it's getting late; -it's a long way to Hampstead. I'm afraid the Sanitarium will be -shut up." - -Midwinter started. "You are not going to the Sanitarium -to-night!" he exclaimed. - -Allan took his friend's hand and wrung it hard. "If you were -as fond of her as I am," he whispered, "you would take no rest, -you could get no sleep, till you had seen the doctor, and heard -the best and the worst he had to tell you. Poor dear little soul! -who knows, if she could only see me alive and well--" The tears -came into his eyes, and he turned away his head in silence. - -Midwinter looked at the steward. "Stand back," he said. "I want -to speak to Mr. Armadale." There was something in his eye which -it was not safe to trifle with. Mr. Bashwood drew back out of -hearing, but not out of sight. Midwinter laid his hand fondly -on his friend's shoulder. - -"Allan," he said, "I have reasons--" He stopped. Could the -reasons be given before he had fairly realized them himself; -at that time, too, and under those circumstances? Impossible! -"I have reasons," he resumed, "for advising you not to believe -too readily what Mr. Bashwood may say. Don't tell him this, but -take the warning." - -Allan looked at his friend in astonishment. "It was you who -always liked Mr. Bashwood!" he exclaimed. "It was you who trusted -him, when he first came to the great house!" - -"Perhaps I was wrong, Allan, and perhaps you were right. Will -you only wait till we can telegraph to Major Milroy and get -his answer? Will you only wait over the night?" - -"I shall go mad if I wait over the night," said Allan. "You have -made me more anxious than I was before. If I am not to speak -about it to Bashwood, I must and will go to the Sanitarium, -and find out whether she is or is not there, from the doctor -himself." - -Midwinter saw that it was useless. In Allan's interests there -was only one other course left to take. "Will you let me go with -you?" he asked. - -Allan's face brightened for the first time. "You dear, good -fellow!" he exclaimed. "It was the very thing I was going to beg -of you myself." - -Midwinter beckoned to the steward. "Mr. Armadale is going to -the Sanitarium," he said, "and I mean to accompany him. Get a cab -and come with us." - -He waited, to see whether Mr. Bashwood would comply. Having been -strictly ordered, when Allan did arrive, not to lose sight of -him, and having, in his own interests, Midwinter's unexpected -appearance to explain to Miss Gwilt, the steward had no choice -but to comply. In sullen submission he did as he had been told. -The keys of Allan's baggage was given to the foreign traveling -servant whom he had brought with him, and the man was instructed -to wait his master's orders at the terminus hotel. In a minute -more the cab was on its way out of the station--with Midwinter -and Allan inside, and Mr. Bashwood by the driver on the box. - -* * * * * * - -Between eleven and twelve o'clock that night, Miss Gwilt, -standing alone at the window which lit the corridor of the -Sanitarium on the second floor, heard the roll of wheels coming -toward her. The sound, gathering rapidly in volume through the -silence of the lonely neighborhood, stopped at the iron gates. In -another minute she saw the cab draw up beneath her, at the house -door. - -The earlier night had been cloudy, but the sky was clearing now -and the moon was out. She opened the window to see and hear more -clearly. By the light of the moon she saw Allan get out of the -cab, and turn round to speak to some other person inside. The -answering voice told her, before he appeared in his turn, that -Armadale's companion was her husband. - -The same petrifying influence that had fallen on her at the -interview with him of the previous day fell on her now. She stood -by the window, white and still, and haggard and old--as she had -stood when she first faced him in her widow's weeds. - -Mr. Bashwood, stealing up alone to the second floor to make his -report, knew, the instant he set eyes on her, that the report -was needless. "It's not my fault," was all he said, as she slowly -turned her head and looked at him. "They met together, and there -was no parting them." - -She drew a long breath, and motioned him to be silent. "Wait -a little," she said; "I know all about it." - -Turning from him at those words, she slowly paced the corridor -to its furthest end; turned, and slowly came back to him with -frowning brow and drooping head--with all the grace and beauty -gone from her, but the inbred grace and beauty in the movement -of her limbs. - -"Do you wish to speak to me?" she asked; her mind far away -from him, and her eyes looking at him vacantly as she put -the question. - -He roused his courage as he had never roused it in her presence -yet. - -"Don't drive me to despair!" he cried, with a startling -abruptness. "Don't look at me in that way, now I have found it -out!" - -"What have you found out?" she asked, with a momentary surprise -on her face, which faded from it again before he could gather -breath enough to go on. - -"Mr. Armadale is not the man who took you away from me," he -answered. "Mr. Midwinter is the man. I found it out in your face -yesterday. I see it in your face now. Why did you sign your name -'Armadale' when you wrote to me? Why do you call yourself 'Mrs. -Armadale' still?" - -He spoke those bold words at long intervals, with an effort to -resist her influence over him, pitiable and terrible to see. - -She looked at him for the first time with softened eyes. "I wish -I had pitied you when we first met," she said, gently, "as I pity -you now." - -He struggled desperately to go on and say the words to her -which he had strung himself to the pitch of saying on the drive -from the terminus. They were words which hinted darkly at his -knowledge of her past life; words which warned her--do what else -she might, commit what crimes she pleased--to think twice before -she deceived and deserted him again. In those terms he had vowed -to himself to address her. He had the phrases picked and chosen; -he had the sentences ranged and ordered in his mind; nothing -was wanting but to make the one crowning effort of speaking -them--and, even now, after all he had said and all he had dared, -the effort was more than he could compass! In helpless gratitude, -even for so little as her pity, he stood looking at her, and wept -the silent, womanish tears that fall from old men's eyes. - -She took his hand and spoke to him--with marked forbearance, -but without the slightest sign of emotion on her side. - -"You have waited already at my request," she said. "Wait till -to-morrow, and you will know all. If you trust nothing else that -I have told you, you may trust what I tell you now. _It will end -to-night_." - -As she said the words, the doctor's step was heard on the stairs. -Mr. Bashwood drew back from her, with his heart beating fast in -unutterable expectation. "It will end to-night!" he repeated to -himself, under his breath, as he moved away toward the far end -of the corridor. - -"Don't let me disturb you, sir," said the doctor, cheerfully, -as they met. "I have nothing to say to Mrs. Armadale but what -you or anybody may hear." - -Mr. Bashwood went on, without answering, to the far end of the -corridor, still repeating to himself: "It will end to-night!" The -doctor, passing him in the opposite direction, joined Miss Gwilt. - -"You have heard, no doubt," he began, in his blandest manner -and his roundest tones, "that Mr. Armadale has arrived. Permit -me to add, my dear lady, that there is not the least reason -for any nervous agitation on your part. He has been carefully -humored, and he is as quiet and manageable as his best friends -could wish. I have informed him that it is impossible to allow -him an interview with the young lady to-night; but that he may -count on seeing her (with the proper precautions) at the earliest -propitious hour, after she is awake to-morrow morning. As there -is no hotel near, and as the propitious hour may occur at -a moment's notice, it was clearly incumbent on me, under the -peculiar circumstances, to offer him the hospitality of the -Sanitarium. He has accepted it with the utmost gratitude; and -has thanked me in a most gentlemanly