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diff --git a/24879-8.txt b/24879-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1ddcd1a..0000000 --- a/24879-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9542 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Curious, if True, by Elizabeth Gaskell - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Curious, if True - Strange Tales - -Author: Elizabeth Gaskell - -Release Date: March 21, 2008 [EBook #24879] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CURIOUS, IF TRUE *** - - - - -Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -CURIOUS, IF TRUE - - -STRANGE TALES - - - -Mrs Gaskell - - - - -Contents - - -The Old Nurse's Story 1 - -The Poor Clare 26 - -Lois the Witch 88 - -The Grey Woman 187 - -Curious, if True 249 - - - - -THE OLD NURSE'S STORY - - -You know, my dears, that your mother was an orphan, and an only child; -and I daresay you have heard that your grandfather was a clergyman up -in Westmoreland, where I come from. I was just a girl in the village -school, when, one day, your grandmother came in to ask the mistress if -there was any scholar there who would do for a nurse-maid; and mighty -proud I was, I can tell ye, when the mistress called me up, and spoke -of me being a good girl at my needle, and a steady, honest girl, and -one whose parents were very respectable, though they might be poor. I -thought I should like nothing better than to serve the pretty young -lady, who was blushing as deep as I was, as she spoke of the coming -baby, and what I should have to do with it. However, I see you don't -care so much for this part of my story, as for what you think is to -come, so I'll tell you at once. I was engaged and settled at the -parsonage before Miss Rosamond (that was the baby, who is now your -mother) was born. To be sure, I had little enough to do with her when -she came, for she was never out of her mother's arms, and slept by her -all night long; and proud enough was I sometimes when missis trusted -her to me. There never was such a baby before or since, though you've -all of you been fine enough in your turns; but for sweet, winning ways, -you've none of you come up to your mother. She took after her mother, -who was a real lady born; a Miss Furnivall, a grand-daughter of Lord -Furnivall's, in Northumberland. I believe she had neither brother nor -sister, and had been brought up in my lord's family till she had -married your grandfather, who was just a curate, son to a shopkeeper in -Carlisle--but a clever, fine gentleman as ever was--and one who was a -right-down hard worker in his parish, which was very wide, and -scattered all abroad over the Westmoreland Fells. When your mother, -little Miss Rosamond, was about four or five years old, both her -parents died in a fortnight--one after the other. Ah! that was a sad -time. My pretty young mistress and me was looking for another baby, -when my master came home from one of his long rides, wet and tired, and -took the fever he died of; and then she never held up her head again, -but just lived to see her dead baby, and have it laid on her breast, -before she sighed away her life. My mistress had asked me, on her -death-bed, never to leave Miss Rosamond; but if she had never spoken a -word, I would have gone with the little child to the end of the world. - -The next thing, and before we had well stilled our sobs, the executors -and guardians came to settle the affairs. They were my poor young -mistress's own cousin, Lord Furnivall, and Mr. Esthwaite, my master's -brother, a shopkeeper in Manchester; not so well to do then as he was -afterwards, and with a large family rising about him. Well! I don't -know if it were their settling, or because of a letter my mistress -wrote on her death-bed to her cousin, my lord; but somehow it was -settled that Miss Rosamond and me were to go to Furnivall Manor House, -in Northumberland, and my lord spoke as if it had been her mother's -wish that she should live with his family, and as if he had no -objections, for that one or two more or less could make no difference -in so grand a household. So, though that was not the way in which I -should have wished the coming of my bright and pretty pet to have been -looked at--who was like a sunbeam in any family, be it never so -grand--I was well pleased that all the folks in the Dale should stare -and admire, when they heard I was going to be young lady's maid at my -Lord Furnivall's at Furnivall Manor. - -But I made a mistake in thinking we were to go and live where my lord -did. It turned out that the family had left Furnivall Manor House fifty -years or more. I could not hear that my poor young mistress had never -been there, though she had been brought up in the family; and I was -sorry for that, for I should have liked Miss Rosamond's youth to have -passed where her mother's had been. - -My lord's gentleman, from whom I asked as many questions as I durst, -said that the Manor House was at the foot of the Cumberland Fells, and -a very grand place; that an old Miss Furnivall, a great-aunt of my -lord's, lived there, with only a few servants; but that it was a very -healthy place, and my lord had thought that it would suit Miss Rosamond -very well for a few years, and that her being there might perhaps amuse -his old aunt. - -I was bidden by my lord to have Miss Rosamond's things ready by a -certain day. He was a stern, proud man, as they say all the Lords -Furnivall were; and he never spoke a word more than was necessary. Folk -did say he had loved my young mistress; but that, because she knew that -his father would object, she would never listen to him, and married Mr. -Esthwaite; but I don't know. He never married, at any rate. But he -never took much notice of Miss Rosamond; which I thought he might have -done if he had cared for her dead mother. He sent his gentleman with us -to the Manor House, telling him to join him at Newcastle that same -evening; so there was no great length of time for him to make us known -to all the strangers before he, too, shook us off; and we were left, -two lonely young things (I was not eighteen) in the great old Manor -House. It seems like yesterday that we drove there. We had left our own -dear parsonage very early, and we had both cried as if our hearts would -break, though we were travelling in my lord's carriage, which I thought -so much of once. And now it was long past noon on a September day, and -we stopped to change horses for the last time at a little smoky town, -all full of colliers and miners. Miss Rosamond had fallen asleep, but -Mr. Henry told me to waken her, that she might see the park and the -Manor House as we drove up. I thought it rather a pity; but I did what -he bade me, for fear he should complain of me to my lord. We had left -all signs of a town, or even a village, and were then inside the gates -of a large wild park--not like the parks here in the south, but with -rocks, and the noise of running water, and gnarled thorn-trees, and old -oaks, all white and peeled with age. - -The road went up about two miles, and then we saw a great and stately -house, with many trees close around it, so close that in some places -their branches dragged against the walls when the wind blew; and some -hung broken down; for no one seemed to take much charge of the -place;--to lop the wood, or to keep the moss-covered carriage-way in -order. Only in front of the house all was clear. The great oval drive -was without a weed; and neither tree nor creeper was allowed to grow -over the long, many-windowed front; at both sides of which a wing -protected, which were each the ends of other side fronts; for the -house, although it was so desolate, was even grander than I expected. -Behind it rose the Fells; which seemed unenclosed and bare enough; and -on the left hand of the house, as you stood facing it, was a little, -old-fashioned flower-garden, as I found out afterwards. A door opened -out upon it from the west front; it had been scooped out of the thick, -dark wood for some old Lady Furnivall; but the branches of the great -forest-trees had grown and overshadowed it again, and there were very -few flowers that would live there at that time. - -When we drove up to the great front entrance, and went into the hall, I -thought we would be lost--it was so large, and vast and grand. There -was a chandelier all of bronze, hung down from the middle of the -ceiling; and I had never seen one before, and looked at it all in -amaze. Then, at one end of the hall, was a great fire-place, as large -as the sides of the houses in my country, with massy andirons and dogs -to hold the wood; and by it were heavy, old-fashioned sofas. At the -opposite end of the hall, to the left as you went in--on the western -side--was an organ built into the wall, and so large that it filled up -the best part of that end. Beyond it, on the same side, was a door; and -opposite, on each side of the fire-place, were also doors leading to -the east front; but those I never went through as long as I stayed in -the house, so I can't tell you what lay beyond. - -The afternoon was closing in, and the hall, which had no fire lighted -in it, looked dark and gloomy, but we did not stay there a moment. The -old servant, who had opened the door for us, bowed to Mr. Henry, and -took us in through the door at the further side of the great organ, and -led us through several smaller halls and passages into the west -drawing-room, where he said that Miss Furnivall was sitting. Poor -little Miss Rosamond held very tight to me, as if she were scared and -lost in that great place; and as for myself, I was not much better. The -west drawing-room was very cheerful-looking, with a warm fire in it, -and plenty of good, comfortable furniture about. Miss Furnivall was an -old lady not far from eighty, I should think, but I do not know. She -was thin and tall, and had a face as full of fine wrinkles as if they -had been drawn all over it with a needle's point. Her eyes were very -watchful, to make up, I suppose, for her being so deaf as to be obliged -to use a trumpet. Sitting with her, working at the same great piece of -tapestry, was Mrs. Stark, her maid and companion, and almost as old as -she was. She had lived with Miss Furnivall ever since they both were -young, and now she seemed more like a friend than a servant; she looked -so cold, and grey, and stony, as if she had never loved or cared for -any one; and I don't suppose she did care for any one, except her -mistress; and, owing to the great deafness of the latter, Mrs. Stark -treated her very much as if she were a child. Mr. Henry gave some -message from my lord, and then he bowed good-by to us all,--taking no -notice of my sweet little Miss Rosamond's outstretched hand--and left -us standing there, being looked at by the two old ladies through their -spectacles. - -I was right glad when they rung for the old footman who had shown us in -at first, and told him to take us to our rooms. So we went out of that -great drawing-room and into another sitting-room, and out of that, and -then up a great flight of stairs, and along a broad gallery--which was -something like a library, having books all down one side, and windows -and writing-tables all down the other--till we came to our rooms, which -I was not sorry to hear were just over the kitchens; for I began to -think I should be lost in that wilderness of a house. There was an old -nursery, that had been used for all the little lords and ladies long -ago, with a pleasant fire burning in the grate, and the kettle boiling -on the hob, and tea-things spread out on the table; and out of that -room was the night-nursery, with a little crib for Miss Rosamond close -to my bed. And old James called up Dorothy, his wife, to bid us -welcome; and both he and she were so hospitable and kind, that -by-and-by Miss Rosamond and me felt quite at home; and by the time tea -was over, she was sitting on Dorothy's knee, and chattering away as -fast as her little tongue could go. I soon found out that Dorothy was -from Westmoreland, and that bound her and me together, as it were; and -I would never wish to meet with kinder people than were old James and -his wife. James had lived pretty nearly all his life in my lord's -family, and thought there was no one so grand as they. He even looked -down a little on his wife; because, till he had married her, she had -never lived in any but a farmer's household. But he was very fond of -her, as well he might be. They had one servant under them, to do all -the rough work. Agnes they called her; and she and me, and James and -Dorothy, with Miss Furnivall and Mrs. Stark, made up the family; always -remembering my sweet little Miss Rosamond! I used to wonder what they -had done before she came, they thought so much of her now. Kitchen and -drawing-room, it was all the same. The hard, sad Miss Furnivall, and -the cold Mrs. Stark, looked pleased when she came fluttering in like a -bird, playing and pranking hither and thither, with a continual murmur, -and pretty prattle of gladness. I am sure, they were sorry many a time -when she flitted away into the kitchen, though they were too proud to -ask her to stay with them, and were a little surprised at her taste; -though to be sure, as Mrs. Stark said, it was not to be wondered at, -remembering what stock her father had come of. The great, old rambling -house was a famous place for little Miss Rosamond. She made expeditions -all over it, with me at her heels; all, except the east wing, which was -never opened, and whither we never thought of going. But in the western -and northern part was many a pleasant room; full of things that were -curiosities to us, though they might not have been to people who had -seen more. The windows were darkened by the sweeping boughs of the -trees, and the ivy which had overgrown them; but, in the green gloom, -we could manage to see old china jars and carved ivory boxes, and great -heavy books, and, above all, the old pictures! - -Once, I remember, my darling would have Dorothy go with us to tell us -who they all were; for they were all portraits of some of my lord's -family, though Dorothy could not tell us the names of every one. We had -gone through most of the rooms, when we came to the old state -drawing-room over the hall, and there was a picture of Miss Furnivall; -or, as she was called in those days, Miss Grace, for she was the -younger sister. Such a beauty she must have been! but with such a set, -proud look, and such scorn looking out of her handsome eyes, with her -eyebrows just a little raised, as if she wondered how anyone could have -the impertinence to look at her, and her lip curled at us, as we stood -there gazing. She had a dress on, the like of which I had never seen -before, but it was all the fashion when she was young; a hat of some -soft white stuff like beaver, pulled a little over her brows, and a -beautiful plume of feathers sweeping round it on one side; and her gown -of blue satin was open in front to a quilted white stomacher. - -'Well, to be sure!' said I, when I had gazed my fill. 'Flesh is grass, -they do say; but who would have thought that Miss Furnivall had been -such an out-and-out beauty, to see her now.' - -'Yes,' said Dorothy. 'Folks change sadly. But if what my master's -father used to say was true, Miss Furnivall, the elder sister, was -handsomer than Miss Grace. Her picture is here somewhere; but, if I -show it you, you must never let on, even to James, that you have seen -it. Can the little lady hold her tongue, think you?' asked she. - -I was not so sure, for she was such a little sweet, bold, open-spoken -child, so I set her to hide herself; and then I helped Dorothy to turn -a great picture, that leaned with its face towards the wall, and was -not hung up as the others were. To be sure, it beat Miss Grace for -beauty; and, I think, for scornful pride, too, though in that matter it -might be hard to choose. I could have looked at it an hour, but Dorothy -seemed half frightened at having shown it to me, and hurried it back -again, and bade me run and find Miss Rosamond, for that there were some -ugly places about the house, where she should like ill for the child to -go. I was a brave, high-spirited girl, and thought little of what the -old woman said, for I liked hide-and-seek as well as any child in the -parish; so off I ran to find my little one. - -As winter drew on, and the days grew shorter, I was sometimes almost -certain that I heard a noise as if someone was playing on the great -organ in the hall. I did not hear it every evening; but, certainly, I -did very often, usually when I was sitting with Miss Rosamond, after I -had put her to bed, and keeping quite still and silent in the bedroom. -Then I used to hear it booming and swelling away in the distance. The -first night, when I went down to my supper, I asked Dorothy who had -been playing music, and James said very shortly that I was a gowk to -take the wind soughing among the trees for music; but I saw Dorothy -look at him very fearfully, and Bessy, the kitchen-maid, said something -beneath her breath, and went quite white. I saw they did not like my -question, so I held my peace till I was with Dorothy alone, when I knew -I could get a good deal out of her. So, the next day, I watched my -time, and I coaxed and asked her who it was that played the organ; for -I knew that it was the organ and not the wind well enough, for all I -had kept silence before James. But Dorothy had had her lesson, I'll -warrant, and never a word could I get from her. So then I tried Bessy, -though I had always held my head rather above her, as I was evened to -James and Dorothy, and she was little better than their servant. So she -said I must never, never tell; and if ever I told, I was never to say -_she_ had told me; but it was a very strange noise, and she had heard -it many a time, but most of all on winter nights, and before storms; -and folks did say it was the old lord playing on the great organ in the -hall, just as he used to do when he was alive; but who the old lord -was, or why he played, and why he played on stormy winter evenings in -particular, she either could not or would not tell me. Well! I told you -I had a brave heart; and I thought it was rather pleasant to have that -grand music rolling about the house, let who would be the player; for -now it rose above the great gusts of wind, and wailed and triumphed -just like a living creature, and then it fell to a softness most -complete, only it was always music, and tunes, so it was nonsense to -call it the wind. I thought at first, that it might be Miss Furnivall -who played, unknown to Bessy; but one day, when I was in the hall by -myself, I opened the organ and peeped all about it and around it, as I -had done to the organ in Crosthwaite church once before, and I saw it -was all broken and destroyed inside, though it looked so brave and -fine; and then, though it was noon-day, my flesh began to creep a -little, and I shut it up, and run away pretty quickly to my own bright -nursery; and I did not like hearing the music for some time after that, -any more than James and Dorothy did. All this time Miss Rosamond was -making herself more and more beloved. The old ladies liked her to dine -with them at their early dinner. James stood behind Miss Furnivall's -chair, and I behind Miss Rosamond's all in state; and after dinner, she -would play about in a corner of the great drawing-room as still as any -mouse, while Miss Furnivall slept, and I had my dinner in the kitchen. -But she was glad enough to come to me in the nursery afterwards; for, -as she said, Miss Furnivall was so sad, and Mrs. Stark so dull; but she -and I were merry enough; and by-and-by, I got not to care for that -weird rolling music, which did one no harm, if we did not know where it -came from. - -That winter was very cold. In the middle of October the frosts began, -and lasted many, many weeks. I remember one day, at dinner, Miss -Furnivall lifted up her sad, heavy eyes, and said to Mrs. Stark, 'I am -afraid we shall have a terrible winter,' in a strange kind of meaning -way. But Mrs. Stark pretended not to hear, and talked very loud of -something else. My little lady and I did not care for the frost; not -we! As long as it was dry, we climbed up the steep brows behind the -house, and went up on the Fells, which were bleak and bare enough, and -there we ran races in the fresh, sharp air; and once we came down by a -new path, that took us past the two old gnarled holly-trees, which grew -about half-way down by the east side of the house. But the days grew -shorter and shorter, and the old lord, if it was he, played away, more -and more stormily and sadly, on the great organ. One Sunday -afternoon--it must have been towards the end of November--I asked -Dorothy to take charge of little missy when she came out of the -drawing-room, after Miss Furnivall had had her nap; for it was too cold -to take her with me to church, and yet I wanted to go. And Dorothy was -glad enough to promise, and was so fond of the child, that all seemed -well; and Bessy and I set off very briskly, though the sky hung heavy -and black over the white earth, as if the night had never fully gone -away, and the air, though still, was very biting and keen. - -'We shall have a fall of snow,' said Bessy to me. And sure enough, even -while we were in church, it came down thick, in great large flakes,--so -thick, it almost darkened the windows. It had stopped snowing before we -came out, but it lay soft, thick and deep beneath our feet, as we -tramped home. Before we got to the hall, the moon rose, and I think it -was lighter then--what with the moon, and what with the white dazzling -snow--than it had been when we went to church, between two and three -o'clock. I have not told you that Miss Furnivall and Mrs. Stark never -went to church; they used to read the prayers together, in their quiet, -gloomy way; they seemed to feel the Sunday very long without their -tapestry-work to be busy at. So when I went to Dorothy in the kitchen, -to fetch Miss Rosamond and take her upstairs with me, I did not much -wonder when the old woman told me that the ladies had kept the child -with them, and that she had never come to the kitchen, as I had bidden -her, when she was tired of behaving pretty in the drawing-room. So I -took off my things and went to find her, and bring her to her supper in -the nursery. But when I went into the best drawing-room, there sat the -two old ladies, very still and quiet, dropping out a word now and then, -but looking as if nothing so bright and merry as Miss Rosamond had ever -been near them. Still I thought she might be hiding from me; it was one -of her pretty ways,--and that she had persuaded them to look as if they -knew nothing about her; so I went softly peeping under this sofa, and -behind that chair, making believe I was sadly frightened at not finding -her. - -'What's the matter, Hester?' said Mrs. Stark, sharply. I don't know if -Miss Furnivall had seen me, for, as I told you, she was very deaf, and -she sat quite still, idly staring into the fire, with her hopeless -face. 'I'm only looking for my little Rosy Posy,' replied I, still -thinking that the child was there, and near me, though I could not see -her. - -'Miss Rosamond is not here,' said Mrs. Stark. 'She went away, more than -an hour ago, to find Dorothy.' And she, too, turned and went on looking -into the fire. - -My heart sank at this, and I began to wish I had never left my darling. -I went back to Dorothy and told her. James was gone out for the day, -but she, and me, and Bessy took lights, and went up into the nursery -first; and then we roamed over the great, large house, calling and -entreating Miss Rosamond to come out of her hiding-place, and not -frighten us to death in that way. But there was no answer; no sound. - -'Oh!' said I, at last, 'can she have got into the east wing and hidden -there?' - -But Dorothy said it was not possible, for that she herself had never -been in there; that the doors were always locked, and my lord's steward -had the keys, she believed; at any rate, neither she nor James had ever -seen them: so I said I would go back, and see if, after all, she was -not hidden in the drawing-room, unknown to the old ladies; and if I -found her there, I said, I would whip her well for the fright she had -given me; but I never meant to do it. Well, I went back to the west -drawing-room, and I told Mrs. Stark we could not find her anywhere, and -asked for leave to look all about the furniture there, for I thought -now that she might have fallen asleep in some warm, hidden corner; but -no! we looked--Miss Furnivall got up and looked, trembling all -over--and she was nowhere there; then we set off again, every one in -the house, and looked in all the places we had searched before, but we -could not find her. Miss Furnivall shivered and shook so much, that -Mrs. Stark took her back into the warm drawing-room; but not before -they had made me promise to bring her to them when she was found. -Well-a-day! I began to think she never would be found, when I bethought -me to look into the great front court, all covered with snow. I was -upstairs when I looked out; but, it was such clear moonlight, I could -see, quite plain, two little footprints, which might be traced from the -hall-door and round the corner of the east wing. I don't know how I got -down, but I tugged open the great stiff hall-door, and, throwing the -skirt of my gown over my head for a cloak, I ran out. I turned the east -corner, and there a black shadow fell on the snow; but when I came -again into the moonlight, there were the little foot-marks going up--up -to the Fells. It was bitter cold; so cold, that the air almost took the -skin off my face as I ran; but I ran on crying to think how my poor -little darling must be perished and frightened. I was within sight of -the holly-trees, when I saw a shepherd coming down the hill, bearing -something in his arms wrapped in his maud. He shouted to me, and asked -me if I had lost a bairn; and, when I could not speak for crying, he -bore towards me, and I saw my wee bairnie, lying still, and white, and -stiff in his arms, as if she had been dead. He told me he had been up -the Fells to gather in his sheep, before the deep cold of night came -on, and that under the holly-trees (black marks on the hill-side, where -no other bush was for miles around) he had found my little lady--my -lamb--my queen--my darling--stiff and cold in the terrible sleep which -is frost-begotten. Oh! the joy and the tears of having her in my arms -once again! for I would not let him carry her; but took her, maud and -all, into my own arms, and held her near my own warm neck and heart, -and felt the life stealing slowly back again into her little gentle -limbs. But she was still insensible when we reached the hall, and I had -no breath for speech. We went in by the kitchen-door. - -'Bring me the warming-pan,' said I; and I carried her upstairs and -began undressing her by the nursery fire, which Bessy had kept up. I -called my little lammie all the sweet and playful names I could think -of,--even while my eyes were blinded by my tears; and at last, oh! at -length she opened her large blue eyes. Then I put her into her warm -bed, and sent Dorothy down to tell Miss Furnivall that all was well; -and I made up my mind to sit by my darling's bedside the live-long -night. She fell away into a soft sleep as soon as her pretty head had -touched the pillow, and I watched by her till morning light; when she -wakened up bright and clear--or so I thought at first--and, my dears, -so I think now. - -She said, that she had fancied that she should like to go to Dorothy, -for that both the old ladies were asleep, and it was very dull in the -drawing-room; and that, as she was going through the west lobby, she -saw the snow through the high window falling--falling--soft and steady; -but she wanted to see it lying pretty and white on the ground; so she -made her way into the great hall; and then, going to the window, she -saw it bright and soft upon the drive; but while she stood there, she -saw a little girl, not so old as she was, 'but so pretty,' said my -darling, 'and this little girl beckoned to me to come out; and oh, she -was so pretty and so sweet, I could not choose but go.' And then this -other little girl had taken her by the hand, and side by side the two -had gone round the east corner. - -'Now you are a naughty little girl, and telling stories,' said I. 'What -would your good mamma, that is in heaven, and never told a story in her -life, say to her little Rosamond, if she heard her--and I daresay she -does--telling stories!' - -'Indeed, Hester,' sobbed out my child, 'I'm telling you true. Indeed I -am.' - -'Don't tell me!' said I, very stern. 'I tracked you by your foot-marks -through the snow; there were only yours to be seen: and if you had had -a little girl to go hand-in-hand with you up the hill, don't you think -the footprints would have gone along with yours?' - -'I can't help it, dear, dear Hester,' said she, crying, 'if they did -not; I never looked at her feet, but she held my hand fast and tight in -her little one, and it was very, very cold. She took me up the -Fell-path, up to the holly-trees; and there I saw a lady weeping and -crying; but when she saw me, she hushed her weeping, and smiled very -proud and grand, and took me on her knee, and began to lull me to -sleep; and that's all, Hester--but that is true; and my dear mamma -knows it is,' said she, crying. So I thought the child was in a fever, -and pretended to believe her, as she went over her story--over and over -again, and always the same. At last Dorothy knocked at the door with -Miss Rosamond's breakfast; and she told me the old ladies were down in -the eating parlour, and that they wanted to speak to me. They had both -been into the night-nursery the evening before, but it was after Miss -Rosamond was asleep; so they had only looked at her--not asked me any -questions. - -'I shall catch it,' thought I to myself, as I went along the north -gallery. 'And yet,' I thought, taking courage, 'it was in their charge -I left her; and it's they that's to blame for letting her steal away -unknown and unwatched.' So I went in boldly, and told my story. I told -it all to Miss Furnivall, shouting it close to her ear; but when I came -to the mention of the other little girl out in the snow, coaxing and -tempting her out, and willing her up to the grand and beautiful lady by -the holly-tree, she threw her arms up--her old and withered arms--and -cried aloud, 'Oh! Heaven forgive! Have mercy!' - -Mrs. Stark took hold of her; roughly enough, I thought; but she was -past Mrs. Stark's management, and spoke to me, in a kind of wild -warning and authority. - -'Hester! keep her from that child! It will lure her to her death! That -evil child! Tell her it is a wicked, naughty child.' Then, Mrs. Stark -hurried me out of the room; where, indeed, I was glad enough to go; but -Miss Furnivall kept shrieking out, 'Oh, have mercy! Wilt Thou never -forgive! It is many a long year ago----' - -I was very uneasy in my mind after that. I durst never leave Miss -Rosamond, night or day, for fear lest she might slip off again, after -some fancy or other; and all the more, because I thought I could make -out that Miss Furnivall was crazy, from their odd ways about her; and I -was afraid lest something of the same kind (which might be in the -family, you know) hung over my darling. And the great frost never -ceased all this time; and, whenever it was a more stormy night than -usual, between the gusts, and through the wind, we heard the old lord -playing on the great organ. But, old lord, or not, wherever Miss -Rosamond went, there I followed; for my love for her, pretty, helpless -orphan, was stronger than my fear for the grand and terrible sound. -Besides, it rested with me to keep her cheerful and merry, as beseemed -her age. So we played together, and wandered together, here and there, -and everywhere; for I never dared to lose sight of her again in that -large and rambling house. And so it happened, that one afternoon, not -long before Christmas-day, we were playing together on the -billiard-table in the great hall (not that we knew the right way of -playing, but she liked to roll the smooth ivory balls with her pretty -hands, and I liked to do whatever she did); and, by-and-by, without our -noticing it, it grew dusk indoors, though it was still light in the -open air, and I was thinking of taking her back into the nursery, when, -all of a sudden, she cried out, - -'Look, Hester! look! there is my poor little girl out in the snow!' - -I turned towards the long narrow windows, and there, sure enough, I saw -a little girl, less than my Miss Rosamond--dressed all unfit to be -out-of-doors such a bitter night--crying, and beating against the -window-panes, as if she wanted to be let in. She seemed to sob and -wail, till Miss Rosamond could bear it no longer, and was flying to the -door to open it, when, all of a sudden, and close upon us, the great -organ pealed out so loud and thundering, it fairly made me tremble; and -all the more, when I remembered me that, even in the stillness of that -dead-cold weather, I had heard no sound of little battering hands upon -the windowglass, although the phantom child had seemed to put forth all -its force; and, although I had seen it wail and cry, no faintest touch -of sound had fallen upon my ears. Whether I remembered all this at the -very moment, I do not know; the great organ sound had so stunned me -into terror; but this I know, I caught up Miss Rosamond before she got -the hall-door opened, and clutched her, and carried her away, kicking -and screaming, into the large, bright kitchen, where Dorothy and Agnes -were busy with their mince-pies. - -'What is the matter with my sweet one?' cried Dorothy, as I bore in -Miss Rosamond, who was sobbing as if her heart would break. - -'She won't let me open the door for my little girl to come in; and -she'll die if she is out on the Fells all night. Cruel, naughty -Hester,' she said, slapping me; but she might have struck harder, for I -had seen a look of ghastly terror on Dorothy's face, which made my very -blood run cold. - -'Shut the back-kitchen door fast, and bolt it well,' said she to Agnes. -She said no more; she gave me raisins and almonds to quiet Miss -Rosamond; but she sobbed about the little girl in the snow, and would -not touch any of the good things. I was thankful when she cried herself -to sleep in bed. Then I stole down to the kitchen, and told Dorothy I -had made up my mind. I would carry my darling back to my father's house -in Applethwaite; where, if we lived humbly, we lived at peace. I said I -had been frightened enough with the old lord's organ-playing; but now -that I had seen for myself this little moaning child, all decked out as -no child in the neighbourhood could be, beating and battering to get -in, yet always without any sound or noise--with the dark wound on its -right shoulder; and that Miss Rosamond had known it again for the -phantom that had nearly lured her to her death (which Dorothy knew was -true); I would stand it no longer. - -I saw Dorothy change colour once or twice. When I had done, she told me -she did not think I could take Miss Rosamond with me, for that she was -my lord's ward, and I had no right over her; and she asked me would I -leave the child that I was so fond of just for sounds and sights that -could do me no harm; and that they had all had to get used to in their -turns? I was all in a hot, trembling passion; and I said it was very -well for her to talk; that knew what these sights and noises betokened, -and that had, perhaps, had something to do with the spectre child while -it was alive. And I taunted her so, that she told me all she knew at -last; and then I wished I had never been told, for it only made me more -afraid than ever. - -She said she had heard the tale from old neighbours that were alive -when she was first married; when folks used to come to the hall -sometimes, before it had got such a bad name on the country side: it -might not be true, or it might, what she had been told. - -The old lord was Miss Furnivall's father--Miss Grace, as Dorothy called -her, for Miss Maude was the elder, and Miss Furnivall by rights. The -old lord was eaten up with pride. Such a proud man was never seen or -heard of; and his daughters were like him. No one was good enough to -wed them, although they had choice enough; for they were the great -beauties of their day, as I had seen by their portraits, where they -hung in the state drawing-room. But, as the old saying is, 'Pride will -have a fall;' and these two haughty beauties fell in love with the same -man, and he no better than a foreign musician, whom their father had -down from London to play music with him at the Manor House. For, above -all things, next to his pride, the old lord loved music. He could play -on nearly every instrument that ever was heard of, and it was a strange -thing it did not soften him; but he was a fierce dour old man, and had -broken his poor wife's heart with his cruelty, they said. He was mad -after music, and would pay any money for it. So he got this foreigner -to come; who made such beautiful music, that they said the very birds -on the trees stopped their singing to listen. And, by degrees, this -foreign gentleman got such a hold over the old lord, that nothing would -serve him but that he must come every year; and it was he that had the -great organ brought from Holland, and built up in the hall, where it -stood now. He taught the old lord to play on it; but many and many a -time, when Lord Furnivall was thinking of nothing but his fine organ, -and his finer music, the dark foreigner was walking abroad in the woods -with one of the young ladies; now Miss Maude, and then Miss Grace. - -Miss Maude won the day and carried off the prize, such as it was; and -he and she were married, all unknown to any one; and before he made his -next yearly visit, she had been confined of a little girl at a -farm-house on the Moors, while her father and Miss Grace thought she -was away at Doncaster Races. But though she was a wife and a mother, -she was not a bit softened, but as haughty and as passionate as ever; -and perhaps more so, for she was jealous of Miss Grace, to whom her -foreign husband paid a deal of court--by way of blinding her--as he -told his wife. But Miss Grace triumphed over Miss Maude, and Miss Maude -grew fiercer and fiercer, both with her husband and with her sister; -and the former--who could easily shake off what was disagreeable, and -hide himself in foreign countries--went away a month before his usual -time that summer, and half-threatened that he would never come back -again. Meanwhile, the little girl was left at the farm-house, and her -mother used to have her horse saddled and gallop wildly over the hills -to see her once every week, at the very least; for where she loved she -loved, and where she hated she hated. And the old lord went on -playing--playing on his organ; and the servants thought the sweet music -he made had soothed down his awful temper, of which (Dorothy said) some -terrible tales could be told. He grew infirm too, and had to walk with -a crutch; and his son--that was the present Lord Furnivall's -father--was with the army in America, and the other son at sea; so Miss -Maude had it pretty much her own way, and she and Miss Grace grew -colder and bitterer to each other every day; till at last they hardly -ever spoke, except when the old lord was by. The foreign musician came -again the next summer, but it was for the last time; for they led him -such a life with their jealousy and their passions, that he grew weary, -and went away, and never was heard of again. And Miss Maude, who had -always meant to have her marriage acknowledged when her father should -be dead, was left now a deserted wife, whom nobody knew to have been -married, with a child that she dared not own, although she loved it to -distraction; living with a father whom she feared, and a sister whom -she hated. When the next summer passed over, and the dark foreigner -never came, both Miss Maude and Miss Grace grew gloomy and sad; they -had a haggard look about them, though they looked handsome as ever. -But, by-and-by, Maude brightened; for her father grew more and more -infirm, and more than ever carried away by his music; and she and Miss -Grace lived almost entirely apart, having separate rooms, the one on -the west side, Miss Maude on the east--those very rooms which were now -shut up. So she thought she might have her little girl with her, and no -one need ever know except those who dared not speak about it, and were -bound to believe that it was, as she said, a cottager's child she had -taken a fancy to. All this, Dorothy said, was pretty well known; but -what came afterwards no one knew, except Miss Grace and Mrs. Stark, who -was even then her maid, and much more of a friend to her than ever her -sister had been. But the servants supposed, from words that were -dropped, that Miss Maude had triumphed over Miss Grace, and told her -that all the time the dark foreigner had been mocking her with -pretended love--he was her own husband. The colour left Miss Grace's -cheek and lips that very day for ever, and she was heard to say many a -time that sooner or later she would have her revenge; and Mrs. Stark -was for ever spying about the east rooms. - -One fearful night, just after the New Year had come in, when the snow -was lying thick and deep; and the flakes were still falling--fast -enough to blind any one who might be out and abroad--there was a great -and violent noise heard, and the old lord's voice above all, cursing -and swearing awfully, and the cries of a little child, and the proud -defiance of a fierce woman, and the sound of a blow, and a dead -stillness, and moans and wailings dying away on the hill-side! Then the -old lord summoned all his servants, and told them, with terrible oaths, -and words more terrible, that his daughter had disgraced herself, and -that he had turned her out of doors--her, and her child--and that if -ever they gave her help, or food, or shelter, he prayed that they might -never enter heaven. And, all the while, Miss Grace stood by him, white -and still as any stone; and, when he had ended, she heaved a great -sigh, as much as to say her work was done, and her end was -accomplished. But the old lord never touched his organ again, and died -within the year; and no wonder! for, on the morrow of that wild and -fearful night, the shepherds, coming down the Fell side, found Miss -Maude sitting, all crazy and smiling, under the holly-trees, nursing a -dead child, with a terrible mark on its right shoulder. 'But that was -not what killed it,' said Dorothy: 'it was the frost and the cold. -Every wild creature was in its hole, and every beast in its fold, while -the child and its mother were turned out to wander on the Fells! And -now you know all! and I wonder if you are less frightened now?' - -I was more frightened than ever; but I said I was not. I wished Miss -Rosamond and myself well out of that dreadful house for ever; but I -would not leave her, and I dared not take her away. But oh, how I -watched her, and guarded her! We bolted the doors, and shut the -window-shutters fast, an hour or more before dark, rather than leave -them open five minutes too late. But my little lady still heard the -weird child crying and mourning; and not all we could do or say could -keep her from wanting to go to her, and let her in from the cruel wind -and the snow. All this time I kept away from Miss Furnivall and Mrs. -Stark, as much as ever I could; for I feared them--I knew no good could -be about them, with their grey, hard faces, and their dreamy eyes, -looking back into the ghastly years that were gone. But, even in my -fear, I had a kind of pity for Miss Furnivall, at least. Those gone -down to the pit can hardly have a more hopeless look than that which -was ever on her face. At last I even got so sorry for her--who never -said a word but what was quite forced from her--that I prayed for her; -and I taught Miss Rosamond to pray for one who had done a deadly sin; -but often when she came to those words, she would listen, and start up -from her knees, and say, 'I hear my little girl plaining and crying -very sad--oh, let her in, or she will die!' - -One night--just after New Year's Day had come at last, and the long -winter had taken a turn, as I hoped--I heard the west drawing-room bell -ring three times, which was the signal for me. I would not leave Miss -Rosamond alone, for all she was asleep--for the old lord had been -playing wilder than ever--and I feared lest my darling should waken to -hear the spectre child; see her, I knew she could not. I had fastened -the windows too well for that. So I took her out of her bed, and -wrapped her up in such outer clothes as were most handy, and carried -her down to the drawing-room, where the old ladies sat at their -tapestry-work as usual. They looked up when I came in, and Mrs. Stark -asked, quite astounded, 'Why did I bring Miss Rosamond there, out of -her warm bed?' I had begun to whisper, 'Because I was afraid of her -being tempted out while I was away, by the wild child in the snow,' -when she stopped me short (with a glance at Miss Furnivall), and said -Miss Furnivall wanted me to undo some work she had done wrong, and -which neither of them could see to unpick. So I laid my pretty dear on -the sofa, and sat down on a stool by them, and hardened my heart -against them, as I heard the wind rising and howling. - -Miss Rosamond slept on sound, for all the wind blew so Miss Furnivall -said never a word, nor looked round when the gusts shook the windows. -All at once she started up to her full height, and put up one hand, as -if to bid us to listen. - -'I hear voices!' said she. 'I hear terrible screams--I hear my father's -voice!' - -Just at that moment my darling wakened with a sudden start: 'My little -girl is crying, oh, how she is crying!' and she tried to get up and go -to her, but she got her feet entangled in the blanket, and I caught her -up; for my flesh had begun to creep at these noises, which they heard -while we could catch no sound. In a minute or two the noises came, and -gathered fast, and filled our ears; we, too, heard voices and screams, -and no longer heard the winter's wind that raged abroad. Mrs. Stark -looked at me, and I at her, but we dared not speak. Suddenly Miss -Furnivall went towards the door, out into the ante-room, through the -west lobby, and opened the door into the great hall. Mrs. Stark -followed, and I durst not be left, though my heart almost stopped -beating for fear. I wrapped my darling tight in my arms, and went out -with them. In the hall the screams were louder than ever; they seemed -to come from the east wing--nearer and nearer--close on the other side -of the locked-up doors--close behind them. Then I noticed that the -great bronze chandelier seemed all alight, though the hall was dim, and -that a fire was blazing in the vast hearth-place, though it gave no -heat; and I shuddered up with terror, and folded my darling closer to -me. But as I did so the east door shook, and she, suddenly struggling -to get free from me, cried, 'Hester! I must go. My little girl is -there! I hear her; she is coming! Hester, I must go!' - -I held her tight with all my strength; with a set will, I held her. If -I had died, my hands would have grasped her still, I was so resolved in -my mind. Miss Furnivall stood listening, and paid no regard to my -darling, who had got down to the ground, and whom I, upon my knees now, -was holding with both my arms clasped round her neck; she still -striving and crying to get free. - -All at once, the east door gave way with a thundering crash, as if torn -open in a violent passion, and there came into that broad and -mysterious light, the figure of a tall old man, with grey hair and -gleaming eyes. He drove before him, with many a relentless gesture of -abhorrence, a stern and beautiful woman, with a little child clinging -to her dress. - -'Oh, Hester! Hester!' cried Miss Rosamond; 'it's the lady! the lady -below the holly-trees; and my little girl is with her. Hester! Hester! -let me go to her; they are drawing me to them. I feel them--I feel -them. I must go!' - -Again she was almost convulsed by her efforts to get away; but I held -her tighter and tighter, till I feared I should do her a hurt; but -rather that than let her go towards those terrible phantoms. They -passed along towards the great hall-door, where the winds howled and -ravened for their prey; but before they reached that, the lady turned; -and I could see that she defied the old man with a fierce and proud -defiance; but then she quailed--and then she threw up her arms wildly -and piteously to save her child--her little child--from a blow from his -uplifted crutch. - -And Miss Rosamond was torn as by a power stronger than mine and writhed -in my arms, and sobbed (for by this time the poor darling was growing -faint). - -'They want me to go with them on to the Fells--they are drawing me to -them. Oh, my little girl! I would come, but cruel, wicked Hester holds -me very tight.' But when she saw the uplifted crutch, she swooned away, -and I thanked God for it. Just at this moment--when the tall old man, -his hair streaming as in the blast of a furnace, was going to strike -the little shrinking child--Miss Furnivall, the old woman by my side, -cried out, 'Oh father! father! spare the little innocent child!' But -just then I saw--we all saw--another phantom shape itself, and grow -clear out of the blue and misty light that filled the hall; we had not -seen her till now, for it was another lady who stood by the old man, -with a look of relentless hate and triumphant scorn. That figure was -very beautiful to look upon, with a soft, white hat drawn down over the -proud brows, and a red and curling lip. It was dressed in an open robe -of blue satin. I had seen that figure before. It was the likeness of -Miss Furnivall in her youth; and the terrible phantoms moved on, -regardless of old Miss Furnivall's wild entreaty,--and the uplifted -crutch fell on the right shoulder of the little child, and the younger -sister looked on, stony, and deadly serene. But at that moment, the dim -lights, and the fire that gave no heat, went out of themselves, and -Miss Furnivall lay at our feet stricken down by the palsy--death-stricken. - -Yes! she was carried to her bed that night never to rise again. She lay -with her face to the wall, muttering low, but muttering always: 'Alas! -alas! what is done in youth can never be undone in age! What is done in -youth can never be undone in age!' - - - - -THE POOR CLARE - -Chapter 1 - - -December 12th, 1747.--My life has been strangely bound up with -extraordinary incidents, some of which occurred before I had any -connection with the principal actors in them, or, indeed, before I even -knew of their existence. I suppose, most old men are, like me, more -given to looking back upon their own career with a kind of fond -interest and affectionate remembrance, than to watching the -events--though these may have far more interest for the -multitude--immediately passing before their eyes. If this should be the -case with the generality of old people, how much more so with me!... If -I am to enter upon that strange story connected with poor Lucy, I must -begin a long way back. I myself only came to the knowledge of her -family history after I knew her; but, to make the tale clear to any one -else, I must arrange events in the order in which they occurred--not -that in which I became acquainted with them. - -There is a great old hall in the north-east of Lancashire, in a part -they call the Trough of Bolland, adjoining that other district named -Craven. Starkey Manor-House is rather like a number of rooms clustered -round a grey, massive, old keep than a regularly-built hall. Indeed, I -suppose that the house only consisted of the great tower in the centre, -in the days when the Scots made their raids terrible as far south as -this; and that after the Stuarts came in, and there was a little more -security of property in those parts, the Starkeys of that time added -the lower building, which runs, two stories high, all round the base of -the keep. There has been a grand garden laid out in my days, on the -southern slope near the house; but when I first knew the place, the -kitchen-garden at the farm was the only piece of cultivated ground -belonging to it. The deer used to come within sight of the drawing-room -windows, and might have browsed quite close up to the house if they had -not been too wild and shy. Starkey Manor-House itself stood on a -projection or peninsula of high land, jutting out from the abrupt hills -that form the sides of the Trough of Bolland. These hills were rocky -and bleak enough towards their summit; lower down they were clothed -with tangled copsewood and green depths of fern, out of which a grey -giant of an ancient forest-tree would tower here and there, throwing up -its ghastly white branches, as if in imprecation, to the sky. These -trees, they told me, were the remnants of that forest which existed in -the days of the Heptarchy, and were even then noted as landmarks. No -wonder that their upper and more exposed branches were leafless, and -that the dead bark had peeled away, from sapless old age. - -Not far from the house there were a few cottages, apparently of the -same date as the keep, probably built for some retainers of the family, -who sought shelter--they and their families and their small flocks and -herds--at the hands of their feudal lord. Some of them had pretty much -fallen to decay. They were built in a strange fashion. Strong beams had -been sunk firm in the ground at the requisite distance, and their other -ends had been fastened together, two and two, so as to form the shape -of one of those rounded waggon-headed gipsy-tents, only very much -larger. The spaces between were filled with mud, stones, osiers, -rubbish, mortar--anything to keep out the weather. The fires were made -in the centre of these rude dwellings, a hole in the roof forming the -only chimney. No Highland hut or Irish cabin could be of rougher -construction. - -The owner of this property, at the beginning of the present century, -was a Mr. Patrick Byrne Starkey. His family had kept to the old faith, -and were staunch Roman Catholics, esteeming it even a sin to marry any -one of Protestant descent, however willing he or she might have been to -embrace the Romish religion. Mr. Patrick Starkey's father had been a -follower of James the Second; and, during the disastrous Irish campaign -of that monarch, he had fallen in love with an Irish beauty, a Miss -Byrne, as zealous for her religion and for the Stuarts as himself. He -had returned to Ireland after his escape to France, and married her, -bearing her back to the court at St. Germains. But some licence on the -part of the disorderly gentlemen who surrounded King James in his -exile, had insulted his beautiful wife, and disgusted him; so he -removed from St. Germains to Antwerp, whence, in a few years' time, he -quietly returned to Starkey Manor-House--some of his Lancashire -neighbours having lent their good offices to reconcile him to the -powers that were. He was as firm a Roman Catholic as ever, and as -staunch an advocate for the Stuarts and the divine right of kings; but -his religion almost amounted to asceticism, and the conduct of those -with whom he had been brought in such close contact at St. Germains -would little bear the inspection of a stern moralist. So he gave his -allegiance where he could not give his esteem, and learned to respect -sincerely the upright and moral character of one whom he yet regarded -as an usurper. King William's government had little need to fear such a -one. So he returned, as I have said, with a sobered heart and -impoverished fortunes, to his ancestral house, which had fallen sadly -to ruin while the owner had been a courtier, a soldier, and an exile. -The roads into the Trough of Bolland were little more than cart-ruts; -indeed, the way up to the house lay along a ploughed field before you -came to the deer-park. Madam, as the country-folk used to call Mrs. -Starkey, rode on a pillion behind her husband, holding on to him with a -light hand by his leather riding-belt. Little master (he that was -afterwards Squire Patrick Byrne Starkey) was held on to his pony by a -serving-man. A woman past middle age walked, with a firm and strong -step, by the cart that held much of the baggage; and, high up on the -mails and boxes, sat a girl of dazzling beauty, perched lightly on the -topmost trunk, and swaying herself fearlessly to and fro, as the cart -rocked and shook in the heavy roads of late autumn. The girl wore the -Antwerp faille, or black Spanish mantle over her head, and altogether -her appearance was such that the old cottager, who described the -procession to me many years after, said that all the country-folk took -her for a foreigner. Some dogs, and the boy who held them in charge, -made up the company. They rode silently along, looking with grave, -serious eyes at the people, who came out of the scattered cottages to -bow or curtsy to the real Squire, 'come back at last,' and gazed after -the little procession with gaping wonder, not deadened by the sound of -the foreign language in which the few necessary words that passed among -them were spoken. One lad, called from his staring by the Squire to -come and help about the cart, accompanied them to the Manor-House. He -said that when the lady had descended from her pillion, the middle-aged -woman whom I have described as walking while the others rode, stepped -quickly forward, and taking Madam Starkey (who was of a slight and -delicate figure) in her arms, she lifted her over the threshold, and -set her down in her husband's house, at the same time uttering a -passionate and outlandish blessing. The Squire stood by, smiling -gravely at first; but when the words of blessing were pronounced, he -took off his fine feathered hat, and bent his head. The girl with the -black mantle stepped onward into the shadow of the dark hall, and -kissed the lady's hand; and that was all the lad could tell to the -group that gathered round him on his return, eager to hear everything, -and to know how much the Squire had given him for his services. - -From all I could gather, the Manor-House, at the time of the Squire's -return, was in the most dilapidated state. The stout grey walls -remained firm and entire; but the inner chambers had been used for all -kinds of purposes. The great withdrawing-room had been a barn; the -state tapestry-chamber had held wool, and so on. But, by-and-by, they -were cleared out; and if the Squire had no money to spend on new -furniture, he and his wife had the knack of making the best of the old. -He was no despicable joiner; she had a kind of grace in whatever she -did, and imparted an air of elegant picturesqueness to whatever she -touched. Besides, they had brought many rare things from the Continent; -perhaps I should rather say, things that were rare in that part of -England--carvings, and crosses, and beautiful pictures. And then, -again, wood was plentiful in the Trough of Bolland, and great log-fires -danced and glittered in all the dark, old rooms, and gave a look of -home and comfort to everything. - -Why do I tell you all this? I have little to do with the Squire and -Madam Starkey; and yet I dwell upon them, as if I were unwilling to -come to the real people with whom my life was so strangely mixed up. -Madam had been nursed in Ireland by the very woman who lifted her in -her arms, and welcomed her to her husband's home in Lancashire. -Excepting for the short period of her own married life, Bridget -Fitzgerald had never left her nursling. Her marriage--to one above her -in rank--had been unhappy. Her husband had died, and left her in even -greater poverty than that in which she was when he had first met with -her. She had one child, the beautiful daughter who came riding on the -waggon-load of furniture that was brought to the Manor-House. Madam -Starkey had taken her again into her service when she became a widow. -She and her daughter had followed 'the mistress' in all her fortunes; -they had lived at St. Germains and at Antwerp, and were now come to her -home in Lancashire. As soon as Bridget had arrived there, the Squire -gave her a cottage of her own, and took more pains in furnishing it for -her than he did in anything else out of his own house. It was only -nominally her residence. She was constantly up at the great house; -indeed, it was but a short cut across the woods from her own home to -the home of her nursling. Her daughter Mary, in like manner, moved from -one house to the other at her own will. Madam loved both mother and -child dearly. They had great influence over her, and, through her, over -her husband. Whatever Bridget or Mary willed was sure to come to pass. -They were not disliked; for, though wild and passionate, they were also -generous by nature. But the other servants were afraid of them, as -being in secret the ruling spirits of the household. The Squire had -lost his interest in all secular things; Madam was gentle, -affectionate, and yielding. Both husband and wife were tenderly -attached to each other and to their boy; but they grew more and more to -shun the trouble of decision on any point; and hence it was that -Bridget could exert such despotic power. But if every one else yielded -to her 'magic of a superior mind,' her daughter not unfrequently -rebelled. She and her mother were too much alike to agree. There were -wild quarrels between them, and wilder reconciliations. There were -times when, in the heat of passion, they could have stabbed each other. -At all other times they both--Bridget especially--would have willingly -laid down their lives for one another. Bridget's love for her child lay -very deep--deeper than that daughter ever knew; or I should think she -would never have wearied of home as she did, and prayed her mistress to -obtain for her some situation--as waiting-maid--beyond the seas, in -that more cheerful continental life, among the scenes of which so many -of her happiest years had been spent. She thought, as youth thinks, -that life would last for ever, and that two or three years were but a -small portion of it to pass away from her mother, whose only child she -was. Bridget thought differently, but was too proud ever to show what -she felt. If her child wished to leave her, why--she should go. But -people said Bridget became ten years older in the course of two months -at this time. She took it that Mary wanted to leave her. The truth was, -that Mary wanted for a time to leave the place, and to seek some -change, and would thankfully have taken her mother with her. Indeed, -when Madam Starkey had gotten her a situation with some grand lady -abroad, and the time drew near for her to go, it was Mary who clung to -her mother with passionate embrace, and, with floods of tears, declared -that she would never leave her; and it was Bridget, who at last -loosened her arms, and, grave and tearless herself, bade her keep her -word, and go forth into the wide world. Sobbing aloud, and looking back -continually, Mary went away. Bridget was still as death, scarcely -drawing her breath, or closing her stony