and touching manner for the -pains I have taken to set his mind at ease. Perfectly gratifying, -perfectly satisfactory, so far! But there has been a little -hitch--now happily got over---which I think it right to mention -to you before we all retire for the night." - -Having paved the way in those words (and in Mr. Bashwood's -hearing) for the statement which he had previously announced -his intention of making, in the event of Allan's dying in the -Sanitarium, the doctor was about to proceed, when his attention -was attracted by a sound below like the trying of a door. - -He instantly descended the stairs, and unlocked the door of -communication between the first and second floors, which he had -locked behind him on his way up. But the person who had tried -the door--if such a person there really had been--was too quick -for him. He looked along the corridor, and over the staircase -into the hall, and, discovering nothing, returned to Miss Gwilt, -after securing the door of communication behind him once more. - -"Pardon me," he resumed, "I thought I heard something downstairs. -With regard to the little hitch that I adverted to just now, -permit me to inform you that Mr. Armadale has brought a friend -here with him, who bears the strange name of Midwinter. Do you -know the gentleman at all?" asked the doctor, with a suspicious -anxiety in his eyes, which strangely belied the elaborate -indifference of his tone. - -"I know him to be an old friend of Mr. Armadale's," she said. -"Does he--?" Her voice failed her, and her eyes fell before the -doctor's steady scrutiny. She mastered the momentary weakness, -and finished her question. "Does he, too, stay here to-night?" - -"Mr. Midwinter is a person of coarse manners and suspicious -temper," rejoined the doctor, steadily watching her. "He was -rude enough to insist on staying here as soon as Mr. Armadale -had accepted my invitation." - -He paused to note the effect of those words on her. Left utterly -in the dark by the caution with which she had avoided mentioning -her husband's assumed name to him at their first interview, -the doctor's distrust of her was necessarily of the vaguest kind. -He had heard her voice fail her--he had seen her color change. -He suspected her of a mental reservation on the subject of -Midwinter--and of nothing more. - -"Did you permit him to have his way?" she asked. "In your place, -I should have shown him the door." - -The impenetrable composure of her tone warned the doctor that her -self-command was not to be further shaken that night. He resumed -the character of Mrs. Armadale's medical referee on the subject -of Mr. Armadale's mental health. - -"If I had only had my own feelings to consult," he said, "I don't -disguise from you that I should (as you say) have shown Mr. -Midwinter the door. But on appealing to Mr. Armadale, I found he -was himself anxious not to be parted from his friend. Under those -circumstances, but one alternative was left--the alternative of -humoring him again. The responsibility of thwarting him--to say -nothing," added the doctor, drifting for a moment toward the -truth, "of my natural apprehension, with such a temper as his -friend's, of a scandal and disturbance in the house--was not to -be thought of for a moment. Mr. Midwinter accordingly remains -here for the night; and occupies (I ought to say, insists on -occupying) the next room to Mr. Armadale. Advise me, my dear -madam, in this emergency," concluded the doctor, with his loudest -emphasis. "What rooms shall we put them in, on the first floor?" - -"Put Mr. Armadale in Number Four." - -"And his friend next to him, in Number Three?" said the doctor. -"Well! well! well! perhaps they _are_ the most comfortable rooms. -I'll give my orders immediately. Don't hurry away, Mr. Bashwood," -he called out, cheerfully, as he reached the top of the -staircase. "I have left the assistant physician's key on the -windowsill yonder, and Mrs. Armadale can let you out at the -staircase door whenever she pleases. Don't sit up late, Mrs. -Armadale! Yours is a nervous system that requires plenty of -sleep. 'Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep.' Grand line! -God bless you--good-night!" - -Mr. Bashwood came back from the far end of the corridor--still -pondering, in unutterable expectation, on what was to come with -the night. - -"Am I to go now?" he asked. - -"No. You are to stay. I said you should know all if you waited -till the morning. Wait here." - -He hesitated, and looked about him. "The doctor," he faltered. -"I thought the doctor said--" - -"The doctor will interfere with nothing that I do in this house -to-night. I tell you to stay. There are empty rooms on the floor -above this. Take one of them." - -Mr. Bashwood felt the trembling fit coming on him again as he -looked at her. "May I ask--?" he began. - -"Ask nothing. I want you." - -"Will you please to tell me--?" - -"I will tell you nothing till the night is over and the morning -has come." - -His curiosity conquered his fear. He persisted. - -"Is it something dreadful?" he whispered. "Too dreadful to tell -me?" - -She stamped her foot with a sudden outbreak of impatience. -"Go!" she said, snatching the key of the staircase door from -the window-sill. "You do quite right to distrust me--you do quite -right to follow me no further in the dark. Go before the house -is shut up. I can do without you." She led the way to the stairs, -with the key in one hand, and the candle in the other. - -Mr. Bashwood followed her in silence. No one, knowing what he -knew of her earlier life, could have failed to perceive that -she was a woman driven to the last extremity, and standing -consciously on the brink of a Crime. In the first terror of -the discovery, he broke free from the hold she had on him: he -thought and acted like a man who had a will of his own again. - -She put the key in the door, and turned to him before she opened -it, with the light of the candle on her face. "Forget me, and -forgive me," she said. "We meet no more." - -She opened the door, and, standing inside it, after he had passed -her, gave him her hand. He had resisted her look, he had resisted -her words, but the magnetic fascination of her touch conquered -him at the final moment. "I can't leave you!" he said, holding -helplessly by the hand she had given him. "What must I do?" - -"Come and see," she answered, without allowing him an instant -to reflect. - -Closing her hand firmly on his, she led him along the first floor -corridor to the room numbered Four. "Notice that room," she -whispered. After a look over the stairs to see that they were -alone, she retraced her steps with him to the opposite extremity -of the corridor. Here, facing the window which lit the place at -the other end, was one little room, with a narrow grating in the -higher part of the door, intended for the sleeping apartment of -the doctor's deputy. From the position of this room, the grating -commanded a view of the bed-chambers down each side of the -corridor, and so enabled the deputy-physician to inform himself -of any irregular proceedings on the part of the patients under -his care, with little or no chance of being detected in watching -them. Miss Gwilt opened the door and led the way into the empty -room. - -"Wait here," she said, "while I go back upstairs; and lock -yourself in, if you like. You will be in the dark, but the gas -will be burning in the corridor. Keep at the grating, and make -sure that Mr. Armadale goes into the room I have just pointed out -to you, and that he doesn't leave it afterward. If you lose sight -of the room for a single moment before I come back, you will -repent it to the end of your life. If you do as I tell you, you -shall see me to-morrow, and claim your own reward. Quick with -your answer! Is it Yes or No?" - -He could make no reply in words. He raised her hand to his lips, -and kissed it rapturously. She left him in the room. From his -place at the grating he saw her glide down the corridor to the -staircase door. She passed through it, and locked it. Then there -was silence. - -The next sound was the sound of the women-servants' voices. Two -of them came up to put the sheets on the beds in Number Three -and Number