eyes; till at last she turned -back into her cottage, and heaved a ponderous old settle against the -door. There she sat, motionless, over the grey ashes of her -extinguished fire, deaf to Madam's sweet voice, as she begged leave to -enter and comfort her nurse. Deaf, stony, and motionless, she sat for -more than twenty hours; till, for the third time, Madam came across the -snowy path from the great house, carrying with her a young spaniel, -which had been Mary's pet up at the hall, and which had not ceased all -night long to seek for its absent mistress, and to whine and moan after -her. With tears Madam told this story, through the closed door--tears -excited by the terrible look of anguish, so steady, so immovable--so -the same to-day as it was yesterday--on her nurse's face. The little -creature in her arms began to utter its piteous cry, as it shivered -with the cold. Bridget stirred; she moved--she listened. Again that -long whine; she thought it was for her daughter; and what she had -denied to her nursling and mistress she granted to the dumb creature -that Mary had cherished. She opened the door, and took the dog from -Madam's arms. Then Madam came in, and kissed and comforted the old -woman, who took but little notice of her or anything. And sending up -Master Patrick to the hall for fire and food, the sweet young lady -never left her nurse all that night. Next day, the Squire himself came -down, carrying a beautiful foreign picture: Our Lady of the Holy Heart, -the Papists call it. It is a picture of the Virgin, her heart pierced -with arrows, each arrow representing one of her great woes. That -picture hung in Bridget's cottage when I first saw her; I have that -picture now. - -Years went on. Mary was still abroad. Bridget was still and stern, -instead of active and passionate. The little dog, Mignon, was indeed -her darling. I have heard that she talked to it continually; although, -to most people, she was so silent. The Squire and Madam treated her -with the greatest consideration, and well they might; for to them she -was as devoted and faithful as ever. Mary wrote pretty often, and -seemed satisfied with her life. But at length the letters ceased--I -hardly know whether before or after a great and terrible sorrow came -upon the house of the Starkeys. The Squire sickened of a putrid fever; -and Madam caught it in nursing him, and died. You may be sure, Bridget -let no other woman tend her but herself; and in the very arms that had -received her at her birth, that sweet young woman laid her head down, -and gave up her breath. The Squire recovered, in a fashion. He was -never strong--he had never the heart to smile again. He fasted and -prayed more than ever; and people did say that he tried to cut off the -entail, and leave all the property away to found a monastery abroad, of -which he prayed that some day little Squire Patrick might be the -reverend father. But he could not do this, for the strictness of the -entail and the laws against the Papists. So he could only appoint -gentlemen of his own faith as guardians to his son, with many charges -about the lad's soul, and a few about the land, and the way it was to -be held while he was a minor. Of course, Bridget was not forgotten. He -sent for her as he lay on his death-bed, and asked her if she would -rather have a sum down, or have a small annuity settled upon her. She -said at once she would have a sum down; for she thought of her -daughter, and how she could bequeath the money to her, whereas an -annuity would have died with her. So the Squire left her her cottage -for life, and a fair sum of money. And then he died, with as ready and -willing a heart as, I suppose, ever any gentleman took out of this -world with him. The young Squire was carried off by his guardians, and -Bridget was left alone. - -I have said that she had not heard from Mary for some time. In her last -letter, she had told of travelling about with her mistress, who was the -English wife of some great foreign officer, and had spoken of her -chances of making a good marriage, without naming the gentleman's name, -keeping it rather back as a pleasant surprise to her mother; his -station and fortune being, as I had afterwards reason to know, far -superior to anything she had a right to expect. Then came a long -silence; and Madam was dead, and the Squire was dead; and Bridget's -heart was gnawed by anxiety, and she knew not whom to ask for news of -her child. She could not write, and the Squire had managed her -communication with her daughter. She walked off to Hurst; and got a -good priest there--one whom she had known at Antwerp--to write for her. -But no answer came. It was like crying into the awful stillness of -night. - -One day, Bridget was missed by those neighbours who had been accustomed -to mark her goings-out and comings-in. She had never been sociable with -any of them; but the sight of her had become a part of their daily -lives, and slow wonder arose in their minds, as morning after morning -came, and her house-door remained closed, her window dead from any -glitter, or light of fire within. At length, some one tried the door; -it was locked. Two or three laid their heads together, before daring to -look in through the blank, unshuttered window. But, at last, they -summoned up courage; and then saw that Bridget's absence from their -little world was not the result of accident or death, but of -premeditation. Such small articles of furniture as could be secured -from the effects of time and damp by being packed up, were stowed away -in boxes. The picture of the Madonna was taken down, and gone. In a -word, Bridget had stolen away from her home, and left no trace whither -she was departed. I knew afterwards, that she and her little dog had -wandered off on the long search for her lost daughter. She was too -illiterate to have faith in letters, even had she had the means of -writing and sending many. But she had faith in her own strong love, and -believed that her passionate instinct would guide her to her child. -Besides, foreign travel was no new thing to her, and she could speak -enough of French to explain the object of her journey, and had, -moreover, the advantage of being, from her faith, a welcome object of -charitable hospitality at many a distant convent. But the country -people round Starkey Manor-House knew nothing of all this. They -wondered what had become of her, in a torpid, lazy fashion, and then -left off thinking of her altogether. Several years passed. Both -Manor-House and cottage were deserted. The young Squire lived far away -under the direction of his guardians. There were inroads of wool and -corn into the sitting-rooms of the Hall; and there was some low talk, -from time to time, among the hinds and country people, whether it would -not be as well to break into old Bridget's cottage, and save such of -her goods as were left from the moth and rust which must be making sad -havoc. But this idea was always quenched by the recollection of her -strong character and passionate anger; and tales of her masterful -spirit, and vehement force of will, were whispered about, till the very -thought of offending her, by touching any article of hers, became -invested with a kind of horror: it was believed that, dead or alive, -she would not fail to avenge it. - -Suddenly she came home; with as little noise or note of preparation as -she had departed. One day, some one noticed a thin, blue curl of smoke, -ascending from her chimney. Her door stood open to the noon-day sun; -and, ere many hours had elapsed, some one had seen an old -travel-and-sorrow-stained woman dipping her pitcher in the well; and -said, that the dark, solemn eyes that looked up at him were more like -Bridget Fitzgerald's than any one else's in this world; and yet, if it -were she, she looked as if she had been scorched in the flames of hell, -so brown, and scared, and fierce a creature did she seem. By-and-by -many saw her; and those who met her eye once cared not to be caught -looking at her again. She had got into the habit of perpetually talking -to herself; nay, more, answering herself, and varying her tones -according to the side she took at the moment. It was no wonder that -those who dared to listen outside her door at night, believed that she -held converse with some spirit; in short, she was unconsciously earning -for herself the dreadful reputation of a witch. - -Her little dog, which had wandered half over the Continent with her, -was her only companion; a dumb remembrancer of happier days. Once he -was ill; and she carried him more than three miles, to ask about his -management from one who had been groom to the last Squire, and had then -been noted for his skill in all diseases of animals. Whatever this man -did, the dog recovered; and they who heard her thanks, intermingled -with blessings (that were rather promises of good fortune than -prayers), looked grave at his good luck when, next year, his ewes -twinned, and his meadow-grass was heavy and thick. - -Now it so happened that, about the year seventeen hundred and eleven, -one of the guardians of the young Squire, a certain Sir Philip Tempest, -bethought him of the good shooting there must be on his ward's -property; and, in consequence, he brought down four or five gentlemen, -of his friends, to stay for a week or two at the Hall. From all -accounts, they roystered and spent pretty freely. I never heard any of -their names but one, and that was Squire Gisborne's. He was hardly a -middle-aged man then; he had been much abroad, and there, I believe, he -had known Sir Philip Tempest, and done him some service. He was a -daring and dissolute fellow in those days: careless and fearless, and -one who would rather be in a quarrel than out of it. He had his fits of -ill-temper beside, when he would spare neither man nor beast. -Otherwise, those who knew him well, used to say he had a good heart, -when he was neither drunk, nor angry, nor in any way vexed. He had -altered much when I came to know him. - -One day, the gentlemen had all been out shooting, and with but little -success, I believe; anyhow, Mr. Gisborne had had none, and was in a -black humour accordingly. He was coming home, having his gun loaded, -sportsman-like, when little Mignon crossed his path, just as he turned -out of the wood by Bridget's cottage. Partly for wantonness, partly to -vent his spleen upon some living creature, Mr. Gisborne took his gun, -and fired--he had better have never fired gun again, than aimed that -unlucky shot. He hit Mignon; and at the creature's sudden cry, Bridget -came out, and saw at a glance what had been done. She took Mignon up in -her arms, and looked hard at the wound; the poor dog looked at her with -his glazing eyes, and tried to wag his tail and lick her hand, all -covered with blood. Mr. Gisborne spoke in a kind of sullen penitence: - -'You should have kept the dog out of my way--a little poaching -varmint.' - -At this very moment, Mignon stretched out his legs, and stiffened in -her arms--her lost Mary's dog, who had wandered and sorrowed with her -for years. She walked right into Mr. Gisborne's path, and fixed his -unwilling, sullen look with her dark and terrible eye. - -'Those never throve that did me harm,' said she. 'I'm alone in the -world, and helpless; the more do the Saints in Heaven hear my prayers. -Hear me, ye blessed ones! hear me while I ask for sorrow on this bad, -cruel man. He has killed the only creature that loved me--the dumb -beast that I loved. Bring down heavy sorrow on his head for it, O ye -Saints! He thought that I was helpless, because he saw me lonely and -poor; but are not the armies of Heaven for the like of me?' - -'Come, come,' said he, half-remorseful, but not one whit afraid. -'Here's a crown to buy thee another dog. Take it, and leave off -cursing! I care none for thy threats.' - -'Don't you?' said she, coming a step closer, and changing her -imprecatory cry for a whisper which made the gamekeeper's lad, -following Mr. Gisborne, creep all over. 'You shall live to see the -creature you love best, and who alone loves you--ay, a human creature, -but as innocent and fond as my poor, dead darling--you shall see this -creature, for whom death would be too happy, become a terror and a -loathing to all, for this blood's sake. Hear me, O holy Saints, who -never fail them that have no other help!' - -She threw up her right hand, filled with poor Mignon's life-drops; they -spirted, one or two of them, on his shooting-dress,--an ominous sight -to the follower. But the master only laughed a little, forced, scornful -laugh, and went on to the Hall. Before he got there, however, he took -out a gold piece, and bade the boy carry it to the old woman on his -return to the village. The lad was 'afeard,' as he told me in after -years; he came to the cottage, and hovered about, not daring to enter. -He peeped through the window at last; and by the flickering wood-flame, -he saw Bridget kneeling before the picture of our Lady of the Holy -Heart, with dead Mignon lying between her and the Madonna. She was -praying wildly, as her outstretched arms betokened. The lad shrank away -in redoubled terror; and contented himself with slipping the gold-piece -under the ill-fitting door. The next day it was thrown out upon the -midden; and there it lay, no one daring to touch it. - -Meanwhile Mr. Gisborne, half curious, half uneasy, thought to lessen -his uncomfortable feelings by asking Sir Philip who Bridget was? He -could only describe her--he did not know her name. Sir Philip was -equally at a loss. But an old servant of the Starkeys, who had resumed -his livery at the Hall on this occasion--a scoundrel whom Bridget had -saved from dismissal more than once during her palmy days--said:-- - -'It will be the old witch, that his worship means. She needs a ducking, -if ever woman did, does that Bridget Fitzgerald.' - -'Fitzgerald!' said both the gentlemen at once. But Sir Philip was the -first to continue: - -'I must have no talk of ducking her, Dickon. Why, she must be the very -woman poor Starkey bade me have a care of; but when I came here last -she was gone, no one knew where. I'll go and see her tomorrow. But mind -you, sirrah, if any harm comes to her, or any more talk of her being a -witch--I've a pack of hounds at home, who can follow the scent of a -lying knave as well as ever they followed a dog-fox; so take care how -you talk about ducking a faithful old servant of your dead master's.' - -'Had she ever a daughter?' asked Mr. Gisborne, after a while. - -'I don't know--yes! I've a notion she had; a kind of waiting-woman to -Madam Starkey.' - -'Please your worship,' said humbled Dickon, 'Mistress Bridget had a -daughter--one Mistress Mary--who went abroad, and has never been heard -on since; and folk do say that has crazed her mother.' - -Mr. Gisborne shaded his eyes with his hand. - -'I could wish she had not cursed me,' he muttered. 'She may have -power--no one else could.' After a while, he said aloud, no one -understanding rightly what he meant, 'Tush! it's impossible!'--and -called for claret; and he and the other gentlemen set to to a -drinking-bout. - - - - -Chapter 2 - - -I now come to the time in which I myself was mixed up with the people -that I have been writing about. And to make you understand how I became -connected with them, I must give you some little account of myself. My -father was the younger son of a Devonshire gentleman of moderate -property; my eldest uncle succeeded to the estate of his forefathers, -my second became an eminent attorney in London, and my father took -orders. Like most poor clergymen, he had a large family; and I have no -doubt was glad enough when my London uncle, who was a bachelor, offered -to take charge of me, and bring me up to be his successor in business. - -In this way I came to live in London, in my uncle's house, not far from -Gray's Inn, and to be treated and esteemed as his son, and to labour -with him in his office. I was very fond of the old gentleman. He was -the confidential agent of many country squires, and had attained to his -present position as much by knowledge of human nature as by knowledge -of law; though he was learned enough in the latter. He used to say his -business was law, his pleasure heraldry. From his intimate acquaintance -with family history, and all the tragic courses of life therein -involved, to hear him talk, at leisure times, about any coat of arms -that came across his path was as good as a play or a romance. Many -cases of disputed property, dependent on a love of genealogy, were -brought to him, as to a great authority on such points. If the lawyer -who came to consult him was young, he would take no fee, only give him -a long lecture on the importance of attending to heraldry; if the -lawyer was of mature age and good standing, he would mulct him pretty -well, and abuse him to me afterwards as negligent of one great branch -of the profession. His house was in a stately new street called Ormond -Street, and in it he had a handsome library; but all the books treated -of things that were past; none of them planned or looked forward into -the future. I worked away--partly for the sake of my family at home, -partly because my uncle had really taught me to enjoy the kind of -practice in which he himself took such delight. I suspect I worked too -hard; at any rate, in seventeen hundred and eighteen I was far from -well, and my good uncle was disturbed by my ill looks. - -One day, he rang the bell twice into the clerk's room at the dingy -office in Gray's Inn Lane. It was the summons for me, and I went into -his private room just as a gentleman--whom I knew well enough by sight -as an Irish lawyer of more reputation than he deserved--was leaving. - -My uncle was slowly rubbing his hands together and considering. I was -there two or three minutes before he spoke. Then he told me that I must -pack up my portmanteau that very afternoon, and start that night by -post-horse for West Chester. I should get there, if all went well, at -the end of five days' time, and must then wait for a packet to cross -over to Dublin; from thence I must proceed to a certain town named -Kildoon, and in that neighbourhood I was to remain, making certain -inquiries as to the existence of any descendants of the younger branch -of a family to whom some valuable estates had descended in the female -line. The Irish lawyer whom I had seen was weary of the case, and would -willingly have given up the property, without further ado, to a man who -appeared to claim them; but on laying his tables and trees before my -uncle, the latter had foreseen so many possible prior claimants, that -the lawyer had begged him to undertake the management of the whole -business. In his youth, my uncle would have liked nothing better than -going over to Ireland himself, and ferreting out every scrap of paper -or parchment, and every word of tradition respecting the family. As it -was, old and gouty, he deputed me. - -Accordingly, I went to Kildoon. I suspect I had something of my uncle's -delight in following up a genealogical scent, for I very soon found -out, when on the spot, that Mr. Rooney, the Irish lawyer, would have -got both himself and the first claimant into a terrible scrape, if he -had pronounced his opinion that the estates ought to be given up to -him. There were three poor Irish fellows, each nearer of kin to the -last possessor; but, a generation before, there was a still nearer -relation, who had never been accounted for, nor his existence ever -discovered by the lawyers, I venture to think, till I routed him out -from the memory of some of the old dependants of the family. What had -become of him? I travelled backwards and forwards; I crossed over to -France, and came back again with a slight clue, which ended in my -discovering that, wild and dissipated himself, he had left one child, a -son, of yet worse character than his father; that this same Hugh -Fitzgerald had married a very beautiful serving-woman of the Byrnes--a -person below him in hereditary rank, but above him in character; that -he had died soon after his marriage, leaving one child, whether a boy -or a girl I could not learn, and that the mother had returned to live -in the family of the Byrnes. Now, the chief of this latter family was -serving in the Duke of Berwick's regiment, and it was long before I -could hear from him; it was more than a year before I got a short, -haughty letter--I fancy he had a soldier's contempt for a civilian, an -Irishman's hatred for an Englishman, an exiled Jacobite's jealousy of -one who prospered and lived tranquilly under the government he looked -upon as an usurpation. 'Bridget Fitzgerald,' he said, 'had been -faithful to the fortunes of his sister--had followed her abroad, and to -England when Mrs. Starkey had thought fit to return. Both her sister -and her husband were dead; he knew nothing of Bridget Fitzgerald at the -present time: probably Sir Philip Tempest, his nephew's guardian, might -be able to give me some information.' I have not given the little -contemptuous terms; the way in which faithful service was meant to -imply more than it said--all that has nothing to do with my story. Sir -Philip, when applied to, told me that he paid an annuity regularly to -an old woman named Fitzgerald, living at Coldholme (the village near -Starkey Manor-House). Whether she had any descendants he could not say. - -One bleak March evening, I came in sight of the places described at the -beginning of my story. I could hardly understand the rude dialect in -which the direction to old Bridget's house was given. - -'Yo' see yon furleets,' all run together, gave me no idea that I was to -guide myself by the distant lights that shone in the windows of the -Hall, occupied for the time by a farmer who held the post of steward, -while the Squire, now four or five and twenty, was making the grand -tour. However, at last, I reached Bridget's cottage--a low, moss-grown -place; the palings that had once surrounded it were broken and gone; -and the underwood of the forest came up to the walls, and must have -darkened the windows. It was about seven o'clock--not late to my London -notions--but, after knocking for some time at the door and receiving no -reply, I was driven to conjecture that the occupant of the house was -gone to bed. So I betook myself to the nearest church I had seen, three -miles back on the road I had come, sure that close to that I should -find an inn of some kind; and early the next morning I set off back to -Coldholme, by a field-path which my host assured me I should find a -shorter cut than the road I had taken the night before. It was a cold, -sharp morning; my feet left prints in the sprinkling of hoar-frost that -covered the ground; nevertheless, I saw an old woman, whom I -instinctively suspected to be the object of my search, in a sheltered -covert on one side of my path. I lingered and watched her. She must -have been considerably above the middle size in her prime, for when she -raised herself from the stooping position in which I first saw her, -there was something fine and commanding in the erectness of her figure. -She drooped again in a minute or two, and seemed looking for something -on the ground, as, with bent head, she turned off from the spot where I -gazed upon her, and was lost to my sight. I fancy I missed my way, and -made a round in spite of the landlord's directions; for by the time I -had reached Bridget's cottage she was there, with no semblance of -hurried walk or discomposure of any kind. The door was slightly ajar. I -knocked, and the majestic figure stood before me, silently awaiting the -explanation of my errand. Her teeth were all gone, so the nose and chin -were brought near together; the grey eyebrows were straight, and almost -hung over her deep, cavernous eyes, and the thick white hair lay in -silvery masses over the low, wide, wrinkled forehead. For a moment, I -stood uncertain how to shape my answer to the solemn questioning of her -silence. - -'Your name is Bridget Fitzgerald, I believe?' She bowed her head in -assent. - -'I have something to say to you. May I come in? I am unwilling to keep -you standing.' - -'You cannot tire me,' she said, and at first she seemed inclined to -deny me the shelter of her roof. But the next moment--she had searched -the very soul in me with her eyes during that instant--she led me in, -and dropped the shadowing hood of her grey, draping cloak, which had -previously hid part of the character of her countenance. The cottage -was rude and bare enough. But before that picture of the Virgin, of -which I have made mention, there stood a little cup filled with fresh -primroses. While she paid her reverence to the Madonna, I understood -why she had been out seeking through the clumps of green in the -sheltered copse. Then she turned round, and bade me be seated. The -expression of her face, which all this time I was studying, was not -bad, as the stories of my last night's landlord had led me to expect; -it was a wild, stern, fierce, indomitable countenance, seamed and -scarred by agonies of solitary weeping; but it was neither cunning nor -malignant. - -'My name is Bridget Fitzgerald,' said she, by way of opening our -conversation. - -'And your husband was Hugh Fitzgerald, of Knock-Mahon, near Kildoon, in -Ireland?' - -A faint light came into the dark gloom of her eyes. - -'He was.' - -'May I ask if you had any children by him?' - -The light in her eyes grew quick and red. She tried to speak, I could -see; but something rose in her throat, and choked her, and until she -could speak calmly, she would fain not speak at all before a stranger. -In a minute or so she said: - -'I had a daughter--one Mary Fitzgerald,'--then her strong nature -mastered her strong will, and she cried out, with a trembling, wailing -cry: 'Oh, man! what of her?--what of her?' - -She rose from her seat, and came and clutched at my arm, and looked in -my eyes. There she read, as I suppose, my utter ignorance of what had -become of her child; for she went blindly back to her chair, and sat -rocking herself and softly moaning, as if I were not there; I not -daring to speak to the lone and awful woman. After a little pause, she -knelt down before the picture of our Lady of the Holy Heart, and spoke -to her by all the fanciful and poetic names of the Litany. - -'O Rose of Sharon! O Tower of David! O Star of the Sea! have you no -comfort for my sore heart? Am I for ever to hope? Grant me at least -despair!'--and so on she went, heedless of my presence. Her prayers -grew wilder and wilder, till they seemed to me to touch on the borders -of madness and blasphemy. Almost involuntarily, I spoke as if to stop -her. - -'Have you any reason to think that your daughter is dead?' - -She rose from her knees, and came and stood before me. - -'Mary Fitzgerald is dead,' said she. 'I shall never see her again in -the flesh. No tongue ever told me. But I know she is dead. I have -yearned so to see her, and my heart's will is fearful and strong: it -would have drawn her to me before now, if she had been a wanderer on -the other side of the world. I wonder often it has not drawn her out of -the grave to come and stand before me, and hear me tell her how I loved -her. For, sir, we parted unfriends.' - -I knew nothing but the dry particulars needed for my lawyer's quest, -but I could not help feeling for the desolate woman; and she must have -read the unusual sympathy with her wistful eyes. - -'Yes, sir, we did. She never knew how I loved her; and we parted -unfriends; and I fear me that I wished her voyage might not turn out -well, only meaning,--O, blessed Virgin! you know I only meant that she -should come home to her mother's arms as to the happiest place on -earth; but my wishes are terrible--their power goes beyond my -thought--and there is no hope for me, if my words brought Mary harm.' - -'But,' I said, 'you do not know that she is dead. Even now, you hoped -she might be alive. Listen to me,' and I told her the tale I have -already told you, giving it all in the driest manner, for I wanted to -recall the clear sense that I felt almost sure she had possessed in her -younger days, and by keeping up her attention to details, restrain the -vague wildness of her grief. - -She listened with deep attention, putting from time to time such -questions as convinced me I had to do with no common intelligence, -however dimmed and shorn by solitude and mysterious sorrow. Then she -took up her tale; and in few brief words, told me of her wanderings -abroad in vain search after her daughter; sometimes in the wake of -armies, sometimes in camp, sometimes in city. The lady, whose -waiting-woman Mary had gone to be, had died soon after the date of her -last letter home; her husband, the foreign officer, had been serving in -Hungary, whither Bridget had followed him, but too late to find him. -Vague rumours reached her that Mary had made a great marriage; and this -sting of doubt was added,--whether the mother might not be close to her -child under her new name, and even hearing of her every day, and yet -never recognising the lost one under the appellation she then bore. At -length the thought took possession of her, that it was possible that -all this time Mary might be at home at Coldholme, in the Trough of -Bolland, in Lancashire, in England; and home came Bridget, in that vain -hope, to her desolate hearth, and empty cottage. Here she had thought -it safest to remain; if Mary was in life, it was here she would seek -for her mother. - -I noted down one or two particulars out of Bridget's narrative that I -thought might be of use to me; for I was stimulated to further search -in a strange and extraordinary manner. It seemed as if it were -impressed upon me, that I must take up the quest where Bridget had laid -it down; and this for no reason that had previously influenced me (such -as my uncle's anxiety on the subject, my own reputation as a lawyer, -and so on), but from some strange power which had taken possession of -my will only that very morning, and which forced it in the direction it -chose. - -'I will go,' said I. 'I will spare nothing in the search. Trust to me. -I will learn all that can be learnt. You shall know all that money, or -pains, or wit can discover. It is true she may be long dead: but she -may have left a child.' - -'A child!' she cried, as if for the first time this idea had struck her -mind. 'Hear him, Blessed Virgin! he says she may have left a child. And -you have never told me, though I have prayed so for a sign, waking or -sleeping!' - -'Nay,' said I, 'I know nothing but what you tell me. You say you heard -of her marriage.' - -But she caught nothing of what I said. She was praying to the Virgin in -a kind of ecstacy, which seemed to render her unconscious of my very -presence. - -From Coldholme I went to Sir Philip Tempest's. The wife of the foreign -officer had been a cousin of his father's, and from him I thought I -might gain some particulars as to the existence of the Count de la Tour -d'Auvergne, and where I could find him; for I knew questions _de vive -voix_ aid the flagging recollection, and I was determined to lose no -chance for want of trouble. But Sir Philip had gone abroad, and it -would be some time before I could receive an answer. So I followed my -uncle's advice, to whom I had mentioned how wearied I felt, both in -body and mind, by my will-o'-the-wisp search. He immediately told me to -go to Harrogate, there to await Sir Philip's reply. I should be near to -one of the places connected with my search, Coldholme; not far from Sir -Philip Tempest, in case he returned, and I wished to ask him any -further questions; and, in conclusion, my uncle bade me try to forget -all about my business for a time. - -This was far easier said than done. I have seen a child on a common -blown along by a high wind, without power of standing still and -resisting the tempestuous force. I was somewhat in the same predicament -as regarded my mental state. Something resistless seemed to urge my -thoughts on, through every possible course by which there was a chance -of attaining to my object. I did not see the sweeping moors when I -walked out: when I held a book in my hand, and read the words, their -sense did not penetrate to my brain. If I slept, I went on with the -same ideas, always flowing in the same direction. This could not last -long without having a bad effect on the body. I had an illness, which, -although I was racked with pain, was a positive relief to me, as it -compelled me to live in the present suffering, and not in the visionary -researches I had been continually making before. My kind uncle came to -nurse me; and after the immediate danger was over, my life seemed to -slip away in delicious languor for two or three months. I did not -ask--so much did I dread falling into the old channel of -thought--whether any reply had been received to my letter to Sir -Philip. I turned my whole imagination right away from all that subject. -My uncle remained with me until nigh summer, and then returned to his -business in London; leaving me perfectly well, although not completely -strong. I was to follow him in a fortnight; when, as he said, 'we would -look over letters, and talk about several things.' I knew what this -little speech alluded to, and shrank from the train of thought it -suggested, which was so intimately connected with my first feelings of -illness. However, I had a fortnight more to roam on those invigorating -Yorkshire moors. - -In those days, there was one large, rambling inn at Harrogate, close to -the Medicinal Spring; but it was already becoming too small for the -accommodation of the influx of visitors, and many lodged round about, -in the farm-houses of the district. It was so early in the season, that -I had the inn pretty much to myself; and, indeed, felt rather like a -visitor in a private house, so intimate had the landlord and landlady -become with me during my long illness. She would chide me for being out -so late on the moors, or for having been too long without food, quite -in a motherly way; while he consulted me about vintages and wines, and -taught me many a Yorkshire wrinkle about horses. In my walks I met -other strangers from time to time. Even before my uncle had left me, I -had noticed, with half-torpid curiosity, a young lady of very striking -appearance, who went about always accompanied by an elderly companion, -hardly a gentlewoman, but with something in her look that prepossessed -me in her favour. The younger lady always put her veil down when any -one approached; so it had been only once or twice, when I had come upon -her at a sudden turn in the path, that I had even had a glimpse of her -face. I am not sure if it was beautiful, though in after-life I grew to -think it so. But it was at this time over-shadowed by a sadness that -never varied: a pale, quiet, resigned look of intense suffering, that -irresistibly attracted me, not with love, but with a sense of infinite -compassion for one so young yet so hopelessly unhappy. The companion -wore something of the same look: quiet, melancholy, hopeless, yet -resigned. I asked my landlord who they were. He said they were called -Clarke, and wished to be considered as mother and daughter; but that, -for his part, he did not believe that to be their right name, or that -there was any such relationship between them. They had been in the -neighbourhood of Harrogate for some time, lodging in a remote -farm-house. The people there would tell nothing about them; saying that -they paid handsomely, and never did any harm; so why should they be -speaking of any strange things that might happen? That, as the landlord -shrewdly observed, showed there was something out of the common way: he -had heard that the elderly woman was a cousin of the farmer's where -they lodged, and so the regard existing between relations might help to -keep them quiet. - -'What did he think, then, was the reason for their extreme seclusion?' -asked I. - -'Nay, he could not tell, not he. He had heard that the young lady, for -all as quiet as she seemed, played strange pranks at times.' He shook -his head when I asked him for more particulars, and refused to give -them, which made me doubt if he knew any, for he was in general a -talkative and communicative man. In default of other interests, after -my uncle left, I set myself to watch these two people. I hovered about -their walks, drawn towards them with a strange fascination, which was -not diminished by their evident annoyance at so frequently meeting me. -One day, I had the sudden good fortune to be at hand when they were -alarmed by the attack of a bull, which, in those unenclosed grazing -districts, was a particularly dangerous occurrence. I have other and -more important things to relate, than to tell of the accident which -gave me an opportunity of rescuing them; it is enough to say, that this -event was the beginning of an acquaintance, reluctantly acquiesced in -by them, but eagerly prosecuted by me. I can hardly tell when intense -curiosity became merged in love, but in less than ten days after my -uncle's departure I was passionately enamoured of Mrs. Lucy, as her -attendant called her; carefully--for this I noted well--avoiding any -address which appeared as if there was an equality of station between -them. I noticed also that Mrs. Clarke, the elderly woman, after her -first reluctance to allow me to pay them any attentions had been -overcome, was cheered by my evident attachment to the young girl; it -seemed to lighten her heavy burden of care, and she evidently favoured -my visits to the farm-house where they lodged. It was not so with Lucy. -A more attractive person I never saw, in spite of her depression of -manner, and shrinking avoidance of me. I felt sure at once, that -whatever was the source of her grief, it rose from no fault of her own. -It was difficult to draw her into conversation; but when at times, for -a moment or two, I beguiled her into talk, I could see a rare -intelligence in her face, and a grave, trusting look in the soft, grey -eyes that were raised for a minute to mine. I made every excuse I -possibly could for going there. I sought wild flowers for Lucy's sake; -I planned walks for Lucy's sake; I watched the heavens by night, in -hopes that some unusual beauty of sky would justify me in tempting Mrs. -Clarke and Lucy forth upon the moors, to gaze at the great purple dome -above. - -It seemed to me that Lucy was aware of my love; but that, for some -motive which I could not guess, she would fain have repelled me; but -then again I saw, or fancied I saw, that her heart spoke in my favour, -and that there was a struggle going on in her mind, which at times (I -loved so dearly) I could have begged her to spare herself, even though -the happiness of my whole life should have been the sacrifice; for her -complexion grew paler, her aspect of sorrow more hopeless, her delicate -frame yet slighter. During this period I had written, I should say, to -my uncle, to beg to be allowed to prolong my stay at Harrogate, not -giving any reason; but such was his tenderness towards me, that in a -few days I heard from him, giving me a willing permission, and only -charging me to take care of myself, and not use too much exertion -during the hot weather. - -One sultry evening I drew near the farm. The windows of their parlour -were open, and I heard voices when I turned the corner of the house, as -I passed the first window (there were two windows in their little -ground-floor room). I saw Lucy distinctly; but when I had knocked at -their door--the house-door stood always ajar--she was gone, and I saw -only Mrs. Clarke, turning over the work-things lying on the table, in a -nervous and purposeless manner. I felt by instinct that a conversation -of some importance was coming on, in which I should be expected to say -what was my object in paying these frequent visits. I was glad of the -opportunity. My uncle had several times alluded to the pleasant -possibility of my bringing home a young wife, to cheer and adorn the -old house in Ormond Street. He was rich, and I was to succeed him, and -had, as I knew, a fair reputation for so young a lawyer. So on my side -I saw no obstacle. It was true that Lucy was shrouded in mystery; her -name (I was convinced it was not Clarke), birth, parentage, and -previous life were unknown to me. But I was sure of her goodness and -sweet innocence, and although I knew that there must be something -painful to be told, to account for her mournful sadness, yet I was -willing to bear my share in her grief, whatever it might be. - -Mrs. Clarke began, as if it was a relief to her to plunge into the -subject. - -'We have thought, sir--at least I have thought--that you know very -little of us, nor we of you, indeed; not enough to warrant the intimate -acquaintance we have fallen into. I beg your pardon, sir,' she went on, -nervously; 'I am but a plain kind of woman, and I mean to use no -rudeness; but I must say straight out that I--we--think it would be -better for you not to come so often to see us. She is very unprotected, -and----' - -'Why should I not come to see you, dear madam?' asked I, eagerly, glad -of the opportunity of explaining myself. 'I come, I own, because I have -learnt to love Mistress Lucy, and wish to teach her to love me.' - -Mistress Clarke shook her head, and sighed. - -'Don't, sir--neither love her, nor, for the sake of all you hold -sacred, teach her to love you! If I am too late, and you love her -already, forget her,--forget these last few weeks. O! I should never -have allowed you to come!' she went on, passionately; 'but what am I to -do? We are forsaken by all, except the great God, and even He permits a -strange and evil power to afflict us--what am I to do? Where is it to -end?' She wrung her hands in her distress; then she turned to me: 'Go -away, sir; go away, before you learn to care any more for her. I ask it -for your own sake--I implore. You have been good and kind to us, and we -shall always recollect you with gratitude; but go away now, and never -come back to cross our fatal path!' - -'Indeed, madam,' said I, 'I shall do no such thing. You urge it for my -own sake. I have no fear, so urged--nor wish, except to hear more--all. -I cannot have seen Mistress Lucy in all the intimacy of this last -fortnight, without acknowledging her goodness and innocence; and -without seeing--pardon me, madam--that for some reason you are two very -lonely women, in some mysterious sorrow and distress. Now, though I am -not powerful myself, yet I have friends who are so wise and kind, that -they may be said to possess power. Tell me some particulars. Why are -you in grief--what is your secret--why are you here? I declare solemnly -that nothing you have said has daunted me in my wish to become Lucy's -husband; nor will I shrink from any difficulty that, as such an -aspirant, I may have to encounter. You say you are friendless--why cast -away an honest friend? I will tell you of people to whom you may write, -and who will answer any questions as to my character and prospects. I -do not shun inquiry.' - -She shook her head again. 'You had better go away, sir. You know -nothing about us.' - -'I know your names,' said I, 'and I have heard you allude to the part -of the country from which you came, which I happen to know as a wild -and lonely place. There are so few people living in it that, if I chose -to go there, I could easily ascertain all about you; but I would rather -hear it from yourself.' You see I wanted to pique her into telling me -something definite. - -'You do not know our true names, sir,' said she, hastily. - -'Well, I may have conjectured as much. But tell me, then, I conjure -you. Give me your reasons for distrusting my willingness to stand by -what I have said with regard to Mistress Lucy.' - -'Oh, what can I do?' exclaimed she. 'If I am turning away a true friend -as he says?--Stay!' coming to a sudden decision--'I will tell you -something--I cannot tell you all--you would not believe it. But, -perhaps, I can tell you enough to prevent your going on in your -hopeless attachment. I am not Lucy's mother.' - -'So I conjectured,' I said. 'Go on.' - -'I do not even know whether she is the legitimate or illegitimate child -of her father. But he is cruelly turned against her; and her mother is -long dead; and, for a terrible reason, she has no other creature to -keep constant to her but me. She--only two years ago--such a darling -and such a pride in her father's house! Why, sir, there is a mystery -that might happen in connection with her any moment; and then you would -go away like all the rest; and, when you next heard her name, you would -loathe her. Others, who have loved her longer, have done so before now. -My poor child, whom neither God nor man has mercy upon--or, surely, she -would die!' - -The good woman was stopped by her crying. I confess, I was a little -stunned by her last words; but only for a moment. At any rate, till I -knew definitely what was this mysterious stain upon one so simple and -pure, as Lucy seemed, I would not desert her, and so I said; and she -made answer: - -'If you are daring in your heart to think harm of my child, sir, after -knowing her as you have done, you are no good man yourself; but I am so -foolish and helpless in my great sorrow, that I would fain hope to find -a friend in you. I cannot help trusting that, although you may no -longer feel towards her as a lover, you will have pity upon us; and -perhaps, by your learning, you can tell us where to go for aid.' - -'I implore you to tell me what this mystery is,' I cried, almost -maddened by this suspense. - -'I cannot,' said she, solemnly. 'I am under a deep vow of secrecy. If -you are to be told, it must be by her.' She left the room, and I -remained to ponder over this strange interview. I mechanically turned -over the few books, and with eyes that saw nothing at the time, -examined the tokens of Lucy's frequent presence in that room. - -When I got home at night, I remembered how all these trifles spoke of a -pure and tender heart and innocent life. Mistress Clarke returned; she -had been crying sadly. - -'Yes,' said she, 'it is as I feared: she loves you so much that she is -willing to run the fearful risk of telling you all herself--she -acknowledges it is but a poor chance; but your sympathy will be a balm, -if you give it. To-morrow, come here at ten in the morning; and as you -hope for pity in your hour of agony, repress all show of fear or -repugnance you may feel towards one so grievously afflicted.' - -I half smiled. 'Have no fear,' I said. It seemed too absurd to imagine -my feeling dislike to Lucy. - -'Her father loved her well,' said she, gravely, 'yet he drove her out -like some monstrous thing.' - -Just at this moment came a peal of ringing laughter from the garden. It -was Lucy's voice; it sounded as if she were standing just on one side -of the open casement--and as though she were suddenly stirred to -merriment--merriment verging on boisterousness, by the doings or -sayings of some other person. I can scarcely say why, but the sound -jarred on me inexpressibly. She knew the subject of our conversation, -and must have been at least aware of the state of agitation her friend -was in: she herself usually so gentle and quiet. I half rose to go to -the window, and satisfy my instinctive curiosity as to what had -provoked this burst of ill-timed laughter; but Mrs. Clarke threw her -whole weight and power upon the hand with which she pressed and kept me -down. - -'For God's sake!' she said, white and trembling all over, 'sit still; -be quiet. Oh! be patient. To-morrow you will know all. Leave us, for we -are all sorely afflicted. Do not seek to know more about us.' - -Again that laugh--so musical in sound, yet so discordant to my heart. -She held me tight--tighter; without positive violence I could not have -risen. I was sitting with my back to the window, but I felt a shadow -pass between the sun's warmth and me, and a strange shudder ran through -my frame. In a minute or two she released me. - -'Go,' repeated she. 'Be warned, I ask you once more. I do not think you -can stand this knowledge that you seek. If I had had my own way, Lucy -should never have yielded, and promised to tell you all. Who knows what -may come of it?' - -'I am firm in my wish to know all. I return at ten to-morrow morning, -and then expect to see Mistress Lucy herself.' - -I turned away; having my own suspicions, I confess, as to Mistress -Clarke's sanity. - -Conjectures as to the meaning of her hints, and uncomfortable thoughts -connected with that strange laughter, filled my mind. I could hardly -sleep. I rose early; and long before the hour I had appointed, I was on -the path over the common that led to the old farm-house where they -lodged. I suppose that Lucy had passed no better a night than I; for -there she was also, slowly pacing with her even step, her eyes bent -down, her whole look most saintly and pure. She started when I came -close to her, and grew paler as I reminded her of my appointment, and -spoke with something of the impatience of obstacles that, seeing her -once more, had called up afresh in my mind. All strange and terrible -hints, and giddy merriment were forgotten. My heart gave forth words of -fire, and my tongue uttered them. Her colour went and came, as she -listened; but, when I had ended my passionate speeches, she lifted her -soft eyes to me, and said: - -'But you know that you have something to learn about me yet. I only -want to say this: I shall not think less of you--less well of you, I -mean--if you, too, fall away from me when you know all. Stop!' said -she, as if fearing another burst of mad words. 'Listen to me. My father -is a man of great wealth. I never knew my mother; she must have died -when I was very young. When first I remember anything, I was living in -a great, lonely house, with my dear and faithful Mistress Clarke. My -father, even, was not there; he was--he is--a soldier, and his duties -lie abroad. But he came, from time to time, and every time I think he -loved me more and more. He brought me rarities from foreign lands, -which prove to me now how much he must have thought of me during his -absences. I can sit down and measure the depth of his lost love now, by -such standards as these. I never thought whether he loved me or not, -then; it was so natural, that it was like the air I breathed. Yet he -was an angry man at times, even then; but never with me. He was very -reckless, too; and, once or twice, I heard a whisper among the servants -that a doom was over him, and that he knew it, and tried to drown his -knowledge in wild activity, and even sometimes, sir, in wine. So I grew -up in this grand mansion, in that lonely place. Everything around me -seemed at my disposal, and I think every one loved me; I am sure loved -them. Till about two years ago--I remember it well--my father had come -to England, to us; and he seemed so proud and so pleased with me and -all I had done. And one day his tongue seemed loosened with wine, and -he told me much that I had not known till then,--how dearly he had -loved my mother, yet how his wilful usage had caused her death; and -then he went on to say how he loved me better than any creature on -earth, and how, some day, he hoped to take me to foreign places, for -that he could hardly bear these long absences from his only child. Then -he seemed to change suddenly, and said, in a strange, wild way, that I -was not to believe what he said; that there was many a thing he loved -better--his horse--his dog--I know not what. - -'And 'twas only the next morning that, when I came into his room to ask -his blessing as was my wont, he received me with fierce and angry -words. 'Why had I,' so he asked, 'been delighting myself in such wanton -mischief--dancing over the tender plants in the flower-beds, all set -with the famous Dutch bulbs he had brought from Holland?' I had never -been out of doors that morning, sir, and I could not conceive what he -meant, and so I said; and then he swore at me for a liar, and said I -was of no true blood, for he had seen me doing all that mischief -himself--with his own eyes. What could I say? He would not listen to -me, and even my tears seemed only to irritate him. That day was the -beginning of my great sorrows. Not long after, he reproached me for my -undue familiarity--all unbecoming a gentlewoman--with his grooms. I had -been in the stable-yard, laughing and talking, he said. Now, sir, I am -something of a coward by nature, and I had always dreaded horses; -besides that, my father's servants--those whom he brought with him from -foreign parts--were wild fellows, whom I had always avoided, and to -whom I had never spoken, except as a lady must needs from time to time -speak to her father's people. Yet my father called me by names of which -I hardly know the meaning, but my heart told me they were such as shame -any modest woman; and from that day he turned quite against me;--nay, -sir, not many weeks after that, he came in with a riding-whip in his -hand; and, accusing me harshly of evil doings, of which I knew no more -than you, sir, he was about to strike me, and I, all in bewildering -tears, was ready to take his stripes as great kindness compared to his -harder words, when suddenly he stopped his arm mid-way, gasped and -staggered, crying out, 'The curse--the curse!' I looked up in terror. -In the great mirror opposite I saw myself, and, right behind, another -wicked, fearful self, so like me that my soul seemed to quiver within -me, as though not knowing to which similitude of body it belonged. My -father saw my double at the same moment, either in its dreadful -reality, whatever that might be, or in the scarcely less terrible -reflection in the mirror; but what came of it at that moment I cannot -say, for I suddenly swooned away; and when I came to myself I was lying -in my bed, and my faithful Clarke sitting by me. I was in my bed for -days; and even while I lay there my double was seen by all, flitting -about the house and gardens, always about some mischievous or -detestable work. What wonder that every one shrank from me in -dread--that my father drove me forth at length, when the disgrace of -which I was the cause was past his patience to bear. Mistress Clarke -came with me; and here we try to live such a life of piety and prayer -as may in time set me free from the curse.' - -All the time she had been speaking, I had been weighing her story in my -mind. I had hitherto put cases of witchcraft on one side, as mere -superstitions; and my uncle and I had had many an argument, he -supporting himself by the opinion of his good friend Sir Matthew Hale. -Yet this sounded like the tale of one bewitched; or was it merely the -effect of a life of extreme seclusion telling on the nerves of a -sensitive girl? My scepticism inclined me to the latter belief, and -when she paused I said: - -'I fancy that some physician could have disabused your father of his -belief in visions----' - -Just at that instant, standing as I was opposite to her in the full and -perfect morning light, I saw behind her another figure--a ghastly -resemblance, complete in likeness, so far as form and feature and -minutest touch of dress could go, but with a loathsome demon soul -looking out of the grey eyes, that were in turns mocking and -voluptuous. My heart stood still within me; every hair rose up erect; -my flesh crept with horror. I could not see the grave and tender -Lucy--my eyes were fascinated by the creature beyond. I know not why, -but I put out my hand to clutch it; I grasped nothing but empty air, -and my whole blood curdled to ice. For a moment I could not see; then -my sight came back, and I saw Lucy standing before me, alone, deathly -pale, and, I could have fancied, almost, shrunk in size. - -'IT has been near me?' she said, as if asking a question. - -The sound seemed taken out of her voice; it was husky as the notes on -an old harpsichord when the strings have ceased to vibrate. She read -her answer in my face, I suppose, for I could not speak. Her look was -one of intense fear, but that died away into an aspect of most humble -patience. At length she seemed to force herself to face behind and -around her: she saw the purple moors, the blue distant hills, quivering -in the sunlight, but nothing else. - -'Will you take me home?' she said, meekly. - -I took her by the hand, and led her silently through the budding -heather--we dared not speak; for we could not tell but that the dread -creature was listening, although unseen,--but that IT might appear and -push us asunder. I never loved her more fondly than now when--and that -was the unspeakable misery--the idea of her was becoming so -inextricably blended with the shuddering thought of IT. She seemed to -understand what I must be feeling. She let go my hand, which she had -kept clasped until then, when we reached the garden gate, and went -forwards to meet her anxious friend, who was standing by the window -looking for her. I could not enter the house: I needed silence, -society, leisure, change--I knew not what--to shake off the sensation -of that creature's presence. Yet I lingered about the garden--I hardly -know why; I partly suppose, because I feared to encounter the -resemblance again on the solitary common, where it had vanished, and -partly from a feeling of inexpressible compassion for Lucy. In a few -minutes Mistress Clarke came forth and joined me. We walked some paces -in silence. - -'You know all now,' said she, solemnly. - -'I saw IT,' said I, below my breath. - -'And you shrink from us, now,' she said, with a hopelessness which -stirred up all that was brave or good in me. - -'Not a whit,' said I. 'Human flesh shrinks from encounter with the -powers of darkness: and, for some reason unknown to me, the pure and -holy Lucy is their victim.' - -'The sins of the fathers shall be visited upon the children,' she said. - -'Who is her father?' asked I. 'Knowing as much as I do, I may surely -know more--know all. Tell me, I entreat you, madam, all that you can -conjecture respecting this demoniac persecution of one so good.' - -'I will; but not now. I must go to Lucy now. Come this afternoon, I -will see you alone; and oh, sir! I will trust that you may yet find -some way to help us in our sore trouble!' - -I was miserably exhausted by the swooning affright which had taken -possession of me. When I reached the inn, I staggered in like one -overcome by wine. I went to my own private room. It was some time -before I saw that the weekly post had come in, and brought me my -letters. There was one from my uncle, one from my home in Devonshire, -and one, re-directed over the first address, sealed with a great coat -of arms. It was from Sir Philip Tempest: my letter of inquiry -respecting Mary Fitzgerald had reached him at Liège, where it so -happened that the Count de la Tour d'Auvergne was quartered at the very -time. He remembered his wife's beautiful attendant; she had had high -words with the deceased countess, respecting her intercourse with an -English gentleman of good standing, who was also in the foreign -service. The countess augured evil of his intentions; while Mary, proud -and vehement, asserted that he would soon marry her, and resented her -mistress's warnings as an insult. The consequence was, that she had -left Madame de la Tour d'Auvergne's service, and, as the Count -believed, had gone to live with the Englishman; whether he had married -her, or not, he could not say. 'But,' added Sir Philip Tempest, 'you -may easily hear what particulars you wish to know respecting Mary -Fitzgerald from the Englishman himself, if, as I suspect, he is no -other than my neighbour and former acquaintance, Mr. Gisborne, of -Skipford Hall, in the West Riding. I am led to the belief that he is no -other by several small particulars, none of which are in themselves -conclusive, but which, taken together, make a mass of presumptive -evidence. As far as I could make out from the Count's foreign -pronunciation, Gisborne was the name of the Englishman: I know that -Gisborne of Skipford was abroad and in the foreign service at that -time--he was a likely fellow enough for such an exploit, and, above -all, certain expressions recur to my mind which he used in reference to -old Bridget Fitzgerald, of Coldholme, whom he once encountered while -staying with me at Starkey Manor-House. I remember that the meeting -seemed to have produced some extraordinary effect upon his mind, as -though he had suddenly discovered some connection which she might have -had with his previous life. I beg you to let me know if I can be of any -further service to you. Your uncle once rendered me a good turn, and I -will gladly repay it, so far as in me lies, to his nephew.' - -I was now apparently close on the discovery which I had striven so many -months to attain. But success had lost its zest. I put my letters down, -and seemed to forget them all in thinking of the morning I had passed -that very day. Nothing was real but the unreal presence, which had come -like an evil blast across my bodily eyes, and burnt itself down upon my -brain. Dinner came, and went away untouched. Early in the afternoon I -walked to the farm-house. I found Mistress Clarke alone, and I was glad -and relieved. She was evidently prepared to tell me all I might wish to -hear. - -'You asked me for Mistress Lucy's true name; it is Gisborne,' she -began. - -'Not Gisborne of Skipford?' I exclaimed, breathless with anticipation. - -'The same,' said she, quietly, not regarding my manner. 'Her father is -a man of note; although, being a Roman Catholic, he cannot take that -rank in this country to which his station entitles him. The consequence -is that he lives much abroad--has been a soldier, I am told.' - -'And Lucy's mother?' I asked. - -She shook her head. 'I never knew her,' said she. 'Lucy was about three -years old when I was engaged to take charge of her. Her mother was -dead.' - -'But you know her name?--you can tell if it was Mary Fitzgerald?' - -She looked astonished. 'That was her name. But, sir, how came you to be -so well acquainted with it? It was a mystery to the whole household at -Skipford Court. She was some beautiful young woman whom he lured away -from her protectors while he was abroad. I have heard said he practised -some terrible deceit upon her, and when she came to know it, she was -neither to have nor to hold, but rushed off from his very arms, and -threw herself into a rapid stream and was drowned. It stung him deep -with remorse, but I used to think the remembrance of the mother's cruel -death made him love the child yet dearer.' - -I told her, as briefly as might be, of my researches after the -descendant and heir of the Fitzgeralds of Kildoon, and added--something -of my old lawyer spirit returning into me for the moment--that I had no -doubt but that we should prove Lucy to be by right possessed of large -estates in Ireland. - -No flush came over her grey face; no light into her eyes. 'And what is -all the wealth in the whole world to that poor girl?' she said. 'It -will not free her from the ghastly bewitchment which persecutes her. As -for money, what a pitiful thing it is; it cannot touch her.' - -'No more can the Evil Creature harm her,' I said. 'Her holy nature -dwells apart, and cannot be defiled or stained by all the devilish arts -in the whole world.' - -'True! but it is a cruel fate to know that all shrink from her, sooner -or later, as from one possessed--accursed.' - -'How came it to pass?' I asked. - -'Nay, I know not. Old rumours there are, that were bruited through the -household at Skipford.' - -'Tell me,' I demanded. - -'They came from servants, who would fain account for everything. They -say that, many years ago, Mr. Gisborne killed a dog belonging to an old -witch at Coldholme; that she cursed, with a dreadful and mysterious -curse, the creature, whatever it might be, that he should love best; -and that it struck so deeply into his heart that for years he kept -himself aloof from any temptation to love aught. But who could help -loving Lucy?' - -'You never heard the witch's name?' I gasped. - -'Yes--they called her Bridget; they said he would never go near the -spot again for terror of her. Yet he was a brave man!' - -'Listen,' said I, taking hold of her arm, the better to arrest her full -attention; 'if what I suspect holds true, that man stole Bridget's only -child--the very Mary Fitzgerald who was Lucy's mother; if so, Bridget -cursed him in ignorance of the deeper wrong he had done her. To this -hour she yearns after her lost child, and questions the saints whether -she be living or not. The roots of that curse lie deeper than she -knows: she unwittingly banned him for a deeper guilt than that of -killing a dumb beast. The sins of the fathers are indeed visited upon -the children.' - -'But,' said Mistress Clarke, eagerly, 'she would never let evil rest on -her own grandchild? Surely, sir, if what you say be true, there are -hopes for Lucy. Let us go--go at once, and tell this fearful woman all -that you suspect, and beseech her to take off the spell she has put -upon her innocent grandchild.' - -It seemed to me, indeed, that something like this was the best course -we could pursue. But first it was necessary to ascertain more than what -mere rumour or careless hearsay could tell. My thoughts turned to my -uncle--he could advise me wisely--he ought to know all. I resolved to -go to him without delay; but I did not choose to tell Mistress Clarke -of all the visionary plans that flitted through my mind. I simply -declared my intention of proceeding straight to London on Lucy's -affairs. I bade her believe that my interest on the young lady's behalf -was greater than ever, and that my whole time should be given up to her -cause. I saw that Mistress Clarke distrusted me, because my mind was -too full of thoughts for my words to flow freely. She sighed and shook -her head, and said, 'Well, it is all right!' in such a tone that it was -an implied reproach. But I was firm and constant in my heart, and I -took confidence from that. - -I rode to London. I rode long days drawn out into the lovely summer -nights: I could not rest. I reached London. I told my uncle all, though -in the stir of the great city the horror had faded away, and I could -hardly imagine that he would believe the account I gave him of the -fearful double of Lucy which I had seen on the lonely moor-side. But my -uncle had lived many years, and learnt many things; and, in the deep -secrets of family history that had been confided to him, he had heard -of cases of innocent people bewitched and taken possession of by evil -spirits yet more fearful than Lucy's. For, as he said, to judge from -all I told him, that resemblance had no power over her--she was too -pure and good to be tainted by its evil, haunting presence. It had, in -all probability, so my uncle conceived, tried to suggest wicked -thoughts and to tempt to wicked actions; but she, in her saintly -maidenhood, had passed on undefiled by evil thought or deed. It could -not touch her soul: but true, it set her apart from all sweet love or -common human intercourse. My uncle threw himself with an energy more -like six-and-twenty than sixty into the consideration of the whole -case. He undertook the proving Lucy's descent, and volunteered to go -and find out Mr. Gisborne, and obtain, firstly, the legal proofs of her -descent from the Fitzgeralds of Kildoon, and, secondly, to try and hear -all that he could respecting the working of the curse, and whether any -and what means had been taken to exorcise that terrible appearance. For -he told me of instances where, by prayers and long fasting, the evil -possessor had been driven forth with howling and many cries from the -body which it had come to inhabit; he spoke of those strange New -England cases which had happened not so long before; of Mr. Defoe, who -had written a book, wherein he had named many modes of subduing -apparitions, and sending them back whence they came; and, lastly, he -spoke low of dreadful ways of compelling witches to undo their -witchcraft. But I could not endure to hear of those tortures and -burnings. I said that Bridget was rather a wild and savage woman than a -malignant witch; and, above all, that Lucy was of her kith and kin; and -that, in putting her to the trial, by water or by fire, we should be -torturing--it might be to the death--the ancestress of her we sought to -redeem. - -My uncle thought awhile, and then said, that in this last matter I was -right--at any rate, it should not be tried, with his consent, till all -other modes of remedy had failed; and he assented to my proposal that I -should go myself and see Bridget, and tell her all. - -In accordance with this, I went down once more to the wayside inn near -Coldholme. It was late at night when I arrived there; and, while I -supped, I inquired of the landlord more particulars as to Bridget's -ways. Solitary and savage had been her life for many years. Wild and -despotic were her words and manner to those few people who came across -her path. The country-folk did her imperious bidding, because they -feared to disobey. If they pleased her, they prospered; if, on the -contrary, they neglected or traversed her behests, misfortune, small or -great, fell on them and theirs. It was not detestation so much as an -indefinable terror that she excited. - -In the morning I went to see her. She was standing on the green outside -her cottage, and received me with the sullen grandeur of a throneless -queen. I read in her face that she recognised me, and that I was not -unwelcome; but she stood silent till I had opened my errand. - -'I have news of your daughter,' said I, resolved to speak straight to -all that I knew she felt of love, and not to spare her. 'She is dead!' - -The stern figure scarcely trembled, but her hand sought the support of -the door-post. - -'I knew that she was dead,' said she, deep and low, and then was silent -for an instant. 'My tears that should have flowed for her were burnt up -long years ago. Young man, tell me about her.' - -'Not yet,' said I, having a strange power given me of confronting one, -whom, nevertheless, in my secret soul I dreaded. - -'You had once a little dog,' I continued. The words called out in her -more show of emotion than the intelligence of her daughter's death. She -broke in upon my speech: - -'I had! It was hers--the last thing I had of hers--and it was shot for -wantonness! It died in my arms. The man who killed that dog rues it to -this day. For that dumb beast's blood, his best-beloved stands -accursed.' - -Her eyes distended, as if she were in a trance and saw the working of -her curse. Again I spoke: - -'O, woman!' I said, 'that best-beloved, standing accursed before men, -is your dead daughter's child.' - -The life, the energy, the passion came back to the eyes with which she -pierced through me, to see if I spoke truth; then, without another -question or word, she threw herself on the ground with fearful -vehemence, and clutched at the innocent daisies with convulsed hands. - -'Bone of my bone! flesh of my flesh! have I cursed thee--and art thou -accursed?' - -So she moaned, as she lay prostrate in her great agony. I stood aghast -at my own work. She did not hear my broken sentences; she asked no -more, but the dumb confirmation which my sad looks had given that one -fact, that her curse rested on her own daughter's child. The fear grew -on me lest she should die in her strife of body and soul; and then -might not Lucy remain under the spell as long as she lived? - -Even at this moment, I saw Lucy coming through the woodland path that -led to Bridget's cottage; Mistress Clarke was with her: I felt at my -heart that it was she, by the balmy peace which the look of her sent -over me, as she slowly advanced, a glad surprise shining out of her -soft quiet eyes. That was as her gaze met mine. As her looks fell on -the woman lying stiff, convulsed on the earth, they became full of -tender pity; and she came forward to try and lift her up. Seating -herself on the turf, she took Bridget's head into her lap; and, with -gentle touches, she arranged the dishevelled grey hair streaming thick -and wild from beneath her mutch. - -'God help her!' murmured Lucy. 'How she suffers!' - -At her desire we sought for water; but when we returned, Bridget had -recovered her wandering senses, and was kneeling with clasped hands -before Lucy, gazing at that sweet sad face as though her troubled -nature drank in health and peace from every moment's contemplation. A -faint tinge on Lucy's pale cheeks showed me that she was aware of our -return; otherwise it appeared as if she was conscious of her influence -for good over the passionate and troubled woman kneeling before her, -and would not willingly avert her grave and loving eyes from that -wrinkled and careworn countenance. - -Suddenly--in the twinkling of an eye--the creature appeared, there, -behind Lucy; fearfully the same as to outward semblance, but kneeling -exactly as Bridget knelt, and clasping her hands in jesting mimicry as -Bridget clasped hers in her ecstasy that was deepening into a prayer. -Mistress Clarke cried out--Bridget arose slowly, her gaze fixed on the -creature beyond: drawing her breath with a hissing sound, never moving -her terrible eyes, that were steady as stone, she made a dart at the -phantom, and caught, as I had done, a mere handful of empty air. We saw -no more of the creature--it vanished as suddenly as it came, but -Bridget looked slowly on, as if watching some receding form. Lucy sat -still, white, trembling, drooping--I think she would have swooned if I -had not been there to uphold her. While I was attending to her, Bridget -passed us, without a word to any one, and, entering her cottage, she -barred herself in, and left us without. - -All our endeavours were now directed to get Lucy back to the house -where she had tarried the night before. Mistress Clarke told me that, -not hearing from me (some letter must have miscarried), she had grown -impatient and despairing, and had urged Lucy to the enterprise of -coming to seek her grandmother; not telling her, indeed, of the dread -reputation she possessed, or how we suspected her of having so -fearfully blighted that innocent girl; but, at the same time, hoping -much from the mysterious stirring of blood, which Mistress Clarke -trusted in for the removal of the curse. They had come, by a different -route from that which I had taken, to a village inn not far from -Coldholme, only the night before. This was the first interview between -ancestress and descendant. - -All through the sultry noon I wandered along the tangled wood-paths of -the old neglected forest, thinking where to turn for remedy in a matter -so complicated and mysterious. Meeting a countryman, I asked my way to -the nearest clergyman, and went, hoping to obtain some counsel from -him. But he proved to be a coarse and common-minded man, giving no time -or attention to the intricacies of a case, but dashing out a strong -opinion involving immediate action. For instance, as soon as I named -Bridget Fitzgerald, he exclaimed: - -'The Coldholme witch! the Irish papist! I'd have had her ducked long -since but for that other papist, Sir Philip Tempest. He has had to -threaten honest folk about here over and over again, or they'd have had -her up before the justices for her black doings. And it's the law of -the land that witches should be burnt! Ay, and of Scripture, too, sir! -Yet you see a papist, if he's a rich squire, can overrule both law and -Scripture. I'd carry a fagot myself to rid the country of her!' - -Such a one could give me no help. I rather drew back what I had already -said; and tried to make the parson forget it, by treating him to -several pots of beer, in the village inn, to which we had adjourned for -our conference at his suggestion. I left him as soon as I could, and -returned to Coldholme, shaping my way past deserted Starkey -Manor-House, and coming upon it by the back. At that side were the -oblong remains of the old moat, the waters of which lay placid and -motionless under the crimson rays of the setting sun; with the -forest-trees lying straight along each side, and their deep-green -foliage mirrored to blackness in the burnished surface of the moat -below--and the broken sun-dial at the end nearest the hall--and the -heron, standing on one leg at the water's edge, lazily looking down for -fish--the lonely and desolate house scarce needed the broken windows, -the weeds on the door-sill, the broken shutter softly flapping to and -fro in the twilight breeze, to fill up the picture of desertion and -decay. I lingered about the place until the growing darkness warned me -on. And then I passed along the path, cut by the orders of the last -lady of Starkey Manor-House, that led me to Bridget's cottage. I -resolved at once to see her; and, in spite of closed doors--it might be -of resolved will--she should see me. So I knocked at her door, gently, -loudly, fiercely. I shook it so vehemently that at length the old -hinges gave way, and with a crash it fell inwards, leaving me suddenly -face to face with Bridget--I, red, heated, agitated with my so -long-baffled efforts--she, stiff as any stone, standing right facing -me, her eyes dilated with terror, her ashen lips trembling, but her -body motionless. In her hands she held her crucifix, as if by that holy -symbol she sought to oppose my entrance. At sight of me, her whole -frame relaxed, and she sank back upon a chair. Some mighty tension had -given way. Still her eyes looked fearfully into the gloom of the outer -air, made more opaque by the glimmer of the lamp inside, which she had -placed before the picture of the Virgin. - -'Is she there?' asked Bridget, hoarsely. - -'No! Who? I am alone. You remember me.' - -'Yes,' replied she, still terror-stricken. 'But she--that creature--has -been looking in upon me through that window all day long. I closed it -up with my shawl; and then I saw her feet below the door, as long as it -was light, and I knew she heard my very breathing--nay, worse, my very -prayers; and I could not pray, for her listening choked the words ere -they rose to my lip. Tell me, who is she?--what means that double girl -I saw this morning? One had a look of my dead Mary; but the other -curdled my blood, and yet it was the same!' - -She had taken hold of my arm, as if to secure herself some human -companionship. She shook all over with the slight, never-ceasing tremor -of intense terror. I told her my tale, as I have told it you, sparing -none of the details. - -How Mistress Clarke had informed me that the resemblance had driven -Lucy forth from her father's house--how I had disbelieved, until, with -mine own eyes, I had seen another Lucy standing behind my Lucy, the -same in form and feature, but with the demon-soul looking out of the -eyes. I told her all, I say, believing that she--whose curse was -working so upon the life of her innocent grandchild--was the only -person who could find the remedy and the redemption. When I had done, -she sat silent for many minutes. - -'You love Mary's child?' she asked. - -'I do, in spite of the fearful working of the curse--I love her. Yet I -shrink from her ever since that day on the moor-side. And men must -shrink from one so accompanied; friends and lovers must stand afar off. -Oh, Bridget Fitzgerald! loosen the curse! Set her free!' - -'Where is she?' - -I eagerly caught at the idea that her presence was needed, in order -that, by some strange prayer or exorcism, the spell might be reversed. - -'I will go and bring her to you,' I exclaimed. But Bridget tightened -her hold upon my arm. - -'Not so,' said she, in a low, hoarse voice. 'It would kill me to see -her again as I saw her this morning. And I must live till I have worked -my work. Leave me!' said she, suddenly, and again taking up the cross. -'I defy the demon I have called up. Leave me to wrestle with it!' - -She stood up, as if in an ecstasy of inspiration, from which all fear -was banished. I lingered--why, I can hardly tell--until once more she -bade me begone. As I went along the forest way, I looked back, and saw -her planting the cross in the empty threshold, where the door had been. - -The next morning Lucy and I went to seek her, to bid her join her -prayers with ours. The cottage stood open and wide to our gaze. No -human being was there: the cross remained on the threshold, but Bridget -was gone. - - - - -Chapter 3 - - -What was to be done next? was the question that I asked myself. As for -Lucy, she would fain have submitted to the doom that lay upon her. Her -gentleness and piety, under the pressure of so horrible a life, seemed -over-passive to me. She never complained. Mrs. Clarke complained more -than ever. As for me, I was more in love with the real Lucy than ever; -but I shrunk from the false similitude with an intensity proportioned -to my love. I found out by instinct that Mrs. Clarke had occasional -temptations to leave Lucy. The good lady's nerves were shaken, and, -from what she said, I could almost have concluded that the object of -the Double was to drive away from Lucy this last and almost earliest -friend. At times, I could scarcely bear to own it, but I myself felt -inclined to turn recreant; and I would accuse Lucy of being too -patient--too resigned. One after another, she won the little children -of Coldholme. (Mrs. Clarke and she had resolved to stay there, for was -it not as good a place as any other to such as they? and did not all -our faint hopes rest on Bridget--never seen or heard of now, but still -we trusted to come back, or give some token?) So, as I say, one after -another, the little children came about my Lucy, won by her soft tones, -and her gentle smiles, and kind actions. Alas! one after another they -fell away, and shrunk from her path with blanching terror; and we too -surely guessed the reason why. It was the last drop. I could bear it no -longer. I resolved no more to linger around the spot, but to go back to -my uncle, and among the learned divines of the city of London, seek for -some power whereby to annul the curse. - -My uncle, meanwhile, had obtained all the requisite testimonials -relating to Lucy's descent and birth, from the Irish lawyers, and from -Mr. Gisborne. The latter gentleman had written from abroad (he was -again serving in the Austrian army), a letter alternately passionately -self-reproachful and stoically repellent. It was evident that when he -thought of Mary--her short life--how he had wronged her, and of her -violent death, he could hardly find words severe enough for his own -conduct; and from this point of view, the curse that Bridget had laid -upon him and his was regarded by him as a prophetic doom, to the -utterance of which she was moved by a Higher Power, working for the -fulfilment of a deeper vengeance than for the death of the poor dog. -But then, again, when he came to speak of his daughter, the repugnance -which the conduct of the demoniac creature had produced in his mind, -was but ill disguised under a show of profound indifference as to -Lucy's fate. One almost felt as if he would have been as content to put -her out of existence, as he would have been to destroy some disgusting -reptile that had invaded his chamber or his couch. - -The great Fitzgerald property was Lucy's; and that was all--was -nothing. - -My uncle and I sat in the gloom of a London November evening, in our -house in Ormond Street. _I_ was out of health, and felt as if I were in -an inextricable coil of misery. Lucy and I wrote to each other, but -that was little; and we dared not see each other for dread of the -fearful Third, who had more than once taken her place at our meetings. -My uncle had, on the day I speak of, bidden prayers to be put up, on -the ensuing Sabbath, in many a church and meeting-house in London, for -one grievously tormented by an evil spirit. He had faith in prayers--I -had none; I was fast losing faith in all things. So we sat--he trying -to interest me in the old talk of other days, I oppressed by one -thought--when our old servant, Anthony, opened the door, and, without -speaking, showed in a very gentlemanly and prepossessing man, who had -something remarkable about his dress, betraying his profession to be -that of the Roman Catholic priesthood. He glanced at my uncle first, -then at me. It was to me he bowed. 'I did not give my name,' said he, -'because you would hardly have recognised it; unless, sir, when in the -north, you heard of Father Bernard, the chaplain at Stoney Hurst?' - -I remembered afterwards that I had heard of him, but at the time I had -utterly forgotten it; so I professed myself a complete stranger to him; -while my ever-hospitable uncle, although hating a papist as much as it -was in his nature to hate anything, placed a chair for the visitor, and -bade Anthony bring glasses and a fresh jug of claret. - -Father Bernard received this courtesy with the graceful ease and -pleasant acknowledgment which belongs to the man of the world. Then he -turned to scan me with his keen glance. After some slight conversation, -entered into on his part, I am certain, with an intention of -discovering on what terms of confidence I stood with my uncle, he -paused, and said gravely: - -'I am sent here with a message to you, sir, from a woman to whom you -have shown kindness, and who is one of my penitents, in Antwerp--one -Bridget Fitzgerald.' - -'Bridget Fitzgerald!' exclaimed I. 'In Antwerp? Tell me, sir, all that -you can about her.' - -'There is much to be said,' he replied. 'But may I inquire if this -gentleman--if your uncle is acquainted with the particulars of which -you and I stand informed?' - -'All that I know, he knows,' said I, eagerly laying my hand on my -uncle's arm, as he made a motion as if to quit the room. - -'Then I have to speak before two gentlemen who, however they may differ -from me in faith, are yet fully impressed with the fact, that there are -evil powers going about continually to take cognizance of our evil -thoughts; and, if their Master gives them power, to bring them into -overt action. Such is my theory of the nature of that sin, of which I -dare not disbelieve--as some sceptics would have us do--the sin of -witchcraft. Of this deadly sin, you and I are aware Bridget Fitzgerald -has been guilty. Since you saw her last, many prayers have been offered -in our churches, many masses sung, many penances undergone, in order -that, if God and the Holy Saints so willed it, her sin might be blotted -out. But it has not been so willed.' - -'Explain to me,' said I, 'who you are, and how you come connected with -Bridget. Why is she at Antwerp? I pray you, sir, tell me more. If I am -impatient, excuse me; I am ill and feverish, and in consequence -bewildered.' - -There was something to me inexpressibly soothing in the tone of voice -with which he began to narrate, as it were from the beginning, his -acquaintance with Bridget. - -'I had known Mr. and Mrs. Starkey during their residence abroad, and so -it fell out naturally that, when I came as chaplain to the Sherburnes -at Stoney Hurst, our acquaintance was renewed; and thus I became the -confessor of the whole family, isolated as they were from the offices -of the Church, Sherburne being their nearest neighbour who professed -the true faith. Of course, you are aware that facts revealed in -confession are sealed as in the grave; but I learnt enough of Bridget's -character to be convinced that I had to do with no common woman; one -powerful for good as for evil. I believe that I was able to give her -spiritual assistance from time to time, and that she looked upon me as -a servant of that Holy Church, which has such wonderful power of moving -men's hearts, and relieving them of the burden of their sins. I have -known her cross the moors on the wildest nights of storm, to confess -and be absolved; and then she would return, calmed and subdued, to her -daily work about her mistress, no one witting where she had been during -the hours that most passed in sleep upon their beds. After her -daughter's departure--after Mary's mysterious disappearance--I had to -impose many a long penance, in order to wash away the sin of impatient -repining that was fast leading her into the deeper guilt of blasphemy. -She set out on that long journey of which you have possibly heard--that -fruitless journey in search of Mary--and during her absence, my -superiors ordered my return to my former duties at Antwerp, and for -many years I heard no more of Bridget. - -'Not many months ago, as I was passing homewards in the evening, along -one of the streets near St. Jacques, leading into the Meer Straet, I -saw a woman sitting crouched up under the shrine of the Holy Mother of -Sorrows. Her hood was drawn over her head, so that the shadow caused by -the light of the lamp above fell deep over her face; her hands were -clasped round her knees. It was evident that she was some one in -hopeless trouble, and as such it was my duty to stop and speak. I -naturally addressed her first in Flemish, believing her to be one of -the lower class of inhabitants. She shook her head, but did not look -up. Then I tried French, and she replied in that language, but speaking -it so indifferently, that I was sure she was either English or Irish, -and consequently spoke to her in my own native tongue. She recognised -my voice; and, starting up, caught at my robes, dragging me before the -blessed shrine, and throwing herself down, and forcing me, as much by -her evident desire as by her action, to kneel beside her, she -exclaimed: - -'"O Holy Virgin! you will never hearken to me again, but hear him; for -you know him of old, that he does your bidding, and strives to heal -broken hearts. Hear him!" - -'She turned to me. - -'"She will hear you, if you will only pray. She never hears me: she and -all the saints in Heaven cannot hear my prayers, for the Evil One -carries them off, as he carried that first away. O, Father Bernard, -pray for me!" - -'I prayed for one in sore distress, of what nature I could not say; but -the Holy Virgin would know. Bridget held me fast, gasping with -eagerness at the sound of my words. When I had ended, I rose, and, -making the sign of the Cross over her, I was going to bless her in the -name of the Holy Church, when she shrank away like some terrified -creature, and said: - -'"I am guilty of deadly sin, and am not shriven." - -'"Arise, my daughter," said I, "and come with me." And I led the way -into one of the confessionals of St. Jacques. - -'She knelt; I listened. No words came. The evil powers had stricken her -dumb, as I heard afterwards they had many a time before, when she -approached confession. - -'She was too poor to pay for the necessary forms of exorcism; and -hitherto those priests to whom she had addressed herself were either so -ignorant of the meaning of her broken French, or her Irish-English, or -else esteemed her to be one crazed--as, indeed, her wild and excited -manner might easily have led any one to think--that they had neglected -the sole means of loosening her tongue, so that she might confess her -deadly sin, and after due penance, obtain absolution. But I knew -Bridget of old, and felt that she was a penitent sent to me. I went -through those holy offices appointed by our church for the relief of -such a case. I was the more bound to do this, as I found that she had -come to Antwerp for the sole purpose of discovering me, and making -confession to me. Of the nature of that fearful confession I am -forbidden to speak. Much of it you know; possibly all. - -'It now remains for her to free herself from mortal guilt, and to set -others free from the consequences thereof. No prayer, no masses, will -ever do it, although they may strengthen her with that strength by -which alone acts of deepest love and purest self-devotion may be -performed. Her words of passion, and cries for revenge--her unholy -prayers could never reach the ears of the Holy Saints! Other powers -intercepted them, and wrought so that the curses thrown up to Heaven -have fallen on her own flesh and blood; and so, through her very -strength of love, have bruised and crushed her heart. Henceforward her -former self must be buried,--yea, buried quick, if need be,--but never -more to make sign, or utter cry on earth! She has become a Poor Clare, -in order that, by perpetual penance and constant service of others, she -may at length so act as to obtain final absolution and rest for her -soul. Until then, the innocent must suffer. It is to plead for the -innocent that I come to you; not in the name of the witch, Bridget -Fitzgerald, but of the penitent and servant of all men, the Poor Clare, -Sister Magdalen.' - -'Sir,' said I, 'I listen to your request with respect; only I may tell -you it is not needed to urge me to do all that I can on behalf of one, -love for whom is part of my very life. If for a time I have absented -myself from her, it is to think and work for her redemption. I, a -member of the English Church--my uncle, a Puritan--pray morning and -night for her by name: the congregations of London, on the next -Sabbath, will pray for one unknown, that she may be set free from the -Powers of Darkness. Moreover, I must tell you, sir, that those evil -ones touch not the great calm of her soul. She lives her own pure and -loving life, unharmed and untainted, though all men fall off from her. -I would I could have her faith!' - -My uncle now spoke. - -'Nephew,' said he, 'it seems to me that this gentleman, although -professing what I consider an erroneous creed, has touched upon the -right point in exhorting Bridget to acts of love and mercy, whereby to -wipe out her sin of hate and vengeance. Let us strive after our -fashion, by almsgiving and visiting of the needy and fatherless, to -make our prayers acceptable. Meanwhile, I myself will go down into the -north, and take charge of the maiden. I am too old to be daunted by man -or demon. I will bring her to this house as to a home; and let the -Double come if it will! A company of godly divines shall give it the -meeting, and we will try issue.' - -The kindly brave old man! But Father Bernard sat on musing. - -'All hate,' said he, 'cannot be quenched in her heart; all Christian -forgiveness cannot have entered into her soul, or the demon would have -lost its power. You said, I think, that her grandchild was still -tormented?' - -'Still tormented!' I replied, sadly, thinking of Mistress Clarke's last -letter. - -He rose to go. We afterwards heard that the occasion of his coming to -London was a secret political mission on behalf of the Jacobites. -Nevertheless, he was a good and a wise man. - -Months and months passed away without any change. Lucy entreated my -uncle to leave her where she was,--dreading, as I learnt, lest if she -came, with her fearful companion, to dwell in the same house with me, -that my love could not stand the repeated shocks to which I should be -doomed. And this she thought from no distrust of the strength of my -affection, but from a kind of pitying sympathy for the terror to the -nerves which she observed that the demoniac visitation caused in all. - -I was restless and miserable. I devoted myself to good works; but I -performed them from no spirit of love, but solely from the hope of -reward and payment, and so the reward was never granted. At length, I -asked my uncle's leave to travel; and I went forth, a wanderer, with no -distincter end than that of many another wanderer--to get away from -myself. A strange impulse led me to Antwerp, in spite of the wars and -commotions then raging in the Low Countries--or rather, perhaps, the -very craving to become interested in something external, led me into -the thick of the struggle then going on with the Austrians. The cities -of Flanders were all full at that time of civil disturbances and -rebellions, only kept down by force, and the presence of an Austrian -garrison in every place. - -I arrived in Antwerp, and made inquiry for Father Bernard. He was away -in the country for a day or two. Then I asked my way to the Convent of -Poor Clares; but, being healthy and prosperous, I could only see the -dim, pent-up, grey walls, shut closely in by narrow streets, in the -lowest part of the town. My landlord told me, that had I been stricken -by some loathsome disease, or in desperate case of any kind, the Poor -Clares would have taken me, and tended me. He spoke of them as an order -of mercy of the strictest kind, dressing scantily in the coarsest -materials, going barefoot, living on what the inhabitants of Antwerp -chose to bestow, and sharing even those fragments and crumbs with the -poor and helpless that swarmed all around; receiving no letters or -communication with the outer world; utterly dead to everything but the -alleviation of suffering. He smiled at my inquiring whether I could get -speech of one of them; and told me that they were even forbidden to -speak for the purposes of begging their daily food; while yet they -lived, and fed others upon what was given in charity. - -'But,' exclaimed I, 'supposing all men forgot them! Would they quietly -lie down and die, without making sign of their extremity?' - -'If such were their rule, the Poor Clares would willingly do it; but -their founder appointed a remedy for such extreme case as you suggest. -They have a bell--'tis but a small one, as I have heard, and has yet -never been rung in the memory of man: when the Poor Clares have been -without food for twenty-four hours, they may ring this bell, and then -trust to our good people of Antwerp for rushing to the rescue of the -Poor Clares, who have taken such blessed care of us in all our -straits.' - -It seemed to me that such rescue would be late in the day; but I did -not say what I thought. I rather turned the conversation, by asking my -landlord if he knew, or had ever heard, anything of a certain Sister -Magdalen. - -'Yes,' said he, rather under his breath; 'news will creep out, even -from a convent of Poor Clares. Sister Magdalen is either a great sinner -or a great saint. She does more, as I have heard, than all the other -nuns put together; yet, when last month they would fain have made her -mother-superior, she begged rather that they would place her below all -the rest, and make her the meanest servant of all.' - -'You never saw her?' asked I. - -'Never,' he replied. - -I was weary of waiting for Father Bernard, and yet I lingered in -Antwerp. The political state of things became worse than ever, -increased to its height by the scarcity of food consequent on many -deficient harvests. I saw groups of fierce, squalid men, at every -corner of the street, glaring out with wolfish eyes at my sleek skin -and handsome clothes. - -At last Father Bernard returned. We had a long conversation, in which -he told me that, curiously enough, Mr. Gisborne, Lucy's father, was -serving in one of the Austrian regiments, then in garrison at Antwerp. -I asked Father Bernard if he would make us acquainted; which he -consented to do. But, a day or two afterwards, he told me that, on -hearing my name, Mr. Gisborne had declined responding to any advances -on my part, saying he had abjured his country, and hated his -countrymen. - -Probably he recollected my name in connection with that of his daughter -Lucy. Anyhow, it was clear enough that I had no chance of making his -acquaintance. Father Bernard confirmed me in my suspicions of the -hidden fermentation, for some coming evil, working among the 'blouses' -of Antwerp, and he would fain have had me depart from out the city; but -I rather craved the excitement of danger, and stubbornly refused to -leave. - -One day, when I was walking with him in the Place Verte, he bowed to an -Austrian officer, who was crossing towards the cathedral. - -'That is Mr. Gisborne,' said he, as soon as the gentleman was past. - -I turned to look at the tall, slight figure of the officer. He carried -himself in a stately manner, although he was past middle age, and from -his years, might have had some excuse for a slight stoop. As I looked -at the man, he turned round, his eyes met mine, and I saw his face. -Deeply lined, sallow, and scathed was that countenance; scarred by -passion as well as by the fortunes of war. 'Twas but a moment our eyes -met. We each turned round, and went on our separate way. - -But his whole appearance was not one to be easily forgotten; the -thorough appointment of the dress, and evident thought bestowed on it, -made but an incongruous whole with the dark, gloomy expression of his -countenance. Because he was Lucy's father, I sought instinctively to -meet him everywhere. At last he must have become aware of my -pertinacity, for he gave me a haughty scowl whenever I passed him. In -one of these encounters, however, I chanced to be of some service to -him. He was turning the corner of a street, and came suddenly on one of -the groups of discontented Flemings of whom I have spoken. Some words -were exchanged, when my gentleman out with his sword, and with a slight -but skilful cut drew blood from one of those who had insulted him, as -he fancied, though I was too far off to hear the words. They would all -have fallen upon him had I not rushed forwards and raised the cry, then -well known in Antwerp, of rally, to the Austrian soldiers who were -perpetually patrolling the streets, and who came in numbers to the -rescue. I think that neither Mr. Gisborne nor the mutinous group of -plebeians owed me much gratitude for my interference. He had planted -himself against a wall, in a skilful attitude of fence, ready with his -bright glancing rapier to do battle with all the heavy, fierce, unarmed -men, some six or seven in number. But when his own soldiers came up, he -sheathed his sword; and, giving some careless word of command, sent -them away again, and continued his saunter all alone down the street, -the workmen snarling in his rear, and more than half-inclined to fall -on me for my cry for rescue. I cared not if they did, my life seemed so -dreary a burden just then; and, perhaps, it was this daring loitering -among them that prevented their attacking me. Instead, they suffered me -to fall into conversation with them; and I heard some of their -grievances. Sore and heavy to be borne were they, and no wonder the -sufferers were savage and desperate. - -The man whom Gisborne had wounded across his face would fain have got -out of me the name of his aggressor, but I refused to tell it. Another -of the group heard his inquiry, and made answer: - -'I know the man. He is one Gisborne, aide-de-camp to the -General-Commandant. I know him well.' - -He began to tell some story in connection with Gisborne in a low and -muttering voice; and while he was relating a tale, which I saw excited -their evil blood, and which they evidently wished me not to hear, I -sauntered away and back to my lodgings. - -That night Antwerp was in open revolt. The inhabitants rose in -rebellion against their Austrian masters. The Austrians, holding the -gates of the city, remained at first pretty quiet in the citadel; only, -from time to time, the boom of a great cannon swept sullenly over the -town. But, if they expected the disturbance to die away, and spend -itself in a few hours' fury, they were mistaken. In a day or two, the -rioters held possession of the principal municipal buildings. Then the -Austrians poured forth in bright flaming array, calm and smiling, as -they marched to the posts assigned, as if the fierce mob were no more -to them than the swarms of buzzing summer flies. Their practised -manoeuvres, their well-aimed shot, told with terrible effect; but in -the place of one slain rioter, three sprang up of his blood to avenge -his loss. But a deadly foe, a ghastly ally of the Austrians, was at -work. Food, scarce and dear for months, was now hardly to be obtained -at any price. Desperate efforts were being made to bring provisions -into the city, for the rioters had friends without. Close to the city -port nearest to the Scheldt, a great struggle took place. I was there, -helping the rioters, whose cause I had adopted. We had a savage -encounter with the Austrians. Numbers fell on both sides; I saw them -lie bleeding for a moment; then a volley of smoke obscured them; and -when it cleared away, they were dead--trampled upon or smothered, -pressed down and hidden by the freshly-wounded whom those last guns had -brought low. And then a grey-robed and grey-veiled figure came right -across the flashing guns, and stooped over some one, whose life-blood -was ebbing away; sometimes it was to give him drink from cans which -they carried slung at their sides, sometimes I saw the cross held above -a dying man, and rapid prayers were being uttered, unheard by men in -that hellish din and clangour, but listened to by One above. I saw all -this as in a dream: the reality of that stern time was battle and -carnage. But I knew that these grey figures, their bare feet all wet -with blood, and their faces hidden by their veils, were the Poor -Clares--sent forth now because dire agony was abroad and imminent -danger at hand. Therefore, they left their cloistered shelter, and came -into that thick and evil mêlée. - -Close to me--driven past me by the struggle of many fighters--came the -Antwerp burgess with the scarce-healed scar upon his face; and in an -instant more, he was thrown by the press upon the Austrian officer -Gisborne, and ere either had recovered the shock, the burgess had -recognised his opponent. - -'Ha! the Englishman Gisborne!' he cried, and threw himself upon him -with redoubled fury. He had struck him hard--the Englishman was down; -when out of the smoke came a dark-grey figure, and threw herself right -under the uplifted flashing sword. The burgess's arm stood arrested. -Neither Austrians nor Anversois willingly harmed the Poor Clares. - -'Leave him to me!' said a low stern voice. 'He is mine enemy--mine for -many years.' - -Those words were the last I heard. I myself was struck down by a -bullet. I remember nothing more for days. When I came to myself, I was -at the extremity of weakness, and was craving for food to recruit my -strength. My landlord sat watching me. He, too, looked pinched and -shrunken; he had heard of my wounded state, and sought me out. Yes! the -struggle still continued, but the famine was sore; and some, he had -heard, had died for lack of food. The tears stood in his eyes as he -spoke. But soon he shook off his weakness, and his natural cheerfulness -returned. Father Bernard had been to see me--no one else. (Who should, -indeed?) Father Bernard would come back that afternoon--he had -promised. But Father Bernard never came, although I was up and dressed, -and looking eagerly for him. - -My landlord brought me a meal which he had cooked himself: of what it -was composed he would not say, but it was most excellent, and with -every mouthful I seemed to gain strength. The good man sat looking at -my evident enjoyment with a happy smile of sympathy; but, as my -appetite became satisfied, I began to detect a certain wistfulness in -his eyes, as if craving for the food I had so nearly devoured--for, -indeed, at that time I was hardly aware of the extent of the famine. -Suddenly, there was a sound of many rushing feet past our window. My -landlord opened one of the sides of it, the better to learn what was -going on. Then we heard a faint, cracked, tinkling bell, coming shrill -upon clear and distinct from all other sounds. 'Holy Mother!' exclaimed -my landlord, 'the Poor Clares!' - -He snatched up the fragments of my meal, and crammed them into my -hands, bidding me follow. Down-stairs he ran, clutching at more food, -as the women of his house eagerly held it out to him; and in a moment -we were in the street, moving along with the great current, all tending -towards the Convent of the Poor Clares. And still, as if piercing our -ears with its inarticulate cry, came the shrill tinkle of the bell. In -that strange crowd were old men trembling and sobbing, as they carried -their little pittance of food; women with the tears running down their -cheeks, who had snatched up what provisions they had in the vessels in -which they stood, so that the burden of these was in many cases much -greater than that which they contained; children, with flushed faces, -grasping tight the morsel of bitten cake or bread, in their eagerness -to carry it safe to the help of the Poor Clares; strong men--yea, both -Anversois and Austrians--pressing onwards with set teeth, and no word -spoken; and over all, and through all, came that sharp tinkle--that cry -for help in extremity. - -We met the first torrent of people returning with blanched and piteous -faces: they were issuing out of the convent to make way for the -offerings of others. 'Haste, haste!' said they. - -'A Poor Clare is dying! A Poor Clare is dead for hunger! God forgive -us, and our city!' - -We pressed on. The stream bore us along where it would. We were carried -through refectories, bare and crumbless; into cells over whose doors -the conventual name of the occupant was written. Thus it was that I, -with others, was forced into Sister Magdalen's cell. On her couch lay -Gisborne, pale unto death, but not dead. By his side was a cup of -water, and a small morsel of mouldy bread, which he had pushed out of -his reach, and could not move to obtain. Over against his bed were -these words, copied in the English version: 'Therefore, if thine enemy -hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink.' - -Some of us gave him of our food, and left him eating greedily, like -some famished wild animal. For now it was no longer the sharp tinkle, -but that one solemn toll, which in all Christian countries tells of the -passing of the spirit out of earthly life into eternity; and again a -murmur gathered and grew, as of many people speaking with awed breath, -'A Poor Clare is dying! a Poor Clare is dead!' - -Borne along once more by the motion of the crowd, we were carried into -the chapel belonging to the Poor Clares. On a bier before the high -altar, lay a woman--lay sister Magdalen--lay Bridget Fitzgerald. By her -side stood Father Bernard, in his robes of office, and holding the -crucifix on high while he pronounced the solemn absolution of the -Church, as to one who had newly confessed herself of deadly sin. I -pushed on with passionate force, till I stood close to the dying woman, -as she received extreme unction amid the breathless and awed hush of -the multitude around. Her eyes were glazing, her limbs were stiffening; -but when the rite was over and finished, she raised her gaunt figure -slowly up, and her eyes brightened to a strange intensity of joy, as, -with the gesture of her finger and the trance-like gleam of her eye, -she seemed like one who watched the disappearance of some loathed and -fearful creature. - -'She is freed from the curse!' said she, as she fell back dead. - - * * * * * - -Now, of all our party who had first listened to my Lady Ludlow, Mr. -Preston was the only one who had not told us something, either of -information, tradition, history, or legend. We naturally turned to him; -but we did not like asking him directly for his contribution, for he -was a grave, reserved, and silent man. - -He understood us, however, and, rousing himself as it were, he said: - -'I know you wish me to tell you, in my turn, of something which I have -learnt or heard during my life. I could tell you something of my own -life, and of a life dearer still to my memory; but I have shrunk from -narrating anything so purely personal. Yet, shrink as I will, no other -but those sad recollections will present themselves to my mind. I call -them sad when I think of the end of it all. However I am not going to -moralize. If my dear brother's life and death does not speak for -itself, no words of mine will teach you what may be learnt from it.' - - - - -LOIS THE WITCH - -Chapter 1 - - -In the year 1691, Lois Barclay stood on a little wooden pier, steadying -herself on the stable land, in much the same manner as, eight or nine -weeks ago, she had tried to steady herself on the deck of the rocking -ship which had carried her across from Old to New England. It seemed as -strange now to be on solid earth as it had been, not long ago, to be -rocked by the sea, both by day and by night; and the aspect of the land -was equally strange. The forests which showed in the distance all -round, and which, in truth, were not very far from the wooden houses -forming the town of Boston, were of different shades of green, and -different, too, in shape of outline to those which Lois Barclay knew -well in her old home in Warwickshire. Her heart sank a little as she -stood alone, waiting for the captain of the good ship Redemption, the -kind rough old sailor, who was her only known friend in this unknown -continent. Captain Holdernesse was busy, however, as she saw, and it -would probably be some time before he would be ready to attend, to her; -so Lois sat down on one of the casks that lay about, and wrapped her -grey duffle cloak tight around her, and sheltered herself under her -hood, as well as might be, from the piercing wind, which seemed to -follow those whom it had tyrannized over at sea with a dogged wish of -still tormenting them on land. Very patiently did Lois sit there, -although she was weary, and shivering with cold; for the day was severe -for May, and the Redemption, with store of necessaries and comforts for -the Puritan colonists of New England, was the earliest ship that had -ventured across the seas. - -How could Lois help thinking of the past, and speculating on the -future, as she sat on Boston pier, at this breathing-time of her life? -In the dim sea-mist which she gazed upon with aching eyes (filled, -against her will, with tears, from time to time), there rose the little -village church of Barford (not three miles from Warwick--you may see it -yet), where her father had preached ever since 1661, long before she -was born. He and her mother both lay dead in Barford churchyard; and -the old low grey church could hardly come before her vision without her -seeing the old parsonage too, the cottage covered with Austrian roses, -and yellow jessamine, where she had been born, sole child of parents -already long past the prime of youth. She saw the path, not a hundred -yards long, from the parsonage to the vestry door: that path which her -father trod daily; for the vestry was his study, and the sanctum, where -he pored over the ponderous tomes of the Father, and compared their -precepts with those of the authorities of the Anglican Church of that -day--the day of the later Stuarts; for Barford Parsonage at that time -scarcely exceeded in size and dignity the cottages by which it was -surrounded: it only contained three rooms on a floor, and was but two -stories high. On the first, or ground floor, were the parlour, kitchen, -and back or working kitchen; up-stairs, Mr. and Mrs. Barclay's room, -that belonging to Lois, and the maid-servant's room. If a guest came, -Lois left her own chamber, and shared old Clemence's bed. But those -days were over. Never more should Lois see father or mother on earth; -they slept, calm and still, in Barford churchyard, careless of what -became of their orphan child, as far as earthly manifestations of care -or love went. And Clemence lay there too, bound down in her grassy bed -by withes of the briar-rose, which Lois had trained over those three -precious graves before leaving England for ever. - -There were some who would fain have kept her there; one who swore in -his heart a great oath unto the Lord that he would seek her sooner or -later, if she was still upon the earth. But he was the rich heir and -only son of the Miller Lucy, whose mill stood by the Avon-side in the -grassy Barford meadows, and his father looked higher for him than the -penniless daughter of Parson Barclay (so low were clergymen esteemed in -those days!); and the very suspicion of Hugh Lucy's attachment to Lois -Barclay made his parents think it more prudent not to offer the orphan -a home, although none other of the parishioners had the means, even if -they had the will, to do so. - -So Lois swallowed her tears down till the time came for crying, and -acted upon her mother's words: - -'Lois, thy father is dead of this terrible fever, and I am dying. Nay, -it is so, though I am easier from pain for these few hours, the Lord be -praised! The cruel men of the Commonwealth have left thee very -friendless. Thy father's only brother was shot down at Edgehill. I, -too, have a brother, though thou hast never heard me speak of him, for -he was a schismatic; and thy father and he had words, and he left for -that new country beyond the seas, without ever saying farewell to us. -But Ralph was a kind lad until he took up these new-fangled notions, -and for the old days' sake he will take thee in, and love thee as a -child, and place thee among his children. Blood is thicker than water. -Write to him as soon as I am gone--for Lois, I am going--and I bless -the Lord that has letten me join my husband again so soon.' Such was -the selfishness of conjugal love; she thought little of Lois's -desolation in comparison with her rejoicing over her speedy reunion -with her dead husband! 'Write to thine uncle, Ralph Hickson, Salem, New -England (put it down, child, on thy tablets), and say that I, Henrietta -Barclay, charge him, for the sake of all he holds dear in heaven or on -earth,--for his salvation's sake, as well as for the sake of the old -home at Lester-bridge,--for the sake of the father and mother that gave -us birth, as well as for the sake of the six little children who lie -dead between him and me,--that he take thee into his home as if thou -wert his own flesh and blood, as indeed thou art. He has a wife and -children of his own, and no one need fear having thee, my Lois, my -darling, my baby, among his household. Oh, Lois, would that thou wert -dying with me! The thought of thee makes death sore!' Lois comforted -her mother more than herself, poor child, by promises to obey her dying -wishes to the letter, and by expressing hopes she dared not feel of her -uncle's kindness. - -'Promise me'--the dying woman's breath came harder and harder--'that -thou wilt go at once. The money our goods will bring--the letter thy -father wrote to Captain Holdernesse, his old schoolfellow--thou knowest -all I would say--my Lois, God bless thee!' - -Solemnly did Lois promise; strictly she kept her word. It was all the -more easy, for Hugh Lucy met her, and told her, in one great burst of -love, of his passionate attachment, his vehement struggles with his -father, his impotence at present, his hope and resolves for the future. -And, intermingled with all this, came such outrageous threats and -expressions of uncontrolled vehemence, that Lois felt that in Barford -she must not linger to be a cause of desperate quarrel between father -and son, while her absence might soften down matters, so that either -the rich old miller might relent, or--and her heart ached to think of -the other possibility--Hugh's love might cool, and the dear play-fellow -of her childhood learn to forget. If not--if Hugh were to be trusted in -one tithe of what he said--God might permit him to fulfil his resolve -of coming to seek her out before many years were over. It was all in -God's hands, and that was best, thought Lois Barclay. - -She was roused out of her trance of recollections by Captain -Holdernesse, who, having done all that was necessary in the way of -orders and directions to his mate, now came up to her, and, praising -her for her quiet patience, told her that he would now take her to the -Widow Smith's, a decent kind of house, where he and many other sailors -of the better order were in the habit of lodging, during their stay on -the New England shores. Widow Smith, he said, had a parlour for herself -and her daughters, in which Lois might sit, while he went about the -business that, as he had told her, would detain him in Boston for a day -or two, before he could accompany her to her uncle's at Salem. All this -had been to a certain degree arranged on ship-board; but Captain -Holdernesse, for want of anything else that he could think of to talk -about, recapitulated it as he and Lois walked along. It was his way of -showing sympathy with the emotion that made her grey eyes full of -tears, as she started up from the pier at the sound of his voice. In -his heart he said, 'Poor wench! poor wench! it's a strange land to her, -and they are all strange folks, and, I reckon, she will be feeling -desolate. I'll try and cheer her up.' So he talked on about hard facts, -connected with the life that lay before her, until they reached Widow -Smith's; and perhaps Lois was more brightened by this style of -conversation, and the new ideas it presented to her, than she would -have been by the tenderest woman's sympathy. - -'They are a queer set, these New Englanders,' said Captain Holdernesse. -'They are rare chaps for praying; down on their knees at every turn of -their life. Folk are none so busy in a new country, else they would -have to pray like me, with a "Yo-hoy!" on each side of my prayers, and -a rope cutting like fire through my hand. Yon pilot was for calling us -all to thanksgiving for a good voyage, and lucky escape from the -pirates; but I said I always put up my thanks on dry land, after I had -got my ship into harbour. The French colonists, too, are vowing -vengeance for the expedition against Canada, and the people here are -raging like heathens--at least, as like as godly folk can be--for the -loss of their charter. All that is the news the pilot told me; for, for -all he wanted us to be thanksgiving instead of casting the lead, he was -as down in the mouth as could be about the state of the country. But -here we are at Widow Smith's! Now, cheer up, and show the godly a -pretty smiling Warwickshire lass!' - -Anybody would have smiled at Widow Smith's greeting. She was a comely, -motherly woman, dressed in the primmest fashion in vogue twenty years -before, in England, among the class to which she belonged. But, -somehow, her pleasant face gave the lie to her dress; were it as brown -and sober-coloured as could be, folk remembered it bright and cheerful, -because it was a part of Widow Smith herself. - -She kissed Lois on both cheeks, before she rightly understood who the -stranger maiden was, only because she was a stranger, and looked sad -and forlorn; and then she kissed her again, because Captain Holdernesse -commended her to the widow's good offices. And so she led Lois by the -hand into her rough, substantial log-house, over the door of which hung -a great bough of a tree, by way of sign of entertainment for man and -horse. Yet not all men were received by Widow Smith. To some she could -be as cold and reserved as need be, deaf to all inquiries save -one--where else they could find accommodation? To this question she -would give a ready answer, and speed the unwelcome guest on his way. -Widow Smith was guided in these matters by instinct: one glance at a -man's face told her whether or not she chose to have him as an inmate -of the same house as her daughters; and her promptness of decision in -these matters gave her manner a kind of authority which no one liked to -disobey, especially as she had stalwart neighbours within call to back -her, if her assumed deafness in the first instance, and her voice and -gesture in the second, were not enough to give the would-be guest his -dismissal. Widow Smith chose her customers merely by their physical -aspect; not one whit with regard to their apparent worldly -circumstances. Those who had been staying at her house once, always -came again, for she had the knack of making every one beneath her roof -comfortable and at his ease. Her daughters, Prudence and Hester, had -somewhat of their mother's gifts, but not in such perfection. They -reasoned a little upon a stranger's appearance, instead of knowing at -the first moment whether they liked him or no; they noticed the -indications of his clothes, the quality and cut thereof, as telling -somewhat of his station in society; they were more reserved, they -hesitated more than their mother; they had not her prompt authority, -her happy power. Their bread was not so light, their cream went -sometimes to sleep when it should have been turning into butter, their -hams were not always 'just like the hams of the old country,' as their -mother's were invariably pronounced to be; yet they were good, orderly, -kindly girls, and rose and greeted Lois with a friendly shake of the -hand, as their mother, with her arm round the stranger's waist, led her -into the private room which she called her parlour. The aspect of this -room was strange in the English girl's eyes. The logs of which the -house was built, showed here and there through the mud plaster, -although before both plaster and logs were hung the skins of many -curious animals,--skins presented to the widow by many a trader of her -acquaintance, just as her sailor guests brought her another description -of gift--shells, strings of wampum-beads, sea-birds' eggs, and presents -from the old country. The room was more like a small museum of natural -history of these days than a parlour; and it had a strange, peculiar, -but not unpleasant smell about it, neutralized in some degree by the -smoke from the enormous trunk of pinewood which smouldered on the -hearth. - -The instant their mother told them that Captain Holdernesse was in the -outer room, the girls began putting away their spinning-wheel and -knitting-needles, and preparing for a meal of some kind; what meal, -Lois, sitting there and unconsciously watching, could hardly tell. -First, dough was set to rise for cakes; then came out of a corner -cupboard--a present from England--an enormous square bottle of a -cordial called Golden Wasser; next, a mill for grinding chocolate--a -rare unusual treat anywhere at that time; then a great Cheshire cheese. -Three venison steaks were cut ready for broiling, fat cold pork sliced -up and treacle poured over it, a great pie something like a mince-pie, -but which the daughters spoke of with honour as the 'punken-pie,' fresh -and salt fish brandered, oysters cooked in various ways. Lois wondered -where would be the end of the provisions for hospitably receiving the -strangers from the old country. At length everything was placed on the -table, the hot food smoking; but all was cool, not to say cold, before -Elder Hawkins (an old neighbour of much repute and standing, who had -been invited in by Widow Smith to hear the news) had finished his -grace, into which was embodied thanksgivings for the past and prayers -for the future lives of every individual present, adapted to their -several cases, as far as the elder could guess at them from -appearances. This grace might not have ended so soon as it did, had it -not been for the somewhat impatient drumming of his knife-handle on the -table with which Captain Holdernesse accompanied the latter half of the -elder's words. - -When they first sat down to their meal, all were too hungry for much -talking; but as their appetites diminished their curiosity increased, -and there was much to be told and heard on both sides. With all the -English intelligence Lois was, of course, well acquainted; but she -listened with natural attention to all that was said about the new -country, and the new people among whom she had come to live. Her father -had been a Jacobite, as the adherents of the Stuarts were beginning at -this time to be called. His father, again, had been a follower of -Archbishop Laud; so Lois had hitherto heard little of the conversation, -and seen little of the ways of the Puritans. Elder Hawkins was one of -the strictest of the strict, and evidently his presence kept the two -daughters of the house considerably in awe. But the widow herself was a -privileged person; her known goodness of heart (the effects of which -had been experienced by many) gave her the liberty of speech which was -tacitly denied to many, under penalty of being esteemed ungodly if they -infringed certain conventional limits. And Captain Holdernesse and his -mate spoke out their minds, let who would be present. So that on this -first landing in New England, Lois was, as it were, gently let down -into the midst of the Puritan peculiarities, and yet they were -sufficient to make her feel very lonely and strange. - -The first subject of conversation was the present state of the -colony--Lois soon found out that, although at the beginning she was not -a little perplexed by the frequent reference to names of places which -she naturally associated with the old country. Widow Smith was -speaking: 'In the county of Essex the folk are ordered to keep four -scouts, or companies of minute-men; six persons in each company; to be -on the look-out for the wild Indians, who are for ever stirring about -in the woods, stealthy brutes as they are! I am sure, I got such a -fright the first harvest-time after I came over to New England, I go on -dreaming, now near twenty years after Lothrop's business, of painted -Indians, with their shaven scalps and their war-streaks, lurking behind -the trees, and coming nearer and nearer with their noiseless steps.' - -'Yes,' broke in one of her daughters; 'and, mother, don't you remember -how Hannah Benson told us how her husband had cut down every tree near -his house at Deerbrook, in order that no one might come near him, under -cover; and how one evening she was a-sitting in the twilight, when all -her family were gone to bed, and her husband gone off to Plymouth on -business, and she saw a log of wood, just like a trunk of a felled -tree, lying in the shadow, and thought nothing of it, till, on looking -again a while after, she fancied it was come a bit nearer to the house, -and how her heart turned sick with fright, and how she dared not stir -at first, but shut her eyes while she counted a hundred, and looked -again, and the shadow was deeper, but she could see that the log was -nearer; so she ran in and bolted the door, and went up to where her -eldest lad lay. It was Elijah, and he was but sixteen then; but he rose -up at his mother's words, and took his father's long duck-gun down, and -he tried the loading, and spoke for the first time to put up a prayer -that God would give his aim good guidance, and went to a window that -gave a view upon the side where the log lay, and fired, and no one -dared to look what came of it, but all the household read the -Scriptures, and prayed the whole night long, till morning came and -showed a long stream of blood lying on the grass close by the log, -which the full sunlight showed to be no log at all, but just a Red -Indian covered with bark, and painted most skilfully, with his -war-knife by his side.' - -All were breathless with listening, though to most the story, or such -like it, were familiar. Then another took up the tale of horror: - -'And the pirates have been down at Marblehead since you were here, -Captain Holdernesse. 