Four. The women were in high good-humor, laughing -and talking to each other through the open doors of the rooms. -The master's customers were coming in at last, they said, with a -vengeance; the house would soon begin to look cheerful, if things -went on like this. - -After a little, the beds were got ready and the women returned -to the kitchen floor, on which the sleeping-rooms of the domestic -servants were all situated. Then there was silence again. - -The next sound was the sound of the doctor's voice. He appeared -at the end of the corridor, showing Allan and Midwinter the way -to their rooms. They all went together into Number Four. After -a little, the doctor came out first. He waited till Midwinter -joined him, and pointed with a formal bow to the door of Number -Three. Midwinter entered the room without speaking, and shut -himself in. The doctor, left alone, withdrew to the staircase -door and unlocked it, then waited in the corridor, whistling -to himself softly, under his breath. - -Voices pitched cautiously low became audible in a minute more -in the hall. The Resident Dispenser and the Head Nurse appeared, -on their way to the dormitories of the attendants at the top -of the house. The man bowed silently, and passed the doctor; -the woman courtesied silently, and followed the man. The doctor -acknowledged their salutations by a courteous wave of his hand; -and, once more left alone, paused a moment, still whistling -softly to himself, then walked to the door of Number Four, -and opened the case of the fumigating apparatus fixed near it -in the corner of the wall. As he lifted the lid and looked in, -his whistling ceased. He took a long purple bottle out, examined -it by the gas-light, put it back, and closed the case. This done, -he advanced on tiptoe to the open staircase door, passed through -it, and secured it on the inner side as usual. - -Mr. Bashwood had seen him at the apparatus; Mr. Bashwood had -noticed the manner of his withdrawal through the staircase door. -Again the sense of an unutterable expectation throbbed at his -heart. A terror that was slow and cold and deadly crept into his -hands, and guided them in the dark to the key that had been left -for him in the inner side of the door. He turned it in vague -distrust of what might happen next, and waited. - -The slow minutes passed, and nothing happened. The silence was -horrible; the solitude of the lonely corridor was a solitude -of invisible treacheries. He began to count to keep his mind -employed--to keep his own growing dread away from him. The -numbers, as he whispered them, followed each other slowly up to -a hundred, and still nothing happened. He had begun the second -hundred; he had got on to twenty--when, without a sound to betray -that he had been moving in his room, Midwinter suddenly appeared -in the corridor. - -He stood for a moment and listened; he went to the stairs and -looked over into the hall beneath. Then, for the second time that -night, he tried the staircase door, and for the second time found -it fast. After a moment's reflection, he tried the doors of the -bedrooms on his right hand next, looked into one after the other, -and saw that they were empty, then came to the door of the end -room in which the steward was concealed. Here, again, the lock -resisted him. He listened, and looked up at the grating. No sound -was to be heard, no light was to be seen inside. "Shall I break -the door in," he said to himself, "and make sure? No; it would be -giving the doctor an excuse for turning me out of the house." -He moved away, and looked into the two empty rooms in the row -occupied by Allan and himself, then walked to the window at the -staircase end of the corridor. Here the case of the fumigating -apparatus attracted his attention. After trying vainly to open -it, his suspicion seemed to be aroused. He searched back along -the corridor, and observed that no object of a similar kind -appeared outside any of the other bed-chambers. Again at the -window, he looked again at the apparatus, and turned away from it -with a gesture which plainly indicated that he had tried, and -failed, to guess what it might be. - -Baffled at all points, he still showed no sign of returning to -his bed-chamber. He stood at the window, with his eyes fixed on -the door of Allan's room, thinking. If Mr. Bashwood, furtively -watching him through the grating, could have seen him at that -moment in the mind as well as in the body, Mr. Bashwood's heart -might have throbbed even faster than it was throbbing now, -in expectation of the next event which Midwinter's decision -of the next minute was to bring forth. - -On what was his mind occupied as he stood alone, at the dead of -night, in the strange house? - -His mind was occupied in drawing its disconnected impressions -together, little by little, to one point. Convinced from the -first that some hidden danger threatened Allan in the Sanitarium, -his distrust--vaguely associated, thus far, with the place -itself; with his wife (whom he firmly believed to be now under -the same roof with him); with the doctor, who was as plainly in -her confidence as Mr. Bashwood himself--now narrowed its range, -and centered itself obstinately in Allan's room. Resigning all -further effort to connect his suspicion of a conspiracy against -his friend with the outrage which had the day before been offered -to himself--an effort which would have led him, if he could have -maintained it, to a discovery of the fraud really contemplated -by his wife--his mind, clouded and confused by disturbing -influences, instinctively took refuge in its impressions of facts -as they had shown themselves since he had entered the house. -Everything that he had noticed below stairs suggested that there -was some secret purpose to be answered by getting Allan to sleep -in the Sanitarium. Everything that he had noticed above stairs -associated the lurking-place in which the danger lay hid with -Allan's room. To reach this conclusion, and to decide on baffling -the conspiracy, whatever it might be, by taking Allan's place, -was with Midwinter the work of an instant. Confronted by actual -peril, the great nature of the man intuitively freed itself -from the weaknesses that had beset it in happier and safer times. -Not even the shadow of the old superstition rested on his mind -now--no fatalist suspicion of himself disturbed the steady -resolution that was in him. The one last doubt that troubled him, -as he stood at the window thinking, was the doubt whether he -could persuade Allan to change rooms with him, without involving -himself in an explanation which might lead Allan to suspect the -truth. - -In the minute that elapsed, while he waited with his eyes on -the room, the doubt was resolved--he found the trivial, yet -sufficient, excuse of which he was in search. Mr. Bashwood saw -him rouse himself and go to the door. Mr. Bashwood heard him -knock softly, and whisper, "Allan, are you in bed?" - -"No," answered the voice inside; "come in." - -He appeared to be on the point of entering the room, when he -checked himself as if he had suddenly remembered something. -"Wait a minute," he said, through the door, and, turning away, -went straight to the end room. "If there is anybody watching us -in there," he said aloud, "let him watch us through this!" -He took out his handkerchief, and stuffed it into the wires of -the grating, so as completely to close the aperture. Having thus -forced the spy inside (if there was one) either to betray himself -by moving the handkerchief, or to remain blinded to all view of -what might happen next, Midwinter presented himself in Allan's -room. - -"You know what poor nerves I have," he said, "and what a wretched -sleeper I am at the best of times. I can't sleep to-night. -The window in my room rattles every time the wind blows. I wish -it was as fast as your window here." - -"My dear fellow!" cried Allan, "I don't mind a rattling window. -Let's change rooms. Nonsense! Why should you make excuses to -_me_? Don't I know how easily trifles upset those excitable -nerves of yours? Now the doctor has quieted my mind about my -poor little Neelie, I begin to feel the journey; and I'll answer -for sleeping anywhere till