'Twas only the last winter they landed,--French -Papist pirates; and the people kept close within their houses, for they -knew not what would come of it; and they dragged folk ashore. There was -one woman among those folk--prisoners from some vessel, doubtless--and -the pirates took them by force to the inland marsh; and the Marblehead -folk kept still and quiet, every gun loaded, and every ear on the -watch, for who knew but what the wild sea-robbers might take a turn on -land next; and, in the dead of the night, they heard a woman's loud and -pitiful outcry from the marsh, 'Lord Jesu! have mercy on me! Save me -from the power of man, O Lord Jesu!' And the blood of all who heard the -cry ran cold with terror, till old Nance Hickson, who had been -stone-deaf and bedridden for years, stood up in the midst of the folk -all gathered together in her grandson's house, and said, that as they, -the dwellers in Marblehead, had not had brave hearts or faith enough to -go and succour the helpless, that cry of a dying woman should be in -their ears, and in their children's ears, till the end of the world. -And Nance dropped down dead as soon as she had made an end of speaking, -and the pirates set sail from Marblehead at morning dawn; but the folk -there hear the cry still, shrill and pitiful, from the waste marshes, -"Lord Jesu! have mercy on me! Save me from the power of man, O Lord -Jesu!"' - -'And by token,' said Elder Hawkins's deep bass voice, speaking with the -strong nasal twang of the Puritans (who, says Butler, - - "Blasphemed custard through the nose"), - -'godly Mr. Noyes ordained a fast at Marblehead, and preached a -soul-stirring discourse on the words; "Inasmuch as ye did it not unto -one of the least of these, my brethren, ye did it not unto me." But it -has been borne in upon me at times, whether the whole vision of the -pirates and the cry of the woman was not a device of Satan's to sift -the Marblehead folk, and see what fruit their doctrine bore, and so to -condemn them in the sight of the Lord. If it were so, the enemy had a -great triumph, for assuredly it was no part of Christian men to leave a -helpless woman unaided in her sore distress.' - -'But, Elder,' said Widow Smith, 'it was no vision; they were real -living men who went ashore, men who broke down branches and left their -footmarks on the ground.' - -'As for that matter, Satan hath many powers, and if it be the day when -he is permitted to go about like a roaring lion, he will not stick at -trifles, but make his work complete. I tell you, many men are spiritual -enemies in visible forms, permitted to roam about the waste places of -the earth. I myself believe that these Red Indians are indeed the evil -creatures of whom we read in Holy Scripture; and there is no doubt that -they are in league with those abominable Papists, the French people in -Canada. I have heard tell, that the French pay the Indians so much gold -for every dozen scalps off Englishmen's heads.' - -'Pretty cheerful talk this,' said Captain Holdernesse to Lois, -perceiving her blanched cheek and terror-stricken mien. 'Thou art -thinking that thou hadst better have stayed at Barford, I'll answer for -it, wench. But the devil is not so black as he is painted.' - -'Ho! there again!' said Elder Hawkins. 'The devil is painted, it hath -been said so from old times; and are not these Indians painted, even -like unto their father?' - -'But is it all true?' asked Lois, aside, of Captain Holdernesse, -letting the elder hold forth unheeded by her, though listened to, -however, with the utmost reverence by the two daughters of the house. - -'My wench,' said the old sailor, 'thou hast come to a country where -there are many perils, both from land and from sea. The Indians hate -the white men. Whether other white men' (meaning the French away to the -north) 'have hounded on the savages, or whether the English have taken -their lands and hunting-grounds without due recompense, and so raised -the cruel vengeance of the wild creatures--who knows? But it is true -that it is not safe to go far into the woods, for fear of the lurking -painted savages; nor has it been safe to build a dwelling far from a -settlement; and it takes a brave heart to make a journey from one town -to another, and folk do say the Indian creatures rise up out of the -very ground to waylay the English; and then offers affirm they are all -in league with Satan to affright the Christians out of the heathen -country over which he has reigned so long. Then, again, the seashore is -infested by pirates, the scum of all nations: they land, and plunder, -and ravage, and burn, and destroy. Folk get affrighted of the real -dangers, and in their fright imagine, perchance, dangers that are not. -But who knows? Holy Scripture speaks of witches and wizards, and of the -power of the Evil One in desert places; and even in the old country we -have heard tell of those who have sold their souls for ever for the -little power they get for a few years on earth.' - -By this time the whole table was silent, listening to the captain; it -was just one of those chance silences that sometimes occur, without any -apparent reason, and often without any apparent consequence. But all -present had reason, before many months had-passed over, to remember the -words which Lois spoke in answer, although her voice was low, and she -only thought, in the interest of the moment, of being heard by her old -friend the captain. - -'They are fearful creatures, the witches! and yet I am sorry for the -poor old women, whilst I dread them. We had one in Barford, when I was -a little child. No one knew whence she came, but she settled herself -down in a mud hut by the common side; and there she lived, she and her -cat.' (At the mention of the cat, Elder Hawkins shook his head long and -gloomily.) 'No one knew how she lived, if it were not on nettles and -scraps of oatmeal and such-like food given her more for fear than for -pity. She went double, always talking and muttering to herself. Folk -said she snared birds and rabbits, in the thicket that came down to her -hovel. How it came to pass I cannot say, but many a one fell sick in -the village, and much cattle died one spring, when I was near four -years old. I never heard much about it, for my father said it was ill -talking about such things; I only know I got a sick fright one -afternoon, when the maid had gone out for milk and had taken me with -her, and we were passing a meadow where the Avon, circling, makes a -deep round pool, and there was a crowd of folk, all still--and a still, -breathless crowd makes the heart beat worse than a shouting, noisy one. -They were all gazing towards the water, and the maid held me up in her -arms to see the sight above the shoulders of the people; and I saw old -Hannah in the water, her grey hair all streaming down her shoulders, -and her face bloody and black with the stones and the mud they had been -throwing at her, and her cat tied round her neck. I hid my face, I -know, as soon as I saw the fearsome sight, for her eyes met mine as -they were glaring with fury--poor, helpless, baited creature!--and she -caught the sight of me, and cried out, "Parson's wench, parson's wench, -yonder, in thy nurse's arms, thy dad hath never tried for to save me, -and none shall save thee when thou art brought up for a witch." Oh! the -words rang in my ears, when I was dropping asleep, for years after. I -used to dream that I was in that pond, all men hating me with their -eyes because I was a witch; and, at times, her black cat used to seem -living again, and say over those dreadful words.' - -Lois stopped: the two daughters looked at her excitement with a kind of -shrinking surprise, for the tears were in her eyes. Elder Hawkins shook -his head, and muttered texts from Scripture; but cheerful Widow Smith, -not liking the gloomy turn of the conversation, tried to give it a -lighter cast by saying, 'And I don't doubt but what the parson's bonny -lass has bewitched many a one since, with her dimples and her pleasant -ways--eh, Captain Holdernesse? It's you must tell us tales of this -young lass' doings in England.' - -'Ay, ay,' said the captain, 'there's one under her charms in -Warwickshire who will never get the better of it, I'm thinking.' - -Elder Hawkins rose to speak; he stood leaning on his hands, which were -placed on the table: 'Brethren,' said he, 'I must upbraid you if ye -speak lightly; charms and witchcraft are evil things. I trust this -maiden hath had nothing to do with them, even in thought. But my mind -misgives me at her story. The hellish witch might have power from Satan -to infect her mind, she being yet a child, with the deadly sin. Instead -of vain talking, I call upon you all to join with me in prayer for this -stranger in our land, that her heart may be purged from all iniquity. -Let us pray.' - -'Come, there's no harm in that,' said the captain; 'but, Elder Hawkins, -when you are at work, just pray for us all, for I am afeard there be -some of us need purging from iniquity a good deal more than Lois -Barclay, and a prayer for a man never does mischief.' - -Captain Holdernesse had business in Boston which detained him there for -a couple of days, and during that time Lois remained with the Widow -Smith, seeing what was to be seen of the new land that contained her -future home. The letter of her dying mother was sent off to Salem, -meanwhile, by a lad going thither, in order to prepare her Uncle Ralph -Hickson for his niece's coming, as soon as Captain Holdernesse could -find leisure to take her; for he considered her given into his own -personal charge, until he could consign her to her uncle's care. When -the time came for going to Salem, Lois felt very sad at leaving the -kindly woman under whose roof she had been staying, and looked back as -long as she could see anything of Widow Smith's dwelling. She was -packed into a rough kind of country cart, which just held her and -Captain Holdernesse, beside the driver. There was a basket of -provisions under their feet, and behind them hung a bag of provender -for the horse; for it was a good day's journey to Salem, and the road -was reputed so dangerous that it was ill tarrying a minute longer than -necessary for refreshment. English roads were bad enough at that period -and for long after, but in America the way was simply the cleared -ground of the forest; the stumps of the felled trees still remaining in -the direct line, forming obstacles, which it required the most careful -driving to avoid; and in the hollows, where the ground was swampy, the -pulpy nature of it was obviated by logs of wood laid across the boggy -part. The deep green forest, tangled into heavy darkness even thus -early in the year, came within a few yards of the road all the way, -though efforts were regularly made by the inhabitants of the -neighbouring settlements to keep a certain space clear on each side, -for fear of the lurking Indians, who might otherwise come upon them -unawares. The cries of strange birds, the unwonted colour of some of -them, all suggested to the imaginative or unaccustomed traveller the -idea of war-whoops and painted deadly enemies. But at last they drew -near to Salem, which rivalled Boston in size in those days, and boasted -the name of one or two streets, although to an English eye they looked -rather more like irregularly built houses, clustered round the -meeting-house, or rather one of the meeting-houses, for a second was in -process of building. The whole place was surrounded with two circles of -stockades; between the two were the gardens and grazing ground for -those who dreaded their cattle straying into the woods, and the -consequent danger of reclaiming them. - -The lad who drove them flogged his spent horse into a trot, as they -went through Salem to Ralph Hickson's house. It was evening, the -leisure time for the inhabitants, and their children were at play -before the houses. Lois was struck by the beauty of one wee toddling -child, and turned to look after it; it caught its little foot in a -stump of wood, and fell with a cry that brought the mother out in -affright. As she ran out, her eye caught Lois's anxious gaze, although -the noise of the heavy wheels drowned the sound of her words of inquiry -as to the nature of the hurt the child had received. Nor had Lois time -to think long upon the matter, for the instant after, the horse was -pulled up at the door of a good, square, substantial wooden house, -plastered over into a creamy white, perhaps as handsome a house as any -in Salem; and there she was told by the driver that her uncle, Ralph -Hickson, lived. In the flurry of the moment she did not notice, but -Captain Holdernesse did, that no one came out at the unwonted sound of -wheels, to receive and welcome her. She was lifted down by the old -sailor, and led into a large room, almost like the hall of some English -manor-house as to size. A tall, gaunt young man of three or four and -twenty, sat on a bench by one of the windows, reading a great folio by -the fading light of day. He did not rise when they came in, but looked -at them with surprise, no gleam of intelligence coming into his stern, -dark face. There was no woman in the house-place. Captain Holdernesse -paused a moment, and then said: - -'Is this house Ralph Hickson's?' - -'It is,' said the young man, in a slow, deep voice. But he added no -word further. - -'This is his niece, Lois Barclay,' said the captain, taking the girl's -arm, and pushing her forwards. The young man looked at her steadily and -gravely for a minute; then rose, and carefully marking the page in the -folio which hitherto had lain open upon his knee, said, still in the -same heavy, indifferent manner, 'I will call my mother, she will know.' - -He opened a door which looked into a warm bright kitchen, ruddy with -the light of the fire over which three women were apparently engaged -in cooking something, while a fourth, an old Indian woman, of a -greenish-brown colour, shrivelled up and bent with apparent age, moved -backwards and forwards, evidently fetching the others the articles they -required. - -'Mother,' said the young man; and having arrested her attention, he -pointed over his shoulder to the newly-arrived strangers, and returned -to the study of his book, from time to time, however, furtively -examining Lois from beneath his dark shaggy eyebrows. - -A tall, largely made woman, past middle life, came in from the kitchen, -and stood reconnoitring the strangers. - -Captain Holdernesse spoke. - -'This is Lois Barclay, Master Ralph Hickson's niece.' - -'I know nothing of her,' said the mistress of the house, in a deep -voice, almost as masculine as her son's. - -'Master Hickson received his sister's letter, did he not? I sent it off -myself by a lad named Elias Wellcome, who left Boston for this place -yester morning.' - -'Ralph Hickson has received no such letter. He lies bedridden in the -chamber beyond. Any letters for him must come through my hands; -wherefore I can affirm with certainty that no such letter has been -delivered here. His sister Barclay, she that was Henrietta Hickson, and -whose husband took the oaths to Charles Stuart, and stuck by his living -when all godly men left theirs----' - -Lois, who had thought her heart was dead and cold a minute before at -the ungracious reception she had met with, felt words come up into her -mouth at the implied insult to her father, and spoke out, to her own -and the captain's astonishment: - -'They might be godly men who left their churches on that day of which -you speak, madam; but they alone were not the godly men, and no one has -a right to limit true godliness for mere opinion's sake.' - -'Well said, lass,' spoke out the captain, looking round upon her with a -kind of admiring wonder, and patting her on the back. - -Lois and her aunt gazed into each other's eyes unflinchingly, for a -minute or two of silence; but the girl felt her colour coming and -going, while the elder woman's never varied; and the eyes of the young -maiden were filling fast with tears, while those of Grate Hickson kept -on their stare, dry and unwavering. - -'Mother!' said the young man, rising up with a quicker motion than any -one had yet used in this house, 'it is ill speaking of such matters -when my cousin comes first among us. The Lord may give her grace -hereafter, but she has travelled from Boston city to-day, and she and -this seafaring man must need rest and food.' - -He did not attend to see the effect of his words, but sat down again, -and seemed to be absorbed in his book in an instant. Perhaps he knew -that his word was law with his grim mother, for he had hardly ceased -speaking before she had pointed to a wooden settle; and smoothing the -lines on her countenance, she said, 'What Manasseh says is true. Sit -down here, while I bid Faith and Nattee get food ready; and meanwhile I -will go tell my husband, that one who calls herself his sister's child -is come over to pay him a visit.' - -She went to the door leading into the kitchen, and gave some directions -to the elder girl, whom Lois now knew to be the daughter of the house. -Faith stood impassive, while her mother spoke, scarcely caring to look -at the newly-arrived strangers. She was like her brother Manasseh in -complexion, but had handsomer features, and large, mysterious-looking -eyes, as Lois saw, when once she lifted them up, and took in, as it -were, the aspect of the sea-captain and her cousin with one swift -searching look. About the stiff, tall, angular mother, and the scarce -less pliant figure of the daughter, a girl of twelve years old, or -thereabouts, played all manner of impish antics, unheeded by them, as -if it were her accustomed habit to peep about, now under their arms, -now at this side, now at that, making grimaces all the while at Lois -and Captain Holdernesse, who sat facing the door, weary, and somewhat -disheartened by their reception. The captain pulled out tobacco, and -began to chew it by way of consolation; but in a moment or two, his -usual elasticity of spirit came to his rescue, and he said in a low -voice to Lois: - -'That scoundrel Elias, I will give it him! If the letter had but been -delivered, thou wouldst have had a different kind of welcome; but as -soon as I have had some victuals, I will go out and find the lad, and -bring back the letter, and that will make all right, my wench. Nay, -don't be downhearted, for I cannot stand women's tears. Thou'rt just -worn out with the shaking and the want of food.' - -Lois brushed away her tears, and looking round to try and divert her -thoughts by fixing them on present object, she caught her cousin -Manasseh's deep-set eyes furtively watching her. It was with no -unfriendly gaze, yet it made Lois uncomfortable, particularly as he did -not withdraw his looks after he must have seen that she observed him. -She was glad when her aunt called her into an inner room to see her -uncle, and she escaped from the steady observance of her gloomy, silent -cousin. - -Ralph Hickson was much older than his wife, and his illness made him -look older still. He had never had the force of character that Grace, -his spouse, possessed, and age and sickness had now rendered him almost -childish at times. But his nature was affectionate, and stretching out -his trembling arms from where he lay bedridden, he gave Lois an -unhesitating welcome, never waiting for the confirmation of the missing -letter before he acknowledged her to be his niece. - -'Oh! 'tis kind in thee to come all across the sea to make acquaintance -with thine uncle; kind in Sister Barclay to spare thee!' - -Lois had to tell him that there was no one living to miss her at home -in England; that in fact she had no home in England, no father nor -mother left upon earth; and that she had been bidden by her mother's -last words to seek him out, and ask him for a home. Her words came up, -half choked from a heavy heart, and his dulled wits could not take -their meaning in without several repetitions; and then he cried like a -child, rather at his own loss of a sister, whom he had not seen for -more than twenty years, than at that of the orphan's standing before -him, trying hard not to cry, but to start bravely in this new strange -home. What most of all helped Lois in her self-restraint was her aunt's -unsympathetic look. Born and bred in New England, Grace Hickson had a -kind of jealous dislike to her husband's English relations, which had -increased since of late years his weakened mind yearned after them, and -he forgot the good reason he had had for his self-exile, and moaned -over the decision which had led to it as the great mistake of his life. -'Come,' said she, 'it strikes me that, in all this sorrow for the loss -of one who died full of years, ye are forgetting in Whose hands life -and death are!' - -True words, but ill-spoken at that time. Lois looked up at her with a -scarcely disguised indignation; which increased as she heard the -contemptuous tone in which her aunt went on talking to Ralph Hickson, -even while she was arranging his bed with a regard to his greater -comfort. - -'One would think thou wert a godless man, by the moan thou art always -making over spilt milk; and truth is, thou art but childish in thine -old age. When we were wed, thou left all things to the Lord; I would -never have married thee else. Nay, lass,' said she, catching the -expression on Lois's face, 'thou art never going to browbeat me with -thine angry looks. I do my duty as I read it, and there is never a man -in Salem that dare speak a word to Grace Hickson about either her works -or her faith. Godly Mr. Cotton Mather hath said, that even he might -learn of me; and I would advise thee rather to humble thyself, and see -if the Lord may not convert thee from thy ways, since he has sent thee -to dwell, as it were, in Zion, where the precious dew falls daily on -Aaron's beard.' - -Lois felt ashamed and sorry to find that her aunt had so truly -interpreted the momentary expression of her features; she blamed -herself a little for the feeling that had caused that expression, -trying to think how much her aunt might have been troubled with -something before the unexpected irruption of the strangers, and again -hoping that the remembrance of this little misunderstanding would soon -pass away. So she endeavoured to reassure herself, and not to give way -to her uncle's tender trembling pressure of her hand, as, at her aunt's -bidding, she wished him good night, and returned into the outer, or -'keeping'-room, where all the family were now assembled, ready for the -meal of flour cakes and venison-steaks which Nattee, the Indian -servant, was bringing in from the kitchen. No one seemed to have been -speaking to Captain Holdernesse while Lois had been away. Manasseh sat -quiet and silent where he did, with the book open upon his knee, his -eyes thoughtfully fixed on vacancy, as if he saw a vision, or dreamed -dreams. Faith stood by the table, lazily directing Nattee in her -preparations; and Prudence lolled against the door-frame, between -kitchen and keeping-room, playing tricks on the old Indian woman as she -passed backwards and forwards, till Nattee appeared to be in a strong -state of expressed irritation, which he tried in vain to repress, as -whenever she showed any sign of it, Prudence only seemed excited to -greater mischief. When all was ready, Manasseh lifted his right hand, -and 'asked a blessing,' as it was termed; but the grace became a long -prayer for abstract spiritual blessings, for strength to combat Satan, -and to quench his fiery darts, and at length assumed, so Lois thought, -a purely personal character, as if the young man had forgotten the -occasion, and even the people present, but was searching into the -nature of the diseases that beset his own sick soul, and spreading them -out before the Lord. He was brought back by a pluck at the coat from -Prudence; he opened his shut eyes, cast an angry glance at the child, -who made a face at him for sole reply, and then he sat down, and they -all fell to. Grace Hickson would have thought her hospitality sadly at -fault, if she had allowed Captain Holdernesse to go out in search of a -bed. Skins were spread for him on the floor of the keeping-room; a -Bible, and a square bottle of spirits were placed on the table, to -supply his wants during the night; and in spite of all the cares and -troubles, temptations, or sins of the members of that household, they -were all asleep before the town clock struck ten. - -In the morning, the captain's first care was to go out in search of the -boy Elias, and the missing letter. He met him bringing it with an easy -conscience, for, thought Elias, a few hours sooner or later will make -no difference; to-night or the morrow morning will be all the same. But -he was startled into a sense of wrong-doing by a sound box on the ear, -from the very man who had charged him to deliver it speedily, and whom -he believed to be at that very moment in Boston city. - -The letter delivered, all possible proof being given that Lois had a -right to claim a home from her nearest relations, Captain Holdernesse -thought it best to take leave. - -'Thou'lt take to them, lass, maybe, when there is no one here to make -thee think on the old country. Nay, nay! parting is hard work at all -times, and best get hard work done out of hand. Keep up thine heart, my -wench, and I'll come back and see thee next spring, if we are all -spared till then; and who knows what fine young miller mayn't come with -me? Don't go and get wed to a praying Puritan, meanwhile. There, -there--I'm off! God bless thee!' - -And Lois was left alone in New England. - - - - -Chapter 2 - - -It was hard up-hill work for Lois to win herself a place in this -family. Her aunt was a woman of narrow, strong affections. Her love for -her husband, if ever she had any, was burnt out and dead long ago. What -she did for him she did from duty; but duty was not strong enough to -restrain that little member the tongue; and Lois's heart often bled at -the continual flow of contemptuous reproof which Grace constantly -addressed to her husband, even while she was sparing no pains or -trouble to minister to his bodily ease and comfort. It was more as a -relief to herself that she spoke in this way, than with any desire that -her speeches should affect him; and he was too deadened by illness to -feel hurt by them; or, it may be, the constant repetition of her -sarcasms had made him indifferent; at any rate, so that he had his food -and his state of bodily warmth attended to, he very seldom seemed to -care much for anything else. Even his first flow of affection towards -Lois was soon exhausted; he cared for her because she arranged his -pillows well and skilfully, and because she could prepare new and -dainty kinds of food for his sick appetite, but no longer for her as -his dead sister's child. Still he did care for her, and Lois was too -glad of this little hoard of affection to examine how or why it was -given. To him she could give pleasure, but apparently to no one else in -that household. Her aunt looked askance at her for many reasons: the -first coming of Lois to Salem was inopportune, the expression of -disapprobation on her face on that evening still lingered and rankled -in Grace's memory, early prejudices, and feelings, and prepossessions -of the English girl were all on the side of what would now be called -Church and State, what was then esteemed in that country a -superstitious observance of the directions of a Popish rubric, and a -servile regard for the family of an oppressing and irreligious king. -Nor is it to be supposed that Lois did not feel, and feel acutely, the -want of sympathy that all those with whom she was now living manifested -towards the old hereditary loyalty (religious as well as political -loyalty) in which she had been brought up. With her aunt and Manasseh -it was more than want of sympathy; it was positive, active antipathy to -all the ideas Lois held most dear. The very allusion, however -incidentally made, to the little old grey church at Barford, where her -father had preached so long,--the occasional reference to the troubles -in which her own country had been distracted when she left,--and the -adherence, in which she had been brought up, to the notion that the -king could do no wrong, seemed to irritate Manasseh past endurance. He -would get up from his reading, his constant employment when at home, -and walk angrily about the room after Lois had said anything of this -kind, muttering to himself; and once he had even stopped before her, -and in a passionate tone bade her not talk so like a fool. Now this was -very different to his mother's sarcastic, contemptuous way of treating -all poor Lois's little loyal speeches. Grace would lead her on--at -least she did at first, till experience made Lois wiser--to express her -thoughts on such subjects, till, just when the girl's heart was -opening, her aunt would turn round upon her with some bitter sneer that -roused all the evil feelings in Lois's disposition by its sting. Now -Manasseh seemed, through all his anger, to be so really grieved by what -he considered her error, that he went much nearer to convincing her -that there might be two sides to a question. Only this was a view, that -it appeared like treachery to her dead father's memory to entertain. - -Somehow, Lois felt instinctively that Manasseh was really friendly -towards her. He was little in the house; there was farming, and some -kind of mercantile business to be transacted by him, as real head of -the house; and as the season drew on, he went shooting and hunting in -the surrounding forests, with a daring which caused his mother to warn -and reprove him in private, although to the neighbours she boasted -largely of her son's courage and disregard of danger. Lois did not -often walk out for the mere sake of walking, there was generally some -household errand to be transacted when any of the women of the family -went abroad; but once or twice she had caught glimpses of the dreary, -dark wood, hemming in the cleared land on all sides,--the great wood -with its perpetual movement of branch and bough, and its solemn wail, -that came into the very streets of Salem when certain winds blew, -bearing the sound of the pine-trees clear upon the ears that had -leisure to listen. And from all accounts, this old forest, girdling -round the settlement, was full of dreaded and mysterious beasts, and -still more to be dreaded Indians, stealing in and out among the -shadows, intent on bloody schemes against the Christian people; -panther-streaked, shaven Indians, in league by their own confession, as -well as by the popular belief, with evil powers. - -Nattee, the old Indian servant, would occasionally make Lois's blood -run cold as she and Faith and Prudence listened to the wild stories she -told them of the wizards of her race. It was often in the kitchen, in -the darkening evening, while some cooking process was going on, that -the old Indian crone, sitting on her haunches by the bright red wood -embers which sent up no flame, but a lurid light reversing the shadows -of all the faces around, told her weird stories while they were -awaiting the rising of the dough, perchance, out of which the household -bread had to be made. There ran through these stories always a ghastly, -unexpressed suggestion of some human sacrifice being needed to complete -the success of any incantation to the Evil One; and the poor old -creature, herself believing and shuddering as she narrated her tale in -broken English, took a strange, unconscious pleasure in her power over -her hearers--young girls of the oppressing race, which had brought her -down into a state little differing from slavery, and reduced her people -to outcasts on the hunting-grounds which had belonged to her fathers. -After such tales, it required no small effort on Lois's part to go out, -at her aunt's command, into the common pasture round the town, and -bring the cattle home at night. Who knew but what the double-headed -snake might start up from each blackberry-bush--that wicked, cunning, -accursed creature in the service of the Indian wizards, that had such -power over all those white maidens who met the eyes placed at either -end of his long, sinuous, creeping body, so that loathe him, loathe the -Indian race as they would, off they must go into the forest to seek but -some Indian man, and must beg to be taken into his wigwam, abjuring -faith and race for ever? Or there were spells--so Nattee said--hidden -about the ground by the wizards, which changed that person's nature who -found them; so that, gentle and loving as they might have been before, -thereafter they took no pleasure but in the cruel torments of others, -and had a strange power given to them of causing such torments at their -will. Once Nattee, speaking low to Lois, who was alone with her in the -kitchen, whispered out her terrified belief that such a spell had -Prudence found; and when the Indian showed her arms to Lois, all -pinched and black and blue by the impish child, the English girl began -to be afraid of her cousin as of one possessed. But it was not Nattee -alone, nor young imaginative girls alone, that believed in these -stories. We can afford to smile at them now; but our English ancestors -entertained superstitions of much the same character at the same -period, and with less excuse, as the circumstances surrounding them -were better known, and consequently more explicable by common sense -than the real mysteries of the deep, untrodden forests of New England. -The gravest divines not only believed stories similar to that of the -double-headed serpent, and other tales of witchcraft, but they made -such narrations the subjects of preaching and prayer; and as cowardice -makes us all cruel, men who were blameless in many of the relations of -life, and even praiseworthy in some, became, from superstition, cruel -persecutors about this time, showing no mercy towards any one whom they -believed to be in league with the Evil One. - -Faith was the person with whom the English girl was the most intimately -associated in her uncle's house. The two were about the same age, and -certain household employments were shared between them. They took it in -turns to call in the cows, to make up the butter which had been churned -by Hosea, a stiff old out-door servant, in whom Grace Hickson placed -great confidence; and each lassie had her great spinning-wheel for -wool, and her lesser for flax, before a month had elapsed after Lois's -coming. Faith was a grave, silent person, never merry, sometimes very -sad, though Lois was a long time in even guessing why. She would try in -her sweet, simple fashion to cheer her cousin up, when the latter was -depressed, by telling her old stories of English ways and life. -Occasionally, Faith seemed to care to listen, occasionally she did not -heed one word, but dreamed on. Whether of the past or of the future, -who could tell? - -Stern old ministers came in to pay their pastoral visits. On such -occasions, Grace Hickson would put on clean apron and clean cap, and -make them more welcome than she was ever seen to do no one else, -bringing out the best provisions of her store, and setting of all -before them. Also, the great Bible was brought forth, and Hosea and -Nattee summoned from their work to listen while the minister read a -chapter, and, as he read, expounded it at considerable length. After -this all knelt, while he, standing, lifted up his right hand, and -prayed for all possible combinations of Christian men, for all possible -cases of spiritual need; and lastly, taking the individuals before him, -he would put up a very personal supplication for each, according to his -notion of their wants. At first Lois wondered at the aptitude of one or -two prayers of this description to the outward circumstances of each -case; but when she perceived that her aunt had usually a pretty long -confidential conversation with the minister in the early part of his -visit, she became aware that he received both his impressions and his -knowledge through the medium of 'that godly woman, Grace Hickson;' and -I am afraid she paid less regard to the prayer 'for the maiden from -another land, who hath brought the errors of that land as a seed with -her, even across the great ocean, and who is letting even now the -little seeds shoot up into an evil tree, in which all unclean creatures -may find shelter.' - -'I like the prayers of our Church better,' said Lois, one day to Faith. -'No clergyman in England can pray his own words, and therefore it is -that he cannot judge of others so as to fit his prayers to what he -esteems to be their case, as Mr. Tappau did this morning.' - -'I hate Mr. Tappau!' said Faith, shortly, a passionate flash of light -coming out of her dark, heavy eyes. - -'Why so cousin? It seems to me as if he were a good man, although I -like not his prayers.' - -Faith only repeated her words, 'I hate him.' - -Lois was sorry for this strong bad feeling; instinctively sorry, for -she was loving herself, delighted in being loved, and felt a jar run -through her at every sign of want of love in others. But she did not -know what to say, and was silent at the time. Faith, too, went on -turning her wheel with vehemence, but spoke never a word until her -thread snapped, and then she pushed the wheel away hastily and left the -room. - -Then Prudence crept softly up to Lois's side. This strange child seemed -to be tossed about by varying moods: to-day she was caressing and -communicative, to-morrow she might be deceitful, mocking, and so -indifferent to the pain or sorrows of others that you could call her -almost inhuman. - -'So thou dost not like Pastor Tappau's prayers?' she whispered. - -Lois was sorry to have been overheard, but she neither would nor could -take back her words. - -'I like them not so well as the prayers I used to hear at home.' - -'Mother says thy home was with the ungodly. Nay, don't look at me -so--it was not I that said it. I'm none so fond of praying myself, nor -of Pastor Tappau for that matter. But Faith cannot abide him, and I -know why. Shall I tell thee, cousin Lois?' - -'No! Faith did not tell me, and she was the right person to give her -own reasons.' - -'Ask her where young Mr. Nolan is gone to, and thou wilt hear. I have -seen Faith cry by the hour together about Mr. Nolan.' - -'Hush, child, hush!' said Lois, for she heard Faith's approaching step, -and feared lest she should overhear what they were saying. - -The truth was that, a year or two before, there had been a great -struggle in Salem village, a great division in the religious body, and -Pastor Tappau had been the leader of the more violent, and, ultimately, -the successful party. In consequence of this, the less popular -minister, Mr. Nolan, had had to leave the place. And him Faith Hickson -loved with all the strength of her passionate heart, although he never -was aware of the attachment he had excited, and her own family were too -regardless of manifestations of mere feeling to ever observe the signs -of any emotion on her part. But the old Indian servant Nattee saw and -observed them all. She knew, as well as if she had been told the -reason, why Faith had lost all care about father or mother, brother and -sister, about household work and daily occupation, nay, about the -observances of religion as well. Nattee read the meaning of the deep -smouldering of Faith's dislike to Pastor Tappau aright; the Indian -woman understood why the girl (whom alone of all the white people she -loved) avoided the old minister,--would hide in the wood-stack sooner -than be called in to listen to his exhortations and prayers. With -savage, untutored people, it is not 'Love me, love my dog,' they are -often jealous of the creature beloved; but it is, 'Whom thou hatest I -will hate;' and Nattee's feeling towards Pastor Tappau was even an -exaggeration of the mute unspoken hatred of Faith. - -For a long time, the cause of her cousin's dislike and avoidance of the -minister was a mystery to Lois; but the name of Nolan remained in her -memory whether she would or no, and it was more from girlish interest -in a suspected love affair, than from any indifferent and heartless -curiosity, that she could not help piecing together little speeches and -actions, with Faith's interest in the absent banished minister, for an -explanatory clue, till not a doubt remained in her mind. And this -without any further communication with Prudence, for Lois declined -hearing any more on the subject from her, and so gave deep offence. - -Faith grew sadder and duller as the autumn drew on. She lost her -appetite, her brown complexion became sallow and colourless, her dark -eyes looked hollow and wild. The first of November was near at hand. -Lois, in her instinctive, well-intentioned efforts to bring some life -and cheerfulness into the monotonous household, had been telling Faith -of many English customs, silly enough, no doubt, and which scarcely -lighted up a flicker of interest in the American girl's mind. The -cousins were lying awake in their bed in the great unplastered room, -which was in part store-room, in part bedroom. Lois was full of -sympathy for Faith that night. For long she had listened to her -cousin's heavy, irrepressible sighs, in silence. Faith sighed because -her grief was of too old a date for violent emotion or crying. Lois -listened without speaking in the dark, quiet night hours, for a long, -long time. She kept quite still, because she thought such vent for -sorrow might relieve her cousin's weary heart. But when at length, -instead of lying motionless, Faith seemed to be growing restless even -to convulsive motions of her limbs, Lois began to speak, to talk about -England, and the dear old ways at home, without exciting much attention -on Faith's part, until at length she fell upon the subject of -Hallow-e'en, and told about customs then and long afterwards practised -in England, and that have scarcely yet died out in Scotland. As she -told of tricks she had often played, of the apple eaten facing a -mirror, of the dripping sheet, of the basins of water, of the nuts -burning side by side, and many other such innocent ways of divination, -by which laughing, trembling English maidens sought to see the form of -their future husbands, if husbands they were to have, then Faith -listened breathlessly, asking short, eager questions, as if some ray of -hope had entered into her gloomy heart. Lois went on speaking, telling -her of all the stories that would confirm the truth of the second sight -vouchsafed to all seekers in the accustomed methods, half believing, -half incredulous herself, but desiring, above all things, to cheer up -poor Faith. - -Suddenly, Prudence rose up from her truckle-bed in the dim corner of -the room. They had not thought that she was awake, but she had been -listening long. - -'Cousin Lois may go out and meet Satan by the brook-side if she will, -but if thou goest, Faith, I will tell mother--ay, and I will tell -Pastor Tappau, too. Hold thy stories, Cousin Lois, I am afeard of my -very life. I would rather never be wed at all, than feel the touch of -the creature that would take the apple out of my hand, as I held it -over my left shoulder.' The excited girl gave a loud scream of terror -at the image her fancy had conjured up. Faith and Lois sprang out -towards her, flying across the moonlit room in their white nightgowns. -At the same instant, summoned by the same cry, Grace Hickson came to -her child. - -'Hush! hush!' said Faith, authoritatively. - -'What is it, my wench?' asked Grace. While Lois, feeling as if she had -done all the mischief, kept silence. - -'Take her away, take her away!' screamed Prudence. 'Look over her -shoulder--her left shoulder--the Evil One is there now, I see him -stretching over for the half-bitten apple.' - -'What is this she says?' said Grace, austerely. - -'She is dreaming,' said Faith; 'Prudence, hold thy tongue.' And she -pinched the child severely, while Lois more tenderly tried to soothe -the alarms she felt that she had conjured up. - -'Be quiet, Prudence,' said she, 'and go to sleep. I will stay by thee -till thou hast gone off into slumber.' - -'No, go! go away,' sobbed Prudence, who was really terrified at first, -but was now assuming more alarm: than she felt, if from the pleasure -she received at perceiving herself the centre of attention. 'Faith -shall stay by me, not you, wicked English witch!' - -So Faith sat by her sister; and Grace, displeased and perplexed, -withdrew to her own bed, purposing to inquire more into the matter in -the morning. Lois only hoped it might all be forgotten by that time, -and resolved never to talk again of such things. But an event happened -in the remaining hours of the night to change the current of affairs. -While Grace had been absent from her room, her husband had had another -paralytic stroke: whether he, too, had been alarmed by that eldritch -scream no one could ever know. By the faint light of the rush candle -burning at the bedside, his wife perceived that a great change had -taken place in his aspect on her return: the irregular breathing came -almost like snorts--the end was drawing near. The family were roused, -and all help given that either the doctor or experience could suggest. -But before the late November morning light, all was ended for Ralph -Hickson. - -The whole of the ensuing day, they sat or moved in darkened rooms, and -spoke few words, and those below their breath. Manasseh kept at home, -regretting his father, no doubt, but showing little emotion. Faith was -the child that bewailed her loss most grievously; she had a warm heart, -hidden away somewhere under her moody exterior, and her father had -shown her far more passive kindness than ever her mother had done, for -Grace made distinct favourites of Manasseh, her only son, and Prudence, -her youngest child. Lois was about as unhappy as any of them, for she -had felt strongly drawn towards her uncle as her kindest friend, and -the sense of his loss renewed the old sorrow she had experienced at her -own parents' death. But she had no time and no place to cry in. On her -devolved many of the cares, which it would have seemed indecorous in -the nearer relatives to interest themselves in enough to take an active -part: the change required in their dress, the household preparations -for the sad feast of the funeral--Lois had to arrange all under her -aunt's stern direction. - -But a day or two afterwards--the last day before the funeral--she went -into the yard to fetch in some fagots for the oven; it was a solemn, -beautiful, starlit evening, and some sudden sense of desolation in the -midst of the vast universe thus revealed touched Lois's heart, and she -sat down behind the woodstack, and cried very plentiful tears. - -She was startled by Manasseh, who suddenly turned the corner of the -stack, and stood before her. - -'Lois crying!' - -'Only a little,' she said, rising up, and gathering her bundle of -fagots, for she dreaded being questioned by her grim, impassive cousin. -To her surprise, he laid his hand on her arm, and said: - -'Stop one minute. Why art thou crying, cousin?' - -'I don't know,' she said, just like a child questioned in like manner; -and she was again on the point of weeping. - -'My father was very kind to thee, Lois; I do not wonder that thou -grievest after him. But the Lord who taketh away can restore tenfold. I -will be as kind as my father--yea, kinder. This is not a time to talk -of marriage and giving in marriage. But after we have buried our dead, -I wish to speak to thee.' - -Lois did not cry now, but she shrank with affright. What did her cousin -mean? She would far rather that he had been angry with her for -unreasonable grieving, for folly. - -She avoided him carefully--as carefully as she could, without seeming -to dread him--for the next few days. Sometimes she thought it must have -been a bad dream; for if there had been no English lover in the case, -no other man in the whole world, she could never have thought of -Manasseh as her husband; indeed, till now, there had been nothing in -his words or actions to suggest such an idea. Now it had been -suggested, there was no telling how much she loathed him. He might be -good, and pious--he doubtless was--but his dark fixed eyes, moving so -slowly and heavily, his lank black hair, his grey coarse skin, all made -her dislike him now--all his personal ugliness and ungainliness struck -on her senses with a jar, since those few words spoken behind the -haystack. - -She knew that sooner or later the time must come for further discussion -of this subject; but, like a coward, she tried to put it off, by -clinging to her aunt's apron-string, for she was sure that Grace -Hickson had far different views for her only son. As, indeed, she had, -for she was an ambitious, as well as a religious woman; and by an early -purchase of land in Salem village, the Hicksons had become wealthy -people, without any great exertions of their own; partly, also, by the -silent process of accumulation, for they had never cared to change -their manner of living from the time when it had been suitable to a far -smaller income than that which they at present enjoyed. So much for -worldly circumstances. As for their worldly character, it stood as -high. No one could say a word against any of their habits or actions. -The righteousness and godliness were patent to every one's eyes. So -Grace Hickson thought herself entitled to pick and choose among the -maidens, before she should meet with one fitted to be Manasseh's wife. -None in Salem came up to her imaginary standard. She had it in her mind -even at this very time--so soon after her husband's death--to go to -Boston, and take counsel with the leading ministers there, with worthy -Mr. Cotton Mather at their head, and see if they could tell her of a -well-favoured and godly young maiden in their congregations worthy of -being the wife of her son. But, besides good looks and godliness, the -wench must have good birth, and good wealth, or Grace Hickson would -have put her contemptuously on one side. When once this paragon was -found, the ministers had approved, Grace anticipated no difficulty on -her son's part. So Lois was right in feeling that her aunt would -dislike any speech of marriage between Manasseh and herself. - -But the girl was brought to bay one day in this wise. Manasseh had -ridden forth on some business, which every one said would occupy him -the whole day; but, meeting the man with whom he had to transact his -affairs, he returned earlier than any one expected. He missed Lois from -the keeping-room where his sisters were spinning, almost immediately. -His mother sat by at her knitting--he could see Nattee in the kitchen -through the open door. He was too reserved to ask where Lois was, but -he quietly sought till he found her--in the great loft, already piled -with winter stores of fruit and vegetables. Her aunt had sent her there -to examine the apples one by one, and pick out such as were unsound, -for immediate use. She was stooping down, and intent upon this work, -and was hardly aware of his approach, until she lifted up her head and -saw him standing close before her. She dropped the apple she was -holding, went a little paler than her wont, and faced him in silence. - -'Lois,' he said, 'thou rememberest the words that I spoke while we yet -mourned over my father. I think that I am called to marriage now, as -the head of this household. And I have seen no maiden so pleasant in my -sight as thou art, Lois!' He tried to take her hand. But she put it -behind her with a childish shake of her head, and, half-crying, said: - -'Please, Cousin Manasseh, do not say this to me. I dare say you ought -to be married, being the head of the household now; but I don't want to -be married. I would rather not.' - -'That is well spoken,' replied he, frowning a little, nevertheless. 'I -should not like to take to wife an over-forward maiden, ready to jump -at wedlock. Besides, the congregation might talk, if we were to be -married too soon after my father's death. We have, perchance, said -enough, even now. But I wished thee to have thy mind set at ease as to -thy future well-doing. Thou wilt have leisure to think of it, and to -bring thy mind more fully round to it.' Again he held out his hand. -This time she took hold of it with a free, frank gesture. - -'I owe you somewhat for your kindness to me ever since I came, Cousin -Manasseh; and I have no way of paying you but by telling you truly I -can love you as a dear friend, if you will let me, but never as a -wife.' - -He flung her hand away, but did not take his eyes off her face, though -his glance was lowering and gloomy. He muttered something which she did -not quite hear, and so she went on bravely although she kept trembling -a little, and had much ado to keep from crying. - -'Please let me tell you all. There was a young man in Barford--nay, -Manasseh, I cannot speak if you are so angry; it is hard work to tell -you any how--he said that he wanted to marry me; but I was poor, and -his father would have none of it, and I do not want to marry any one; -but if I did, it would be--' Her voice dropped, and her blushes told -the rest. Manasseh stood looking at her with sullen, hollow eyes, that -had a glittering touch of wilderness in them, and then he said: - -'It is borne in upon me--verily I see it as in a vision--that thou must -be my spouse, and no other man's. Thou canst not escape what is -foredoomed. Months ago, when I set myself to read the old godly books -in which my soul used to delight until thy coming, I saw no letters of -printers' ink marked on the page, but I saw a gold and ruddy type of -some unknown language, the meaning whereof was whispered into my soul; -it was, "Marry Lois! marry Lois!" And when my father died, I knew it -was the beginning of the end. It is the Lord's will, Lois, and thou -canst not escape from it.' And again he would have taken her hand and -drawn her towards him. But this time she eluded him with ready -movement. - -'I do not acknowledge it be the Lord's will, Manasseh,' said she. 'It -is not "borne in upon me," as you Puritans call it, that I am to be -your wife. I am none so set upon wedlock as to take you, even though -there be no other chance for me. For I do not care for you as I ought -to care for my husband. But I could have cared for you very much as a -cousin--as a kind cousin.' - -She stopped speaking; she could not choose the right words with which -to speak to him of her gratitude and friendliness, which yet could -never be any feeling nearer and dearer, no more than two parallel lines -can ever meet. - -But he was so convinced, by what he considered the spirit of prophecy, -that Lois was to be his wife, that he felt rather more indignant at -what he considered to be her resistance to the preordained decree, than -really anxious as to the result. Again he tried to convince her that -neither he nor she had any choice in the matter, by saying: - -'The voice said unto me "Marry Lois," and I said, "I will, Lord."' - -'But,' Lois replied, 'the voice, as you call it, has never spoken such -a word to me.' - -'Lois,' he answered, solemnly, 'it will speak. And then wilt thou obey, -even as Samuel did?' - -'No, indeed I cannot!' she answered, briskly. 'I may take a dream to be -truth, and hear my own fancies, if I think about them too long. But I -cannot marry any one from obedience.' - -'Lois, Lois, thou art as yet unregenerate; but I have seen thee in a -vision as one of the elect, robed in white. As yet thy faith is too -weak for thee to obey meekly, but it shall not always be so. I will -pray that thou mayest see thy preordained course. Meanwhile, I will -smooth away all worldly obstacles.' - -'Cousin Manasseh! Cousin Manasseh!' cried Lois after him, as he was -leaving the room, 'come back. I cannot put it in strong enough words. -Manasseh, there is no power in heaven or earth that can make me love -thee enough to marry thee, or to wed thee without such love. And this I -say solemnly, because it is better that this should end at once.' - -For a moment he was staggered; then he lifted up his hands, and said, - -'God forgive thee thy blasphemy! Remember Hazael, who said, "Is thy -servant a dog, that he should do this great thing?" and went straight -and did it, because his evil courses were fixed and appointed for him -from before the foundation of the world. And shall not thy paths be -laid out among the godly as it hath been foretold to me?' - -He went away; and for a minute or two Lois felt as if his words must -come true, and that, struggle as she would, hate her doom as she would, -she must become his wife; and, under the circumstances, many a girl -would have succumbed to her apparent fate. Isolated from all previous -connections, hearing no word from England, living in the heavy, -monotonous routine of a family with one man for head, and this man -esteemed a hero by most of those around him, simply because he was the -only man in the family,--these facts alone would have formed strong -presumptions that most girls would have yielded to the offers of such a -one. But, besides this, there was much to tell upon the imagination in -those days, in that place, and time. It was prevalently believed that -there were manifestations of spiritual influence--of the direct -influence both of good and bad spirits--constantly to be perceived in -the course of men's lives. Lots were drawn, as guidance from the Lord; -the Bible was opened, and the leaves allowed to fall apart, and the -first text the eye fell upon was supposed to be appointed from above a -direction. Sounds were heard that could not be accounted for; they were -made by the evil spirits not yet banished from the desert places of -which they had so long held possession. Sights, inexplicable and -mysterious, were dimly seen--Satan, in some shape, seeking whom he -might devour. And at the beginning of the long winter season, such -whispered tales, such old temptations and hauntings, and devilish -terrors, were supposed to be peculiarly rife. Salem was, as it were, -snowed up, and left to prey upon itself. The long, dark evenings, the -dimly-lighted rooms, the creaking passages, where heterogeneous -articles were piled away out of reach of the keen-piercing frost, and -where occasionally, in the dead of night, a sound was heard, as of some -heavy falling body, when, next morning, everything appeared to be in -its right place--so accustomed are we to measure noises by comparison -with themselves, and not with the absolute stillness of the -night-season--the white mist, coming nearer and nearer to the windows -every evening in strange shapes, like phantoms,--all these, and many -other circumstances, such as the distant fall of mighty trees in the -mysterious forests girdling them round, the faint whoop and cry of some -Indian seeking his camp, and unwittingly nearer to the white men's -settlement than either he or they would have liked could they have -chosen, the hungry yells of the wild beasts approaching the -cattle-pens,--these were the things which made that winter life in -Salem, in the memorable time of 1691-2, seem strange, and haunted, and -terrific to many: peculiarly weird and awful to the English girl in her -first year's sojourn in America. - -And now imagine Lois worked upon perpetually by Manasseh's conviction -that it was decreed that she should be his wife, and you will see that -she was not without courage and spirit to resist as she did, steadily, -firmly, and yet sweetly. Take one instance out of many, when her nerves -were subjected to a shock, slight in relation it is true, but then -remember that she had been all day, and for many days, shut up within -doors, in a dull light, that at mid-day was almost dark with a -long-continued snow-storm. Evening was coming on, and the wood fire was -more cheerful than any of the human beings surrounding it; the -monotonous whirr of the smaller spinning-wheels had been going on all -day, and the store of flax down stairs was nearly exhausted, when Grace -Hickson bade Lois fetch down some more from the store-room, before the -light so entirely waned away that it could not be found without a -candle, and a candle it would be dangerous to carry into that apartment -full of combustible materials, especially at this time of hard frost, -when every drop of water was locked up and bound in icy hardness. So -Lois went, half-shrinking from the long passage that led to the stairs -leading up into the storeroom, for it was in this passage that the -strange night sounds were heard, which every one had begun to notice, -and speak about in lowered tones. She sang, however, as she went, 'to -keep her courage up'--sang, however, in a subdued voice, the evening -hymn she had so often sung in Barford church: - - 'Glory to Thee, my God, this night--' - -and so it was, I suppose, that she never heard the breathing or motion -of any creature near her till, just as she was loading herself with -flax to carry down, she heard some one--it was Manasseh--say close to -her ear: - -'Has the voice spoken yet? Speak, Lois! Has the voice spoken yet to -thee--that speaketh to me day and night, "Marry Lois?"' - -She started and turned a little sick, but spoke almost directly in a -brave, clear manner: - -'No! Cousin Manasseh. And it never will.' - -'Then I must wait yet longer,' he replied, hoarsely, as if to himself. -'But all submission--all submission.' - -At last a break came upon the monotony of the long, dark winter. The -parishioners once more raised the discussion whether--the parish -extending as it did--it was not absolutely necessary for Pastor Tappau -to have help. This question had been mooted once before; and then -Pastor Tappau had acquiesced in the necessity, and all had gone on -smoothly for some months after the appointment of his assistant, until -a feeling had sprung up on the part of the elder minister, which might -have been called jealousy of the younger, if so godly a man as Pastor -Tappau could have been supposed to entertain so evil a passion. However -that might be, two parties were speedily formed, the younger and more -ardent being in favour of Mr. Nolan, the elder and more -persistent--and, at the time, the more numerous--clinging to the old -grey-headed, dogmatic Mr. Tappau, who had married them, baptized their -children, and was to them literally as a 'pillar of the church.' So Mr. -Nolan left Salem, carrying away with him, possibly, more hearts than -that of Faith Hickson's; but certainly she had never been the same -creature since. - -But now--Christmas, 1691--one or two of the older members of the -congregation being dead, and some who were younger men having come to -settle in Salem--Mr. Tappau being also older, and, some charitably -supposed, wiser--a fresh effort had been made, and Mr. Nolan was -returning to labour in ground apparently smoothed over. Lois had taken -a keen interest in all the proceedings for Faith's sake,--far more than -the latter did for herself, any spectator would have said. Faith's -wheel never went faster or slower, her thread never broke, her colour -never came, her eyes were never uplifted with sudden interest, all the -time these discussions respecting Mr. Nolan's return were going on. But -Lois, after the hint given by Prudence, had found a clue to many a sigh -and look of despairing sorrow, even without the help of Nattee's -improvised songs, in which, under strange allegories, the helpless love -of her favourite was told to ears heedless of all meaning, except those -of the tender-hearted and sympathetic Lois. Occasionally, she heard a -strange chant of the old Indian woman's--half in her own language, half -in broken English--droned over some simmering pipkin, from which the -smell was, to say the least, unearthly. Once, on perceiving this odour -in the keeping-room, Grace Hickson suddenly exclaimed: - -'Nattee is at her heathen ways again; we shall have some mischief -unless she is stayed.' - -But Faith, moving quicker than ordinary, said something about putting a -stop to it, and so forestalled her mother's evident intention of going -into the kitchen. Faith shut the door between the two rooms, and -entered upon some remonstrance with Nattee; but no one could hear the -words used. Faith and Nattee seemed more bound together by love and -common interest, than any other two among the self-contained -individuals comprising this household. Lois sometimes felt as if her -presence as a third interrupted some confidential talk between her -cousin and the old servant. And yet she was fond of Faith, and could -almost think that Faith liked her more than she did either mother, -brother, or sister; for the first two were indifferent as to any -unspoken feelings, while Prudence delighted in discovering them only to -make an amusement to herself out of them. - -One day Lois was sitting by herself at her sewing table, while Faith -and Nattee were holding one of the secret conclaves from which Lois -felt herself to be tacitly excluded, when the outer door opened, and a -tall, pale young man, in the strict professional habit of a minister, -entered. Lois sprang up with a smile and a look of welcome for Faith's -sake, for this must be the Mr. Nolan whose name had been on the tongue -of every one for days, and who was, as Lois knew, expected to arrive -the day before. - -He seemed half surprised at the glad alacrity with which he was -received by this stranger: possibly he had not heard of the English -girl, who was an inmate in the house where formerly he had seen only -grave, solemn, rigid, or heavy faces, and had been received with a -stiff form of welcome, very different from the blushing, smiling, -dimpled looks that innocently met him with the greeting almost of an -old acquaintance. Lois having placed a chair for him, hastened out to -call Faith, never doubting but that the feeling which her cousin -entertained for the young pastor was mutual, although it might be -unrecognised in its full depth by either. - -'Faith!' said she, bright and breathless. 'Guess--no,' checking herself -to an assumed unconsciousness of any particular importance likely to be -affixed to her words, 'Mr. Nolan, the new pastor, is in the -keeping-room. He has asked for my aunt and Manasseh. My aunt is gone to -the prayer meeting at Pastor Tappau's, and Manasseh is away.' Lois went -on speaking to give Faith time, for the girl had become deadly white at -the intelligence, while, at the same time, her eyes met the keen, -cunning eyes of the old Indian with a peculiar look of half-wondering -awe, while Nattee's looks expressed triumphant satisfaction. - -'Go,' said Lois, smoothing Faith's hair, and kissing the white, cold -cheek, 'or he will wonder why no one comes to see him, and perhaps -think he is not welcome.' Faith went without another word into the -keeping-room, and shut the door of communication. Nattee and Lois were -left together. Lois felt as happy as if some piece of good fortune had -befallen herself. For the time, her growing dread of Manasseh's wild, -ominous persistence in his suit, her aunt's coldness, her own -loneliness, were all forgotten, and she could almost have danced with -joy. Nattee laughed aloud, and talked and chuckled to herself: 'Old -Indian woman great mystery. Old Indian woman sent hither and thither; -go where she is told, where she hears with her ears. But old Indian -woman'--and here she drew herself up, and the expression of her face -quite changed--'know how to call, and then white man must come; and old -Indian have spoken never a word, and white man have hear nothing with -his ears.' So, the old crone muttered. - -All this time, things were going on very differently in the -keeping-room to what Lois imagined. Faith sat stiller even than usual; -her eyes downcast, her words few. A quick observer might have noticed a -certain tremulousness about her hands, and an occasional twitching -throughout all her frame. But Pastor Nolan was not a keen observer upon -this occasion; he was absorbed with his own little wonders and -perplexities. His wonder was that of a carnal man--who that pretty -stranger might be, who had seemed, on his first coming, so glad to see -him, but had vanished instantly, apparently not to reappear. And, -indeed, I am not sure if his perplexity was not that of a carnal man -rather than that of a godly minister, for this was his dilemma. It was -the custom of Salem (as we have already seen) for the minister, on -entering a household for the visit which, among other people and in -other times, would have been termed a 'morning call,' to put up a -prayer for the eternal welfare of the family under whose roof-tree he -was. Now this prayer was expected to be adapted to the individual -character, joys, sorrows, wants, and failings of every member present; -and here was he, a young pastor, alone with a young woman, and he -thought--vain thoughts, perhaps, but still very natural--that the -implied guesses at her character, involved in the minute supplications -above described, would be very awkward in a tête-à-tête prayer; so, -whether it was his wonder or his perplexity, I do not know, but he did -not contribute much to the conversation for some time, and at last, by -a sudden burst of courage and impromptu hit, he cut the Gordian knot by -making the usual proposal for prayer, and adding to it a request that -the household might be summoned. In came Lois, quiet and decorous; in -came Nattee, all one impassive, stiff piece of wood,--no look of -intelligence or trace of giggling near her countenance. Solemnly -recalling each wandering thought, Pastor Nolan knelt in the midst of -these three to pray. He was a good and truly religious man, whose name -here is the only thing disguised, and played his part bravely in the -awful trial to which he was afterwards subjected; and if at the time, -before he went through his fiery persecutions, the human fancies which -beset all young hearts came across his, we at this day know that these -fancies are no sin. But now he prays in earnest, prays so heartily for -himself, with such a sense of his own spiritual need and spiritual -failings, that each one of his hearers feels as if a prayer and a -supplication had gone up for each of them. Even Nattee muttered the few -words she knew of the Lord's Prayer; gibberish though the disjointed -nouns and verbs might be, the poor creature said them because she was -stirred to unwonted reverence. As for Lois, she rose up comforted and -strengthened, as no special prayers of Pastor Tappau had ever made her -feel. But Faith was sobbing, sobbing aloud, almost hysterically, and -made no effort to rise, but lay on her outstretched arms spread out -upon the settle. Lois and Pastor Nolan looked at each other for an -instant. Then Lois said: - -'Sir, you must go. My cousin has not been strong for some time, and -doubtless she needs more quiet than she has had to-day.' - -Pastor Nolan bowed, and left the house; but in a moment he returned. -Half opening the door, but without entering, he said: - -'I come back to ask, if perchance I may call this evening to inquire -how young Mistress Hickson finds herself?' - -But Faith did not hear this; she was sobbing louder than ever. - -'Why did you send him away, Lois? I should have been better directly, -and it is so long since I have seen him.' - -She had her face hidden as she uttered these words, and Lois could not -hear them distinctly. She bent her head down by her cousin's on the -settle, meaning to ask her to repeat what she had said. But in the -irritation of the moment, and prompted possibly by some incipient -jealousy, Faith pushed Lois away so violently that the latter was hurt -against the hard, sharp corner of the wooden settle. Tears came into -her eyes; not so much because her cheek was bruised, as because of the -surprised pain she felt at this repulse from the cousin towards whom -she was feeling so warmly and kindly. Just for the moment, Lois was as -angry as any child could have been; but some of the words of Pastor -Nolan's prayer yet rang in her ears, and she thought it would be a -shame if she did not let them sink into her heart. She dared not, -however, stoop again to caress Faith, but stood quietly by her, -sorrowfully waiting, until a step at the outer door caused Faith to -rise quickly, and rush into the kitchen, leaving Lois to bear the brunt -of the new-comer. It was Manasseh, returned from hunting. He had been -two days away, in company with other young men belonging to Salem. It -was almost the only occupation which could draw him out of his secluded -habits. He stopped suddenly at the door on seeing Lois, and alone, for -she had avoided him of late in every possible way. - -'Where is my mother?' - -'At a prayer meeting at Pastor Tappau's. She has taken Prudence. Faith -has left the room this minute. I will call her.' And Lois was going -towards the kitchen, when he placed himself between her and the door. - -'Lois,' said he, 'the time is going by, and I cannot wait much longer. -The visions come thick upon me, and my sight grows clearer and clearer. -Only this last night, camping out in the woods, I saw in my soul, -between sleeping and waking, the spirit come and offer thee two lots, -and the colour of the one was white, like a bride's, and the other was -black and red, which is, being interpreted, a violent death. And when -thou didst choose the latter the spirit said unto me, 'Come!' and I -came, and did as I was bidden. I put it on thee with mine own hands, as -it is preordained, if thou wilt not hearken unto the voice and be my -wife. And when the black and red dress fell to the ground, thou wert -even as a corpse three days old. Now, be advised, Lois, in time. Lois, -my cousin, I have seen it in a vision, and my soul cleaveth unto -thee--I would fain spare thee.' - -He was really in earnest--in passionate earnest; whatever his visions, -as he called them, might be, he believed in them, and this belief gave -something of unselfishness to his love for Lois. This she felt at this -moment, if she had never done so before, and it seemed like a contrast -to the repulse she had just met with from his sister. He had drawn near -her, and now he took hold of her hand, repeating in his wild, pathetic, -dreamy way: - -'And the voice said unto me, "Marry Lois!"' And Lois was more inclined -to soothe and reason with him than she had ever been before, since the -first time of his speaking to her on the subject,--when Grace -Hickson--and Prudence entered the room from the passage. They had -returned from the prayer meeting by the back way, which had prevented -the sound of their approach from being heard. - -But Manasseh did not stir or look round; he kept his eyes fixed on -Lois, as if to note the effect of his words. Grace came hastily -forwards, and lifting up her strong right arm, smote their joined hands -in twain, in spite of the fervour of Manasseh's grasp. - -'What means this?' said she, addressing herself more to Lois than to -her son, anger flashing out of her deep-set eyes. - -Lois waited for Manasseh to speak. He seemed, but a few minutes before, -to be more gentle and less threatening than he had been of late on this -subject, and she did not wish to irritate him. But he did not speak, -and her aunt stood angrily waiting for an answer. - -'At any rate,' thought Lois, 'it will put an end to the thought in his -mind when my aunt speaks out about it.' - -'My cousin seeks me in marriage,' said Lois. - -'Thee!' and Grace struck out in the direction of her niece with a -gesture of supreme contempt. But now Manasseh spoke forth: - -'Yea! it is preordained. The voice has said it, and the spirit has -brought her to me as my bride.' - -'Spirit! an evil spirit then. A good spirit would have chosen out for -thee a godly maiden of thine own people, and not a prelatist and a -stranger like this girl. A pretty return, Mistress Lois, for all our -kindness.' - -'Indeed, Aunt Hickson, I have done all I could--Cousin Manasseh knows -it--to show him I can be none of his. I have told him,' said she, -blushing, but determined to say the whole out at once, 'that I am all -but troth-plight to a young man of our own village at home; and, even -putting all that on one side, I wish not for marriage at present.' - -'Wish rather for conversion and regeneration. Marriage is an unseemly -word in the mouth of a maiden. As for Manasseh, I will take reason with -him in private; and, meanwhile, if thou hast spoken truly, throw not -thyself in his path, as I have noticed thou hast done but too often of -late.' - -Lois's heart burnt within her at this unjust accusation, for she knew -how much she had dreaded and avoided her cousin, and she almost looked -to him to give evidence that her aunt's last words were not true. But, -instead, he recurred to his one fixed idea, and said: - -'Mother, listen! If I wed not Lois, both she and I die within the year. -I care not for life; before this, as you know, I have sought for death' -(Grace shuddered, and was for a moment subdued by some recollection of -past horror); 'but if Lois were my wife I should live, and she would be -spared from what is the other lot. That whole vision grows clearer to -me day by day. Yet, when I try to know whether I am one of the elect, -all is dark. The mystery of Free-Will and Fore-Knowledge is a mystery -of Satan's devising, not of God's.' - -'Alas, my son! Satan is abroad among the brethren even now; but let the -old vexed topics rest. Sooner than fret thyself again, thou shalt have -Lois to be thy wife, though my heart was set far differently for thee.' - -'No, Manasseh,' said Lois. 'I love you well as a cousin, but wife of -yours I can never be. Aunt Hickson, it is not well to delude him so. I -say, if ever I marry man, I am troth-plight to one in England.' - -'Tush, child! I am your guardian in my dead husband's place. Thou -thinkest thyself so great a prize that I would clutch at thee whether -or no, I doubt not. I value thee not, save as a medicine for Manasseh, -if his mind get disturbed again, as I have noted signs of late.' - -This, then, was the secret explanation of much that had alarmed her in -her cousin's manner: and if Lois had been a physician of modern times, -she might have traced somewhat of the same temperament in his sisters -as well--in Prudence's lack of natural feeling and impish delight in -mischief, in Faith's vehemence of unrequited love. But as yet Lois did -not know, any more than Faith, that the attachment of the latter to Mr. -Nolan was not merely unreturned, but even unperceived, by the young -minister. - -He came, it is true--came often to the house, sat long with the family, -and watched them narrowly, but took no especial notice of Faith. Lois -perceived this, and grieved over it; Nattee perceived it, and was -indignant at it, long before Faith slowly acknowledged it to herself, -and went to Nattee the Indian woman, rather than to Lois her cousin, -for sympathy and counsel. - -'He cares not for me,' said Faith. 'He cares more for Lois's little -finger than for my whole body,' the girl moaned out in the bitter pain -of jealousy. - -'Hush thee, hush thee, prairie bird! How can he build a nest, when the -old bird has got all the moss and the feathers? Wait till the Indian -has found means to send the old bird flying far away.' This was the -mysterious comfort Nattee gave. - -Grace Hickson took some kind of charge over Manasseh that relieved Lois -of much of her distress at his strange behaviour. Yet at times he -escaped from his mother's watchfulness, and in such opportunities he -would always seek Lois, entreating her, as of old, to marry -him--sometimes pleading his love for her, oftener speaking wildly of -his visions and the voices which he heard foretelling a terrible -futurity. - -We have now to do with events which were taking place in Salem, beyond -the narrow circle of the Hickson family; but as they only concern us in -as far as they bore down in their consequences on the future of those -who formed part of it, I shall go over the narrative very briefly. The -town of Salem had lost by death, within a very short time preceding the -commencement of my story, nearly all its venerable men and leading -citizens--men of ripe wisdom and sound counsel. The people had hardly -yet recovered from the shock of their loss, as one by one the -patriarchs of the primitive little community had rapidly followed each -other to the grave. They had been beloved as fathers, and looked up to -as judges in the land. The first bad effect of their loss was seen in -the heated dissension which sprang up between Pastor Tappau and the -candidate Nolan. It had been apparently healed over; but Mr. Nolan had -not been many weeks in Salem, after his second coming, before the -strife broke out afresh, and alienated many for life who had till then -been bound together by the ties of friendship or relationship. Even in -the Hickson family something of this feeling soon sprang up; Grace -being a vehement partisan of the elder pastor's more gloomy doctrines, -while Faith was a passionate, if a powerless, advocate of Mr. Nolan. -Manasseh's growing absorption in his own fancies, and imagined gift of -prophecy, making him comparatively indifferent to all outward events, -did not tend to either the fulfilment of his visions, or the -elucidation of the dark mysterious doctrines over which he had pondered -too long for the health either of his mind or body; while Prudence -delighted in irritating every one by her advocacy of the views of -thinking to which they were most opposed, and retailing every gossiping -story to the person most likely to disbelieve, and be indignant at what -she told, with an assumed unconsciousness of any such effect to be -produced. There was much talk of the congregational difficulties and -dissensions being carried up to the general court, and each party -naturally hoped that, if such were the course of events, the opposing -pastor and that portion of the congregation which adhered to him might -be worsted in the struggle. - -Such was the state of things in the township when, one day towards the -end of the month of February, Grace Hickson returned from the weekly -prayer meeting; which it was her custom to attend at Pastor Tappau's -house, in a state of extreme excitement. On her entrance into her own -house she sat down, rocking her body backwards and forwards, and -praying to herself: both Faith and Lois stopped their spinning, in -wonder at her agitation, before either of them ventured to address her. -At length Faith rose, and spoke: - -'Mother, what is it? Hath anything happened of an evil nature?' - -The brave, stern, old woman's face was blenched, and her eyes were -almost set in horror, as she prayed; the great drops running down her -cheeks. - -It seemed almost as if she had to make a struggle to recover her sense -of the present homely accustomed life, before she could find words to -answer: - -'Evil nature! Daughters, Satan is abroad,--is close to us. I have this -very hour seen him afflict two innocent children, as of old he troubled -those who were possessed by him in Judea. Hester and Abigail Tappau -have been contorted and convulsed by him and his servants into such -shapes as I am afeard to think on; and when their father, godly Mr. -Tappau, began to exhort and to pray, their howlings were like the wild -beasts of the field. Satan is of a truth let loose amongst us. The -girls kept calling upon him as if he were even then present among us. -Abigail screeched out that he stood at my very back in the guise of a -black man; and truly, as I turned round at her words, I saw a creature -like a shadow vanishing, and turned all of a cold sweat. Who knows -where he is now? Faith, lay straws across on the door-sill.' - -'But if he be already entered in,' asked Prudence, 'may not that make -it difficult for him to depart?' - -Her mother, taking no notice of her question, went on rocking herself, -and praying, till again she broke out into narration: - -'Reverend Mr. Tappau says, that only last night he heard a sound as of -a heavy body dragged all through the house by some strong power; once -it was thrown against his bedroom door, and would, doubtless, have -broken it in, if he had not prayed fervently and aloud at that very -time; and a shriek went up at his prayer that made his hair stand on -end; and this morning all the crockery in the house was found broken -and piled up in the middle of the kitchen floor; and Pastor Tappau -says, that as soon as he began to ask a blessing on the morning's meal, -Abigail and Hester cried out, as if some one was pinching them. Lord, -have mercy upon us all! Satan is of a truth let loose.' - -'They sound like the old stories I used to hear in Barford,' said Lois, -breathless with affright. - -Faith seemed less alarmed; but then her dislike to Pastor Tappau was so -great, that she could hardly sympathise with any misfortunes that -befell him or his family. - -Towards evening Mr. Nolan came in. In general, so high did party spirit -run, Grace Hickson only tolerated his visits, finding herself often -engaged at such hours, and being too much abstracted in thought to show -him the ready hospitality which was one of her most prominent virtues. -But to-day, both as bringing the latest intelligence of the new horrors -sprung up in Salem, and as being one of the Church militant (or what -the Puritans considered as equivalent to the Church militant) against -Satan, he was welcomed by her in an unusual manner. - -He seemed oppressed with the occurrences of the day: at first it -appeared to be almost a relief to him to sit still, and cogitate upon -them, and his hosts were becoming almost impatient for him to say -something more than mere monosyllables, when he began: - -'Such a day as this, I pray that I may never see again. It is as if the -devils whom our Lord banished into the herd of swine, had been -permitted to come again upon the earth. And I would it were only the -lost spirits who were tormenting us; but I much fear, that certain of -those whom we have esteemed as God's people have sold their souls to -Satan, for the sake of a little of his evil power, whereby they may -afflict others for a time. Elder Sherringham hath lost this very day a -good and valuable horse, wherewith he used to drive his family to -meeting, his wife being bedridden.' - -'Perchance,' said Lois, 'the horse died of some natural disease.' - -'True,' said Pastor Nolan; 'but I was going on to say, that as he -entered into his house, full of dolour at the loss of his beast, a -mouse ran in before him so sudden that it almost tripped him up, though -an instant before there was no such thing to be seen; and he caught at -it with his shoe and hit it, and it cried out like a human creature in -pain, and straight ran up the chimney, caring nothing for the hot flame -and smoke.' - -Manasseh listened greedily to all this story, and when it was ended he -smote upon his breast, and prayed aloud for deliverance from the power -of the Evil One; and he continually went on praying at intervals -through the evening, with every mark of abject terror on his face and -in his manner--he, the bravest, most daring hunter in all the -settlement. Indeed, all the family huddled together in silent fear, -scarcely finding any interest in the usual household occupations. Faith -and Lois sat with arms entwined, as in days before the former had -become jealous of the latter; Prudence asked low, fearful questions of -her mother and of the pastor as to the creatures that were abroad, and -the ways in which they afflicted others; and when Grace besought the -minister to pray for her and her household, he made a long and -passionate supplication that none of that little flock might ever so -far fall away into hopeless perdition as to be guilty of the sin -without forgiveness--the sin of Witchcraft. - - - - -Chapter 3 - - -'The sin of witchcraft.' We read about it, we look on it from the -outside; but we can hardly realize the terror it induced. Every -impulsive or unaccustomed action, every little nervous affection, every -ache or pain was noticed, not merely by those around the sufferer, but -by the person himself, whoever he might be, that was acting, or being -acted upon, in any but the most simple and ordinary manner. He or she -(for it was most frequently a woman or girl that was the supposed -subject) felt a desire for some unusual kind of food--some unusual -motion or rest her hand twitched, her foot was asleep, or her leg had -the cramp; and the dreadful question immediately suggested itself, 'Is -any one possessing an evil power over me, by the help of Satan?' and -perhaps they went on to think, 'It is bad enough to feel that my body -can be made to suffer through the power of some unknown evil-wisher to -me, but what if Satan gives them still further power, and they can -touch my soul, and inspire me with loathful thoughts leading me into -crimes which at present I abhor?' and so on, till the very dread of -what might happen, and the constant dwelling of the thoughts, even with -horror, upon certain possibilities, or what were esteemed such, really -brought about the corruption of imagination at least, which at first -they had shuddered at. Moreover, there was a sort of uncertainty as to -who might be infected--not unlike the overpowering dread of the plague, -which made some shrink from their best-beloved with irrepressible fear. -The brother or sister, who was the dearest friend of their childhood -and youth, might now be bound in some mysterious deadly pact with evil -spirits of the most horrible kind--who could tell? And in such a case -it became a duty, a sacred duty, to give up the earthly body which had -been once so loved, but which was now the habitation of a soul corrupt -and horrible in its evil inclinations. Possibly, terror of death might -bring on confession and repentance, and purification. Or if it did not, -why away with the evil creature, the witch, out of the world, down to -the kingdom of the master, whose bidding was done on earth in all -manner of corruption and torture of God's creatures! There were others -who, to these more simple, if more ignorant, feelings of horror at -witches and witchcraft, added the desire, conscious or unconscious, of -revenge on those whose conduct had been in any way displeasing to them. -Where evidence takes a supernatural character, there is no disproving -it. This argument comes up: 'You have only the natural powers; I have -supernatural. You admit the existence of the supernatural by the -condemnation of this very crime of witchcraft. You hardly know the -limits of the natural powers; how then can you define the supernatural? -I say that in the dead of night, when my body seemed to all present to -be lying in quiet sleep, I was, in the most complete and wakeful -consciousness, present in my body at an assembly of witches and wizards -with Satan at their head; that I was by them tortured in my body, -because my soul would not acknowledge him as its king; and that I -witnessed such and such deeds. What the nature of the appearance was -that took the semblance of myself, sleeping quietly in my bed, I know -not; but admitting, as you do, the possibility of witchcraft, you -cannot disprove my evidence.' This evidence might be given truly or -falsely, as the person witnessing believed it or not; but every one -must see what immense and terrible power was abroad for revenge. Then, -again, the accused themselves ministered to the horrible panic abroad. -Some, in dread of death, confessed from cowardice to the imaginary -crimes of which they were accused, and of which they were promised a -pardon on confession. Some, weak and terrified, came honestly to -believe in their own guilt, through the diseases of imagination which -were sure to be engendered at such a time as this. - -Lois sat spinning with Faith. Both were silent, pondering over the -stories that were abroad. Lois spoke first. - -'Oh, Faith! this country is worse than ever England was, even in the -days of Master Matthew Hopkins, the witch-finder. I grow frightened of -every one, I think. I even get afeard sometimes of Nattee!' - -Faith coloured a little. Then she asked, - -'Why? What should make you distrust the Indian woman?' - -'Oh! I am ashamed of my fear as soon as it arises in my mind. But, you -know, her look and colour were strange to me when first I came; and she -is not a christened woman; and they tell stories of Indian wizards; and -I know not what the mixtures are which she is sometimes stirring over -the fire, nor the meaning of the strange chants she sings to herself. -And once I met her in the dusk, just close by Pastor Tappau's house, in -company with Hota, his servant--it was just before we heard of the sore -disturbance in his house--and I have wondered if she had aught to do -with it.' - -Faith sat very still, as if thinking. At last she said: - -'If Nattee has powers beyond what you and I have, she will not use them -for evil; at least not evil to those whom she loves.' - -'That comforts me but little,' said Lois. 'If she has powers beyond -what she ought to have, I dread her, though I have done her no evil; -nay, though I could almost say she bore me a kindly feeling. But such -powers are only given by the Evil One; and the proof thereof is, that, -as you imply, Nattee would use them on those who offend her.' - -'And why should she not?' asked Faith, lifting her eyes, and flashing -heavy fire out of them at the question. - -'Because,' said Lois, not seeing Faith's glance, 'we are told to pray -for them that despitefully use us, and to do good to them that -persecute us. But poor Nattee is not a christened woman. I would that -Mr. Nolan would baptize her; it would, maybe, take her out of the power -of Satan's temptations.' - -'Are you never tempted?' asked Faith, half scornfully; 'and yet I doubt -not you were well baptized!' - -'True,' said Lois, sadly; 'I often do very wrong, but, perhaps, I might -have done worse, if the holy form had not been observed.' - -They were again silent for a time. - -'Lois,' said Faith, 'I did not mean any offence. But do you never feel -as if you would give up all that future life, of which the parsons -talk, and which seems so vague and so distant, for a few years of real, -vivid blessedness to begin to-morrow--this hour, this minute? Oh! I -could think of happiness for which I would willingly give up all those -misty chances of heaven----' - -'Faith, Faith!' cried Lois, in terror, holding her hand before her -cousin's mouth, and looking around in fright. 'Hush! you know not who -may be listening; you are putting yourself in his power.' - -But Faith pushed her hand away, and said, 'Lois, I believe in him no -more than I believe in heaven. Both may exist, but they are so far away -that I defy them. Why, all this ado about Mr. Tappau's house--promise -me never to tell living creature, and I will tell you a secret.' - -'No!' said Lois, terrified. 'I dread all secrets. I will hear none. I -will do all that I can for you, cousin Faith, in any way; but just at -this time, I strive to keep my life and thoughts within the strictest -bounds of godly simplicity, and I dread pledging myself to aught that -is hidden and secret.' - -'As you will, cowardly girl, full of terrors, which, if you had -listened to me, might have been lessened, if not entirely done away -with.' And Faith would not utter another word, though Lois tried meekly -to entice her into conversation on some other subject. - -The rumour of witchcraft was like the echo of thunder among the hills. -It had broken out in Mr. Tappau's house, and his two little daughters -were the first supposed to be bewitched; but round about, from every -quarter of the town, came in accounts of sufferers by witchcraft. There -was hardly a family without one of these supposed victims. Then arose a -growl and menaces of vengeance from many a household--menaces deepened, -not daunted by the terror and mystery of the suffering that gave rise -to them. - -At length a day was appointed when, after solemn fasting and prayer, -Mr. Tappau invited the neighbouring ministers and all godly people to -assemble at his house, and unite with him in devoting a day to solemn -religious services, and to supplication for the deliverance of his -children, and those similarly afflicted, from the power of the Evil -One. All Salem poured out towards the house of the minister. There was -a look of excitement on all their faces; eagerness and horror were -depicted on many, while stern resolution, amounting to determined -cruelty, if the occasion arose, was seen on others. - -In the midst of the prayer, Hester Tappau, the younger girl, fell into -convulsions; fit after fit came on, and her screams mingled with the -shrieks and cries of the assembled congregation. In the first pause, -when the child was partially recovered, when the people stood around -exhausted and breathless, her father, the Pastor Tappau, lifted his -right hand, and adjured her, in the name of the Trinity, to say who -tormented her. There was a dead silence; not a creature stirred of all -those hundreds. Hester turned wearily and uneasily, and moaned out the -name of Hota, her father's Indian servant. Hota was present, apparently -as much interested as any one; indeed, she had been busying herself -much in bringing remedies to the suffering child. But now she stood -aghast, transfixed, while her name was caught up and shouted out in -tones of reprobation and hatred by all the crowd around her. Another -moment and they would have fallen upon the trembling creature and torn -her limb from limb--pale, dusky, shivering Hota, half guilty-looking -from her very bewilderment. But Pastor Tappau, that gaunt, grey man, -lifting himself to his utmost height, signed to them to go back, to -keep still while he addressed them; and then he told them, that instant -vengeance was not just, deliberate punishment; that there would be need -of conviction, perchance of confession--he hoped for some redress for -his suffering children from her revelations, if she were brought to -confession. They must leave the culprit in his hands, and in those of -his brother ministers, that they might wrestle with Satan before -delivering her up to the civil power. He spoke well, for he spoke from -the heart of a father seeing his children exposed to dreadful and -mysterious suffering, and firmly believing that he now held the clue in -his hand which should ultimately release them and their -fellow-sufferers. And the congregation moaned themselves into -unsatisfied submission, and listened to his long, passionate prayer, -which he uplifted even while the hapless Hota stood there, guarded and -bound by two men, who glared at her like bloodhounds ready to slip, -even while the prayer ended in the words of the merciful Saviour. - -Lois sickened and shuddered at the whole scene; and this was no -intellectual shuddering at the folly and superstition of the people, -but tender moral shuddering at the sight of guilt which she believed -in, and at the evidence of men's hatred and abhorrence, which, when -shown even to the guilty, troubled and distressed her merciful heart. -She followed her aunt and cousins out into the open air, with downcast -eyes and pale face. Grace Hickson was going home with a feeling of -triumphant relief at the detection of the guilty one. Faith alone -seemed uneasy and disturbed beyond her wont, for Manasseh received the -whole transaction as the fulfilment of a prophecy, and Prudence was -excited by the novel scene into a state of discordant high spirits. - -'I am quite as old as Hester Tappau,' said she; 'her birthday is in -September and mine in October.' - -'What has that to do with it?' said Faith, sharply. - -'Nothing, only she seemed such a little thing for all those grave -ministers to be praying for, and so many folk come from a -distance--some from Boston they said--all for her sake, as it were. -Why, didst thou see, it was godly Mr. Henwick that held her head when -he wriggled so, and old Madam Holbrook had herself helped upon a chair -to see the better. I wonder how long I might wriggle, before great and -godly folk would take so much notice of me? But, I suppose, that comes -of being a pastor's daughter. She'll be so set up there'll be no -speaking to her now. Faith! thinkest thou that Hota really had -bewitched her? She gave me corn-cakes, the last time I was at Pastor -Tappau's, just like any other woman, only, perchance, a trifle more -good-natured; and to think of her being a witch after all!' - -But Faith seemed in a hurry to reach home, paid no attention to -Prudence's talking. Lois hastened on with Faith, for Manasseh was -walking alongside of his mother, and she kept steady to her plan of -avoiding him, even though she pressed her company upon Faith, who had -seemed of late desirous of avoiding her. - -That evening the news spread through Salem, that Hota had confessed her -sin--had acknowledged that she was a witch. Nattee was the first to -hear the intelligence. She broke into the room where the girls were -sitting with Grace Hickson, solemnly doing nothing, because of the -great prayer-meeting in the morning, and cried out, 'Mercy, mercy, -mistress, everybody! take care of poor Indian Nattee, who never do -wrong, but for mistress and the family! Hota one bad wicked witch, she -say so herself; oh, me! oh me!' and stooping over Faith, she said -something in a low, miserable tone of voice, of which Lois only heard -the word 'torture.' But Faith heard all, and turning very pale, half -accompanied, half led Nattee back to her kitchen. - -Presently, Grace Hickson came in. She had been out to see a neighbour; -it will not do to say that so godly a woman had been gossiping; and, -indeed, the subject of the conversation she had held was of too serious -and momentous a nature for me to employ a light word to designate it. -There was all the listening to and repeating of small details and -rumours, in which the speakers have no concern, that constitutes -gossiping; but in this instance, all trivial facts and speeches might -be considered to bear such dreadful significance, and might have so -ghastly an ending, that such whispers were occasionally raised to a -tragic importance. Every fragment of intelligence that related to Mr. -Tappau's household was eagerly snatched at; how his dog howled all one -long night through, and could not be stilled; how his cow suddenly -failed in her milk only two months after she had calved; how his memory -had forsaken him one morning, for a minute or two, in repeating the -Lord's Prayer, and he had even omitted a clause thereof in his sudden -perturbation; and how all these forerunners of his children's strange -illness might now be interpreted and understood--this had formed the -staple of the conversation between Grace Hickson and her friends. There -had arisen a dispute among them at last, as to how far these -subjections to the power of the Evil One were to be considered as a -judgment upon Pastor Tappau for some sin on his part; and if so, what? -It was not an unpleasant discussion, although there was considerable -difference of opinion; for as none of the speakers had had their -families so troubled, it was rather a proof that they had none of them -committed any sin. In the midst of this talk, one, entering in from the -street, brought the news that Hota had confessed all--had owned to -signing a certain little red book which Satan had presented to her--had -been present at impious sacraments--had ridden through the air to -Newbury Falls--and, in fact, had assented to all the questions which -the elders and magistrates, carefully reading over the confessions of -the witches who had formerly been tried in England, in order that they -might not omit a single inquiry, had asked of her. More she had owned -to, but things of inferior importance, and partaking more of the nature -of earthly tricks than of spiritual power. She had spoken of carefully -adjusted strings, by which all the crockery in Pastor Tappau's house -could be pulled down or disturbed; but of such intelligible -malpractices the gossips of Salem took little heed. One of them said -that such an action showed Satan's prompting, but they all preferred to -listen to the grander guilt of the blasphemous sacraments and -supernatural rides. The narrator ended with saying that Hota was to be -hung the next morning, in spite of her confession, even although her -life had been promised to her if she acknowledged her sin; for it was -well to make an example of the first-discovered witch, and it was also -well that she was an Indian, a heathen, whose life would be no great -loss to the community. Grace Hickson on this spoke out. It was well -that witches should perish off the face of the earth, Indian or -English, heathen or, worse, a baptized Christian who had betrayed the -Lord, even as Judas did, and had gone over to Satan. For her part, she -wished that the first-discovered witch had been a member of a godly -English household, that it might be seen of all men that religious folk -were willing to cut off the right hand, and pluck out the right eye, if -tainted with this devilish sin. She spoke sternly and well. The last -comer said, that her words might be brought to the proof, for it had -been whispered that Hota had named others, and some from the most -religious families of Salem, whom she had seen among the unholy -communicants at the sacrament of the Evil One. And Grace replied that -she would answer for it, all godly folk would stand the proof, and -quench all natural affection rather than that such a sin should grow -and spread among them. She herself had a weak bodily dread of -witnessing the violent death even of an animal; but she would not let -that deter her from standing amidst those who cast the accursed -creature out from among them on the morrow morning. - -Contrary to her wont, Grace Hickson told her family much of this -conversation. It was a sign of her excitement on the subject that she -thus spoke, and the excitement spread in different forms through her -family. Faith was flushed and restless, wandering between the -keeping-room and the kitchen, and questioning her mother particularly -as to the more extraordinary parts of Hota's confession, as if she -wished to satisfy herself that the Indian witch had really done those -horrible and mysterious deeds. - -Lois shivered and trembled with affright at the narration, and the idea -that such things were possible. Occasionally she found herself -wandering off into sympathetic thought for the woman who was to die, -abhorred of all men, and unpardoned by God, to whom she had been so -fearful a traitor, and who was now, at this very time--when Lois sat -among her kindred by the warm and cheerful firelight, anticipating many -peaceful, perchance happy, morrows--solitary, shivering, -panic-stricken, guilty, with none to stand by her and exhort her, shut -up in darkness between the cold walls of the town prison. But Lois -almost shrank from sympathising with so loathsome an accomplice of -Satan, and prayed for forgiveness for her charitable thought; and yet, -again, she remembered the tender spirit of the Saviour, and allowed -herself to fall into pity, till at last her sense of right and wrong -became so bewildered that she could only leave all to God's disposal, -and just ask that He would take all creatures and all events into His -hands. - -Prudence was as bright as if she were listening to some merry -story--curious as to more than her mother would tell her--seeming to -have no particular terror of witches or witchcraft, and yet to be -especially desirous to accompany her mother the next morning to the -hanging. Lois shrank from the cruel, eager face of the young girl as -she begged her mother to allow her to go. Even Grace was disturbed and -perplexed by her daughter's pertinacity. - -'No!' said she. 'Ask me no more. Thou shalt not go. Such sights are not -for the young. I go, and I sicken at the thoughts of it. But I go to -show that I, a Christian woman, take God's part against the devil's. -Thou shalt not go, I tell thee. I could whip thee for thinking of it.' - -'Manasseh says Hota was well whipped by Pastor Tappau ere she was -brought to confession,' said Prudence, as if anxious to change the -subject of discussion. - -Manasseh lifted up his head from the great folio Bible, brought by his -father from England, which he was studying. He had not heard what -Prudence said, but he looked up at the sound of his name. All present -were startled at his wild eyes, his bloodless face. But he was -evidently annoyed at the expression of their countenances. - -'Why look ye at me in that manner?' asked he. And his manner was -anxious and agitated. His mother made haste to speak: - -'It was but that Prudence said something that thou hast told her--that -Pastor Tappau defiled his hands by whipping the witch Hota. What evil -thought has got hold of thee? Talk to us, and crack not thy skull -against the learning of man.' - -'It is not the learning of man that I study: it is the word of God. I -would fain know more of the nature of this sin of witchcraft, and -whether it be, indeed, the unpardonable sin against the Holy Ghost. At -times I feel a creeping influence coming over me, prompting all evil -thoughts and unheard-of deeds, and I question within myself, "Is not -this the power of witchcraft?" and I sicken, and loathe all that I do -or say, and yet some evil creature hath the mastery over me, and I must -needs do and say what I loathe and dread. Why wonder you, mother, that -I, of all men, strive to learn the exact nature of witchcraft, and for -that end study the word of God? Have you not seen me when I was, as it -were, possessed with a devil?' - -He spoke calmly, sadly, but as under deep conviction. His mother rose -to comfort him. - -'My son,' she said, 'no one ever saw thee do deeds, or heard thee utter -words, which any one could say were prompted by devils. We have seen -thee, poor lad, with thy wits gone astray for a time, but all thy -thoughts sought rather God's will in forbidden places, than lost the -clue to them for one moment in hankering after the powers of darkness. -Those days are long past; a future lies before thee. Think not of -witches or of being subject to the power of witchcraft. I did evil to -speak of it before thee. Let Lois come and sit by thee, and talk to -thee.' - -Lois went to her cousin, grieved at heart for his depressed state of -mind, anxious to soothe and comfort him, and yet recoiling more than -ever from the idea of ultimately becoming his wife--an idea to which -she saw her aunt reconciling herself unconsciously day by day, as she -perceived the English girl's power of soothing and comforting her -cousin, even by the very tones of her sweet cooing voice. - -He took Lois's hand. - -'Let me hold it. It does me good,' said he. 'Ah, Lois, when I am by you -I forget all my troubles--will the day never come when you will listen -to the voice that speaks to me continually?' - -'I never hear it, Cousin Manasseh,' she said, softly; 'but do not think -of the voices. Tell me of the land you hope to enclose from the -forest--what manner of trees grow on it?' - -Thus, by simple questions on practical affairs, she led him back, in -her unconscious wisdom, to the subjects on which he had always shown -strong practical sense. He talked on these with all due discretion till -the hour for family prayer came round, which was early in those days. -It was Manasseh's place to conduct it, as head of the family; a post -which his mother had always been anxious to assign to him since her -husband's death. He prayed extempore; and to-night his supplications -wandered off into wild, unconnected fragments of prayer, which all -those kneeling around began, each according to her anxiety for the -speaker, to think would never end. Minutes elapsed, and grew to -quarters of an hour, and his words only became more emphatic and -wilder, praying for himself alone, and laying bare the recesses of his -heart. At length his mother rose, and took Lois by the hand, for she -had faith in Lois's power over her son, as being akin to that which the -shepherd David, playing on his harp, had over king Saul sitting on his -throne. She drew her towards him, where he knelt facing into the -circle, with his eyes upturned, and the tranced agony of his face -depicting the struggle of the troubled soul within. - -'Here is Lois,' said Grace, almost tenderly; 'she would fain go to her -chamber.' (Down the girl's face the tears were streaming.) 'Rise, and -finish thy prayer in thy closet.' - -But at Lois's approach he sprang to his feet,--sprang aside. - -'Take her away, mother! Lead me not into temptation. She brings me evil -and sinful thoughts. She overshadows me, even in the presence of my -God. She is no angel of light, or she would not do this. She troubles -me with the sound of a voice bidding me marry her, even when I am at my -prayers. Avaunt! Take her away!' - -He would have struck at Lois if she had not shrunk back, dismayed and -affrighted. His mother, although equally dismayed, was not affrighted. -She had seen him thus before; and understood the management of his -paroxysm. - -'Go, Lois! the sight of thee irritates him, as once that of Faith did. -Leave him to me.' - -And Lois rushed away to her room, and threw herself on her bed, like a -panting, hunted creature. Faith came after her slowly and heavily. - -'Lois,' said she, 'wilt thou do me a favour? It is not much to ask. -Wilt thou arise before daylight, and bear this letter from me to Pastor -Nolan's lodgings? I would have done it myself, but mother has bidden me -to come to her, and I may be detained until the time when Hota is to be -hung; and the letter tells of matters pertaining to life and death. -Seek out Pastor Nolan wherever he may be, and have speech of him after -he has read the letter.' - -'Cannot Nattee take it?' asked Lois. - -'No!' Faith answered, fiercely. 'Why should she?' - -But Lois did not reply. A quick suspicion darted through Faith's mind, -sudden as lightning. It had never entered there before. - -'Speak, Lois. I read thy thoughts. Thou wouldst fain not be the bearer -of this letter?' - -'I will take it,' said Lois, meekly. 'It concerns life and death, you -say?' - -'Yes!' said Faith, in quite a different tone of voice. But, after a -pause of thought, she added: 'Then, as soon as the house is still, I -will write what I have to say, and leave it here, on this chest; and -thou wilt promise me to take it before the day is fully up, while there -is yet time for action.' - -'Yes! I promise,' said Lois. And Faith knew enough of her to feel sure -that the deed would be done, however reluctantly. - -The letter was written--laid on the chest; and, ere day dawned, Lois -was astir, Faith watching her from between her half-closed -eyelids--eyelids that had never been fully closed in sleep the livelong -night. The instant Lois, cloaked and hooded, left the room, Faith -sprang up, and prepared to go to her mother, whom she heard already -stirring. Nearly every one in Salem was awake and up on this awful -morning, though few were out of doors, as Lois passed along the -streets. Here was the hastily erected gallows, the black shadow of -which fell across the street with ghastly significance; now she had to -pass the iron-barred gaol, through the unglazed windows of which she -heard the fearful cry of a woman, and the sound of many footsteps. On -she sped, sick almost to faintness, to the widow woman's where Mr. -Nolan lodged. He was already up and abroad, gone, his hostess believed, -to the gaol. Thither Lois, repeating the words 'for life and for -death!' was forced to go. Retracing her steps, she was thankful to see -him come out of those dismal portals, rendered more dismal for being in -heavy shadow, just as she approached. What his errand had been she knew -not; but he looked grave and sad, as she put Faith's letter into his -hands, and stood before him quietly waiting, until he should read it, -and deliver the expected answer. But, instead of opening it, he held it -in his hand, apparently absorbed in thought. At last he spoke aloud, -but more to himself than to her: - -'My God! and is she then to die in this fearful delirium? It must -be--can be--only delirium, that prompts such wild and horrible -confessions. Mistress Barclay, I come from the presence of the Indian -woman appointed to die. It seems, she considered herself betrayed last -evening by her sentence not being respited, even after she had made -confession of sin enough to bring down fire from heaven; and, it seems -to me, the passionate, impotent anger of this helpless creature has -turned to madness, for she appalls me by the additional revelations she -has made to the keepers during the night--to me this morning. I could -almost fancy that she thinks, by deepening the guilt she confesses, to -escape this last dread punishment of all, as if, were a tithe of what -she say true, one could suffer such a sinner to live. Yet to send her -to death in such a state of mad terror! What is to be done?' - -'Yet Scripture says that we are not to suffer witches in the land,' -said Lois, slowly. - -'True; I would but ask for a respite till the prayers of God's people -had gone up for His mercy. Some would pray for her, poor wretch as she -is. You would, Mistress Barclay, I am sure?' But he said it in a -questioning tone. - -'I have been praying for her in the night many a time,' said Lois, in a -low voice. 'I pray for her in my heart at this moment; I suppose; they -are bidden to put her out of the land, but I would not have her -entirely God-forsaken. But, sir, you have not read my cousin's letter. -And she bade me bring back an answer with much urgency.' - -Still he delayed. He was thinking of the dreadful confession he came -from hearing. If it were true, the beautiful earth was a polluted -place, and he almost wished to die, to escape from such pollution, into -the white innocence of those who stood in the presence of God. - -Suddenly his eyes fell on Lois's pure, grave face, upturned and -watching his. Faith in earthly goodness came over his soul in that -instant, 'and he blessed her unaware.' - -He put his hand on her shoulder, with an action half paternal--although -the difference in their ages was not above a dozen years--and, bending -a little towards her, whispered, half to himself, 'Mistress Barclay, -you have done me good.' - -'I!' said Lois, half affrighted--'I done you good! How?' - -'By being what you are. But, perhaps, I should rather thank God, who -sent you at the very moment when my soul was so disquieted.' - -At this instant, they were aware of Faith standing in front of them, -with a countenance of thunder. Her angry look made Lois feel guilty. -She had not enough urged the pastor to read his letter, she thought; -and it was indignation at this delay in what she had been commissioned -to do with the urgency of life or death, that made her cousin lower at -her so from beneath her straight black brows. Lois explained how she -had not found Mr. Nolan at his lodgings, and had had to follow him to -the door of the gaol. But Faith replied, with obdurate contempt: - -'Spare thy breath, cousin Lois. It is easy seeing on what pleasant -matters thou and the Pastor Nolan were talking. I marvel not at thy -forgetfulness. My mind is changed. Give me back my letter, sir; it was -about a poor matter--an old woman's life. And what is that compared to -a young girl's love?' - -Lois heard but for an instant; did not understand that her cousin, in -her jealous anger, could suspect the existence of such a feeling as -love between her and Mr. Nolan. No imagination as to its possibility -had ever entered her mind; she had respected him, almost revered -him--nay, had liked him as the probable husband of Faith. At the -thought that her cousin could believe her guilty of such treachery, her -grave eyes dilated, and fixed themselves on the flaming countenance of -Faith. That serious, unprotesting manner of perfect innocence must have -told on her accuser, had it not been that, at the same instant, the -latter caught sight of the crimsoned and disturbed countenance of the -pastor, who felt the veil rent off the unconscious secret of his heart. -Faith snatched her letter out of his hands, and said: - -'Let the witch hang! What care I? She has done harm enough with her -charms and her sorcery on Pastor Tappau's girls. Let her die, and let -all other witches look to themselves; for there be many kinds of -witchcraft abroad. Cousin Lois, thou wilt like best to stop with Pastor -Nolan, or I would pray thee to come back with me to breakfast.' - -Lois was not to be daunted by jealous sarcasm. She held out her hand to -Pastor Nolan, determined to take no heed of her cousin's mad words, but -to bid him farewell in her accustomed manner. He hesitated before -taking it, and when he did, it was with a convulsive squeeze that -almost made her start. Faith waited and watched all, with set lips and -vengeful eyes. She bade no farewell; she spake no word; but grasping -Lois tightly by the back of the arm, she almost drove her before her -down the street till they reached their home. - -The arrangement for the morning was this: Grace Hickson and her son -Manasseh were to be present at the hanging of the first witch executed -in Salem, as pious and godly heads of a family. All the other members -were strictly forbidden to stir out, until such time as the low-tolling -bell announced that all was over in this world for Hota, the Indian -witch. When the execution was ended, there was to be a solemn -prayer-meeting of all the inhabitants of Salem; ministers had come from -a distance to aid by the efficacy of their prayers in these efforts to -purge the land of the devil and his servants. There was reason to think -that the great old meeting-house would be crowded, and when Faith and -Lois reached home, Grace Hickson was giving her directions to Prudence, -urging her to be ready for an early start to that place. The stern old -woman was troubled in her mind at the anticipation of the sight she was -to see, before many minutes were over, and spoke in a more hurried and -incoherent manner than was her wont. She was dressed in her Sunday -best; but her face was very grey and colourless, and she seemed afraid -to cease speaking about household affairs, for fear she should have -time to think. Manasseh stood by her, perfectly, rigidly still; he also -was in his Sunday clothes. His face, too, was paler than its wont, but -it wore a kind of absent, rapt expression, almost like that of a man -who sees a vision. As Faith entered, still holding Lois in her fierce -grasp, Manasseh started and smiled; but still dreamily. His manner was -so peculiar, that even his mother stayed her talking to observe him -more closely; he was in that state of excitement which usually ended in -what his mother and certain of her friends esteemed a prophetic -revelation. He began to speak, at first very low, and then his voice -increased in power: - -'How beautiful is the land of Beulah, far over the sea, beyond the -mountains! Thither the angels carry her, lying back in their arms like -one fainting. They shall kiss away the black circle of death, and lay -her down at the feet of the Lamb. I hear her pleading there for those -on earth who consented to her death. O Lois! pray also for me, pray for -me, miserable!' - -When he uttered his cousin's name all their eyes turned towards her. It -was to her that his vision related! She stood among them, amazed, -awe-stricken, but not like one affrighted or dismayed. She was the -first to speak: - -'Dear friends, do not think of me; his words may or may not be true. I -am in God's hands all the same, whether he have the gift of prophecy or -not. Besides, hear you not that I end where all would fain end? Think -of him, and of his needs. Such times as these always leave him -exhausted and weary, when he comes out of them.' - -And she busied herself in cares for his refreshment, aiding her aunt's -trembling hands to set before him the requisite food, as he now sat -tired and bewildered, gathering together with difficulty his scattered -senses. - -Prudence did all she could to assist and speed their departure. But -Faith stood apart, watching in silence with her passionate, angry eyes. - -As soon as they had set out on their solemn, fatal errand, Faith left -the room. She had not tasted food or touched drink. Indeed, they all -felt sick at heart. The moment her sister had gone up stairs, Prudence -sprang to the settle on which Lois had thrown down her cloak and hood: - -'Lend me your muffles and mantle, Cousin Lois. I never yet saw a woman -hanged, and I see not why I should not go. I will stand on the edge of -the crowd; no one will know me, and I will be home long before my -mother.' - -'No!' said Lois, 'that may not be. My aunt would be sore displeased. I -wonder at you, Prudence, seeking to witness such a sight.' And as she -spoke she held fast her cloak, which Prudence vehemently struggled for. - -Faith returned, brought back possibly by the sound of the struggle. She -smiled--a deadly smile. - -'Give it up, Prudence. Strive no more with her. She has bought success -in this world, and we are but her slaves.' - -'Oh, Faith!' said Lois, relinquishing her hold of the cloak, and -turning round with passionate reproach in her look and voice, 'what -have I done that you should speak so of me; you, that have loved as I -think one love a sister?' - -Prudence did not lose her opportunity, but hastily arrayed herself in -the mantle, which was too large for her, and which she had, therefore, -considered as well adapted for concealment; but, as she went towards -the door, her feet became entangled in the unusual length, and she -fell, bruising her arm pretty sharply. - -'Take care, another time, how you meddle with a witch's things,' said -Faith, as one scarcely believing her own words, but at enmity with all -the world in her bitter jealousy of heart. Prudence rubbed her arm and -looked stealthily at Lois. - -'Witch Lois! Witch Lois!' said she at last, softly, pulling a childish -face of spite at her. - -'Oh, hush, Prudence! Do not bandy such terrible words. Let me look at -thine arm. I am sorry for thy hurt, only glad that it has kept thee -from disobeying thy mother.' - -'Away, away!' said Prudence, springing from her. 