to-morrow comes." He took up his -traveling-bag. "We must be quick about it," he added, pointing to -his candle. "They haven't left me much candle to go to bed by." - -"Be very quiet, Allan," said Midwinter, opening the door for him. -"We mustn't disturb the house at this time of night." - -"Yes, yes," returned Allan, in a whisper. "Good-night; I hope -you'll sleep as well as I shall." - -Midwinter saw him into Number Three, and noticed that his own -candle (which he had left there) was as short as Allan's. -"Good-night," he said, and came out again into the corridor. - -He went straight to the grating, and looked and listened once -more. The handkerchief remained exactly as he had left it, and -still there was no sound to be heard within. He returned slowly -along the corridor, and thought of the precautions he had taken, -for the last time. Was there no other way than the way he was -trying now? There was none. Any openly avowed posture of -defense--while the nature of the danger, and the quarter from -which it might come, were alike unknown--would be useless in -itself, and worse than useless in the consequences which it -might produce by putting the people of the house on their guard. -Without a fact that could justify to other minds his distrust of -what might happen with the night, incapable of shaking Allan's -ready faith in the fair outside which the doctor had presented to -him, the one safeguard in his friend's interests that Midwinter -could set up was the safeguard of changing the rooms--the one -policy he could follow, come what might of it, was the policy -of waiting for events. "I can trust to one thing," he said to -himself, as he looked for the last time up and down the -corridor--"I can trust myself to keep awake." - -After a glance at the clock on the wall opposite, he went into -Number Four. The sound of the closing door was heard, the sound -of the turning lock followed it. Then the dead silence fell over -the house once more. - -Little by little, the steward's horror of the stillness and -the darkness overcame his dread of moving the handkerchief. He -cautiously drew aside one corner of it, waited, looked, and took -courage at last to draw the whole handkerchief through the wires -of the grating. After first hiding it in his pocket, he thought -of the consequences if it was found on him, and threw it down in -a corner of the room. He trembled when he had cast it from him, -as he looked at his watch and placed himself again at the grating -to wait for Miss Gwilt. - -It was a quarter to one. The moon had come round from the side to -the front of the Sanitarium. From time to time her light gleamed -on the window of the corridor when the gaps in the flying clouds -let it through. The wind had risen, and sung its mournful song -faintly, as it swept at intervals over the desert ground in front -of the house. - -The minute hand of the clock traveled on halfway round the circle -of the dial. As it touched the quarter-past one, Miss Gwilt -stepped noiselessly into the corridor. "Let yourself out," -she whispered through the grating, "and follow me." She returned -to the stairs by which she had just descended, pushed the door to -softly after Mr. Bashwood had followed her and led the way up -to the landing of the second floor. There she put the question -to him which she had not ventured to put below stairs. - -"Was Mr. Armadale shown into Number Four?" she asked. - -He bowed his head without speaking. - -"Answer me in words. Has Mr. Armadale left the room since?" - -He answered, "No." - -"Have you never lost sight of Number Four since I left you?" - -He answered, "_Never_!" - -Something strange in his manner, something unfamiliar in -his voice, as he made that last reply, attracted her attention. -She took her candle from a table near, on which she had left it, -and threw its light on him. His eyes were staring, his teeth -chattered. There was everything to betray him to her as a -terrified man; there was nothing to tell her that the terror was -caused by his consciousness of deceiving her, for the first time -in his life, to her face. If she had threatened him less openly -when she placed him on the watch; if she had spoken less -unreservedly of the interview which was to reward him in the -morning, he might have owned the truth. As it was, his strongest -fears and his dearest hopes were alike interested in telling her -the fatal lie that he had now told--the fatal lie which he -reiterated when she put her question for the second time. - -She looked at him, deceived by the last man on earth whom she -would have suspected of deception--the man whom she had deceived -herself. - -"You seem to be overexcited," she said quietly. "The night has -been too much for you. Go upstairs, and rest. You will find -the door of one of the rooms left open. That is the room you are -to occupy. Good-night." - -She put the candle (which she had left burning for him) on the -table, and gave him her hand. He held her back by it desperately -as she turned to leave him. His horror of what might happen when -she was left by herself forced the words to his lips which he -would have feared to speak to her at any other time. - -"Don't," he pleaded, in a whisper; "oh, don't, don't, don't go -downstairs to-night!" - -She released her hand, and signed to him to take the candle. -"You shall see me to-morrow," she said. "Not a word more now!" - -Her stronger will conquered him at that last moment, as it -had conquered him throughout. He took the candle and waited, -following her eagerly with his eyes as she descended the stairs. -The cold of the December night seemed to have found its way -to her through the warmth of the house. She had put on a long, -heavy black shawl, and had fastened it close over her breast. -The plaited coronet in which she wore her hair seemed to have -weighed too heavily on her head. She had untwisted it, and thrown -it back over her shoulders. The old man looked at her flowing -hair, as it lay red over the black shawl--at her supple, long- -fingered hand, as it slid down the banisters--at the smooth, -seductive grace of every movement that took her further and -further away from him. "The night will go quickly," he said -to himself, as she passed from his view; "I shall dream of her -till the morning comes!" - - -She secured the staircase door, after she had passed through it ---listened, and satisfied herself that nothing was stirring--then -went on slowly along the corridor to the window. Leaning on -the window-sill, she looked out at the night. The clouds were -over the moon at that moment; nothing was to be seen through -the darkness but the scattered gas-lights in the suburb. Turning -from the window, she looked at the clock. It was twenty minutes -past one. - -For the last time, the resolution that had come to her in -the earlier night, with the knowledge that her husband was -in the house, forced itself uppermost in her mind. For the last -time, the voice within her said, "Think if there is no other -way!" - -She pondered over it till the minute-hand of the clock pointed -to the half-hour. "No!" she said, still thinking of her husband. -"The one chance left is to go through with it to the end. He will -leave the thing undone which he has come here to do; he will -leave the words unspoken which he has come here to say--when -he knows that the act may make me a public scandal, and that -the words may send me to the scaffold!" Her color rose, and she -smiled with a terrible irony as she looked for the first time at -the door of the Room. "I shall be your widow," she said, "in half -an hour!" - -She opened the case of the apparatus and took the Purple Flask -in her hand. After marking the time by a glance at the clock, -she dropped into the glass funnel the first of the six separate -Pourings that were measured for her by the paper slips. - -When she had put the Flask back, she listened at the mouth of -the funnel. Not a sound reached her ear: the deadly process did -its work in the silence of death itself. When she rose and looked -up the moon was shining in at the window, and the moaning wind -was quiet. - -Oh, the time! the time! If it could only have been begun and -ended with the first Pouring! - -She went downstairs into the hall; she walked to and fro, and -listened at the open door that led to the kitchen stairs. She -came up again; she went down again. The first of the intervals of -five minutes was endless. The time stood still. The suspense was -maddening. - -The interval passed. As she took the Flask for the second time, -and dropped in the second Pouring, the clouds floated over the -moon, and the night view through the window slowly darkened. - -The restlessness that had driven her up and down the stairs, -and backward and forward in the hall, left her as suddenly as -it had come. She waited through the second interval, leaning on -the window-sill, and staring, without conscious thought of any -kind, into the black night. The howling of a belated dog was -borne toward her on the wind, at intervals, from some distant -part of the suburb. She found herself following the faint sound -as it died away into silence with a dull attention, and listening -for its coming again with an expectation that was duller still. -Her arms lay like lead on the window-sill; her forehead rested -against the glass without feeling the cold. It was not till -the moon struggled out again that she was startled into sudden -self-remembrance. She turned quickly, and looked at the clock; -seven minutes had passed since the second Pouring. - -As she snatched up the Flask, and fed the funnel for the third -time, the full consciousness of her position came back to her. -The fever-heat throbbed again in her blood, and flushed fiercely -in her cheeks. Swift, smooth, and noiseless, she paced from end -to end of the corridor, with her arms folded in her shawl and her -eye moment after moment on the clock. - -Three out of the next five minutes passed, and again the suspense -began to madden her. The space in the corridor grew too confined -for the illimitable restlessness that possessed her limbs. She -went down into the hall again, and circled round and round it -like a wild creature in a cage. At the third turn, she felt -something moving softly against her dress. The house-cat had come -up through the open kitchen door--a large, tawny, companionable -cat that purred in high good temper, and followed her for -company. She took the animal up in her arms--it rubbed its sleek -head luxuriously against her chin as she bent her face over it. -"Armadale hates cats," she whispered in the creature's ear. "Come -up and see Armadale killed!" The next moment her own frightful -fancy horrified her. She dropped the cat with a shudder; -she drove it below again with threatening hands. For a moment -after, she stood still, then in headlong haste suddenly mounted -the stairs. Her husband had forced his way back again into -her thoughts; her husband threatened her with a danger which -had never entered her mind till now. What if he were not asleep? -What if he came out upon her, and found her with the Purple Flask -in her hand? - -She stole to the door of Number Three and listened. The slow, -regular breathing of a sleeping man was just audible. After -waiting a moment to let the feeling of relief quiet her, she took -a step toward Number Four, and checked herself. It was needless -to listen at _that_ door. The doctor had told her that Sleep came -first, as certainly as Death afterward, in the poisoned air. -She looked aside at the clock. The time had come for the fourth -Pouring. - -Her hand began to tremble violently as she fed the funnel for the -fourth time. The fear of her husband was back again in her heart. -What if some noise disturbed him before the sixth Pouring? What -if he woke on a sudden (as she had often seen him wake) without -any noise at all? She looked up and down the corridor. The end -room, in which Mr. Bashwood had been concealed, offered itself -to her as a place of refuge. "I might go in there!" she thought. -"Has he left the key?" She opened the door to look, and saw -the handkerchief thrown down on the floor. Was it Mr. Bashwood's -handkerchief, left there by accident? She examined it at the -corners. In the second corner she found her husband's name! - -Her first impulse hurried her to the staircase door, to rouse -the steward and insist on an explanation. The next moment -she remembered the Purple Flask, and the danger of leaving -the corridor. She turned, and looked at the door of Number -Three. Her husband, on the evidence of the handkerchief -had unquestionably been out of his room--and Mr. Bashwood had -not told her. Was he in his room now? In the violence of her -agitation, as the question passed through her mind, she forgot -the discovery which she had herself made not a minute before. -Again she listened at the door; again she heard the slow, regular -breathing of the sleeping man. The first time the evidence of her -ears had been enough to quiet her; _this_ time, in the tenfold -aggravation of her suspicion and her alarm, she was determined -to have the evidence of her eyes as well. "All the doors open -softly in this house," she said to herself; "there's no fear -of my waking him." Noiselessly, by an inch at a time, she opened -the unlocked door, and looked in the moment the aperture was -wide enough. In the little light she had let into the room, -the sleeper's head was just visible on the pillow. Was it quite -as dark against the white pillow as her husband's head looked -when he was in bed? Was the breathing as light as her husband's -breathing when he was asleep? - -She opened the door more widely, and looked in by the clearer -light. - -There lay the man whose life she had attempted for the third -time, peacefully sleeping in the room that had been given to -her husband, and in the air that could harm nobody! - -The inevitable conclusion overwhelmed her on the instant. With -a frantic upward action of her hands she staggered back into -the passage. The door of Allan's room fell to, but not noisily -enough to wake him. She turned as she heard it close. For one -moment she stood staring at it like a woman stupefied. The next, -her instinct rushed into action, before her reason recovered -itself. In two steps she was at the door of Number Four. - -The door was locked. - -She felt over the wall with both hands, wildly and clumsily, -for the button which she had seen the doctor press when he was -showing the room to the visitors. Twice she missed it. The third -time her eyes helped her hands; she found the button and pressed -on it. The mortise of the lock inside fell back, and the door -yielded to her. - -Without an instant's hesitation she entered the room. Though -the door was open--though so short a time had elapsed since the -fourth Pouring that but little more than half the contemplated -volume of gas had been produced as yet--the poisoned air seized -her, like the grasp of a hand at her throat, like the twisting -of a wire round her head. She found him on the floor at the foot -of the bed: his head and one arm were toward the door, as if -he had risen under the first feeling of drowsiness, and had sunk -in the effort to leave the room. With the desperate concentration -of strength of which women are capable in emergencies, she lifted -him and dragged him out into the corridor. Her brain reeled as -she laid him down, and crawled back on her knees to the room -to shut out the poisoned air from pursuing them into the passage. -After closing the door, she waited, without daring to look at him -the while, for strength enough to rise and get to the window -over the stairs. When the window was opened, when the keen air -of the early winter morning blew steadily in, she ventured back -to him and raised his head, and looked for the first time closely -at his face. - -Was it death that spread the livid pallor over his forehead and -his cheeks, and the dull leaden hue on his eyelids and his lips? - -She loosened his cravat and opened his waistcoat, and bared his -throat and breast to the air. With her hand on his heart, with -her bosom supporting his head, so that he fronted the window, -she waited the event. A time passed: a time short enough to be -reckoned by minutes on the clock; and yet long enough to take her -memory back over all her married life with him--long enough to -mature the resolution that now rose in her mind as the one