'I am afeard of her in -very truth, Faith. Keep between me and the witch, or I will throw a -stool at her.' - -Faith smiled--it was a bad and wicked smile--but she did not stir to -calm the fears she had called up in her young sister. Just at this -moment, the bell began to toll. Hota, the Indian witch, was dead. Lois -covered her face with her hands. Even Faith went a deadlier pale than -she had been, and said, sighing, 'Poor Hota! But death is best.' - -Prudence alone seemed unmoved by any thoughts connected with the -solemn, monotonous sound. Her only consideration was, that now she -might go out into the street and see the sights, and hear the news, and -escape from the terror which she felt at the presence of her cousin. -She flew up stairs to find her own mantle, ran down again, and past -Lois, before the English girl had finished her prayer, and was speedily -mingled among the crowd going to the meetinghouse. There also Faith and -Lois came in due course of time, but separately, not together. Faith so -evidently avoided Lois, that she, humbled and grieved, could not force -her company upon her cousin, but loitered a little behind,--the quiet -tears stealing down her face, shed for the many causes that had -occurred this morning. - -The meeting-house was full to suffocation; and, as it sometimes happens -on such occasions, the greatest crowd was close about the doors, from -the fact that few saw, on their first entrance, where there might be -possible spaces into which they could wedge themselves. Yet they were -impatient of any arrivals from the outside, and pushed and hustled -Faith, and after her Lois, till the two were forced on to a conspicuous -place in the very centre of the building, where there was no chance of -a seat, but still space to stand in. Several stood around, the pulpit -being in the middle, and already occupied by two ministers in Geneva -bands and gowns, while other ministers, similarly attired, stood -holding on to it, almost as if they were giving support instead of -receiving it. Grace Hickson and her son sat decorously in their own -pew, thereby showing that they had arrived early from the execution. -You might almost have traced out the number of those who had been at -the hanging of the Indian witch, by the expression of their -countenances. They were awestricken into terrible repose; while the -crowd pouring in, still pouring in, of those who had not attended the -execution, looked all restless, and excited, and fierce. A buzz went -round the meeting, that the stranger minister who stood along with -Pastor Tappau in the pulpit was no other than Dr. Cotton Mather -himself, come all the way from Boston to assist in purging Salem of -witches. - -And now Pastor Tappau began his prayer, extempore, as was the custom. -His words were wild and incoherent, as might be expected from a man who -had just been consenting to the bloody death of one who was, but a few -days ago, a member of his own family; violent and passionate, as was to -be looked for in the father of children, whom he believed to suffer so -fearfully from the crime he would denounce before the Lord. He sat down -at length from pure exhaustion. Then Dr. Cotton Mather stood forward: -he did not utter more than a few words of prayer, calm in comparison -with what had gone before, and then he went on to address the great -crowd before him in a quiet, argumentative way, but arranging what he -had to say with something of the same kind of skill which Antony used -in his speech to the Romans after Cæsar's murder. Some of Dr. Mather's -words have been preserved to us, as he afterwards wrote them down in -one of his works. Speaking of those 'unbelieving Sadducees' who doubted -the existence of such a crime, he said: 'Instead of their apish shouts -and jeers at blessed Scripture, and histories which have such undoubted -confirmation as that no man that has breeding enough to regard the -common laws of human society will offer to doubt of them, it becomes us -rather to adore the goodness of God, who from the mouths of babes and -sucklings has ordained truth, and by the means of the sore-afflicted -children of your godly pastor, has revealed the fact that the devils -have with most horrid operations broken in upon your neighbourhood. Let -us beseech Him that their power may be restrained, and that they go not -so far in their evil machinations as they did but four years ago in the -city of Boston, where I was the humble means, under God, of loosing -from the power of Satan the four children of that religious and blessed -man, Mr. Goodwin. These four babes of grace were bewitched by an Irish -witch; there is no end to the narration of the torments they had to -submit to. At one time they would bark like dogs, at another purr like -cats; yea, they would fly like geese, and be carried with an incredible -swiftness, having but just their toes now and then upon the ground, -sometimes not once in twenty feet, and their arms waved like those of a -bird. Yet at other times, by the hellish devices of the woman who had -bewitched them, they could not stir without limping, for, by means of -an invisible chain, she hampered their limbs, or, sometimes, by means -of a noose, almost choked them. One in especial was subjected by this -woman of Satan to such heat as of an oven, that I myself have seen the -sweat drop from off her, while all around were moderately cold and well -at ease. But not to trouble you with more of my stories, I will go on -to prove that it was Satan himself that held power over her. For a very -remarkable thing it was, that she was not permitted by that evil spirit -to read any godly or religious book, speaking the truth as it is in -Jesus. She could read Popish books well enough, while both sight and -speech seemed to fail her when I gave her the Assembly's Catechism. -Again, she was fond of that prelatical Book of Common Prayer, which is -but the Roman mass-book in an English and ungodly shape. In the midst -of her sufferings, if one put the Prayer-book into her hands it -relieved her. Yet mark you, she could never be brought to read the -Lord's Prayer, whatever book she met with it in, proving thereby -distinctly that she was in league with the devil. I took her into my -own house, that I, even as Dr. Martin Luther did, might wrestle with -the devil and have my fling at him. But when I called my household to -prayer, the devils that possessed her caused her to whistle, and sing, -and yell in a discordant and hellish fashion.' - -At this very instant, a shrill, clear whistle pierced all ears. Dr. -Mather stopped for a moment: - -'Satan is among you!' he cried. 'Look to yourselves!' And he prayed -with fervour, as if against a present and threatening enemy; but no one -heeded him. Whence came that ominous, unearthly whistle? Every man -watched his neighbour. Again the whistle, out of their very midst! And -then a bustle in a corner of the building, three or four people -stirring, without any cause immediately perceptible to those at a -distance, the movement spread, and, directly after, a passage even in -that dense mass of people was cleared for two men, who bore forwards -Prudence Hickson, lying rigid as a log of wood, in the convulsive -position of one who suffered from an epileptic fit. They laid her down -among the ministers who were gathered round the pulpit. Her mother came -to her, sending up a wailing cry at the sight of her distorted child. -Dr. Mather came down from the pulpit and stood over her, exorcising the -devil in possession, as one accustomed to such scenes. The crowd -pressed forward in mute horror. At length, her rigidity of form and -feature gave way, and she was terribly convulsed--torn by the devil, as -they called it. By-and-by the violence of the attack was over, and the -spectators began to breathe once more, though still the former horror -brooded over them, and they listened as if for the sudden ominous -whistle again, and glanced fearfully around, as if Satan were at their -backs picking out his next victim. - -Meanwhile, Dr. Mather, Pastor Tappau, and one or two others were -exhorting Prudence to reveal, if she could, the name of the person, the -witch, who, by influence over Satan, had subjected the child to such -torture as that which they had just witnessed. They bade her speak in -the name of the Lord. She whispered a name in the low voice of -exhaustion. None of the congregation could hear what it was. But the -Pastor Tappau, when he heard it, drew back in dismay, while Dr. Mather, -knowing not to whom the name belonged, cried out, in a clear, cold -voice, - -'Know ye one Lois Barclay; for it is she who hath bewitched this poor -child?' - -The answer was given rather by action than by word, although a low -murmur went up from many. But all fell back, as far as falling back in -such a crowd was possible, from Lois Barclay, where she stood,--and -looked on her with surprise and horror. A space of some feet, where no -possibility of space had seemed to be not a minute before, left Lois -standing alone, with every eye fixed upon her in hatred and dread. She -stood like one speechless, tongue-tied, as if in a dream. She a witch! -accursed as witches were in the sight of God and man! Her smooth, -healthy face became contracted into shrivel and pallor, but she uttered -not a word, only looked at Dr. Mather with her dilated, terrified eyes. - -Some one said, 'She is of the household of Grace Hickson, a God-fearing -woman.' Lois did not know if the words were in her favour or not. She -did not think about them, even; they told less on her than on any -person present. She a witch! and the silver glittering Avon, and the -drowning woman she had seen in her childhood at Barford,--at home in -England,--were before her, and her eyes fell before her doom. There was -some commotion--some rustling of papers; the magistrates of the town -were drawing near the pulpit and consulting with the ministers. Dr. -Mather spoke again: - -'The Indian woman, who was hung this morning, named certain people, -whom she deposed to having seen at the horrible meetings for the -worship of Satan; but there is no name of Lois Barclay down upon the -paper, although we are stricken at the sight of the names of some----' - -An interruption--a consultation. Again Dr. Mather spoke: - -'Bring the accused witch, Lois Barclay, near to this poor suffering -child of Christ.' - -They rushed forward to force Lois to the place where Prudence lay. But -Lois walked forward of herself. - -'Prudence,' she said, in such a sweet, touching voice, that, long -afterwards, those who heard it that day, spoke of it to their children, -'have I ever said an unkind word to you, much less done you an ill -turn? Speak, dear child. You did not know what you said just now, did -you?' - -But Prudence writhed away from her approach, and screamed out, as if -stricken with fresh agony. - -'Take her away! take her away! Witch Lois, witch Lois, who threw me -down only this morning, and turned my arm black and blue.' And she -bared her arm, as if in confirmation of her words. It was sorely -bruised. - -'I was not near you, Prudence!' said Lois, sadly. But that was only -reckoned fresh evidence of her diabolical power. - -Lois's brain began to get bewildered. Witch Lois! she a witch, abhorred -of all men! Yet she would try to think, and make one more effort. - -'Aunt Hickson,' she said, and Grace came forwards--'am I a witch, Aunt -Hickson?' she asked; for her aunt, stern, harsh, unloving as she might -be, was truth itself, and Lois thought--so near to delirium had she -come--if her aunt condemned her, it was possible she might indeed be a -witch. - -Grace Hickson faced her unwillingly. - -'It is a stain upon our family for ever,' was the thought in her mind. - -'It is for God to judge whether thou art a witch, or not. Not for me.' - -'Alas, alas!' moaned Lois; for she had looked at Faith, and learnt that -no good word was to be expected from her gloomy face and averted eyes. -The meeting-house was full of eager voices, repressed, out of reverence -for the place, into tones of earnest murmuring that seemed to fill the -air with gathering sounds of anger, and those who had at first fallen -back from the place where Lois stood were now pressing forwards and -round about her, ready to seize the young friendless girl, and bear her -off to prison. Those who might have been, who ought to have been, her -friends, were either averse or indifferent to her; though only Prudence -made any open outcry upon her. That evil child cried out perpetually -that Lois had cast a devilish spell upon her, and bade them keep the -witch away from her; and, indeed, Prudence was strangely convulsed when -once or twice Lois's perplexed and wistful eyes were turned in her -direction. Here and there girls, women uttering strange cries, and -apparently suffering from the same kind of convulsive fit as that which -had attacked Prudence, were centres of a group of agitated friends, who -muttered much and savagely of witchcraft, and the list which had been -taken down only the night before from Hota's own lips. They demanded to -have it made public, and objected to the slow forms of the law. Others, -not so much or so immediately interested in the sufferers, were -kneeling around, and praying aloud for themselves and their own safety, -until the excitement should be so much quelled as to enable Dr. Cotton -Mather to be again heard in prayer and exhortation. - -And where was Manasseh? What said he? You must remember, that the stir -of the outcry, the accusation, the appeals of the accused, all seemed -to go on at once amid the buzz and din of the people who had come to -worship God, but remained to judge and upbraid their fellow-creature. -Till now Lois had only caught a glimpse of Manasseh, who was apparently -trying to push forwards, but whom his mother was holding back with word -and action, as Lois knew she would hold him back; for it was not for -the first time that she was made aware how carefully her aunt had -always shrouded his decent reputation among his fellow-citizens from -the least suspicion of his seasons of excitement and incipient -insanity. On such days, when he himself imagined that he heard -prophetic voices, and saw prophetic visions, his mother would do much -to prevent any besides his own family from seeing him; and now Lois, by -a process swifter than reasoning, felt certain, from her one look at -his face, when she saw it, colourless and deformed by intensity of -expression, among a number of others all simply ruddy and angry, that -he was in such a state that his mother would in vain do her utmost to -prevent his making himself conspicuous. Whatever force or argument -Grace used, it was of no avail. In another moment he was by Lois's -side, stammering with excitement, and giving vague testimony, which -would have been of little value in a calm court of justice, and was -only oil to the smouldering fire of that audience. - -'Away with her to gaol!' 'Seek out the witches!' 'The sin has spread -into all households!' 'Satan is in the very midst of us!' 'Strike and -spare not!' In vain Dr. Cotton Mather raised his voice in loud prayers, -in which he assumed the guilt of the accused girl; no one listened, all -were anxious to secure Lois, as if they feared she would vanish from -before their very eyes; she, white, trembling, standing quite still in -the tight grasp of strange, fierce men, her dilated eyes only wandering -a little now and then in search of some pitiful face--some pitiful face -that among all those hundreds was not to be found. While some fetched -cords to bind her, and others, by low questions, suggested new -accusations to the distempered brain of Prudence, Manasseh obtained a -hearing once more. Addressing Dr. Cotton Mather, he said, evidently -anxious to make clear some new argument that had just suggested itself -to him: 'Sir, in this matter, be she witch or not, the end has been -foreshown to me by the spirit of prophecy. Now, reverend sir, if the -event be known to the spirit, it must have been foredoomed in the -councils of God. If so, why punish her for doing that in which she had -no free will?' - -'Young man,' said Dr. Mather, bending down from the pulpit and looking -very severely upon Manasseh, 'take care! you are trenching on -blasphemy.' - -'I do not care. I say it again. Either Lois Barclay is a witch, or she -is not. If she is, it has been foredoomed for her, for I have seen a -vision of her death as a condemned witch for many months past--and the -voice has told me there was but one escape for her, Lois--the voice you -know--' In his excitement he began to wander a little, but it was -touching to see how conscious he was that by giving way he would lose -the thread of the logical argument by which he hoped to prove that Lois -ought not to be punished, and with what an effort he wrenched his -imagination away from the old ideas, and strove to concentrate all his -mind upon the plea that, if Lois was a witch, it had been shown him by -prophecy; and if there was prophecy there must be foreknowledge; if -foreknowledge, foredoom; if foredoom, no exercise of free will, and, -therefore, that Lois was not justly amenable to punishment. - -On he went, plunging into heresy, caring not--growing more and more -passionate every instant, but directing his passion into keen argument, -desperate sarcasm, instead of allowing it to excite his imagination. -Even Dr. Mather felt himself on the point of being worsted in the very -presence of this congregation, who, but a short half-hour ago, looked -upon him as all but infallible. Keep a good heart, Cotton Mather! your -opponent's eye begins to glare and flicker with a terrible yet -uncertain light--his speech grows less coherent, and his arguments are -mixed up with wild glimpses at wilder revelations made to himself -alone. He has touched on the limits,--he has entered the borders of -blasphemy, and with an awful cry of horror and reprobation the -congregation rise up, as one man, against the blasphemer. Dr. Mather -smiled a grim smile, and the people were ready to stone Manasseh, who -went on, regardless, talking and raving. - -'Stay, stay!' said Grace Hickson--all the decent family shame which -prompted her to conceal the mysterious misfortune of her only son from -public knowledge done away with by the sense of the immediate danger to -his life. 'Touch him not. He knows not what he is saying. The fit is -upon him. I tell you the truth before God. My son, my only son, is -mad.' - -They stood aghast at the intelligence. The grave young citizen, who had -silently taken his part in life close by them in their daily lives--not -mixing much with them, it was true, but looked up to, perhaps, all the -more--the student of abstruse books on theology, fit to converse with -the most learned ministers that ever came about those parts--was he the -same with the man now pouring out wild words to Lois the witch, as if -he and she were the only two present! A solution of it all occurred to -them. He was another victim. Great was the power of Satan! Through the -arts of the devil, that white statue of a girl had mastered the soul of -Manasseh Hickson. So the word spread from mouth to mouth. And Grace -heard it. It seemed a healing balsam for her shame. With wilful, -dishonest blindness, she would not see--not even in her secret heart -would she acknowledge, that Manasseh had been strange, and moody, and -violent long before the English girl had reached Salem. She even found -some specious reason for his attempt at suicide long ago. He was -recovering from a fever--and though tolerably well in health, the -delirium had not finally left him. But since Lois came, how headstrong -he had been at times! how unreasonable! how moody! What a strange -delusion was that which he was under, of being bidden by some voice to -marry her! How he followed her about, and clung to her, as under some -compulsion of affection! And over all reigned the idea that, if he were -indeed suffering from being bewitched, he was not mad, and might again -assume the honourable position he had held in the congregation and in -the town, when the spell by which he was held was destroyed. So Grace -yielded to the notion herself, and encouraged it in others, that Lois -Barclay had bewitched both Manasseh and Prudence. And the consequence -of this belief was, that Lois was to be tried, with little chance in -her favour, to see whether she was a witch or no; and if a witch, -whether she would confess, implicate others, repent, and live a life of -bitter shame, avoided by all men, and cruelly treated by most; or die -impenitent, hardened, denying her crime upon the gallows. - -And so they dragged Lois away from the congregation of Christians to -the gaol, to await her trial. I say 'dragged her,' because, although -she was docile enough to have followed them whither they would, she was -now so faint as to require extraneous force--poor Lois! who should have -been carried and tended lovingly in her state of exhaustion, but, -instead, was so detested by the multitude, who looked upon her as an -accomplice of Satan in all his evil doings, that they cared no more how -they treated her than a careless boy minds how he handles the toad that -he is going to throw over the wall. - -When Lois came to her full senses, she found herself lying on a short -hard bed in a dark square room, which she at once knew must be a part -of the city gaol. It was about eight feet square, it had stone walls on -every side, and a grated opening high above her head, letting in all -the light and air that could enter through about a square foot of -aperture. It was so lonely, so dark to that poor girl, when she came -slowly and painfully out of her long faint. She did so want human help -in that struggle which always supervenes after a swoon; when the effort -is to clutch at life, and the effort seems too much for the will. She -did not at first understand where she was; did not understand how she -came to be there, nor did she care to understand. Her physical instinct -was to lie still and let the hurrying pulses have time to calm. So she -shut her eyes once more. Slowly, slowly the recollection of the scene -in the meeting-house shaped itself into a kind of picture before her. -She saw within her eyelids, as it were, that sea of loathing faces all -turned towards her, as towards something unclean and hateful. And you -must remember, you who in the nineteenth century read this account, -that witchcraft was a real terrible sin to her, Lois Barclay, two -hundred years ago. The look on their faces, stamped on heart and brain, -excited in her a sort of strange sympathy. Could it, oh God!--could it -be true, that Satan had obtained the terrific power over her and her -will, of which she had heard and read? Could she indeed be possessed by -a demon and be indeed a witch, and yet till now have been unconscious -of it? And her excited imagination recalled, with singular vividness, -all she had ever heard on the subject--the horrible midnight sacrament, -the very presence and power of Satan. Then remembering every angry -thought against her neighbour, against the impertinences of Prudence, -against the overbearing authority of her aunt, against the persevering -crazy suit of Manasseh, the indignation--only that morning, but such -ages off in real time--at Faith's injustice; oh, could such evil -thoughts have had devilish power given to them by the father of evil, -and, all unconsciously to herself, have gone forth as active curses -into the world? And so, on the ideas went careering wildly through the -poor girl's brain--the girl thrown inward upon herself. At length, the -sting of her imagination forced her to start up impatiently. What was -this? A weight of iron on her legs--a weight stated afterwards, by the -gaoler of Salem prison, to have been 'not more than eight pounds.' It -was well for Lois it was a tangible ill, bringing her back from the -wild illimitable desert in which her imagination was wandering. She -took hold of the iron, and saw her torn stocking,--her bruised ankle, -and began to cry pitifully, out of strange compassion with herself. -They feared, then, that even in that cell she would find a way to -escape. Why, the utter, ridiculous impossibility of the thing convinced -her of her own innocence, and ignorance of all supernatural power; and -the heavy iron brought her strangely round from the delusions that -seemed to be gathering about her. - -No! she never could fly out of that deep dungeon; there was no escape, -natural or supernatural, for her, unless by man's mercy. And what was -man's mercy in such times of panic? Lois knew that it was nothing; -instinct more than reason taught her, that panic calls out cowardice, -and cowardice cruelty. Yet she cried, cried freely, and for the first -time, when she found herself ironed and chained. It seemed so cruel, so -much as if her fellow-creatures had really learnt to hate and dread -her--her, who had had a few angry thoughts, which God forgive! but -whose thoughts had never gone into words, far less into actions. Why, -even now she could love all the household at home, if they would but -let her; yes, even yet, though she felt that it was the open accusation -of Prudence and the withheld justifications of her aunt and Faith that -had brought her to her present strait. Would they ever come and see -her? Would kinder thoughts of her,--who had shared their daily bread -for months and months,--bring them to see her, and ask her whether it -were really she who had brought on the illness of Prudence, the -derangement of Manasseh's mind? - -No one came. Bread and water were pushed in by some one, who hastily -locked and unlocked the door, and cared not to see if he put them -within his prisoner's reach, or perhaps thought that physical fact -mattered little to a witch. It was long before Lois could reach them; -and she had something of the natural hunger of youth left in her still, -which prompted her, lying her length on the floor, to weary herself -with efforts to obtain the bread. After she had eaten some of it, the -day began to wane, and she thought she would lay her down and try to -sleep. But before she did so, the gaoler heard her singing the Evening -Hymn: - - Glory to thee, my God, this night, - For all the blessings of the light. - -And a dull thought came into his dull mind, that she was thankful for -few blessings, if she could tune up her voice to sing praises after -this day of what, if she were a witch, was shameful detection in -abominable practices, and if not--. Well, his mind stopped short at -this point in his wondering contemplation. Lois knelt down and said the -Lord's Prayer, pausing just a little before one clause, that she might -be sure that in her heart of hearts she did forgive. Then she looked at -her ankle, and the tears came into her eyes once again, but not so much -because she was hurt, as because men must have hated her so bitterly -before they could have treated her thus. Then she lay down, and fell -asleep. - -The next day, she was led before Mr. Hathorn and Mr. Curwin, justices -of Salem, to be accused legally and publicly of witchcraft. Others were -with her, under the same charge. And when the prisoners were brought -in, they were cried out at by the abhorrent crowd. The two Tappaus, -Prudence, and one or two other girls of the same age were there, in the -character of victims of the spells of the accused. The prisoners were -placed about seven or eight feet from the justices and the accusers -between the justices and them; the former were then ordered to stand -right before the justices. All this Lois did at their bidding, with -something of the wondering docility of a child, but not with any hope -of softening the hard, stony look of detestation that was on all the -countenances around her, save those that were distorted by more -passionate anger. Then an officer was bidden to hold each of her hands, -and Justice Hathorn bade her keep her eyes continually fixed on him, -for this reason--which, however, was not told to her--lest, if she -looked on Prudence, the girl might either fall into a fit, or cry out -that she was suddenly and violently hurt. If any heart could have been -touched of that cruel multitude, they would have felt some compassion -for the sweet young face of the English girl, trying so meekly to do -all that she was ordered, her face quite white, yet so full of sad -gentleness, her grey eyes, a little dilated by the very solemnity of -her position, fixed with the intent look of innocent maidenhood on the -stern face of Justice Hathorn. And thus they stood in silence, one -breathless minute. Then they were bidden to say the Lord's Prayer. Lois -went through it as if alone in her cell; but, as she had done alone in -her cell the night before, she made a little pause, before the prayer -to be forgiven as she forgave. And at this instant of hesitation--as if -they had been on the watch for it--they all cried out upon her for a -witch, and when the clamour ended the justices bade Prudence Hickson -come forwards. Then Lois turned a little to one side, wishing to see at -least one familiar face; but when her eyes fell upon Prudence, the girl -stood stock-still, and answered no questions, nor spoke a word, and the -justices declared that she was struck dumb by witchcraft. Then some -behind took Prudence under the arms, and would have forced her forwards -to touch Lois, possibly esteeming that as a cure for her being -bewitched. But Prudence had hardly been made to take three steps before -she struggled out of their arms, and fell down writhing as in a fit, -calling out with shrieks, and entreating Lois to help her, and save her -from her torment. Then all the girls began 'to tumble down like swine' -(to use the words of an eye-witness) and to cry out upon Lois and her -fellow-prisoners. These last were now ordered to stand with their hands -stretched out, it being imagined that if the bodies of the witches were -arranged in the form of a cross they would lose their evil power. -By-and-by Lois felt her strength going, from the unwonted fatigue of -such a position, which she had borne patiently until the pain and -weariness had forced both tears and sweat down her face, and she asked -in a low, plaintive voice, if she might not rest her head for a few -moments against the wooden partition. But Justice Hathorn told her she -had strength enough to torment others, and should have strength enough -to stand. She sighed a little, and bore on, the clamour against her and -the other accused increasing every moment; the only way she could keep -herself from utterly losing consciousness was by distracting herself -from present pain and danger, and saying to herself verses of the -Psalms as she could remember them, expressive of trust in God. At -length she was ordered back to gaol, and dimly understood that she and -others were sentenced to be hanged for witchcraft. Many people now -looked eagerly at Lois, to see if she would weep at this doom. If she -had had strength to cry, it might--it was just possible that it -might--have been considered a plea in her favour, for witches could not -shed tears, but she was too exhausted and dead. All she wanted was to -lie down once more on her prison-bed, out of the reach of men's cries -of abhorrence, and out of shot of their cruel eyes. So they led her -back to prison, speechless and tearless. - -But rest gave her back her power of thought and suffering. Was it, -indeed, true that she was to die? She, Lois Barclay, only eighteen, so -well, so young, so full of love and hope as she had been, till but -these little days past! What would they think of it at home--real, dear -home at Barford, in England? There they had loved her; there she had -gone about, singing and rejoicing all the day long in the pleasant -meadows by the Avon side. Oh, why did father and mother die, and leave -her their bidding to come here to this cruel New England shore, where -no one had wanted her, no one had cared for her, and where now they -were going to put her to a shameful death as a witch? And there would -be no one to send kindly messages by to those she should never see -more. Never more! Young Lucy was living, and joyful--probably thinking -of her, and of his declared intention of coming to fetch her home to be -his wife this very spring. Possibly he had forgotten her; no one knew. -A week before, she would have been indignant at her own distrust in -thinking for a minute that he could forget. Now, she doubted all men's -goodness for a time; for those around her were deadly, and cruel, and -relentless. - -Then she turned round, and beat herself with angry blows (to speak in -images), for ever doubting her lover. Oh! if she were but with him! Oh! -if she might but be with him! He would not let her die; but would hide -her in his bosom from the wrath of this people, and carry her back to -the old home at Barford. And he might even now be sailing on the wide -blue sea, coming nearer, nearer every moment, and yet be too late after -all. - -So the thoughts chased each other through her head all that feverish -night, till she clung almost deliriously to life, and wildly prayed -that she might not die; at least, not just yet, and she so young! - -Pastor Tappau and certain elders roused her up from a heavy sleep, late -on the morning of the following day. All night long she had trembled -and cried, till morning had come peering in through the square grating -up above. It soothed her, and she fell asleep, to be awakened, as I -have said, by Pastor Tappau. - -'Arise!' said he, scrupling to touch her, from his superstitious idea -of her evil powers. 'It is noonday.' - -'Where am I?' said she, bewildered at this unusual wakening, and the -array of severe faces all gazing upon her with reprobation. - -'You are in Salem gaol, condemned for a witch.' - -'Alas! I had forgotten for an instant,' said she, dropping her head -upon her breast. - -'She has been out on a devilish ride all night long, doubtless, and is -weary and perplexed this morning,' whispered one, in so low a voice -that he did not think she could hear; but she lifted up her eyes, and -looked at him, with mute reproach. - -'We are come' said Pastor Tappau, 'to exhort you to confess your great -and manifold sin.' - -'My great and manifold sin!' repeated Lois to herself, shaking her -head. - -'Yea, your sin of witchcraft. If you will confess, there may yet be -balm in Gilead.' - -One of the elders, struck with pity at the young girl's wan, shrunken -look, said, that if she confessed, and repented, and did penance, -possibly her life might yet be spared. - -A sudden flash of light came into her sunk, dulled eye. Might she yet -live? Was it yet in her power? - -Why, no one knew how soon Ralph Lucy might be here, to take her away -for ever into the peace of a new home! Life! Oh, then, all hope was not -over--perhaps she might still live, and not die. Yet the truth came -once more out of her lips, almost without any exercise of her will. - -'I am not a witch,' she said. - -Then Pastor Tappau blindfolded her, all unresisting, but with languid -wonder in her heart as to what was to come next. She heard people enter -the dungeon softly, and heard whispering voices; then her hands were -lifted up and made to touch some one near, and in an instant she heard -a noise of struggling, and the well-known voice of Prudence shrieking -out in one of her hysterical fits, and screaming to be taken away and -out of that place. It seemed to Lois as if some of her judges must have -doubted of her guilt, and demanded yet another test. She sat down -heavily on her bed, thinking she must be in a horrible dream, so -compassed about with dangers and enemies did she seem. Those in the -dungeon--and by the oppression of the air she perceived that they were -many--kept on eager talking in low voices. She did not try to make out -the sense of the fragments of sentences that reached her dulled brain, -till, all at once, a word or two made her understand they were -discussing the desirableness of applying the whip or the torture to -make her confess, and reveal by what means the spell she had cast upon -those whom she had bewitched could be dissolved. A thrill of affright -ran through her; and she cried out, beseechingly: - -'I beg you, sirs, for God's mercy sake, that you do not use such awful -means. I may say anything--nay, I may accuse any one if I am subjected -to such torment as I have heard tell about. For I am but a young girl, -and not very brave, or very good, as some are.' - -It touched the hearts of one or two to see her standing there; the -tears streaming down from below the coarse handkerchief tightly bound -over her eyes; the clanking chain fastening the heavy weight to the -slight ankle; the two hands held together as if to keep down a -convulsive motion. - -'Look!' said one of these. 'She is weeping. They say no witch can weep -tears.' - -But another scoffed at this test, and bade the first remember how those -of her own family, the Hicksons even, bore witness against her. - -Once more she was bidden to confess. The charges, esteemed by all men -(as they said) to have been proven against her, were read over to her, -with all the testimony borne against her in proof thereof. They told -her that, considering the godly family to which she belonged, it had -been decided by the magistrates and ministers of Salem that he should -have her life spared, if she would own her guilt, make reparation, and -submit to penance; but that if not, she, and others convicted of -witchcraft along with her, were to be hung in Salem market-place on the -next Thursday morning (Thursday being market day). And when they had -thus spoken, they waited silently for her answer. It was a minute or -two before she spoke. She had sat down again upon the bed meanwhile, -for indeed she was very weak. She asked, 'May I have this handkerchief -unbound from my eyes, for indeed, sirs, it hurts me?' - -The occasion for which she was blindfolded being over, the bandage was -taken off, and she was allowed to see. She looked pitifully at the -stern faces around her, in grim suspense as to what her answer would -be. Then she spoke: - -'Sirs, I must choose death with a quiet conscience, rather than life to -be gained by a lie. I am not a witch. I know not hardly what you mean -when you say I am. I have done many, many things very wrong in my life; -but I think God will forgive me them for my Saviour's sake.' - -'Take not His name on your wicked lips,' said Pastor Tappau, enraged at -her resolution of not confessing, and scarcely able to keep himself -from striking her. She saw the desire he had, and shrank away in timid -fear. Then Justice Hathorn solemnly read the legal condemnation of Lois -Barclay to death by hanging, as a convicted witch. She murmured -something which nobody heard fully, but which sounded like a prayer for -pity and compassion on her tender years and friendless estate. Then -they left her to all the horrors of that solitary, loathsome dungeon, -and the strange terror of approaching death. - -Outside the prison walls, the dread of the witches, and the excitement -against witchcraft, grew with fearful rapidity. Numbers of women, and -men, too, were accused, no matter what their station of life and their -former character had been. On the other side, it is alleged that -upwards of fifty persons were grievously vexed by the devil, and those -to whom he had imparted of his power for vile and wicked -considerations. How much of malice, distinct, unmistakable personal -malice, was mixed up with these accusations, no one can now tell. The -dire statistics of this time tell us, that fifty-five escaped death by -confessing themselves guilty, one hundred and fifty were in prison, -more than two hundred accused, and upwards of twenty suffered death, -among whom was the minister I have called Nolan, who was traditionally -esteemed to have suffered through hatred of his co-pastor. One old man, -scorning the accusation, and refusing to plead at his trial, was, -according to the law, pressed to death for his contumacy. Nay, even -dogs were accused of witchcraft, suffered the legal penalties, and are -recorded among the subjects of capital punishment. One young man found -means to effect his mother's escape from confinement, fled with her on -horseback, and secreted her in the Blueberry Swamp, not far from -Taplay's Brook, in the Great Pasture; he concealed her here in a wigwam -which he built for her shelter, provided her with food and clothing, -and comforted and sustained her until after the delusion had passed -away. The poor creature must, however, have suffered dreadfully, for -one of her arms was fractured in the all but desperate effort of -getting her out of prison. - -But there was no one to try and save Lois. Grace Hickson would fain -have ignored her altogether. Such a taint did witchcraft bring upon a -whole family, that generations of blameless life were not at that day -esteemed sufficient to wash it out. Besides, you must remember that -Grace, along with most people of her time, believed most firmly in the -reality of the crime of witchcraft. Poor, forsaken Lois, believed in it -herself, and it added to her terror, for the gaoler, in an unusually -communicative mood, told her that nearly every cell was now full of -witches; and it was possible he might have to put one, if more came, in -with her. Lois knew that she was no witch herself; but not the less did -she believe that the crime was abroad, and largely shared in by -evil-minded persons who had chosen to give up their souls to Satan; and -she shuddered with terror at what the gaoler said, and would have asked -him to spare her this companionship if it were possible. But, somehow, -her senses were leaving her, and she could not remember the right words -in which to form her request, until he had left the place. - -The only person who yearned after Lois--who would have befriended her -if he could--was Manasseh: poor, mad Manasseh. But he was so wild and -outrageous in his talk, that it was all his mother could do to keep his -state concealed from public observation. She had for this purpose given -him a sleeping potion; and, while he lay heavy and inert under the -influence of the poppy-tea, his mother bound him with cords to the -ponderous, antique bed in which he slept. She looked broken-hearted -while she did this office, and thus acknowledged the degradation of her -first-born--him of whom she had ever been so proud. - -Late that evening, Grace Hickson stood in Lois's cell, hooded and -cloaked up to her eyes. Lois was sitting quite still, playing idly with -a bit of string which one of the magistrates had dropped out of his -pocket that morning. Her aunt was standing by her for an instant or two -in silence, before Lois seemed aware of her presence. Suddenly she -looked up, and uttered a little cry, shrinking away from the dark -figure. Then, as if her cry had loosened Grace's tongue, she began: - -'Lois Barclay, did I ever do you any harm?' Grace did not know how -often her want of loving-kindness had pierced the tender heart of the -stranger under her roof; nor did Lois remember it against her now. -Instead, Lois's memory was filled with grateful thoughts of how much -that might have been left undone, by a less conscientious person, her -aunt had done for her, and she half stretched out her arms as to a -friend in that desolate place, while she answered: - -'Oh no, no you were very good! very kind!' - -But Grace stood immovable. - -'I did you no harm, although I never rightly knew why you came to us.' - -'I was sent by my mother on her death-bed,' moaned Lois, covering her -face. It grew darker every instant. Her aunt stood, still and silent. - -'Did any of mine ever wrong you?' she asked, after a time. - -'No, no; never, till Prudence said--Oh, aunt, do you think I am a -witch?' And now Lois was standing up, holding by Grace's cloak, and -trying to read her face. Grace drew herself, ever so little, away from -the girl, whom she dreaded, and yet sought to propitiate. - -'Wiser than I, godlier than I, have said it. But oh, Lois, Lois! he was -my first-born. Loose him from the demon, for the sake of Him whose name -I dare not name in this terrible building, filled with them who have -renounced the hopes of their baptism; loose Manasseh from his awful -state, if ever I or mine did you a kindness!' - -'You ask me for Christ's sake,' said Lois. 'I can name that holy -name--for oh, aunt! indeed, and in holy truth, I am no witch; and yet I -am to die--to be hanged! Aunt, do not let them kill me! I am so young, -and I never did any one any harm that I know of.' - -'Hush! for very shame! This afternoon I have bound my first-born with -strong cords, to keep him from doing himself or us a mischief--he is so -frenzied. Lois Barclay, look here!' and Grace knelt down at her niece's -feet, and joined her hands as if in prayer--'I am a proud woman, God -forgive me! and I never thought to kneel to any save to Him. And now I -kneel at your feet, to pray you to release my children, more especially -my son Manasseh, from the spells you have put upon them. Lois, hearken -to me, and I will pray to the Almighty for you, if yet there may be -mercy.' - -'I cannot do it; I never did you or yours any wrong. How can I undo it? -How can I?' And she wrung her hands in intensity of conviction of the -inutility of aught she could do. - -Here Grace got up, slowly, stiffly, and sternly. She stood aloof from -the chained girl, in the remote corner of the prison cell near the -door, ready to make her escape as soon as she had cursed the witch, who -would not, or could not, undo the evil she had wrought. Grace lifted up -her right hand, and held it up on high, as she doomed Lois to be -accursed for ever, for her deadly sin, and her want of mercy even at -this final hour. And, lastly, she summoned her to meet her at the -judgment-seat, and answer for this deadly injury done to both souls and -bodies of those who had taken her in, and received her when she came to -them an orphan and a stranger. - -Until this last summons, Lois had stood as one who hears her sentence -and can say nothing against it, for she knows all would be in vain. But -she raised her head when she heard her aunt speak of the judgment-seat, -and at the end of Grace's speech she, too, lifted up her right hand, as -if solemnly pledging herself by that action, and replied: - -'Aunt! I will meet you there. And there you will know my innocence of -this deadly thing. God have mercy on you and yours!' - -Her calm voice maddened Grace, and making a gesture as if she plucked -up a handful of dust of the floor, and threw it at Lois, she cried: - -'Witch! witch! ask mercy for thyself--I need not your prayers. Witches' -prayers are read backwards. I spit at thee, and defy thee!' And so she -went away. - -Lois sat moaning that whole night through. 'God comfort me! God -strengthen me!' was all she could remember to say. She just felt that -want, nothing more,--all other fears and wants seemed dead within her. -And when the gaoler brought in her breakfast the next morning, he -reported her as 'gone silly;' for, indeed, she did not seem to know -him, but kept rocking herself to and fro, and whispering softly to -herself, smiling a little from time to time. - -But God did comfort her, and strengthen her too late on that Wednesday -afternoon, they thrust another 'witch' into her cell, bidding the two, -with opprobrious words, keep company together. The new comer fell -prostrate with the push given her from without; and Lois, not -recognizing anything but an old ragged woman lying helpless on her face -on the ground, lifted her up; and lo! it was Nattee--dirty, filthy -indeed, mud-pelted, stone-bruised, beaten, and all astray in her wits -with the treatment she had received from the mob outside. Lois held her -in her arms, and softly wiped the old brown wrinkled face with her -apron, crying over it, as she had hardly yet cried over her own -sorrows. For hours she tended the old Indian woman--tended her bodily -woes; and as the poor scattered senses of the savage creature came -slowly back, Lois gathered her infinite dread of the morrow, when she -too, as well as Lois, was to be led out to die, in face of all that -infuriated crowd. Lois sought in her own mind for some source of -comfort for the old woman, who shook like one in the shaking palsy at -the dread of death--and such a death. - -When all was quiet through the prison, in the deep dead midnight, the -gaoler outside the door heard Lois telling, as if to a young child, the -marvellous and sorrowful story of one who died on the cross for us and -for our sakes. As long as she spoke, the Indian woman's terror seemed -lulled; but the instant she paused, for weariness, Nattee cried out -afresh, as if some wild beast were following her close through the -dense forests in which she had dwelt in her youth. And then Lois went -on, saying all the blessed words she could remember, and comforting the -helpless Indian woman with the sense of the presence of a Heavenly -Friend. And in comforting her, Lois was comforted; in strengthening -her, Lois was strengthened. - -The morning came, and the summons to come forth and die came. They who -entered the cell found Lois asleep, her face resting on the slumbering -old woman, whose head she still held in her lap. She did not seem -clearly to recognize where she was, when she awakened; the 'silly' look -had returned to her wan face; all she appeared to know was, that -somehow or another, through some peril or another, she had to protect -the poor Indian woman. She smiled faintly when she saw the bright light -of the April day; and put her arm round Nattee, and tried to keep the -Indian quiet with hushing, soothing words of broken meaning, and holy -fragments of the Psalms. Nattee tightened her hold upon Lois as they -drew near the gallows, and the outrageous crowd below began to hoot and -yell. Lois redoubled her efforts to calm and encourage Nattee, -apparently unconscious that any of the opprobrium, the hootings, the -stones, the mud, was directed towards her herself. But when they took -Nattee from her arms, and led her out to suffer first, Lois seemed all -at once to recover her sense of the present terror. She gazed wildly -around, stretched out her arms as if to some person in the distance, -who was yet visible to her, and cried out once with a voice that -thrilled through all who heard it, 'Mother!' Directly afterwards, the -body of Lois the Witch swung in the air, and every one stood, with -hushed breath, with a sudden wonder, like a fear of deadly crime, -fallen upon them. - -The stillness and the silence were broken by one crazed and mad, who -came rushing up the steps of the ladder, and caught Lois's body in his -arms, and kissed her lips with wild passion. And then, as if it were -true what the people believed, that he was possessed by a demon, he -sprang down, and rushed through the crowd, out of the bounds of the -city, and into the dark dense forest, and Manasseh Hickson was no more -seen of Christian man. - -The people of Salem had awakened from their frightful delusion before -the autumn, when Captain Holdernesse and Ralph Lucy came to find out -Lois, and bring her home to peaceful Barford, in the pleasant country -of England. Instead, they led them to the grassy grave where she lay at -rest, done to death by mistaken men. Ralph Lucy shook the dust off his -feet in quitting Salem, with a heavy, heavy heart; and lived a bachelor -all his life long for her sake. - -Long years afterwards, Captain Holdernesse sought him out, to tell him -some news that he thought might interest the grave miller of the -Avonside. Captain Holdernesse told him that in the previous year, it -was then 1713, the sentence of excommunication against the witches of -Salem was ordered, in godly sacramental meeting of the church, to be -erased and blotted out, and that those who met together for this -purpose 'humbly requested the merciful God would pardon whatsoever sin, -error, or mistake was in the application of justice, through our -merciful High Priest, who knoweth how to have compassion on the -ignorant, and those that are out of the way.' He also said that -Prudence Hickson--now woman grown--had made a most touching and pungent -declaration of sorrow and repentance before the whole church, for the -false and mistaken testimony she had given in several instances, among -which she particularly mentioned that of her cousin Lois Barclay. To -all which Ralph Lucy only answered: - -'No repentance of theirs can bring her back to life.' - -Then Captain Holdernesse took out a paper, and read the following -humble and solemn declaration of regret on the part of those who signed -it, among whom Grace Hickson was one: - - 'We, whose names are undersigned, being, in the year 1692, called - to serve as jurors in court of Salem, on trial of many who were by - some suspected guilty of doing acts of witchcraft upon the bodies - of sundry persons; we confess that we ourselves were not capable to - understand, nor able to withstand, the mysterious delusions of the - powers of darkness, and prince of the air, but were, for want of - knowledge in ourselves, and better information from others, - prevailed with to take up with such evidence against the accused, - as, on further consideration, and better information, we justly - fear was insufficient for the touching the lives of any (Deut. - xvii. 6), whereby we fear we have been instrumental, with others, - though ignorantly and unwittingly, to bring upon ourselves and this - people of the Lord the guilt of innocent blood; which sin, the Lord - saith in Scripture, he would not pardon (2 Kings, xxiv. 4), that - is, we suppose, in regard of his temporal judgments. We do, - therefore, signify to all in general (and to the surviving - sufferers in special) our deep sense of, and sorrow for, our - errors, in acting on such evidence to the condemning of any person; - and do hereby declare, that we justly fear that we were sadly - deluded and mistaken, for which we are much disquieted and - distressed in our minds, and do therefore humbly beg forgiveness, - first of God for Christ's sake, for this our error; and pray that - God would not impute the guilt of it to ourselves nor others; and - we also pray that we may be considered candidly and aright by the - living sufferers, as being then under the power of a strong and - general delusion, utterly unacquainted with, and not experienced - in, matters of that nature. - - 'We do heartily ask forgiveness of you all, whom we have justly - offended; and do declare, according to our present minds, we would - none of us do such things again on such grounds for the whole - world; praying you to accept of this in way of satisfaction for our - offence, and that you would bless the inheritance of the Lord, that - he may be entreated for the land. - - 'FOREMAN, THOMAS FISK, &C.' - -To the reading of this paper Ralph Lucy made no reply save this, even -more gloomily than before: - -'All their repentance will avail nothing to my Lois, nor will it bring -back her life.' - -Then Captain Holdernesse spoke once more, and said that on the day of -the general fast, appointed to be held all through New England, when -the meeting-houses were crowded, an old, old man with white hair had -stood up in the place in which he was accustomed to worship, and had -handed up into the pulpit a written confession, which he had once or -twice essayed to read for himself, acknowledging his great and grievous -error in the matter of the witches of Salem, and praying for the -forgiveness of God and of his people, ending with an entreaty that all -then present would join with him in prayer that his past conduct might -not bring down the displeasure of the Most High upon his country, his -family, or himself. That old man, who was no other than Justice Sewall, -remained standing all the time that his confession was read; and at the -end he said, 'The good and gracious God be pleased to save New England -and me and my family.' And then it came out that, for years past, Judge -Sewall had set apart a day for humiliation and prayer, to keep fresh in -his mind a sense of repentance and sorrow for the part he had borne in -these trials, and that this solemn anniversary he was pledged to keep -as long as he lived, to show his feeling of deep humiliation. - -Ralph Lucy's voice trembled as he spoke: - -'All this will not bring my Lois to life again, or give me back the -hope of my youth.' - -But--as Captain Holdernesse shook his head (for what word could he say, -or how dispute what was so evidently true?)