result -that could come of the retrospect. As her eyes rested on him, -a strange composure settled slowly on her face. She bore the look -of a woman who was equally resigned to welcome the chance of his -recovery, or to accept the certainty of his death. - -Not a cry or a tear had escaped her yet. Not a cry or a tear -escaped her when the interval had passed, and she felt the first -faint fluttering of his heart, and heard the first faint catching -of the breath of his lips. She silently bent over him and kissed -his forehead. When she looked up again, the hard despair had -melted from her face. There was something softly radiant in her -eyes, which lit her whole countenance as with an inner light, -and made her womanly and lovely once more. - -She laid him down, and, taking off her shawl, made a pillow of it -to support his head. "It might have been hard, love," she said, -as she felt the faint pulsation strengthening at his heart. "You -have made it easy now." - -She rose, and, turning from him, noticed the Purple Flask in -the place where she had left it since the fourth Pouring. "Ah," -she thought, quietly, "I had forgotten my best friend--I had -forgotten that there is more to pour in yet." - -With a steady hand, with a calm, attentive face, she fed the -funnel for the fifth time. "Five minutes more," she said, when -she had put the Flask back, after a look at the clock. - -She fell into thought--thought that only deepened the grave -and gentle composure of her face. "Shall I write him a farewell -word?" she asked herself. "Shall I tell him the truth before -I leave him forever?" - -Her little gold pencil-case hung with the other toys at her -watch-chain. After looking about her for a moment, she knelt over -her husband and put her hand into the breast-pocket of his coat. - -His pocket-book was there. Some papers fell from it as she -unfastened the clasp. One of them was the letter which had come -to him from Mr. Brock's death-bed. She turned over the two sheets -of note-paper on which the rector had written the words that had -now come true, and found the last page of the last sheet a blank. -On that page she wrote her farewell words, kneeling at her -husband's side. - - -"I am worse than the worst you can think of me. You have saved -Armadale by changing rooms with him to-night; and you have saved -him from me. You can guess now whose widow I should have claimed -to be, if you had not preserved his life; and you will know what -a wretch you married when you married the woman who writes these -lines. Still, I had some innocent moments, and then I loved you -dearly. Forget me, my darling, in the love of a better woman than -I am. I might, perhaps, have been that better woman myself, if I -had not lived a miserable life before you met with me. It matters -little now. The one atonement I can make for all the wrong I have -done you is the atonement of my death. It is not hard for me -to die, now I know you will live. Even my wickedness has one -merit--it has not prospered. I have never been a happy woman." - - -She folded the letter again, and put it into his hand, to attract -his attention in that way when he came to himself. As she gently -closed his fingers on the paper and looked up, the last minute -of the last interval faced her, recorded on the clock. - -She bent over him, and gave him her farewell kiss. - -"Live, my angel, live!" she murmured, tenderly, with her lips -just touching his. "All your life is before you--a happy life, -and an honored life, if you are freed from _me_!" - -With a last, lingering tenderness, she parted the hair back from -his forehead. "It is no merit to have loved you," she said. "You -are one of the men whom women all like." She sighed and left him. -It was her last weakness. She bent her head affirmatively to -the clock, as if it had been a living creature speaking to her; -and fed the funnel for the last time, to the last drop left in -the Flask. - -The waning moon shone in faintly at the window. With her hand on -the door of the room, she turned and looked at the light that was -slowly fading out of the murky sky. - -"Oh, God, forgive me!" she said. "Oh, Christ, bear witness that -I have suffered!" - -One moment more she lingered on the threshold; lingered for her -last look in this world--and turned that look on _him_. - -"Good-by!" she said, softly. - -The door of the room opened, and closed on her. There was an -interval of silence. - -Then a sound came dull and sudden, like the sound of a fall. - -Then there was silence again. - -* * * * * - -The hands of the clock, following their steady course, reckoned -the minutes of the morning as one by one they lapsed away. It -was the tenth minute since the door of the room had opened and -closed, before Midwinter stirred on his pillow, and, struggling -to raise himself, felt the letter in his hand. - -At the same moment a key was turned in the staircase door. -And the doctor, looking expectantly toward the fatal room, saw -the Purple Flask on the window-sill, and the prostrate man trying -to raise himself from the floor. - - -EPILOGUE. - - -CHAPTER I. - -NEWS FROM NORFOLK. - -_From Mr. Pedgift, Senior (Thorpe Ambrose), to Mr. Pedgift, -Junior (Paris)_. - -"High Street, December 20th. - -"MY DEAR AUGUSTUS--Your letter reached me yesterday. You seem -to be making the most of your youth (as you call it) with a -vengeance. Well! enjoy your holiday. I made the most of my youth -when I was your age; and, wonderful to relate, I haven't -forgotten it yet! - -"You ask me for a good budget of news, and especially for more -information about that mysterious business at the Sanitarium. - -"Curiosity, my dear boy, is a quality which (in our profession -especially) sometimes leads to great results. I doubt, however, -if you will find it leading to much on this occasion. All I know -of the mystery of the Sanitarium, I know from Mr. Armadale: and -he is entirely in the dark on more than one point of importance. -I have already told you how they were entrapped into the house, -and how they passed the night there. To this I can now add that -something did certainly happen to Mr. Midwinter, which deprived -him of consciousness; and that the doctor, who appears to have -been mixed up in the matter, carried things with a high hand, and -insisted on taking his own course in his own Sanitarium. There is -not the least doubt that the miserable woman (however she might -have come by her death) was found dead--that a coroner's inquest -inquired into the circumstances--that the evidence showed her -to have entered the house as a patient--and that the medical -investigation ended in discovering that she had died of apoplexy. -My idea is that Mr. Midwinter had a motive of his own for not -coming forward with the evidence that he might have given. I have -also reason to suspect that Mr. Armadale, out of regard for him, -followed his lead, and that the verdict at the inquest (attaching -no blame to anybody) proceeded, like many other verdicts of the -same kind, from an entirely superficial investigation of the -circumstances. - -"The key to the whole mystery is to be found, I firmly believe, -in that wretched woman's attempt to personate the character of -Mr. Armadale's widow when the news of his death appeared in the -papers. But what first set her on this, and by what inconceivable -process of deception she can have induced Mr. Midwinter to marry -her (as the certificate proves) under Mr. Armadale's name, is -more than Mr. Armadale himself knows. The point was not touched -at the inquest, for the simple reason that the inquest only -concerned itself with the circumstances attending her death. -Mr. Armadale, at his friend's request, saw Miss Blanchard, and -induced her to silence old Darch on the subject of the claim that -had been made relating to the widow's income. As the claim had -never been admitted, even our stiff-necked brother practitioner -consented for once to do as he was asked. The doctor's statement -that his patient was the widow of a gentleman named Armadale was -accordingly left unchallenged, and so the matter has been hushed -up. She is buried in the great cemetery, near the place where -she died. Nobody but Mr. Midwinter and Mr. Armadale (who