--Ralph added, 'What is the -day, know you, that this justice has set apart?' - -'The twenty-ninth of April.' - -'Then on that day will I, here at Barford in England, join my prayer as -long as I live with the repentant judge, that his sin may be blotted -out and no more had in remembrance. She would have willed it so.' - - - - -THE GREY WOMAN - -Portion 1 - - -There is a mill by the Neckar-side, to which many people resort for -coffee, according to the fashion which is almost national in Germany. -There is nothing particularly attractive in the situation of this mill; -it is on the Mannheim (the flat and unromantic) side of Heidelberg. The -river turns the mill-wheel with a plenteous gushing sound; the -out-buildings and the dwelling-house of the miller form a well-kept -dusty quadrangle. Again, further from the river, there is a garden full -of willows, and arbours, and flower-beds not well kept, but very -profuse in flowers and luxuriant creepers, knotting and looping the -arbours together. In each of these arbours is a stationary table of -white painted wood, and light moveable chairs of the same colour and -material. - -I went to drink coffee there with some friends in 184--. The stately -old miller came out to greet us, as some of the party were known to him -of old. He was of a grand build of a man, and his loud musical voice, -with its tone friendly and familiar, his rolling laugh of welcome, went -well with the keen bright eye, the fine cloth of his coat, and the -general look of substance about the place. Poultry of all kinds -abounded in the mill-yard, where there were ample means of livelihood -for them strewed on the ground; but not content with this, the miller -took out handfuls of corn from the sacks, and threw liberally to the -cocks and hens that ran almost under his feet in their eagerness. And -all the time he was doing this, as it were habitually, he was talking -to us, and ever and anon calling to his daughter and the serving-maids, -to bid them hasten the coffee we had ordered. He followed us to an -arbour, and saw us served to his satisfaction with the best of -everything we could ask for; and then left us to go round to the -different arbours and see that each party was properly attended to; -and, as he went, this great, prosperous, happy-looking man whistled -softly one of the most plaintive airs I ever heard. - -'His family have held this mill ever since the old Palatinate days; or -rather, I should say, have possessed the ground ever since then, for -two successive mills of theirs have been burnt down by the French. If -you want to see Scherer in a passion, just talk to him of the -possibility of a French invasion.' - -But at this moment, still whistling that mournful air, we saw the -miller going down the steps that led from the somewhat raised garden -into the mill-yard; and so I seemed to have lost my chance of putting -him in a passion. - -We had nearly finished our coffee, and our 'kucken,' and our cinnamon -cake, when heavy splashes fell on our thick leafy covering; quicker and -quicker they came, coming through the tender leaves as if they were -tearing them asunder; all the people in the garden were hurrying under -shelter, or seeking for their carriages standing outside. Up the steps -the miller came hastening, with a crimson umbrella, fit to cover every -one left in the garden, and followed by his daughter, and one or two -maidens, each bearing an umbrella. - -'Come into the house--come in, I say. It is a summer-storm, and will -flood the place for an hour or two, till the river carries it away. -Here, here.' - -And we followed him back into his own house. We went into the kitchen -first. Such an array of bright copper and tin vessels I never saw; and -all the wooden things were as thoroughly scoured. The red tile floor -was spotless when we went in, but in two minutes it was all over slop -and dirt with the tread of many feet; for the kitchen was filled, and -still the worthy miller kept bringing in more people under his great -crimson umbrella. He even called the dogs in, and made them lie down -under the tables. - -His daughter said something to him in German, and he shook his head -merrily at her. Everybody laughed. - -'What did she say?' I asked. - -'She told him to bring the ducks in next; but indeed if more people -come we shall be suffocated. What with the thundery weather, and the -stove, and all these steaming clothes, I really think we must ask leave -to pass on. Perhaps we might go in and see Frau Scherer.' - -My friend asked the daughter of the house for permission to go into an -inner chamber and see her mother. It was granted, and we went into a -sort of saloon, over-looking the Neckar; very small, very bright, and -very close. The floor was slippery with polish; long narrow pieces of -looking-glass against the walls reflected the perpetual motion of the -river opposite; a white porcelain stove, with some old-fashioned -ornaments of brass about it; a sofa, covered with Utrecht velvet, a -table before it, and a piece of worsted-worked carpet under it; a vase -of artificial flowers; and, lastly, an alcove with a bed in it, on -which lay the paralysed wife of the good miller, knitting busily, -formed the furniture. I spoke as if this was all that was to be seen in -the room; but, sitting quietly, while my friend kept up a brisk -conversation in a language which I but half understood, my eye was -caught by a picture in a dark corner of the room, and I got up to -examine it more nearly. - -It was that of a young girl of extreme beauty; evidently of middle -rank. There was a sensitive refinement in her face, as if she almost -shrank from the gaze which, of necessity, the painter must have fixed -upon her. It was not over-well painted, but I felt that it must have -been a good likeness, from this strong impress of peculiar character -which I have tried to describe. From the dress, I should guess it to -have been painted in the latter half of the last century. And I -afterwards heard that I was right. - -There was a little pause in the conversation. - -'Will you ask Frau Scherer who this is?' - -My friend repeated my question, and received a long reply in German. -Then she turned round and translated it to me. - -'It is the likeness of a great-aunt of her husband's.' (My friend was -standing by me, and looking at the picture with sympathetic curiosity.) -'See! here is the name on the open page of this Bible, "Anna Scherer, -1778." Frau Scherer says there is a tradition in the family that this -pretty girl, with her complexion of lilies and roses, lost her colour -so entirely through fright, that she was known by the name of the Grey -Woman. She speaks as if this Anna Scherer lived in some state of -life-long terror. But she does not know details; refers me to her -husband for them. She thinks he has some papers which were written by -the original of that picture for her daughter, who died in this very -house not long after our friend there was married. We can ask Herr -Scherer for the whole story if you like.' - -'Oh yes, pray do!' said I. And, as our host came in at this moment to -ask how we were faring, and to tell us that he had sent to Heidelberg -for carriages to convey us home, seeing no chance of the heavy rain -abating, my friend, after thanking him, passed on to my request. - -'Ah!' said he, his face changing, 'the aunt Anna had a sad history. It -was all owing to one of those hellish Frenchmen; and her daughter -suffered for it--the cousin Ursula, as we all called her when I was a -child. To be sure, the good cousin Ursula was his child as well. The -sins of the fathers are visited on their children. The lady would like -to know all about it, would she? Well, there are papers--a kind of -apology the aunt Anna wrote for putting an end to her daughter's -engagement--or rather facts which she revealed, that prevented cousin -Ursula from marrying the man she loved; and so she would never have any -other good fellow, else I have heard say my father would have been -thankful to have made her his wife.' All this time he was rummaging in -the drawer of an old-fashioned bureau, and now he turned round, with a -bundle of yellow MSS. in his hand, which he gave to my friend, saying, -'Take it home, take it home, and if you care to make out our crabbed -German writing, you may keep it as long as you like, and read it at -your leisure. Only I must have it back again when you have done with -it, that's all.' - -And so we became possessed of the manuscript of the following letter, -which it was our employment, during many a long evening that ensuing -winter, to translate, and in some parts to abbreviate. The letter began -with some reference to the pain which she had already inflicted upon -her daughter by some unexplained opposition to a project of marriage; -but I doubt if, without the clue with which the good miller had -furnished us, we could have made out even this much from the -passionate, broken sentences that made us fancy that some scene between -the mother and daughter--and possibly a third person--had occurred just -before the mother had begun to write. - - * * * * * - -'Thou dost not love thy child, mother! Thou dost not care if her heart -is broken!' Ah, God! and these words of my heart-beloved Ursula ring in -my ears as if the sound of them would fill them when I lie a-dying. And -her poor tear-stained face comes between me and everything else. Child! -hearts do not break; life is very tough as well as very terrible. But I -will not decide for thee. I will tell thee all; and thou shalt bear the -burden of choice. I may be wrong; I have little wit left, and never had -much, I think; but an instinct serves me in place of judgement, and -that instinct tells me that thou and thy Henri must never be married. -Yet I may be in error. I would fain make my child happy. Lay this paper -before the good priest Schriesheim; if, after reading it, thou hast -doubts which make thee uncertain. Only I will tell thee all now, on -condition that no spoken word ever passes between us on the subject. It -would kill me to be questioned. I should have to see all present again. - -My father held, as thou knowest, the mill on the Neckar, where thy -new-found uncle, Scherer, now lives. Thou rememberest the surprise with -which we were received there last vintage twelvemonth. How thy uncle -disbelieved me when I said that I was his sister Anna, whom he had long -believed to be dead, and how I had to lead thee underneath the picture, -painted of me long ago, and point out, feature by feature, the likeness -between it and thee; and how, as I spoke, I recalled first to my own -mind, and then by speech to his, the details of the time when it was -painted; the merry words that passed between us then, a happy boy and -girl; the position of the articles of furniture in the room; our -father's habits; the cherry-tree, now cut down, that shaded the window -of my bedroom, through which my brother was wont to squeeze himself, in -order to spring on to the topmost bough that would bear his weight; and -thence would pass me back his cap laden with fruit to where I sat on -the window-sill, too sick with fright for him to care much for eating -the cherries. - -And at length Fritz gave way, and believed me to be his sister Anna, -even as though I were risen from the dead. And thou rememberest how he -fetched in his wife, and told her that I was not dead, but was come -back to the old home once more, changed as I was. And she would scarce -believe him, and scanned me with a cold, distrustful eye, till at -length--for I knew her of old as Babette Müller--I said that I was -well-to-do, and needed not to seek out friends for what they had to -give. And then she asked--not me, but her husband--why I had kept -silent so long, leading all--father, brother, every one that loved me -in my own dear home--to esteem me dead. And then thine uncle (thou -rememberest?) said he cared not to know more than I cared to tell; that -I was his Anna, found again, to be a blessing to him in his old age, as -I had been in his boyhood. I thanked him in my heart for his trust; for -were the need for telling all less than it seems to me now I could not -speak of my past life. But she, who was my sister-in-law still, held -back her welcome, and, for want of that, I did not go to live in -Heidelberg as I had planned beforehand, in order to be near my brother -Fritz, but contented myself with his promise to be a father to my -Ursula when I should die and leave this weary world. - -That Babette Müller was, as I may say, the cause of all my life's -suffering. She was a baker's daughter in Heidelberg--a great beauty, as -people said, and, indeed, as I could see for myself I, too--thou sawest -my picture--was reckoned a beauty, and I believe I was so. Babette -Müller looked upon me as a rival. She liked to be admired, and had no -one much to love her. I had several people to love me--thy grandfather, -Fritz, the old servant Kätchen, Karl, the head apprentice at the -mill--and I feared admiration and notice, and the being stared at as -the 'Schöne Müllerin,' whenever I went to make my purchases in -Heidelberg. - -Those were happy, peaceful days. I had Kätchen to help me in the -housework, and whatever we did pleased my brave old father, who was -always gentle and indulgent towards us women, though he was stern -enough with the apprentices in the mill. Karl, the oldest of these, was -his favourite; and I can see now that my father wished him to marry me, -and that Karl himself was desirous to do so. But Karl was rough-spoken, -and passionate--not with me, but with the others--and I shrank from him -in a way which, I fear, gave him pain. And then came thy uncle Fritz's -marriage; and Babette was brought to the mill to be its mistress. Not -that I cared much for giving up my post, for, in spite of my father's -great kindness, I always feared that I did not manage well for so large -a family (with the men, and a girl under Kätchen, we sat down eleven -each night to supper). But when Babette began to find fault with -Kätchen, I was unhappy at the blame that fell on faithful servants; and -by-and-by I began to see that Babette was egging on Karl to make more -open love to me, and, as she once said, to get done with it, and take -me off to a home of my own. My father was growing old, and did not -perceive all my daily discomfort. The more Karl advanced, the more I -disliked him. He was good in the main, but I had no notion of being -married, and could not bear any one who talked to me about it. - -Things were in this way when I had an invitation to go to Carlsruhe to -visit a schoolfellow, of whom I had been very fond. Babette was all for -my going; I don't think I wanted to leave home, and yet I had been very -fond of Sophie Rupprecht. But I was always shy among strangers. Somehow -the affair was settled for me, but not until both Fritz and my father -had made inquiries as to the character and position of the Rupprechts. -They learned that the father had held some kind of inferior position -about the Grand-duke's court, and was now dead, leaving a widow, a -noble lady, and two daughters, the elder of whom was Sophie, my friend. -Madame Rupprecht was not rich, but more than respectable--genteel. When -this was ascertained, my father made no opposition to my going; Babette -forwarded it by all the means in her power, and even my dear Fritz had -his word to say in its favour. Only Kätchen was against it--Kätchen and -Karl. The opposition of Karl did more to send me to Carlsruhe than -anything. For I could have objected to go; but when he took upon -himself to ask what was the good of going a-gadding, visiting strangers -of whom no one knew anything, I yielded to circumstances--to the -pulling of Sophie and the pushing of Babette. I was silently vexed, I -remember, at Babette's inspection of my clothes; at the way in which -she settled that this gown was too old-fashioned, or that too common, -to go with me on my visit to a noble lady; and at the way in which she -took upon herself to spend the money my father had given me to buy what -was requisite for the occasion. And yet I blamed myself, for every one -else thought her so kind for doing all this; and she herself meant -kindly, too. - -At last I quitted the mill by the Neckar-side. It was a long day's -journey, and Fritz went with me to Carlsruhe. The Rupprechts lived on -the third floor of a house a little behind one of the principal -streets, in a cramped-up court, to which we gained admittance through a -doorway in the street. I remember how pinched their rooms looked after -the large space we had at the mill, and yet they had an air of grandeur -about them which was new to me, and which gave me pleasure, faded as -some of it was. Madame Rupprecht was too formal a lady for me; I was -never at my ease with her; but Sophie was all that I had recollected -her at school: kind, affectionate, and only rather too ready with her -expressions of admiration and regard. The little sister kept out of our -way; and that was all we needed, in the first enthusiastic renewal of -our early friendship. The one great object of Madame Rupprecht's life -was to retain her position in society; and as her means were much -diminished since her husband's death, there was not much comfort, -though there was a great deal of show, in their way of living; just the -opposite of what it was at my father's house. I believe that my coming -was not too much desired by Madame Rupprecht, as I brought with me -another mouth to be fed; but Sophie had spent a year or more in -entreating for permission to invite me, and her mother, having once -consented, was too well bred not to give me a stately welcome. - -The life in Carlsruhe was very different from what it was at home. The -hours were later, the coffee was weaker in the morning, the pottage was -weaker, the boiled beef less relieved by other diet, the dresses finer, -the evening engagements constant. I did not find these visits pleasant. -We might not knit, which would have relieved the tedium a little; but -we sat in a circle, talking together, only interrupted occasionally by -a gentleman, who, breaking out of the knot of men who stood near the -door, talking eagerly together, stole across the room on tiptoe, his -hat under his arm, and, bringing his feet together in the position we -called the first at the dancing-school, made a low bow to the lady he -was going to address. The first time I saw these manners I could not -help smiling; but Madame Rupprecht saw me, and spoke to me next morning -rather severely, telling me that, of course, in my country breeding I -could have seen nothing of court manners, or French fashions, but that -that was no reason for my laughing at them. Of course I tried never to -smile again in company. This visit to Carlsruhe took place in '89, just -when every one was full of the events taking place at Paris; and yet at -Carlsruhe French fashions were more talked of than French politics. -Madame Rupprecht, especially, thought a great deal of all French -people. And this again was quite different to us at home. Fritz could -hardly bear the name of a Frenchman; and it had nearly been an obstacle -to my visit to Sophie that her mother preferred being called Madame to -her proper title of Frau. - -One night I was sitting next to Sophie, and longing for the time when -we might have supper and go home, so as to be able to speak together, a -thing forbidden by Madame Rupprecht's rules of etiquette, which -strictly prohibited any but the most necessary conversation passing -between members of the same family when in society. I was sitting, I -say, scarcely keeping back my inclination to yawn, when two gentlemen -came in, one of whom was evidently a stranger to the whole party, from -the formal manner in which the host led him up, and presented him to -the hostess. I thought I had never seen any one so handsome or so -elegant. His hair was powdered, of course, but one could see from his -complexion that it was fair in its natural state. His features were as -delicate as a girl's, and set off by two little 'mouches,' as we called -patches in those days, one at the left corner of his mouth, the other -prolonging, as it were, the right eye. His dress was blue and silver. I -was so lost in admiration of this beautiful young man, that I was as -much surprised as if the angel Gabriel had spoken to me, when the lady -of the house brought him forward to present him to me. She called him -Monsieur de la Tourelle, and he began to speak to me in French; but -though I understood him perfectly, I dared not trust myself to reply to -him in that language. Then he tried German, speaking it with a kind of -soft lisp that I thought charming. But, before the end of the evening, -I became a little tired of the affected softness and effeminacy of his -manners, and the exaggerated compliments he paid me, which had the -effect of making all the company turn round and look at me. Madame -Rupprecht was, however, pleased with the precise thing that displeased -me. She liked either Sophie or me to create a sensation; of course she -would have preferred that it should have been her daughter, but her -daughter's friend was next best. As we went away, I heard Madame -Rupprecht and Monsieur de la Tourelle reciprocating civil speeches with -might and main, from which I found out that the French gentleman was -coming to call on us the next day. I do not know whether I was more -glad or frightened, for I had been kept upon stilts of good manners all -the evening. But still I was flattered when Madame Rupprecht spoke as -if she had invited him, because he had shown pleasure in my society, -and even more gratified by Sophie's ungrudging delight at the evident -interest I had excited in so fine and agreeable a gentleman. Yet, with -all this, they had hard work to keep me from running out of the salon -the next day, when we heard his voice inquiring at the gate on the -stairs for Madame Rupprecht. They had made me put on my Sunday gown, -and they themselves were dressed as for a reception. - -When he was gone away, Madame Rupprecht congratulated me on the -conquest I had made; for, indeed, he had scarcely spoken to anyone -else, beyond what mere civility required, and had almost invited -himself to come in the evening to bring some new song, which was all -the fashion in Paris, he said. Madame Rupprecht had been out all -morning, as she told me, to glean information about Monsieur de la -Tourelle. He was a propriétaire, had a small château on the Vosges -mountains; he owned land there, but had a large income from some -sources quite independent of this property. Altogether, he was a good -match, as she emphatically observed. She never seemed to think that I -could refuse him after this account of his wealth, nor do I believe she -would have allowed Sophie a choice, even had he been as old and ugly as -he was young and handsome. I do not quite know--so many events have -come to pass since then, and blurred the clearness of my -recollections--if I loved him or not. He was very much devoted to me; -he almost frightened me by the excess of his demonstrations of love. -And he was very charming to everybody around me, who all spoke of him -as the most fascinating of men, and of me as the most fortunate of -girls. And yet I never felt quite at my ease with him. I was always -relieved when his visits were over, although I missed his presence when -he did not come. He prolonged his visit to the friend with whom he was -staying at Carlsruhe, on purpose to woo me. He loaded me with presents, -which I was unwilling to take, only Madame Rupprecht seemed to consider -me an affected prude if I refused them. Many of these presents -consisted of articles of valuable old jewellery, evidently belonging to -his family; by accepting these I doubled the ties which were formed -around me by circumstances even more than by my own consent. In those -days we did not write letters to absent friends as frequently as is -done now, and I had been unwilling to name him in the few letters that -I wrote home. At length, however, I learned from Madame Rupprecht that -she had written to my father to announce the splendid conquest I had -made, and to request his presence at my betrothal. I started with -astonishment. I had not realized that affairs had gone so far as this. -But when she asked me, in a stern, offended manner, what I had meant by -my conduct if I did not intend to marry Monsieur de la Tourelle--I had -received his visits, his presents, all his various advances without -showing any unwillingness or repugnance--(and it was all true; I had -shown no repugnance, though I did not wish to be married to him,--at -least, not so soon)--what could I do but hang my head, and silently -consent to the rapid enunciation of the only course which now remained -for me if I would not be esteemed a heartless coquette all the rest of -my days? - -There was some difficulty, which I afterwards learnt that my -sister-in-law had obviated, about my betrothal taking place from home. -My father, and Fritz especially, were for having me return to the mill, -and there be betrothed, and from thence be married. But the Rupprechts -and Monsieur de la Tourelle were equally urgent on the other side; and -Babette was unwilling to have the trouble of the commotion at the mill; -and also, I think, a little disliked the idea of the contrast of my -grander marriage with her own. - -So my father and Fritz came over to the betrothal. They were to stay at -an inn in Carlsruhe for a fortnight, at the end of which time the -marriage was to take place. Monsieur de la Tourelle told me he had -business at home, which would oblige him to be absent during the -interval between the two events; and I was very glad of it, for I did -not think that he valued my father and my brother as I could have -wished him to do. He was very polite to them; put on all the soft, -grand manner, which he had rather dropped with me; and complimented us -all round, beginning with my father and Madame Rupprecht, and ending -with little Alwina. But he a little scoffed at the old-fashioned church -ceremonies which my father insisted on; and I fancy Fritz must have -taken some of his compliments as satire, for I saw certain signs of -manner by which I knew that my future husband, for all his civil words, -had irritated and annoyed my brother. But all the money arrangements -were liberal in the extreme, and more than satisfied, almost surprised, -my father. Even Fritz lifted up his eyebrows and whistled. I alone did -not care about anything. I was bewitched,--in a dream,--a kind of -despair. I had got into a net through my own timidity and weakness, and -I did not see how to get out of it. I clung to my own home-people that -fortnight as I had never done before. Their voices, their ways were all -so pleasant and familiar to me, after the constraint in which I had -been living. I might speak and do as I liked without being corrected by -Madame Rupprecht, or reproved in a delicate, complimentary way by -Monsieur de la Tourelle. One day I said to my father that I did not -want to be married, that I would rather go back to the dear old mill; -but he seemed to feel this speech of mine as a dereliction of duty as -great as if I had committed perjury; as if, after the ceremony of -betrothal, no one had any right over me but my future husband. And yet -he asked me some solemn questions; but my answers were not such as to -do me any good. - -'Dost thou know any fault or crime in this man that should prevent -God's blessing from resting on thy marriage with him? Dost thou feel -aversion or repugnance to him in any way?' - -And to all this what could I say? I could only stammer out that I did -not think I loved him enough; and my poor old father saw in this -reluctance only the fancy of a silly girl who did not know her own -mind, but who had now gone too far to recede. - -So we were married, in the Court chapel, a privilege which Madame -Rupprecht had used no end of efforts to obtain for us, and which she -must have thought was to secure us all possible happiness, both at the -time and in recollection afterwards. - -We were married; and after two days spent in festivity at Carlsruhe, -among all our new fashionable friends there, I bade good-by for ever to -my dear old father. I had begged my husband to take me by way of -Heidelberg to his old castle in the Vosges; but I found an amount of -determination, under that effeminate appearance and manner, for which I -was not prepared, and he refused my first request so decidedly that I -dared not urge it. 'Henceforth, Anna,' said he, 'you will move in a -different sphere of life; and though it is possible that you may have -the power of showing favour to your relations from time to time, yet -much or familiar intercourse will be undesirable, and is what I cannot -allow.' I felt almost afraid, after this formal speech, of asking my -father and Fritz to come and see me; but, when the agony of bidding -them farewell overcame all my prudence, I did beg them to pay me a -visit ere long. But they shook their heads, and spoke of business at -home, of different kinds of life, of my being a Frenchwoman now. Only -my father broke out at last with a blessing, and said, 'If my child is -unhappy--which God forbid--let her remember that her father's house is -ever open to her.' I was on the point of crying out, 'Oh! take me back -then now, my father! oh, my father!' when I felt, rather than saw, my -husband present near me. He looked on with a slightly contemptuous air; -and, taking my hand in his, he led me weeping away, saying that short -farewells were always the best when they were inevitable. - -It took us two days to reach his château in the Vosges, for the roads -were bad and the way difficult to ascertain. Nothing could be more -devoted than he was all the time of the journey. It seemed as if he -were trying in every way to make up for the separation which every hour -made me feel the more complete between my present and my former life. I -seemed as if I were only now wakening up to a full sense of what -marriage was, and I dare say I was not a cheerful companion on the -tedious journey. At length, jealousy of my regret for my father and -brother got the better of M. de la Tourelle, and he became so much -displeased with me that I thought my heart would break with the sense -of desolation. So it was in no cheerful frame of mind that we -approached Les Rochers, and I thought that perhaps it was because I was -so unhappy that the place looked so dreary. On one side, the château -looked like a raw new building, hastily run up for some immediate -purpose, without any growth of trees or underwood near it, only the -remains of the stone used for building, not yet cleared away from the -immediate neighbourhood, although weeds and lichens had been suffered -to grow near and over the heaps of rubbish; on the other, were the -great rocks from which the place took its name, and rising close -against them, as if almost a natural formation, was the old castle, -whose building dated many centuries back. - -It was not large nor grand, but it was strong and picturesque, and I -used to wish that we lived in it rather than in the smart, -half-furnished apartment in the new edifice, which had been hastily got -ready for my reception. Incongruous as the two parts were, they were -joined into a whole by means of intricate passages and unexpected -doors, the exact positions of which I never fully understood. M. de la -Tourelle led me to a suite of rooms set apart for me, and formally -installed me in them, as in a domain of which I was sovereign. He -apologised for the hasty preparation which was all he had been able to -make for me, but promised, before I asked, or even thought of -complaining, that they should be made as luxurious as heart could wish -before many weeks had elapsed. But when, in the gloom of an autumnal -evening, I caught my own face and figure reflected in all the mirrors, -which showed only a mysterious background in the dim light of the many -candles which failed to illuminate the great proportions of the -half-furnished salon, I clung to M. de la Tourelle, and begged to be -taken to the rooms he had occupied before his marriage, he seemed angry -with me, although he affected to laugh, and so decidedly put aside the -notion of my having any other rooms but these, that I trembled in -silence at the fantastic figures and shapes which my imagination called -up as peopling the background of those gloomy mirrors. There was my -boudoir, a little less dreary--my bedroom, with its grand and tarnished -furniture, which I commonly made into my sitting-room, locking up the -various doors which led into the boudoir, the salon, the passages--all -but one, through which M. de la Tourelle always entered from his own -apartments in the older part of the castle. But this preference of mine -for occupying my bedroom annoyed M. de la Tourelle, I am sure, though -he did not care to express his displeasure. He would always allure me -back into the salon, which I disliked more and more from its complete -separation from the rest of the building by the long passage into which -all the doors of my apartment opened. This passage was closed by heavy -doors and portières, through which I could not hear a sound from the -other parts of the house, and, of course, the servants could not hear -any movement or cry of mine unless expressly summoned. To a girl -brought up as I had been in a household where every individual lived -all day in the sight of every other member of the family, never wanted -either cheerful words or the sense of silent companionship, this grand -isolation of mine was very formidable; and the more so, because M. de -la Tourelle, as landed proprietor, sportsman, and what not, was -generally out of doors the greater part of every day, and sometimes for -two or three days at a time. I had no pride to keep me from associating -with the domestics; it would have been natural to me in many ways to -have sought them out for a word of sympathy in those dreary days when I -was left so entirely to myself, had they been like our kindly German -servants. But I disliked them, one and all; I could not tell why. Some -were civil, but there was a familiarity in their civility which -repelled me; others were rude, and treated me more as if I were an -intruder than their master's chosen wife; and yet of the two sets I -liked these last the best. - -The principal male servant belonged to this latter class. I was very -much afraid of him, he had such an air of suspicious surliness about -him in all he did for me; and yet M. de la Tourelle spoke of him as -most valuable and faithful. Indeed, it sometimes struck me that -Lefebvre ruled his master in some things; and this I could not make -out. For, while M. de la Tourelle behaved towards me as if I were some -precious toy or idol, to be cherished, and fostered, and petted, and -indulged, I soon found out how little I, or, apparently, any one else, -could bend the terrible will of the man who had on first acquaintance -appeared to me too effeminate and languid to exert his will in the -slightest particular. I had learnt to know his face better now; and to -see that some vehement depth of feeling, the cause of which I could not -fathom, made his grey eye glitter with pale light, and his lips -contract, and his delicate cheek whiten on certain occasions. But all -had been so open and above board at home, that I had no experience to -help me to unravel any mysteries among those who lived under the same -roof. I understood that I had made what Madame Rupprecht and her set -would have called a great marriage, because I lived in château with -many servants, bound ostensibly to obey me as a mistress. I understood -that M. de la Tourelle was fond enough of me in his way--proud of my -beauty, I dare say (for he often enough spoke about it to me)--but he -was also jealous, and suspicious, and uninfluenced by my wishes, unless -they tallied with his own. I felt at this time as if I could have been -fond of him too, if he would have let me; but I was timid from my -childhood, and before long my dread of his displeasure (coming down -like thunder into the midst of his love, for such slight causes as a -hesitation in reply, a wrong word, or a sigh for my father), conquered -my humorous inclination to love one who was so handsome, so -accomplished, so indulgent and devoted. But if I could not please him -when indeed I loved him, you may imagine how often I did wrong when I -was so much afraid of him as to quietly avoid his company for fear of -his outbursts of passion. One thing I remember noticing, that the more -M. de la Tourelle was displeased with me, the more Lefebvre seemed to -chuckle; and when I was restored to favour, sometimes on as sudden an -impulse as that which occasioned my disgrace, Lefebvre would look -askance at me with his cold, malicious eyes, and once or twice at such -times he spoke most disrespectfully to M. de la Tourelle. - -I have almost forgotten to say that, in the early days of my life at -Les Rochers, M. de la Tourelle, in contemptuous indulgent pity at my -weakness in disliking the dreary grandeur of the salon, wrote up to the -milliner in Paris from whom my corbeille de mariage had come, to desire -her to look out for me a maid of middle age, experienced in the -toilette, and with so much refinement that she might on occasion serve -as companion to me. - - - - -Portion 2 - - -A Norman woman, Amante by name, was sent to Les Rochers by the Paris -milliner, to become my maid. She was tall and handsome, though upwards -of forty, and somewhat gaunt. But, on first seeing her, I liked her; -she was neither rude nor familiar in her manners, and had a pleasant -look of straightforwardness about her that I had missed in all the -inhabitants of the château, and had foolishly set down in my own mind -as a national want. Amante was directed by M. de la Tourelle to sit in -my boudoir, and to be always within call. He also gave her many -instructions as to her duties in matters which, perhaps, strictly -belonged to my department of management. But I was young and -inexperienced, and thankful to be spared any responsibility. - -I daresay it was true what M. de la Tourelle said--before many weeks -had elapsed--that, for a great lady, a lady of a castle, I became sadly -too familiar with my Norman waiting-maid. But you know that by birth we -were not very far apart in rank: Amante was the daughter of a Norman -farmer, I of a German miller; and besides that, my life was so lonely! -It almost seemed as if I could not please my husband. He had written -for some one capable of being my companion at times, and now he was -jealous of my free regard for her--angry because I could sometimes -laugh at her original tunes and amusing proverbs, while when with him I -was too much frightened to smile. - -From time to time families from a distance of some leagues drove -through the bad roads in their heavy carriages to pay us a visit, and -there was an occasional talk of our going to Paris when public affairs -should be a little more settled. These little events and plans were the -only variations in my life for the first twelve months, if I except the -alternations in M. de la Tourelle's temper, his unreasonable anger, and -his passionate fondness. - -Perhaps one of the reasons that made me take pleasure and comfort in -Amante's society was, that whereas I was afraid of everybody (I do not -think I was half as much afraid of things as of persons), Amante feared -no one. She would quietly beard Lefebvre, and he respected her all the -more for it; she had a knack of putting questions to M. de la Tourelle, -which respectfully informed him that she had detected the weak point, -but forebore to press him too closely upon it out of deference to his -position as her master. And with all her shrewdness to others, she had -quite tender ways with me; all the more so at this time because she -knew, what I had not yet ventured to tell M. de la Tourelle, that -by-and-by I might become a mother--that wonderful object of mysterious -interest to single women, who no longer hope to enjoy such blessedness -themselves. - -It was once more autumn; late in October. But I was reconciled to my -habitation; the walls of the new part of the building no longer looked -bare and desolate; the _débris_ had been so far cleared away by M. de -la Tourelle's desire as to make me a little flower-garden, in which I -tried to cultivate those plants that I remembered as growing at home. -Amante and I had moved the furniture in the rooms, and adjusted it to -our liking; my husband had ordered many an article from time to time -that he thought would give me pleasure, and I was becoming tame to my -apparent imprisonment in a certain part of the great building, the -whole of which I had never yet explored. It was October, as I say, once -more. The days were lovely, though short in duration, and M. de la -Tourelle had occasion, so he said, to go to that distant estate the -superintendence of which so frequently took him away from home. He took -Lefebvre with him, and possibly some more of the lacqueys; he often -did. And my spirits rose a little at the thought of his absence; and -then the new sensation that he was the father of my unborn babe came -over me, and I tried to invest him with this fresh character. I tried -to believe that it was his passionate love for me that made him so -jealous and tyrannical, imposing, as he did, restrictions on my very -intercourse with my dear father, from whom I was so entirely separated, -as far as personal intercourse was concerned. - -I had, it is true, let myself go into a sorrowful review of all the -troubles which lay hidden beneath the seeming luxury of my life. I knew -that no one cared for me except my husband and Amante; for it was clear -enough to see that I, as his wife, and also as a _parvenue_, was not -popular among the few neighbours who surrounded us; and as for the -servants; the women were all hard and impudent-looking, treating me -with a semblance of respect that had more of mockery than reality in -it; while the men had a lurking kind of fierceness about them, -sometimes displayed even to M. de la Tourelle, who on his part, it must -be confessed, was often severe even to cruelty in his management of -them. My husband loved me, I said to myself, but I said it almost in -the form of a question. His love was shown fitfully, and more in ways -calculated to please himself than to please me. I felt that for no wish -of mine would he deviate one tittle from any predetermined course of -action. I had learnt the inflexibility of those thin delicate lips; I -knew how anger would turn his fair complexion to deadly white, and -bring the cruel light into his pale blue eyes. The love I bore to any -one seemed to be a reason for his hating them, and so I went on pitying -myself one long dreary afternoon during that absence of his of which I -have spoken, only sometimes remembering to check myself in my -murmurings by thinking of the new unseen link between us, and then -crying afresh to think how wicked I was. Oh, how well I remember that -long October evening! Amante came in from time to time, talking away to -cheer me--talking about dress and Paris, and I hardly know what, but -from time to time looking at me keenly with her friendly dark eyes, and -with serious interest, too, though all her words were about frivolity. -At length she heaped the fire with wood, drew the heavy silken curtains -close; for I had been anxious hitherto to keep them open, so that I -might see the pale moon mounting the skies, as I used to see her--the -same moon--rise from behind the Kaiser Stuhl at Heidelberg; but the -sight made me cry, so Amante shut it out. She dictated to me as a nurse -does to a child. - -'Now, madame must have the little kitten to keep her company,' she -said, 'while I go and ask Marthon for a cup of coffee.' I remember that -speech, and the way it roused me, for I did not like Amante to think I -wanted amusing by a kitten. It might be my petulance, but this -speech--such as she might have made to a child--annoyed me, and I said -that I had reason for my lowness of spirits--meaning that they were not -of so imaginary a nature that I could be diverted from them by the -gambols of a kitten. So, though I did not choose to tell her all, I -told her a part; and as I spoke, I began to suspect that the good -creature knew much of what I withheld, and that the little speech about -the kitten was more thoughtfully kind than it had seemed at first. I -said that it was so long since I had heard from my father; that he was -an old man, and so many things might happen--I might never see him -again--and I so seldom heard from him or my brother. It was a more -complete and total separation than I had ever anticipated when I -married, and something of my home and of my life previous to my -marriage I told the good Amante; for I had not been brought up as a -great lady, and the sympathy of any human being was precious to me. - -Amante listened with interest, and in return told me some of the events -and sorrows of her own life. Then, remembering her purpose, she set out -in search of the coffee, which ought to have been brought to me an hour -before; but, in my husband's absence, my wishes were but seldom -attended to, and I never dared to give orders. - -Presently she returned, bringing the coffee and a great large cake. - -'See!' said she, setting it down. 'Look at my plunder. Madame must eat. -Those who eat always laugh. And, besides, I have a little news that -will please madame.' Then she told me that, lying on a table in the -great kitchen, was a bundle of letters, come by the courier from -Strasburg that very afternoon: then, fresh from her conversation with -me, she had hastily untied the string that bound them, but had only -just traced out one that she thought was from Germany, when a -servant-man came in, and, with the start he gave her, she dropped the -letters, which he picked up, swearing at her for having untied and -disarranged them. She told him that she believed there was a letter -there for her mistress; but he only swore the more, saying, that if -there was it was no business of hers, or of his either, for that he had -the strictest orders always to take all letters that arrived during his -master's absence into the private sitting-room of the latter--a room -into which I had never entered, although it opened out of my husband's -dressing-room. - -I asked Amante if she had not conquered and brought me this letter. No, -indeed, she replied, it was almost as much as her life was worth to -live among such a set of servants: it was only a month ago that Jacques -had stabbed Valentin for some jesting talk. Had I never missed -Valentin--that handsome young lad who carried up the wood into my -salon? Poor fellow! he lies dead and cold now, and they said in the -village he had put an end to himself, but those of the household knew -better. Oh! I need not be afraid; Jacques was gone, no one knew where; -but with such people it was not safe to upbraid or insist. Monsieur -would be at home the next day, and it would not be long to wait. - -But I felt as if I could not exist till the next day, without the -letter. It might be to say that my father was ill, dying--he might cry -for his daughter from his death-bed! In short, there was no end to the -thoughts and fancies that haunted me. It was of no use for Amante to -say that, after all, she might be mistaken--that she did not read -writing well--that she had but a glimpse of the address; I let my -coffee cool, my food all became distasteful, and I wrung my hands with -impatience to get at the letter, and have some news of my dear ones at -home. All the time, Amante kept her imperturbable good temper, first -reasoning, then scolding. At last she said, as if wearied out, that if -I would consent to make a good supper, she would see what could be done -as to our going to monsieur's room in search of the letter, after the -servants were all gone to bed. We agreed to go together when all was -still, and look over the letters; there could be no harm in that; and -yet, somehow, we were such cowards we dared not do it openly and in the -face of the household. - -Presently my supper came up--partridges, bread, fruits, and cream. How -well I remember that supper! We put the untouched cake away in a sort -of buffet, and poured the cold coffee out of the window, in order that -the servants might not take offence at the apparent fancifulness of -sending down for food I could not eat. I was so anxious for all to be -in bed, that I told the footman who served that he need not wait to -take away the plates and dishes, but might go to bed. Long after I -thought the house was quiet, Amante, in her caution, made me wait. It -was past eleven before we set out, with cat-like steps and veiled -light, along the passages, to go to my husband's room and steal my own -letter, if it was indeed there; a fact about which Amante had become -very uncertain in the progress of our discussion. - -To make you understand my story, I must now try to explain to you the -plan of the château. It had been at one time a fortified place of some -strength, perched on the summit of a rock, which projected from the -side of the mountain. But additions had been made to the old building -(which must have borne a strong resemblance to the castles overhanging -the Rhine), and these new buildings were placed so as to command a -magnificent view, being on the steepest side of the rock, from which -the mountain fell away, as it were, leaving the great plain of France -in full survey. The ground-plan was something of the shape of three -sides of an oblong; my apartments in the modern edifice occupied the -narrow end, and had this grand prospect. The front of the castle was -old, and ran parallel to the road far below. In this were contained the -offices and public rooms of various descriptions, into which I never -penetrated. The back wing (considering the new building, in which my -apartments were, as the centre) consisted of many rooms, of a dark and -gloomy character, as the mountain-side shut out much of the sun, and -heavy pine woods came down within a few yards of the windows. Yet on -this side--on a projecting plateau of the rock--my husband had formed -the flower-garden of which I have spoken; for he was a great cultivator -of flowers in his leisure moments. - -Now my bedroom was the corner room of the new buildings on the part -next to the mountains. Hence I could have let myself down into the -flower-garden by my hands on the window-sill on one side, without -danger of hurting myself; while the windows at right angles with these -looked sheer down a descent of a hundred feet at least. Going still -farther along this wing, you came to the old building; in fact, these -two fragments of the ancient castle had formerly been attached by some -such connecting apartments as my husband had rebuilt. These rooms -belonged to M. de la Tourelle. His bedroom opened into mine, his -dressing-room lay beyond; and that was pretty nearly all I knew, for -the servants, as well as he himself, had a knack of turning me back, -under some pretence, if ever they found me walking about alone, as I -was inclined to do, when first I came, from a sort of curiosity to see -the whole of the place of which I found myself mistress. M. de la -Tourelle never encouraged me to go out alone, either in a carriage or -for a walk, saying always that the roads were unsafe in those disturbed -times; indeed, I have sometimes fancied since that the flower-garden, -to which the only access from the castle was through his rooms, was -designed in order to give me exercise and employment under his own eye. - -But to return to that night. I knew, as I have said, that M. de la -Tourelle's private room opened out of his dressing-room, and this out -of his bedroom, which again opened into mine, the corner-room. But -there were other doors into all these rooms, and these doors led into a -long gallery, lighted by windows, looking into the inner court. I do -not remember our consulting much about it; we went through my room into -my husband's apartment through the dressing-room, but the door of -communication into his study was locked, so there was nothing for it -but to turn back and go by the gallery to the other door. I recollect -noticing one or two things in these rooms, then seen by me for the -first time. I remember the sweet perfume that hung in the air, the -scent bottles of silver that decked his toilet-table, and the whole -apparatus for bathing and dressing, more luxurious even than those -which he had provided for me. But the room itself was less splendid in -its proportions than mine. In truth, the new buildings ended at the -entrance to my husband's dressing-room. There were deep window recesses -in walls eight or nine feet thick, and even the partitions between the -chambers were three feet deep; but over all these doors or windows -there fell thick, heavy draperies, so that I should think no one could -have heard in one room what passed in another. We went back into my -room, and out into the gallery. We had to shade our candle, from a fear -that possessed us, I don't know why, lest some of the servants in the -opposite wing might trace our progress towards the part of the castle -unused by any one except my husband. Somehow, I had always the feeling -that all the domestics, except Amante, were spies upon me, and that I -was trammelled in a web of observation and unspoken limitation -extending over all my actions. - -There was a light in the upper room; we paused, and Amante would have -again retreated, but I was chafing under the delays. What was the harm -of my seeking my father's unopened letter to me in my husband's study? -I, generally the coward, now blamed Amante for her unusual timidity. -But the truth was, she had far more reason for suspicion as to the -proceedings of that terrible household than I had ever known of. I -urged her on, I pressed on myself; we came to the door, locked, but -with the key in it; we turned it, we entered; the letters lay on the -table, their white oblongs catching the light in an instant, and -revealing themselves to my eager eyes, hungering after the words of -love from my peaceful, distant home. But just as I pressed forward to -examine the letters, the candle which Amante held, caught in some -draught, went out, and we were in darkness. Amante proposed that we -should carry the letters back to my salon, collecting them as well as -we could in the dark, and returning all but the expected one for me; -but I begged her to return to my room, where I kept tinder and flint, -and to strike a fresh light; and I remained alone in the room, of which -I could only just distinguish the size, and the principal articles of -furniture: a large table, with a deep, overhanging cloth, in the -middle, escritoires and other heavy articles against the walls; all -this I could see as I stood there, my hand on the table close by the -letters, my face towards the window, which, both from the darkness of -the wood growing high up the mountain-side and the faint light of the -declining moon, seemed only like an oblong of paler purpler black than -the shadowy room. How much I remembered from my one instantaneous -glance before the candle went out, how much I saw as my eyes became -accustomed to the darkness, I do not know, but even now, in my dreams, -comes up that room of horror, distinct in its profound shadow. Amante -could hardly have been gone a minute before I felt an additional gloom -before the window, and heard soft movements outside--soft, but -resolute, and continued until the end was accomplished, and the window -raised. - -In mortal terror of people forcing an entrance at such an hour, and in -such a manner as to leave no doubt of their purpose, I would have -turned to fly when first I heard the noise, only that I feared by any -quick motion to catch their attention, as I also ran the danger of -doing by opening the door, which was all but closed and to whose -handlings I was unaccustomed. Again, quick as lightning, I bethought me -of the hiding-place between the locked door to my husband's -dressing-room and the portière which covered it; but I gave that up, I -felt as if I could not reach it without screaming or fainting. So I -sank down softly, and crept under the table, hidden as I hoped, by the -great, deep table-cover, with its heavy fringe. I had not recovered my -swooning senses fully, and was trying to reassure myself as to my being -in a place of comparative safety, for, above all things, I dreaded the -betrayal of fainting, and struggled hard for such courage as I might -attain by deadening myself to the danger I was in by inflicting intense -pain on myself. You have often asked me the reason of that mark on my -hand; it was there, in my agony, I bit out a piece of flesh with my -relentless teeth, thankful for the pain, which helped to numb my -terror. I say, I was but just concealed within I heard the window -lifted, and one after another stepped over the sill, and stood by me so -close that I could have touched their feet. Then they laughed and -whispered; my brain swam so that I could not tell the meaning of their -words, but I heard my husband's laughter among the rest--low, hissing, -scornful--as he kicked something heavy that they had dragged in over -the floor, and which layed near me; so near, that my husband's kick, in -touching it, touched me too. I don't know why--I can't tell how--but -some feeling, and not curiosity, prompted me to put out my hand, ever -so softly, ever so little, and feel in the darkness for what lay -spurned beside me. I stole my groping palm upon the clenched and chilly -hand of a corpse! - -Strange to say, this roused me to instant vividness of thought. Till -this moment I had almost forgotten Amante; now I planned with feverish -rapidity how I could give her a warning not to return; or rather, I -should say, I tried to plan, for all my projects were utterly futile, -as I might have seen from the first. I could only hope she would hear -the voices of those who were now busy in trying to kindle a light, -swearing awful oaths at the mislaid articles which would have enabled -them to strike fire. I heard her step outside coming nearer and nearer; -I saw from my hiding-place the line of light beneath the door more and -more distinctly; close to it her footstep paused; the men inside--at -the time I thought they had been only two, but I found out afterwards -there were three--paused in their endeavours, and were quite still, as -breathless as myself, I suppose. Then she slowly pushed the door open -with gentle motion, to save her flickering candle from being again -extinguished. For a moment all was still. Then I heard my husband say, -as he advanced towards her (he wore riding-boots, the shape of which I -knew well, as I could see them in the light): - -'Amante, may I ask what brings you here into my private room?' - -He stood between her and the dead body of a man, from which ghastly -heap I shrank away as it almost touched me, so close were we all -together. I could not tell whether she saw it or not; I could give her -no warning, nor make any dumb utterance of signs to bid her what to -say--if, indeed, I knew myself what would be best for her to say. - -Her voice was quite changed when she spoke; quite hoarse, and very low; -yet it was steady enough as she said, what was the truth, that she had -come to look for a letter which she believed had arrived for me from -Germany. Good, brave Amante! Not a word about me. M. de la Tourelle -answered with a grim blasphemy and a fearful threat. He would have no -one prying into his premises; madame should have her letters, if there -were any, when he chose to give them to her, if, indeed, he thought it -well to give them to her at all. As for Amante, this was her first -warning, but it was also her last; and, taking the candle out of her -hand, he turned her out of the room, his companions discreetly making a -screen, so as to throw the corpse into deep shadow. I heard the key -turn in the door after her--if I had ever had any thought of escape it -was gone now. I only hoped that whatever was to befall me might soon be -over, for the tension of nerve was growing more than I could bear. The -instant she could be supposed to be out of hearing, two voices began -speaking in the most angry terms to my husband, upbraiding him for not -having detained her, gagged her--nay, one was for killing her, saying -he had seen her eye fall on the face of the dead man, whom he now -kicked in his passion. Though the form of their speech was as if they -were speaking to equals, yet in their tone there was something of fear. -I am sure my husband was their superior, or captain, or somewhat. He -replied to them almost as if he were scoffing at them, saying it was -such an expenditure of labour having to do with fools; that, ten to -one, the woman was only telling the simple truth, and that she was -frightened enough by discovering her master in his room to be thankful -to escape and return to her mistress, to whom he could easily explain -on the morrow how he happened to return in the dead of night. But his -companions fell to cursing me, and saying that since M. de la Tourelle -had been married he was fit for nothing but to dress himself fine and -scent himself with perfume; that, as for me, they could have got him -twenty girls prettier, and with far more spirit in them. He quietly -answered that I suited him, and that was enough. All this time they -were doing something--I could not see what--to the corpse; sometimes -they were too busy rifling the dead body, I believe, to talk; again -they let it fall with a heavy, resistless thud, and took to -quarrelling. They taunted my husband with angry vehemence, enraged at -his scoffing and scornful replies, his mocking laughter. Yes, holding -up his poor dead victim, the better to strip him of whatever he wore -that was valuable, I heard my husband laugh just as he had done when -exchanging repartees in the little salon of the Rupprechts at -Carlsruhe. I hated and dreaded him from that moment. At length, as if -to make an end of the subject, he said, with cool determination in his -voice: - -'Now, my good friends, what is the use of all this talking, when you -know in your hearts that, if I suspected my wife of knowing more than I -chose of my affairs, she would not outlive the day? Remember Victorine. -Because she merely joked about my affairs in an imprudent manner, and -rejected my advice to keep a prudent tongue--to see what she liked, but -ask nothing and say nothing--she has gone a long journey--longer than -to Paris.' - -'But this one is different to her; we knew all that Madame Victorine -knew, she was such a chatterbox; but this one may find out a vast deal, -and never breathe a word about it, she is so sly. Some fine day we may -have the country raised, and the gendarmes down upon us from Strasburg, -and all owing to your pretty doll, with her cunning ways of coming over -you.' - -I think this roused M. de la Tourelle a little from his contemptuous -indifference, for he ground an oath through his teeth, and said, 'Feel! -this dagger is sharp, Henri. If my wife breathes a word, and I am such -a fool as not to have stopped her mouth effectually before she can -bring down gendarmes upon us, just let that good steel find its way to -my heart. Let her guess but one tittle, let her have but one slight -suspicion that I am not a "grand propriétaire," much less imagine that -I am a chief of chauffeurs, and she follows Victorine on the long -journey beyond Paris that very day.' - -'She'll outwit you yet; or I never judged women well. Those still -silent ones are the devil. She'll be off during some of your absences, -having picked out some secret that will break us all on the wheel.' - -'Bah!' said his voice; and then in a minute he added, 'Let her go if -she will. But, where she goes, I will follow; so don't cry before -you're hurt.' - -By this time, they had nearly stripped the body; and the conversation -turned on what they should do with it. I learnt that the dead man was -the Sieur de Poissy, a neighbouring gentleman, whom I had often heard -of as hunting with my husband. I had never seen him, but they spoke as -if he had come upon them while they were robbing some Cologne merchant, -torturing him after the cruel practice of the chauffeurs, by roasting -the feet of their victims in order to compel them to reveal any hidden -circumstances connected with their wealth, of which the chauffeurs -afterwards made use; and this Sieur de Poissy coming down upon them, -and recognising M. de la Tourelle, they had killed him, and brought him -thither after nightfall. I heard him whom I called my husband, laugh -his little light laugh as he spoke of the way in which the dead body -had been strapped before one of the riders, in such a way that it -appeared to any passer-by as if, in truth, the murderer were tenderly -supporting some sick person. He repeated some mocking reply of double -meaning, which he himself had given to some one who made inquiry. He -enjoyed the play upon words, softly applauding his own wit. And all the -time the poor helpless outstretched arms of the dead lay close to his -dainty boot! Then another stooped (my heart stopped beating), and -picked up a letter lying on the ground--a letter that had dropped out -of M. de Poissy's pocket--a letter from his wife, full of tender words -of endearment and pretty babblings of love. This was read aloud, with -coarse ribald comments on every sentence, each trying to outdo the -previous speaker. When they came to some pretty words about a sweet -Maurice, their little child away with its mother on some visit, they -laughed at M. de la Tourelle, and told him that he would be hearing -such woman's drivelling some day. Up to that moment, I think, I had -only feared him, but his unnatural, half-ferocious reply made me hate -even more than I dreaded him. But now they grew weary of their savage -merriment; the jewels and watch had been apprised, the money and papers -examined; and apparently there was some necessity for the body being -interred quietly and before daybreak. They had not dared to leave him -where he was slain for fear lest people should come and recognise him, -and raise the hue and cry upon them. For they all along spoke as if it -was their constant endeavour to keep the immediate neighbourhood of Les -Rochers in the most orderly and tranquil condition, so as never to give -cause for visits from the gendarmes. They disputed a little as to -whether they should make their way into the castle larder through the -gallery, and satisfy their hunger before the hasty interment, or -afterwards. I listened with eager feverish interest as soon as this -meaning of their speeches reached my hot and troubled brain, for at the -time the words they uttered seemed only to stamp themselves with -terrible force on my memory, so that I could hardly keep from repeating -them