insisted -on going with him) followed her to the grave; and nothing has -been inscribed on the tombstone but the initial letter of her -Christian name and the date of her death. So, after all the harm -she has done, she rests at last; and so the two men whom she has -injured have forgiven her. - -"Is there more to say on this subject before we leave it? On -referring to your letter, I find you have raised one other point, -which may be worth a moment's notice. - -"You ask if there is reason to suppose that the doctor comes out -of the matter with hands which are really as clean as they look? -My dear Augustus, I believe the doctor to have been at the bottom -of more of this mischief than we shall ever find out; and to have -profited by the self-imposed silence of Mr. Midwinter and Mr. -Armadale, as rogues perpetually profit by the misfortunes and -necessities of honest men. It is an ascertained fact that he -connived at the false statement about Miss Milroy, which -entrapped the two gentlemen into his house; and that one -circumstance (after my Old Bailey experience) is enough for _me_. -As to evidence against him, there is not a jot; and as to -Retribution overtaking him, I can only say I heartily hope -Retribution may prove, in the long run, to be the more cunning -customer of the two. There is not much prospect of it at present. -The doctor's friends and admirers are, I understand, about to -present him with a Testimonial, 'expressive of their sympathy -under the sad occurrence which has thrown a cloud over the -opening of his Sanitarium, and of their undiminished confidence -in his integrity and ability as a medical man.' We live, -Augustus, in an age eminently favorable to the growth of all -roguery which is careful enough to keep up appearances. In this -enlightened nineteenth century, I look upon the doctor as one of -our rising men. - -"To turn now to pleasanter subjects than Sanitariums, I may tell -you that Miss Neelie is as good as well again, and is, in my -humble opinion, prettier than ever. She is staying in London -under the care of a female relative; and Mr. Armadale satisfies -her of the fact of his existence (in case she should forget it) -regularly every day. They are to be married in the spring, -unless Mrs. Milroy's death causes the ceremony to be postponed. -The medical men are of opinion that the poor lady is sinking -at last. It may be a question of weeks or a question of months, -they can say no more. She is greatly altered--quiet and gentle, -and anxiously affectionate with her husband and her child. But -in her case this happy change is, it seems, a sign of approaching -dissolution, from the medical point of view. There is a -difficulty in making the poor old, major understand this. He only -sees that she has gone back to the likeness of her better self -when he first married her; and he sits for hours by her bedside -now, and tells her about his wonderful clock. - -"Mr. Midwinter, of whom you will next expect me to say something, -is improving rapidly. After causing some anxiety at first to the -medical men (who declared that he was suffering from a serious -nervous shock, produced by circumstances about which their -patient's obstinate silence kept them quite in the dark), he -has rallied, as only men of his sensitive temperament (to quote -the doctors again) can rally. He and Mr. Armadale are together -in a quiet lodging. I saw him last week when I was in London. -His face showed signs of wear and tear, very sad to see in so -young a man. But he spoke of himself and his future with -a courage and hopefulness which men of twice his years (if he has -suffered as I suspect him to have suffered) might have envied. -If I know anything of humanity, this is no common man; and we -shall hear of him yet in no common way. - -"You will wonder how I came to be in London. I went up, with -a return ticket (from Saturday to Monday), about that matter -in dispute at our agent's. We had a tough fight; but, curiously -enough, a point occurred to me just as I got up to go; and I went -back to my chair, and settled the question in no time. Of course -I stayed at Our Hotel in Covent Garden. William, the waiter, -asked after you with the affection of a father; and Matilda, -the chamber-maid, said you almost persuaded her that last time -to have the hollow tooth taken out of her lower jaw. I had -the agent's second son (the young chap you nicknamed Mustapha, -when he made that dreadful mess about the Turkish Securities) -to dine with me on Sunday. A little incident happened in the -evening which may be worth recording, as it connected itself -with a certain old lady who was not 'at home' when you and Mr. -Armadale blundered on that house in Pimlico in the bygone time. - -"Mustapha was like all the rest of you young men of the present -day--he got restless after dinner. 'Let's go to a public -amusement, Mr. Pedgift,' says he. 'Public amusement? Why, -it's Sunday evening!' says I. 'All right, sir,' says Mustapha. -'They stop acting on the stage, I grant you, on Sunday evening ---but they don't stop acting in the pulpit. Come and see the last -new Sunday performer of our time.' As he wouldn't have any more -wine, there was nothing else for it but to go. - -"We went to a street at the West End, and found it blocked up -with carriages. If it hadn't been Sunday night, I should have -thought we were going to the opera. 'What did I tell you?' says -Mustapha, taking me up to an open door with a gas star outside -and a bill of the performance. I had just time to notice that -I was going to one of a series of 'Sunday Evening Discourses on -the Pomps and Vanities of the World, by A Sinner Who Has Served -Them,' when Mustapha jogged my elbow, and whispered, 'Half a -crown is the fashionable tip.' I found myself between two demure -and silent gentlemen, with plates in their hands, uncommonly well -filled already with the fashionable tip. Mustapha patronized one -plate, and I the other. We passed through two doors into a long -room, crammed with people. And there, on a platform at the -further end, holding forth to the audience, was--not a man, as I -had expected-- but a Woman, and that woman, MOTHER OLDERSHAW! You -never listened to anything more eloquent in your life. As long as -I heard her she was never once at a loss for a word anywhere. -I shall think less of oratory as a human accomplishment, for the -rest of my days, after that Sunday evening. As for the matter of -the sermon, I may describe it as a narrative of Mrs. Oldershaw's -experience among dilapidated women, profusely illustrated in the -pious and penitential style. You will ask what sort of audience -it was. Principally Women, Augustus--and, as I hope to be saved, -all the old harridans of the world of fashion whom Mother -Oldershaw had enameled in her time, sitting boldly in the front -places, with their cheeks ruddled with paint, in a state of -devout enjoyment wonderful to see! I left Mustapha to hear -the end of it. And I thought to myself, as I went out, of what -Shakespeare says somewhere, 'Lord, what fools we mortals be!' - -"Have I anything more to tell you before I leave off? Only one -thing that I can remember. - -"That wretched old Bashwood has confirmed the fears I told you I -had about him when he was brought back here from London. There is -no kind of doubt that he has really lost all the little reason he -ever had. He is perfectly harmless, and perfectly happy. And he -would do very well if we could only prevent him from going out in -his last new suit of clothes, smirking and smiling and inviting -everybody to his approaching marriage with the handsomest woman -in England. It ends of course in the boys pelting him, and -in his coming here crying to me, covered with mud. The moment -his clothes are cleaned again he falls back into his favorite -delusion, and struts about before the church gates, in the -character of a bridegroom, waiting for Miss Gwilt. We must get -the poor wretch taken care of somewhere for the rest of the -little time he has to live. Who would ever have thought of a man -at his age falling in love? And who would ever have believed that -the mischief that woman's beauty has done could have reached as -far in the downward direction as our superannuated old clerk? - -"Good-by, for the present, my dear boy. If you see a particularly -handsome snuff-box in Paris, remember--though your father scorns -Testimonials--he doesn't object to receive a present from his -son. - -"Yours affectionately, - -A. PEDGIFT, Sen. - -"POSTSCRIPT.--I think it likely that the account you mention in -the French papers, of a fatal quarrel among some foreign sailors -in one of the Lipari Islands, and of the death of their captain, -among others, may really have been a quarrel among the scoundrels -who robbed Mr. Armadale and scuttled his yacht. _Those_ fellows, -luckily for society, can't always keep up appearances; and, -in their case, Rogues and Retribution do occasionally come into -collision with each other." - - - -CHAPTER II. - -MIDWINTER. - -The spring had advanced to the end of April. It was the eve of -Allan's wedding-day. Midwinter and he had sat talking together at -the great house till far into the night--till so far that it had -struck twelve long since, and the wedding day was already some -hours old. - -For the most part the conversation had turned on the bridegroom's -plans and projects. It was not till the two friends rose to go to -rest that Allan insisted on making Midwinter speak of himself. - -"We have had enough, and more than enough, of _my_ future," he -began, in his bluntly straightforward way. "Let's say something -now, Midwinter, about yours. You have promised me, I know, that, -if you take to literature, it shan't part us, and that, if you go -on a sea-voyage, you will remember, when you come back, that my -house is your home. But this is the last chance we have of being -together in our old way; and I own I should like to know--" His -voice faltered, and his eyes moistened a little. He left the -sentence unfinished. - -Midwinter took his hand and helped him, as he had often helped -him to the words that he wanted in the by-gone time. - -"You would like to know, Allan," he said, "that I shall not bring -an aching heart with me to your wedding day? If you will let me -go back for a moment to the past, I think I can satisfy you." - -They took their chairs again. Allan saw that Midwinter was moved. -"Why distress yourself?" he asked, kindly--"why go back to the -past?" - -"For two reasons, Allan. I ought to have thanked you long since -for the silence you have observed, for my sake, on a matter that -must have seemed very strange to you. You know what the name is -which appears on the register of my marriage, and yet you have -forborne to speak of it, from the fear of distressing me. Before -you enter on your new life, let us come to a first and last -understanding about this. I ask you--as one more kindness to -me--to accept my assurance (strange as the thing may seem to you) -that I am blameless in this matter; and I entreat you to believe -that the reasons I have for leaving it unexplained are reasons -which, if Mr. Brock was living, Mr. Brock himself would approve." -In those words he kept the secret of the two names; and left the -memory of Allan's mother, what he had found it, a sacred memory -in the heart of her son. - -"One word more," he went on--"a word which will take us, this -time, from past to future. It has been said, and truly said, -that out of Evil may come Good. Out of the horror and the misery -of that night you know of has come the silencing of a doubt which -once made my life miserable with groundless anxiety about you -and about myself. No clouds raised by my superstition will ever -come between us again. I can't honestly tell you that I am more -willing now than I was when we were in the Isle of Man to take -what is called the rational view of your Dream. Though I know -what extraordinary coincidences are perpetually happening in -the experience of all of us, still I cannot accept coincidences -as explaining the fulfillment of the Visions which our own eyes -have seen. All I can sincerely say for myself is, what I think it -will satisfy you to know, that I have learned to view the purpose -of the Dream with a new mind. I once believed that it was sent -to rouse your distrust of the friendless man whom you had taken -as a brother to your heart. I now _know_ that it came to you -as a timely warning to take him closer still. Does this help -to satisfy you that I, too, am standing hopefully on the brink of -a new life, and that while we live, brother, your love and mine -will never be divided again?" - -They shook hands in silence. Allan was the first to recover -himself. He answered in the few words of kindly assurance which -were the best words that he could address to his friend. - -"I have heard all I ever want to hear about the past," he said; -"and I know what I most wanted to know about the future. -Everybody says, Midwinter, you have a career before you, and -I believe that everybody is right. Who knows what great things -may happen before you and I are many years older?" - -"Who _need_ know?" said Midwinter, calmly. "Happen what may, God -is all-merciful, God is all-wise. In those words your dear old -friend once wrote to me. In that faith I can look back without -murmuring at the years that are past, and can look on without -doubting to the years that are to come." - -He rose, and walked to the window. While they had been speaking -together the darkness had passed. The first light of the new day -met him as he looked out, and rested tenderly on his face. - - -APPENDIX. - - -NOTE--My readers will perceive that I have purposely left them, -with reference to the Dream in this story, in the position which -they would occupy in the case of a dream in real life: they are -free to interpret it by the natural or the supernatural theory, -as the bent of their own minds may incline them. Persons disposed -to take the rational view may, under these circumstances, be -interested in hearing of a coincidence relating to the present -story, which actually happened, and which in the matter of -"extravagant improbability" sets anything of the same kind that -a novelist could imagine at flat defiance. - -In November, 1865, that is to say, when thirteen monthly parts -of "Armadale" had been published, and, I may add, when more than -a year and a half had elapsed since the end of the story, as it -now appears, was first sketched in my notebook--a vessel lay in -the Huskisson Dock at Liverpool which was looked after by one man, -who slept on board, in the capacity of shipkeeper. On a certain -day in the week this man was found dead in the deck-house. On the -next day a second man, who had taken his place, was carried dying -to the Northern Hospital. On the third day a third ship-keeper -was appointed, and was found dead in the deck-house which had -already proved fatal to the other two. _The name of that ship was -"The Armadale."_ And the proceedings at the Inquest proved that -the three men had been all suffocated _by sleeping in poisoned -air_! - -I am indebted for these particulars to the kindness of the -reporters at Liverpool, who sent me their statement of the facts. -The case found its way into most of the newspapers. It was -noticed--to give two instances in which I can cite the dates--in -the _Times_ of November 30th, 1865, and was more fully described -in the _Daily News_ of November 28th, in the same year. - -Before taking leave of "Armadale," I may perhaps be allowed -to mention, for the benefit of any readers who may be curious -on such points, that the "Norfolk Broads" are here described -after personal investigation of them. In this, as in other cases, -I have spared no pains to instruct myself on matters of fact. -Wherever the story touches on questions connected with Law, -Medicine, or Chemistry, it has been submitted before publication -to the experience of professional men. The kindness of a friend -supplied me with a plan of the doctor's apparatus, and I saw -the chemical ingredients at work before I ventured on describing -the action of them in the closing scenes of this book. - - - - - -End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Armadale, by Wilkie Collins - diff --git a/old/armdl11.zip b/old/armdl11.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 1751a2b..0000000 --- a/old/armdl11.zip +++ /dev/null |