aloud like a dull, miserable, unconscious echo; but my brain was -numb to the sense of what they said, unless I myself were named, and -then, I suppose, some instinct of self-preservation stirred within me, -and quickened my sense. And how I strained my ears, and nerved my hands -and limbs, beginning to twitch with convulsive movements, which I -feared might betray me! I gathered every word they spoke, not knowing -which proposal to wish for, but feeling that whatever was finally -decided upon, my only chance of escape was drawing near. I once feared -lest my husband should go to his bedroom before I had had that one -chance, in which case he would most likely have perceived my absence. -He said that his hands were soiled (I shuddered, for it might be with -life-blood), and he would go and cleanse them; but some bitter jest -turned his purpose, and he left the room with the other two--left it by -the gallery door. Left me alone in the dark with the stiffening corpse! - -Now, now was my time, if ever; and yet I could not move. It was not my -cramped and stiffened joints that crippled me, it was the sensation of -that dead man's close presence. I almost fancied--I almost fancy -still--I heard the arm nearest to me move; lift itself up, as if once -more imploring, and fall in dead despair. At that fancy--if fancy it -were--I screamed aloud in mad terror, and the sound of my own strange -voice broke the spell. I drew myself to the side of the table farthest -from the corpse, with as much slow caution as if I really could have -feared the clutch of that poor dead arm, powerless for evermore. I -softly raised myself up, and stood sick and trembling, holding by the -table, too dizzy to know what to do next. I nearly fainted, when a low -voice spoke--when Amante, from the outside of the door, whispered, -'Madame!' The faithful creature had been on the watch, had heard my -scream, and having seen the three ruffians troop along the gallery down -the stairs, and across the court to the offices in the other wing of -the castle, she had stolen to the door of the room in which I was. The -sound of her voice gave me strength; I walked straight towards it, as -one benighted on a dreary moor, suddenly perceiving the small steady -light which tells of human dwellings, takes heart, and steers straight -onward. Where I was, where that voice was, I knew not; but go to it I -must, or die. The door once opened--I know not by which of us--I fell -upon her neck, grasping her tight, till my hands ached with the tension -of their hold. Yet she never uttered a word. Only she took me up in her -vigorous arms, and bore me to my room, and laid me on my bed. I do not -know more; as soon as I was placed there I lost sense; I came to myself -with a horrible dread lest my husband was by me, with a belief that he -was in the room, in hiding, waiting to hear my first words, watching -for the least sign of the terrible knowledge I possessed to murder me. -I dared not breathe quicker, I measured and timed each heavy -inspiration; I did not speak, nor move, nor even open my eyes, for long -after I was in my full, my miserable senses. I heard some one treading -softly about the room, as if with a purpose, not as if for curiosity, -or merely to beguile the time; some one passed in and out of the salon; -and I still lay quiet, feeling as if death were inevitable, but wishing -that the agony of death were past. Again faintness stole over me; but -just as I was sinking into the horrible feeling of nothingness, I heard -Amante's voice close to me, saying: - -'Drink this, madame, and let us begone. All is ready.' - -I let her put her arm under my head and raise me, and pour something -down my throat. All the time she kept talking in a quiet, measured -voice, unlike her own, so dry and authoritative; she told me that a -suit of her clothes lay ready for me, that she herself was as much -disguised as the circumstances permitted her to be, that what -provisions I had left from my supper were stowed away in her pockets, -and so she went on, dwelling on little details of the most commonplace -description, but never alluding for an instant to the fearful cause why -flight was necessary. I made no inquiry as to how she knew, or what she -knew. I never asked her either then or afterwards, I could not bear -it--we kept our dreadful secret close. But I suppose she must have been -in the dressing-room adjoining, and heard all. - -In fact, I dared not speak even to her, as if there were anything -beyond the most common event in life in our preparing thus to leave the -house of blood by stealth in the dead of night. She gave me -directions--short condensed directions, without reasons--just as you do -to a child; and like a child I obeyed her. She went often to the door -and listened; and often, too, she went to the window, and looked -anxiously out. For me, I saw nothing but her, and I dared not let my -eyes wander from her for a minute; and I heard nothing in the deep -midnight silence but her soft movements, and the heavy beating of my -own heart. At last she took my hand, and led me in the dark, through -the salon, once more into the terrible gallery, where across the black -darkness the windows admitted pale sheeted ghosts of light upon the -floor. Clinging to her I went; unquestioning--for she was human -sympathy to me after the isolation of my unspeakable terror. On we -went, turning to the left instead of to the right, past my suite of -sitting-rooms where the gilding was red with blood, into that unknown -wing of the castle that fronted the main road lying parallel far below. -She guided me along the basement passages to which we had now -descended, until we came to a little open door, through which the air -blew chill and cold, bringing for the first time a sensation of life to -me. The door led into a kind of cellar, through which we groped our way -to an opening like window, but which, instead of being glazed, was only -fenced with iron bars, two of which were loose, as Amante evidently -knew, for she took them out with the ease of one who had performed the -action often before, and then helped me to follow her out into the -free, open air. - -We stole round the end of the building, and on turning the corner--she -first--I felt her hold on me tighten for an instant, and the next step -I, too, heard distant voices, and the blows of a spade upon the heavy -soil, for the night was very warm and still. - -We had not spoken a word; we did not speak now. Touch was safer and as -expressive. She turned down towards the high road; I followed. I did -not know the path; we stumbled again and again, and I was much bruised; -so doubtless was she; but bodily pain did me good. At last, we were on -the plainer path of the high road. - -I had such faith in her that I did not venture to speak, even when she -paused, as wondering to which hand she should turn. But now, for the -first time, she spoke: - -'Which way did you come when he brought you here first?' - -I pointed, I could not speak. - -We turned in the opposite direction; still going along the high road. -In about an hour, we struck up to the mountainside, scrambling far up -before we even dared to rest; far up and away again before day had -fully dawned. Then we looked about for some place of rest and -concealment: and now we dared to speak in whispers. Amante told me that -she had locked the door of communication between his bedroom and mine, -and, as in a dream, I was aware that she had also locked and brought -away the key of the door between the latter and the salon. - -'He will have been too busy this night to think much about you--he will -suppose you are asleep--I shall be the first to be missed; but they -will only just now be discovering our loss.' - -I remember those last words of hers made me pray to go on; I felt as if -we were losing precious time in thinking either of rest or concealment; -but she hardly replied to me, so busy was she in seeking out some -hiding-place. At length, giving it up in despair, we proceeded onwards -a little way; the mountain-side sloped downwards rapidly, and in the -full morning light we saw ourselves in a narrow valley, made by a -stream which forced its way along it. About a mile lower down there -rose the pale blue smoke of a village, a mill-wheel was lashing up the -water close at hand, though out of sight. Keeping under the cover of -every sheltering tree or bush, we worked our way down past the mill, -down to a one-arched bridge, which doubtless formed part of the road -between the village and the mill. - -'This will do,' said she; and we crept under the space, and climbing a -little way up the rough stonework, we seated ourselves on a projecting -ledge, and crouched in the deep damp shadow. Amante sat a little above -me, and made me lay my head on her lap. Then she fed me, and took some -food herself; and opening out her great dark cloak, she covered up -every light-coloured speck about us; and thus we sat, shivering and -shuddering, yet feeling a kind of rest through it all, simply from the -fact that motion was no longer imperative, and that during the daylight -our only chance of safety was to be still. But the damp shadow in which -we were sitting was blighting, from the circumstance of the sunlight -never penetrating there; and I dreaded lest, before night and the time -for exertion again came on, I should feel illness creeping all over me. -To add to our discomfort, it had rained the whole day long, and the -stream, fed by a thousand little mountain brooklets, began to swell -into a torrent, rushing over the stones with a perpetual and dizzying -noise. - -Every now and then I was wakened from the painful doze into which I -continually fell, by a sound of horses' feet over our head: sometimes -lumbering heavily as if dragging a burden, sometimes rattling and -galloping; and with the sharper cry of men's voices coming cutting -through the roar of the waters. At length, day fell. We had to drop -into the stream, which came above our knees as we waded to the bank. -There we stood, stiff and shivering. Even Amante's courage seemed to -fail. - -'We must pass this night in shelter, somehow,' said she. For indeed the -rain was coming down pitilessly. I said nothing. I thought that surely -the end must be death in some shape; and I only hoped that to death -might not be added the terror of the cruelty of men. In a minute or so -she had resolved on her course of action. We went up the stream to the -mill. The familiar sounds, the scent of the wheat, the flour whitening -the walls--all reminded me of home, and it seemed to me as if I must -struggle out of this nightmare and waken, and find myself once more a -happy girl by the Neckar side. They were long in unbarring the door at -which Amante had knocked: at length, an old feeble voice inquired who -was there, and what was sought? Amante answered shelter from the storm -for two women; but the old woman replied, with suspicious hesitation, -that she was sure it was a man who was asking for shelter, and that she -could not let us in. But at length she satisfied herself, and unbarred -the heavy door, and admitted us. She was not an unkindly woman; but her -thoughts all travelled in one circle, and that was, that her master, -the miller, had told her on no account to let any man into the place -during his absence, and that she did not know if he would not think two -women as bad; and yet that as we were not men, no one could say she had -disobeyed him, for it was a shame to let a dog be out such a night as -this. Amante, with ready wit, told her to let no one know that we had -taken shelter there that night, and that then her master could not -blame her; and while she was thus enjoining secrecy as the wisest -course, with a view to far other people than the miller, she was -hastily helping me to take off my wet clothes, and spreading them, as -well as the brown mantle that had covered us both, before the great -stove which warmed the room with the effectual heat that the old -woman's failing vitality required. All this time the poor creature was -discussing with herself as to whether she had disobeyed orders, in a -kind of garrulous way that made me fear much for her capability of -retaining anything secret if she was questioned. By-and-by, she -wandered away to an unnecessary revelation of her master's whereabouts: -gone to help in the search for his landlord, the Sieur de Poissy, who -lived at the chateau just above, and who had not returned from his -chase the day before; so the intendant imagined he might have met with -some accident, and had summoned the neighbours to beat the forest and -the hill-side. She told us much besides, giving us to understand that -she would fain meet with a place as housekeeper where there were more -servants and less to do, as her life here was very lonely and dull, -especially since her master's son had gone away--gone to the wars. She -then took her supper, which was evidently apportioned out to her with a -sparing hand, as, even if the idea had come into her head, she had not -enough to offer us any. Fortunately, warmth was all that we required, -and that, thanks to Amante's cares, was returning to our chilled -bodies. After supper, the old woman grew drowsy; but she seemed -uncomfortable at the idea of going to sleep and leaving us still in the -house. Indeed, she gave us pretty broad hints as to the propriety of -our going once more out into the bleak and stormy night; but we begged -to be allowed to stay under shelter of some kind; and, at last, a -bright idea came over her, and she bade us mount by a ladder to a kind -of loft, which went half over the lofty mill-kitchen in which we were -sitting. We obeyed her--what else could we do?--and found ourselves in -a spacious floor, without any safeguard or wall, boarding, or railing, -to keep us from falling over into the kitchen in case we went too near -the edge. It was, in fact, the store-room or garret for the household. -There was bedding piled up, boxes and chests, mill sacks, the winter -store of apples and nuts, bundles of old clothes, broken furniture, and -many other things. No sooner were we up there, than the old woman -dragged the ladder, by which we had ascended, away with a chuckle, as -if she was now secure that we could do no mischief, and sat herself -down again once more, to doze and await her master's return. We pulled -out some bedding, and gladly laid ourselves down in our dried clothes -and in some warmth, hoping to have the sleep we so much needed to -refresh us and prepare us for the next day. But I could not sleep, and -I was aware, from her breathing, that Amante was equally wakeful. We -could both see through the crevices between the boards that formed the -flooring into the kitchen below, very partially lighted by the common -lamp that hung against the wall near the stove on the opposite side to -that on which we were. - - - - -Portion 3 - - -Far on in the night there were voices outside reached us in our -hiding-place; an angry knocking at the door, and we saw through the -chinks the old woman rouse herself up to go and open it for her master, -who came in, evidently half drunk. To my sick horror, he was followed -by Lefebvre, apparently as sober and wily as ever. They were talking -together as they came in, disputing about something; but the miller -stopped the conversation to swear at the old woman for having fallen -asleep, and, with tipsy anger, and even with blows, drove the poor old -creature out of the kitchen to bed. Then he and Lefebvre went on -talking--about the Sieur de Poissy's disappearance. It seemed that -Lefebvre had been out all day, along with other of my husband's men, -ostensibly assisting in the search; in all probability trying to blind -the Sieur de Poissy's followers by putting them on a wrong scent, and -also, I fancied, from one or two of Lefebvre's sly questions, combining -the hidden purpose of discovering us. - -Although the miller was tenant and vassal to the Sieur de Poissy, he -seemed to me to be much more in league with the people of M. de la -Tourelle. He was evidently aware, in part, of the life which Lefebvre -and the others led; although, again, I do not suppose he knew or -imagined one-half of their crimes; and also, I think, he was seriously -interested in discovering the fate of his master, little suspecting -Lefebvre of murder or violence. He kept talking himself, and letting -out all sorts of thoughts and opinions; watched by the keen eyes of -Lefebvre gleaming out below his shaggy eyebrows. It was evidently not -the cue of the latter to let out that his master's wife had escaped -from that vile and terrible den; but though he never breathed a word -relating to us, not the less was I certain he was thirsting for our -blood, and lying in wait for us at every turn of events. Presently he -got up and took his leave; and the miller bolted him out, and stumbled -off to bed. Then we fell asleep, and slept sound and long. - -The next morning, when I awoke, I saw Amante, half raised, resting on -one hand, and eagerly gazing, with straining eyes, into the kitchen -below. I looked too, and both heard and saw the miller and two of his -men eagerly and loudly talking about the old woman, who had not -appeared as usual to make the fire in the stove, and prepare her -master's breakfast, and who now, late on in the morning, had been found -dead in her bed; whether from the effect of her master's blows the -night before, or from natural causes, who can tell? The miller's -conscience upbraided him a little, I should say, for he was eagerly -declaring his value for his housekeeper, and repeating how often she -had spoken of the happy life she led with him. The men might have their -doubts, but they did not wish to offend the miller, and all agreed that -the necessary steps should be taken for a speedy funeral. And so they -went out, leaving us in our loft, but so much alone, that, for the -first time almost, we ventured to speak freely, though still in hushed -voice, pausing to listen continually. Amante took a more cheerful view -of the whole occurrence than I did. She said that, had the old woman -lived, we should have had to depart that morning, and that this quiet -departure would have been the best thing we could have had to hope for, -as, in all probability, the housekeeper would have told her master of -us and of our resting-place, and this fact would, sooner or later, have -been brought to the knowledge of those from whom we most desired to -keep it concealed; but that now we had time to rest, and a shelter to -rest in, during the first hot pursuit, which we knew to a fatal -certainty was being carried on. The remnants of our food, and the -stored-up fruit, would supply us with provision; the only thing to be -feared was, that something might be required from the loft, and the -miller or someone else mount up in search of it. But even then, with a -little arrangement of boxes and chests, one part might be so kept in -shadow that we might yet escape observation. All this comforted me a -little; but, I asked, how were we ever to escape? The ladder was taken -away, which was our only means of descent. But Amante replied that she -could make a sufficient ladder of the rope lying coiled among other -things, to drop us down the ten feet or so--with the advantage of its -being portable, so that we might carry it away, and thus avoid all -betrayal of the fact that any one had ever been hidden in the loft. - -During the two days that intervened before we did escape, Amante made -good use of her time. She looked into every box and chest during the -man's absence at his mill; and finding in one box an old suit of man's -clothes, which had probably belonged to the miller's absent son, she -put them on to see if they would fit her; and, when she found that they -did, she cut her own hair to the shortness of a man's, made me clip her -black eyebrows as close as though they had been shaved, and by cutting -up old corks into pieces such as would go into her cheeks, she altered -both the shape of her face and her voice to a degree which I should not -have believed possible. - -All this time I lay like one stunned; my body resting, and renewing its -strength, but I myself in an almost idiotic state--else surely I could -not have taken the stupid interest which I remember I did in all -Amante's energetic preparations for disguise. I absolutely recollect -once the feeling of a smile coming over my stiff face as some new -exercise of her cleverness proved a success. - -But towards the second day, she required me, too, to exert myself; and -then all my heavy despair returned. I let her dye my fair hair and -complexion with the decaying shells of the stored-up walnuts, I let her -blacken my teeth, and even voluntarily broke a front tooth the better -to effect my disguise. But through it all I had no hope of evading my -terrible husband. The third night the funeral was over, the drinking -ended, the guests gone; the miller put to bed by his men, being too -drunk to help himself. They stopped a little while in the kitchen, -talking and laughing about the new housekeeper likely to come; and -they, too, went off, shutting, but not locking the door. Everything -favoured us. Amante had tried her ladder on one of the two previous -nights, and could, by a dexterous throw from beneath, unfasten it from -the hook to which it was fixed, when it had served its office; she made -up a bundle of worthless old clothes in order that we might the better -preserve our characters of a travelling pedlar and his wife; she -stuffed a hump on her back, she thickened my figure, she left her own -clothes deep down beneath a heap of others in the chest from which she -had taken the man's dress which she wore; and with a few francs in her -pocket--the sole money we had either of us had about us when we -escaped--we let ourselves down the ladder, unhooked it, and passed into -the cold darkness of night again. - -We had discussed the route which it would be well for us to take while -we lay perdues in our loft. Amante had told me then that her reason for -inquiring, when we first left Les Rochers, by which way I had first -been brought to it, was to avoid the pursuit which she was sure would -first be made in the direction of Germany; but that now she thought we -might return to that district of country where my German fashion of -speaking French would excite least observation. I thought that Amante -herself had something peculiar in her accent, which I had heard M. de -la Tourelle sneer at as Norman patois; but I said not a word beyond -agreeing to her proposal that we should bend our steps towards Germany. -Once there, we should, I thought, be safe. Alas! I forgot the unruly -time that was overspreading all Europe, overturning all law, and all -the protection which law gives. - -How we wandered--not daring to ask our way--how we lived, how we -struggled through many a danger and still more terrors of danger, I -shall not tell you now. I will only relate two of our adventures before -we reached Frankfort. The first, although fatal to an innocent lady, -was yet, I believe, the cause of my safety; the second I shall tell -you, that you may understand why I did not return to my former home, as -I had hoped to do when we lay in the miller's loft, and I first became -capable of groping after an idea of what my future life might be. I -cannot tell you how much in these doubtings and wanderings I became -attached to Amante. I have sometimes feared since, lest I cared for her -only because she was so necessary to my own safety; but, no! it was not -so; or not so only, or principally. She said once that she was flying -for her own life as well as for mine; but we dared not speak much on -our danger, or on the horrors that had gone before. We planned a little -what was to be our future course; but even for that we did not look -forward long; how could we, when every day we scarcely knew if we -should see the sun go down? For Amante knew or conjectured far more -than I did of the atrocity of the gang to which M. de la Tourelle -belonged; and every now and then, just as we seemed to be sinking into -the calm of security, we fell upon traces of a pursuit after us in all -directions. Once I remember--we must have been nearly three weeks -wearily walking through unfrequented ways, day after day, not daring to -make inquiry as to our whereabouts, nor yet to seem purposeless in our -wanderings--we came to a kind of lonely roadside farrier's and -blacksmith's. I was so tired, that Amante declared that, come what -might, we would stay there all night; and accordingly she entered the -house, and boldly announced herself as a travelling tailor, ready to do -any odd jobs of work that might be required, for a night's lodging and -food for herself and wife. She had adopted this plan once or twice -before, and with good success; for her father had been a tailor in -Rouen, and as a girl she had often helped him with his work, and knew -the tailors' slang and habits, down to the particular whistle and cry -which in France tells so much to those of a trade. At this -blacksmith's, as at most other solitary houses far away from a town, -there was not only a store of men's clothes laid by as wanting mending -when the housewife could afford time, but there was a natural craving -after news from a distance, such news as a wandering tailor is bound to -furnish. The early November afternoon was closing into evening, as we -sat down, she cross-legged on the great table in the blacksmith's -kitchen, drawn close to the window, I close behind her, sewing at -another part of the same garment, and from time to time well scolded by -my seeming husband. All at once she turned round to speak to me. It was -only one word, 'Courage!' I had seen nothing; I sat out of the light; -but I turned sick for an instant, and then I braced myself up into a -strange strength of endurance to go through I knew not what. - -The blacksmith's forge was in a shed beside the house, and fronting the -road. I heard the hammers stop plying their continual rhythmical beat. -She had seen why they ceased. A rider had come up to the forge and -dismounted, leading his horse in to be re-shod. The broad red light of -the forge-fire had revealed the face of the rider to Amante, and she -apprehended the consequence that really ensued. - -The rider, after some words with the blacksmith, was ushered in by him -into the house-place where we sat. - -'Here, good wife, a cup of wine and some galette for this gentleman.' - -'Anything, anything, madame, that I can eat and drink in my hand while -my horse is being shod. I am in haste, and must get on to Forbach -to-night.' - -The blacksmith's wife lighted her lamp; Amante had asked her for it -five minutes before. How thankful we were that she had not more -speedily complied with our request! As it was, we sat in dusk shadow, -pretending to stitch away, but scarcely able to see. The lamp was -placed on the stove, near which my husband, for it was he, stood and -warmed himself. By-and-by he turned round, and looked all over the room, -taking us in with about the same degree of interest as the inanimate -furniture. Amante, cross-legged, fronting him, stooped over her work, -whistling softly all the while. He turned again to the stove, -impatiently rubbing his hands. He had finished his wine and galette, -and wanted to be off. - -'I am in haste, my good woman. Ask thy husband to get on more quickly. -I will pay him double if he makes haste.' - -The woman went out to do his bidding; and he once more turned round to -face us. Amante went on to the second part of the tune. He took it up, -whistled a second for an instant or so, and then the blacksmith's wife -re-entering, he moved towards her, as if to receive her answer the more -speedily. - -'One moment, monsieur--only one moment. There was a nail out of the -off-foreshoe which my husband is replacing; it would delay monsieur -again if that shoe also came off.' - -'Madame is right,' said he, 'but my haste is urgent. If madame knew my -reasons, she would pardon my impatience. Once a happy husband, now a -deserted and betrayed man, I pursue a wife on whom I lavished all my -love, but who has abused my confidence, and fled from my house, -doubtless to some paramour; carrying off with her all the jewels and -money on which she could lay her hands. It is possible madame may have -heard or seen something of her; she was accompanied in her flight by a -base, profligate woman from Paris, whom I, unhappy man, had myself -engaged for my wife's waiting-maid, little dreaming what corruption I -was bringing into my house!' - -'Is it possible?' said the good woman, throwing up her hands. - -Amante went on whistling a little lower, out of respect to the -conversation. - -'However, I am tracing the wicked fugitives; I am on their track' (and -the handsome, effeminate face looked as ferocious as any demon's). -'They will not escape me; but every minute is a minute of misery to me, -till I meet my wife. Madame has sympathy, has she not?' - -He drew his face into a hard, unnatural smile, and then both went out -to the forge, as if once more to hasten the blacksmith over his work. - -Amante stopped her whistling for one instant. - -'Go on as you are, without change of an eyelid even; in a few minutes -he will be gone, and it will be over!' - -It was a necessary caution, for I was on the point of giving way, and -throwing myself weakly upon her neck. We went on; she whistling and -stitching, I making semblance to sew. And it was well we did so; for -almost directly he came back for his whip, which he had laid down and -forgotten; and again I felt one of those sharp, quick-scanning glances, -sent all round the room, and taking in all. - -Then we heard him ride away; and then, it had been long too dark to see -well, I dropped my work, and gave way to my trembling and shuddering. -The blacksmith's wife returned. She was a good creature. Amante told -her I was cold and weary, and she insisted on my stopping my work, and -going to sit near the stove; hastening, at the same time, her -preparations for supper, which, in honour of us, and of monsieur's -liberal payment, was to be a little less frugal than ordinary. It was -well for me that she made me taste a little of the cider-soup she was -preparing, or I could not have held up, in spite of Amante's warning -look, and the remembrance of her frequent exhortations to act -resolutely up to the characters we had assumed, whatever befell. To -cover my agitation, Amante stopped her whistling, and began to talk; -and, by the time the blacksmith came in, she and the good woman of the -house were in full flow. He began at once upon the handsome gentleman, -who had paid him so well; all his sympathy was with him, and both he -and his wife only wished he might overtake his wicked wife, and punish -her as she deserved. And then the conversation took a turn, not -uncommon to those whose lives are quiet and monotonous; every one -seemed to vie with each other in telling about some horror; and the -savage and mysterious band of robbers called the Chauffeurs, who -infested all the roads leading to the Rhine, with Schinderhannes at -their head, furnished many a tale which made the very marrow of my -bones run cold, and quenched even Amante's power of talking. Her eyes -grew large and wild, her cheeks blanched, and for once she sought by -her looks help from me. The new call upon me roused me. I rose and -said, with their permission my husband and I would seek our bed, for -that we had travelled far and were early risers. I added that we would -get up betimes, and finish our piece of work. The blacksmith said we -should be early birds if we rose before him; and the good wife seconded -my proposal with kindly bustle. One other such story as those they had -been relating, and I do believe Amante would have fainted. - -As it was, a night's rest set her up; we arose and finished our work -betimes, and shared the plentiful breakfast of the family. Then we had -to set forth again; only knowing that to Forbach we must not go, yet -believing, as was indeed the case, that Forbach lay between us and that -Germany to which we were directing our course. Two days more we -wandered on, making a round, I suspect, and returning upon the road to -Forbach, a league or two nearer to that town than the blacksmith's -house. But as we never made inquiries I hardly knew where we were, when -we came one night to a small town, with a good large rambling inn in -the very centre of the principal street. We had begun to feel as if -there were more safety in towns than in the loneliness of the country. -As we had parted with a ring of mine not many days before to a -travelling jeweller, who was too glad to purchase it far below its real -value to make many inquiries as to how it came into the possession of a -poor working tailor, such as Amante seemed to be, we resolved to stay -at this inn all night, and gather such particulars and information as -we could by which to direct our onward course. - -We took our supper in the darkest corner of the salle-à-manger, having -previously bargained for a small bedroom across the court, and over the -stables. We needed food sorely; but we hurried on our meal from dread -of any one entering that public room who might recognize us. Just in -the middle of our meal, the public diligence drove lumbering up under -the _porte-cochère_, and disgorged its passengers. Most of them turned -into the room where we sat, cowering and fearful, for the door was -opposite to the porter's lodge, and both opened on to the wide-covered -entrance from the street. Among the passengers came in a young, -fair-haired lady, attended by an elderly French maid. The poor young -creature tossed her head, and shrank away from the common room, full of -evil smells and promiscuous company, and demanded, in German French, to -be taken to some private apartment. We heard that she and her maid had -come in the coupé, and, probably from pride, poor young lady! she had -avoided all association with her fellow-passengers, thereby exciting -their dislike and ridicule. All these little pieces of hearsay had a -significance to us afterwards, though, at the time, the only remark -made that bore upon the future was Amante's whisper to me that the -young lady's hair was exactly the colour of mine, which she had cut off -and burnt in the stove in the miller's kitchen in one of her descents -from our hiding-place in the loft. - -As soon as we could, we struck round in the shadow, leaving the -boisterous and merry fellow-passengers to their supper. We crossed the -court, borrowed a lantern from the ostler, and scrambled up the rude -step to our chamber above the stable. There was no door into it; the -entrance was the hole into which the ladder fitted. The window looked -into the court. We were tired and soon fell asleep. I was wakened by a -noise in the stable below. One instant of listening, and I wakened -Amante, placing my hand on her mouth, to prevent any exclamation in her -half-roused state. We heard my husband speaking about his horse to the -ostler. It was his voice. I am sure of it. Amante said so too. We durst -not move to rise and satisfy ourselves. For five minutes or so he went -on giving directions. Then he left the stable, and, softly stealing to -our window, we saw him cross the court and re-enter the inn. We -consulted as to what we should do. We feared to excite remark or -suspicion by descending and leaving our chamber, or else immediate -escape was our strongest idea. Then the ostler left the stable, locking -the door on the outside. - -'We must try and drop through the window--if, indeed, it is well to go -at all,' said Amante. - -With reflection came wisdom. We should excite suspicion by leaving -without paying our bill. We were on foot, and might easily be pursued. -So we sat on our bed's edge, talking and shivering, while from across -the court the laughter rang merrily, and the company slowly dispersed -one by one, their lights flitting past the windows as they went -upstairs and settled each one to his rest. - -We crept into our bed, holding each other tight, and listening to every -sound, as if we thought we were tracked, and might meet our death at -any moment. In the dead of night, just at the profound stillness -preceding the turn into another day, we heard a soft, cautious step -crossing the yard. The key into the stable was turned--some one came -into the stable--we felt rather than heard him there. A horse started a -little, and made a restless movement with his feet, then whinnied -recognition. He who had entered made two or three low sounds to the -animal, and then led him into the court. Amante sprang to the window -with the noiseless activity of a cat. She looked out, but dared not -speak a word. We heard the great door into the street open--a pause for -mounting, and the horse's footsteps were lost in distance. - -Then Amante came back to me. 'It was he! he is gone!' said she, and -once more we lay down, trembling and shaking. - -This time we fell sound asleep. We slept long and late. We were wakened -by many hurrying feet, and many confused voices; all the world seemed -awake and astir. We rose and dressed ourselves, and coming down we -looked around among the crowd collected in the court-yard, in order to -assure ourselves _he_ was not there before we left the shelter of the -stable. - -The instant we were seen, two or three people rushed to us. - -'Have you heard?--Do you know?--That poor young lady--oh, come and -see!' and so we were hurried, almost in spite of ourselves, across the -court, and up the great open stairs of the main building of the inn, -into a bed-chamber, where lay the beautiful young German lady, so full -of graceful pride the night before, now white and still in death. By -her stood the French maid, crying and gesticulating. - -'Oh, madame! if you had but suffered me to stay with you! Oh! the -baron, what will he say?' and so she went on. Her state had but just -been discovered; it had been supposed that she was fatigued, and was -sleeping late, until a few minutes before. The surgeon of the town had -been sent for, and the landlord of the inn was trying vainly to enforce -order until he came, and, from time to time, drinking little cups of -brandy, and offering them to the guests, who were all assembled there, -pretty much as the servants were doing in the court-yard. - -At last the surgeon came. All fell back, and hung on the words that -were to fall from his lips. - -'See!' said the landlord. 'This lady came last night by the diligence -with her maid. Doubtless, a great lady, for she must have a private -sitting-room--' - -'She was Madame the Baroness de Roeder,' said the French maid. - ---'And was difficult to please in the matter of supper, and a -sleeping-room. She went to bed well, though fatigued. Her maid left -her--' - -'I begged to be allowed to sleep in her room, as we were in a strange -inn, of the character of which we knew nothing; but she would not let -me, my mistress was such a great lady.' - ---'And slept with my servants,' continued the landlord. 'This morning -we thought madame was still slumbering; but when eight, nine, ten, and -near eleven o'clock came, I bade her maid use my pass-key, and enter -her room----' - -'The door was not locked, only closed. And here she was found--dead is -she not, monsieur?--with her face down on her pillow, and her beautiful -hair all scattered wild; she never would let me tie it up, saying it -made her head ache. Such hair!' said the waiting-maid, lifting up a -long golden tress, and letting it fall again. - -I remembered Amante's words the night before, and crept close up to -her. - -Meanwhile, the doctor was examining the body underneath the -bed-clothes, which the landlord, until now, had not allowed to be -disarranged. The surgeon drew out his hand, all bathed and stained with -blood; and holding up a short, sharp knife, with a piece of paper -fastened round it. - -'Here has been foul play,' he said. 'The deceased lady has been -murdered. This dagger was aimed straight at her heart.' Then putting on -his spectacles, he read the writing on the bloody paper, dimmed and -horribly obscured as it was: - - NUMÉRO UN. - Ainsi les Chauffeurs se vengent. - -'Let us go!' said I to Amante. 'Oh, let us leave this horrible place!' - -'Wait a little,' said she. 'Only a few minutes more. It will be -better.' - -Immediately the voices of all proclaimed their suspicions of the -cavalier who had arrived last the night before. He had, they said, made -so many inquiries about the young lady, whose supercilious conduct all -in the _salle-à-manger_ had been discussing on his entrance. They were -talking about her as we left the room; he must have come in directly -afterwards, and not until he had learnt all about her, had he spoken of -the business which necessitated his departure at dawn of day, and made -his arrangements with both landlord and ostler for the possession of -the keys of the stable and _porte-cochère_. In short, there was no -doubt as to the murderer, even before the arrival of the legal -functionary who had been sent for by the surgeon; but the word on the -paper chilled every one with terror. Les Chauffeurs, who were they? No -one knew, some of the gang might even then be in the room overhearing, -and noting down fresh objects for vengeance. In Germany, I had heard -little of this terrible gang, and I had paid no greater heed to the -stories related once or twice about them in Carlsruhe than one does to -tales about ogres. But here in their very haunts, I learnt the full -amount of the terror they inspired. No one would be legally responsible -for any evidence criminating the murderer. The public prosecutor shrank -from the duties of his office. What do I say? Neither Amante nor I, -knowing far more of the actual guilt of the man who had killed that -poor sleeping young lady, durst breathe a word. We appeared to be -wholly ignorant of everything: we, who might have told so much. But how -could we? we were broken down with terrific anxiety and fatigue, with -the knowledge that we, above all, were doomed victims; and that the -blood, heavily dripping from the bed-clothes on to the floor, was -dripping thus out of the poor dead body, because, when living, she had -been mistaken for me. - -At length Amante went up to the landlord, and asked permission to leave -his inn, doing all openly and humbly, so as to excite neither ill-will -nor suspicion. Indeed, suspicion was otherwise directed, and he -willingly gave us leave to depart. A few days afterwards we were across -the Rhine, in Germany, making our way towards Frankfort, but still -keeping our disguises, and Amante still working at her trade. - -On the way, we met a young man, a wandering journeyman from Heidelberg. -I knew him, although I did not choose that he should know me. I asked -him, as carelessly as I could, how the old miller was now? He told me -he was dead. This realization of the worst apprehensions caused by his -long silence shocked me inexpressibly. It seemed as though every prop -gave way from under me. I had been talking to Amante only that very day -of the safety and comfort of the home that awaited her in my father's -house; of the gratitude which the old man would feel towards her; and -how there, in that peaceful dwelling, far away from the terrible land -of France, she should find ease and security for all the rest of her -life. All this I thought I had to promise, and even yet more had I -looked for, for myself. I looked to the unburdening of my heart and -conscience by telling all I knew to my best and wisest friend. I looked -to his love as a sure guidance as well as a comforting stay, and, -behold, he was gone away from me for ever! - -I had left the room hastily on hearing of this sad news from the -Heidelberger. Presently, Amante followed. - -'Poor madame,' said she, consoling me to the best of her ability. And -then she told me by degrees what more she had learned respecting my -home, about which she knew almost as much as I did, from my frequent -talks on the subject both at Les Rochers and on the dreary, doleful -road we had come along. She had continued the conversation after I -left, by asking about my brother and his wife. Of course, they lived on -at the mill, but the man said (with what truth I know not, but I -believed it firmly at the time) that Babette had completely got the -upper hand of my brother, who only saw through her eyes and heard with -her ears. That there had been much Heidelberg gossip of late days about -her sudden intimacy with a grand French gentleman who had appeared at -the mill--a relation, by marriage--married, in fact, to the miller's -sister, who, by all accounts, had behaved abominably and ungratefully. -But that was no reason for Babette's extreme and sudden intimacy with -him, going about everywhere with the French gentleman; and since he -left (as the Heidelberger said he knew for a fact) corresponding with -him constantly. Yet her husband saw no harm in it all, seemingly; -though, to be sure, he was so out of spirits, what with his father's -death and the news of his sister's infamy, that he hardly knew how to -hold up his head. - -'Now,' said Amante, 'all this proves that M. de la Tourelle has -suspected that you would go back to the nest in which you were reared, -and that he has been there, and found that you have not yet returned; -but probably he still imagines that you will do so, and has accordingly -engaged your sister-in-law as a kind of informant. Madame has said that -her sister-in-law bore her no extreme good-will; and the defamatory -story he has got the start of us in spreading, will not tend to -increase the favour in which your sister-in-law holds you. No doubt the -assassin was retracing his steps when we met him near Forbach, and -having heard of the poor German lady, with her French maid, and her -pretty blonde complexion, he followed her. If madame will still be -guided by me--and, my child, I beg of you still to trust me,' said -Amante, breaking out of her respectful formality into the way of -talking more natural to those who had shared and escaped from common -dangers--more natural, too, where the speaker was conscious of a power -of protection which the other did not possess--'we will go on to -Frankfort, and lose ourselves, for a time, at least, in the numbers of -people who throng a great town; and you have told me that Frankfort is -a great town. We will still be husband and wife; we will take a small -lodging, and you shall house-keep and live in-doors. I, as the rougher -and the more alert, will continue my father's trade, and seek work at -the tailors' shops.' - -I could think of no better plan, so we followed this out. In a back -street at Frankfort we found two furnished rooms to let on a sixth -story. The one we entered had no light from day; a dingy lamp swung -perpetually from the ceiling, and from that, or from the open door -leading into the bedroom beyond, came our only light. The bedroom was -more cheerful, but very small. Such as it was, it almost exceeded our -possible means. The money from the sale of my ring was almost -exhausted, and Amante was a stranger in the place, speaking only -French, moreover, and the good Germans were hating the French people -right heartily. However, we succeeded better than our hopes, and even -laid by a little against the time of my confinement. I never stirred -abroad, and saw no one, and Amante's want of knowledge of German kept -her in a state of comparative isolation. - -At length my child was born--my poor worse than fatherless child. It -was a girl, as I had prayed for. I had feared lest a boy might have -something of the tiger nature of its father, but a girl seemed all my -own. And yet not all my own, for the faithful Amante's delight and -glory in the babe almost exceeded mine; in outward show it certainly -did. - -We had not been able to afford any attendance beyond what a -neighbouring sage-femme could give, and she came frequently, bringing -in with her a little store of gossip, and wonderful tales culled out of -her own experience, every time. One day she began to tell me about a -great lady in whose service her daughter had lived as scullion, or some -such thing. Such a beautiful lady! with such a handsome husband. But -grief comes to the palace as well as to the garret, and why or -wherefore no one knew, but somehow the Baron de Roeder must have -incurred the vengeance of the terrible Chauffeurs; for not many months -ago, as madame was going to see her relations in Alsace, she was -stabbed dead as she lay in bed at some hotel on the road. Had I not -seen it in the _Gazette_? Had I not heard? Why, she had been told that -as far off as Lyons there were placards offering a heavy reward on the -part of the Baron de Roeder for information respecting the murderer of -his wife. But no one could help him, for all who could bear evidence -were in such terror of the Chauffeurs; there were hundreds of them she -had been told, rich and poor, great gentlemen and peasants, all leagued -together by most frightful oaths to hunt to the death any one who bore -witness against them; so that even they who survived the tortures to -which the Chauffeurs subjected many of the people whom they plundered, -dared not to recognise them again, would not dare, even did they see -them at the bar of a court of justice; for, if one were condemned, were -there not hundreds sworn to avenge his death? - -I told all this to Amante, and we began to fear that if M. de la -Tourelle, or Lefebvre, or any of the gang at Les Rochers, had seen -these placards, they would know that the poor lady stabbed by the -former was the Baroness de Roeder, and that they would set forth again -in search of me. - -This fresh apprehension told on my health and impeded my recovery. We -had so little money we could not call in a physician, at least, not one -in established practice. But Amante found out a young doctor for whom, -indeed, she had sometimes worked; and offering to pay him in kind, she -brought him to see me, her sick wife. He was very gentle and -thoughtful, though, like ourselves, very poor. But he gave much time -and consideration to the case, saying once to Amante that he saw my -constitution had experienced some severe shock from which it was -probable that my nerves would never entirely recover. By-and-by I shall -name this doctor, and then you will know, better than I can describe, -his character. - -I grew strong in time--stronger, at least. I was able to work a little -at home, and to sun myself and my baby at the garret-window in the -roof. It was all the air I dared to take. I constantly wore the -disguise I had first set out with; as constantly had I renewed the -disfiguring dye which changed my hair and complexion. But the perpetual -state of terror in which I had been during the whole months succeeding -my escape from Les Rochers made me loathe the idea of ever again -walking in the open daylight, exposed to the sight and recognition of -every passer-by. In vain Amante reasoned--in vain the doctor urged. -Docile in every other thing, in this I was obstinate. I would not stir -out. One day Amante returned from her work, full of news--some of it -good, some such as to cause us apprehension. The good news was this; -the master for whom she worked as journeyman was going to send her with -some others to a great house at the other side of Frankfort, where -there were to be private theatricals, and where many new dresses and -much alteration of old ones would be required. The tailors employed -were all to stay at this house until the day of representation was -over, as it was at some distance from the town, and no one could tell -when their work would be ended. But the pay was to be proportionately -good. - -The other thing she had to say was this: she had that day met the -travelling jeweller to whom she and I had sold my ring. It was rather a -peculiar one, given to me by my husband; we had felt at the time that -it might be the means of tracing us, but we were penniless and -starving, and what else could we do? She had seen that this Frenchman -had recognised her at the same instant that she did him, and she -thought at the same time that there was a gleam of more than common -intelligence on his face as he did so. This idea had been confirmed by -his following her for some way on the other side of the street; but she -had evaded him with her better knowledge of the town, and the -increasing darkness of the night. Still it was well that she was going -to such a distance from our dwelling on the next day; and she had -brought me in a stock of provisions, begging me to keep within doors, -with a strange kind of fearful oblivion of the fact that I had never -set foot beyond the threshold of the house since I had first entered -it--scarce ever ventured down the stairs. But, although my poor, my -dear, very faithful Amante was like one possessed that last night, she -spoke continually of the dead, which is a bad sign for the living. She -kissed you--yes! it was you, my daughter, my darling, whom I bore -beneath my bosom away from the fearful castle of your father--I call -him so for the first time, I must call him so once again before I have -done--Amante kissed you, sweet baby, blessed little comforter, as if -she never could leave off. And then she went away, alive. - -Two days, three days passed away. That third evening I was sitting -within my bolted doors--you asleep on your pillow by my side--when a -step came up the stair, and I knew it must be for me; for ours were the -top-most rooms. Some one knocked; I held my very breath. But some one -spoke, and I knew it was the good Doctor Voss. Then I crept to the -door, and answered. - -'Are you alone?' asked I. - -'Yes,' said he, in a still lower voice. 'Let me in.' I let him in, and -he was as alert as I in bolting and barring the door. Then he came and -whispered to me his doleful tale. He had come from the hospital in the -opposite quarter of the town, the hospital which he visited; he should -have been with me sooner, but he had feared lest he should be watched. -He had come from Amante's death-bed. Her fears of the jeweller were too -well founded. She had left the house where she was employed that -morning, to transact some errand connected with her work in the town; -she must have been followed, and dogged on her way back through -solitary wood-paths, for some of the wood-rangers belonging to the -great house had found her lying there, stabbed to death, but not dead; -with the poniard again plunged through the fatal writing, once more; -but this time with the word 'un' underlined, so as to show that the -assassin was aware of his precious mistake. - - Numéro _Un_. - Ainsi les Chauffeurs se vengent. - -They had carried her to the house, and given her restoratives till she -had recovered the feeble use of her speech. But, oh, faithful, dear -friend and sister! even then she remembered me, and refused to tell -(what no one else among her fellow workmen knew), where she lived or -with whom. Life was ebbing away fast, and they had no resource but to -carry her to the nearest hospital, where, of course, the fact of her -sex was made known. Fortunately both for her and for me, the doctor in -attendance was the very Doctor Voss whom we already knew. To him, while -awaiting her confessor, she told enough to enable him to understand the -position in which I was left; before the priest had heard half her tale -Amante was dead. - -Doctor Voss told me he had made all sorts of _détours_, and waited -thus, late at night, for fear of being watched and followed. But I do -not think he was. At any rate, as I afterwards learnt from him, the -Baron Roeder, on hearing of the similitude of this murder with that of -his wife in every particular, made such a search after the assassins, -that, although they were not discovered, they were compelled to take to -flight for the time. - -I can hardly tell you now by what arguments Dr. Voss, at first merely -my benefactor, sparing me a portion of his small modicum, at length -persuaded me to become his wife. His wife he called it, I called it; -for we went through the religious ceremony too much slighted at the -time, and as we were both Lutherans, and M. de la Tourelle had -pretended to be of the reformed religion, a divorce from the latter -would have been easily procurable by German law both ecclesiastical and -legal, could we have summoned so fearful a man into any court. - -The good doctor took me and my child by stealth to his modest dwelling; -and there I lived in the same deep refinement, never seeing the full -light of day, although when the dye had once passed away from my face -my husband did not wish me to renew it. There was no need; my yellow -hair was grey, my complexion was ashen-coloured, no creature could have -recognized the fresh-coloured, bright-haired young woman of eighteen -months before. The few people whom I saw knew me only as Madame Voss; a -widow much older than himself, whom Dr. Voss had secretly married. They -called me the Grey Woman. - -He made me give you his surname. Till now you have known no other -father--while he lived you needed no father's love. Once only, only -once more, did the old terror come upon me. For some reason which I -forget, I broke through my usual custom, and went to the window of my -room for some purpose, either to shut or to open it. Looking out into -the street for an instant, I was fascinated by the sight of M. de la -Tourelle, gay, young, elegant as ever, walking along on the opposite -side of the street. The noise I had made with the window caused him to -look up; he saw me, an old grey woman, and he did not recognize me! Yet -it was not three years since we had parted, and his eyes were keen and -dreadful like those of the lynx. - -I told M. Voss, on his return home, and he tried to cheer me, but the -shock of seeing M. de la Tourelle had been too terrible for me. I was -ill for long months afterwards. - -Once again I saw him. Dead. He and Lefebvre were at last caught; hunted -down by the Baron de Roeder in some of their crimes. Dr. Voss had heard -of their arrest; their condemnation, their death; but he never said a -word to me, until one day he bade me show him that I loved him by my -obedience and my trust. He took me a long carriage journey, where to I -know not, for we never spoke of that day again; I was led through a -prison, into a closed court-yard, where, decently draped in the last -robes of death, concealing the marks of decapitation, lay M. de la -Tourelle, and two or three others, whom I had known at Les Rochers. - -After that conviction Dr. Voss tried to persuade me to return to a more -natural mode of life, and to go out more. But although I sometimes -complied with his wish, yet the old terror was ever strong upon me, and -he, seeing what an effort it was, gave up urging me at last. - -You know all the rest. How we both mourned bitterly the loss of that -dear husband and father--for such I will call him ever--and as such you -must consider him, my child, after this one revelation is over. - -Why has it been made, you ask. For this reason, my child. The lover, -whom you have only known as M. Lebrun, a French artist, told me but -yesterday his real name, dropped because the blood-thirsty republicans -might consider it as too aristocratic. It is Maurice de Poissy. - - - - -CURIOUS, IF TRUE - -(EXTRACT FROM A LETTER FROM RICHARD WHITTINGHAM, ESQ.) - - -You were formerly so much amused at my pride in my descent from that -sister of Calvin's, who married a Whittingham, Dean of Durham, that I -doubt if you will be able to enter into the regard for my distinguished -relation that has led me to France, in order to examine registers and -archives, which, I thought, might enable me to discover collateral -descendants of the great reformer, with whom I might call cousins. I -shall not tell you of my troubles and adventures in this research; you -are not worthy to hear of them; but something so curious befell me one -evening last August, that if I had not been perfectly certain I was -wide awake, I might have taken it for a dream. - -For the purpose I have named, it was necessary that I should make Tours -my head-quarters for a time. I had traced descendants of the Calvin -family out of Normandy into the centre of France; but I found it was -necessary to have a kind of permission from the bishop of the diocese -before I could see certain family papers, which had fallen into the -possession of the Church; and, as I had several English friends at -Tours, I awaited the answer to my request to Monseigneur de----, at -that town. I was ready to accept any invitation; but I received very -few; and was sometimes a little at a loss what to do with my evenings. -The _table d'hôte_ was at five o'clock; I did not wish to go to the -expense of a private sitting-room, disliked the dinnery atmosphere of -the _salle à manger_, could not play either at pool or billiards, and -the aspect of my fellow guests was unprepossessing enough to make me -unwilling to enter into any _tête-à-tête_ gamblings with them. So I -usually rose from table early, and tried to make the most of the -remaining light of the August evenings in walking briskly off to -explore the surrounding country; the middle of the day was too hot for -this purpose, and better employed in lounging on a bench in the -Boulevards, lazily listening to the distant band, and noticing with -equal laziness the faces and figures of the women who passed by. - -One Thursday evening, the 18th of August it was, I think, I had gone -further than usual in my walk, and I found that it was later than I had -imagined when I paused to turn back. I fancied I could make a round; I -had enough notion of the direction in which I was, to see that by -turning up a narrow straight lane to my left I should shorten my way -back to Tours. And so I believe I should have done, could I have found -an outlet at the right place, but field-paths are almost unknown in -that part of France, and my lane, stiff and straight as any street, and -marked into terribly vanishing perspective by the regular row of -poplars on each side, seemed interminable. Of course night came on, and -I was in darkness. In England I might have had a chance of seeing a -light in some cottage only a field or two off, and asking my way from -the inhabitants; but here I could see no such welcome sight; indeed, I -believe French peasants go to bed with the summer daylight, so if there -were any habitations in the neighbourhood I never saw them. At last--I -believe I must have walked two hours in the darkness,--I saw the dusky -outline of a wood on one side of the weariful lane, and, impatiently -careless of all forest laws and penalties for trespassers, I made my -way to it, thinking that if the worst came to the worst, I could find -some covert--some shelter where I could lie down and rest, until the -morning light gave me a chance of finding my way back to Tours. But the -plantation, on the outskirts of what appeared to me a dense wood, was -of young trees, too closely planted to be more than slender stems -growing up to a good height, with scanty foliage on their summits. On I -went towards the thicker forest, and once there I slackened my pace, -and began to look about me for a good lair. I was as dainty as -Lochiel's grandchild, who made his grandsire indignant at the luxury of -his pillow of snow: this brake was too full of brambles, that felt damp -with dew; there was no hurry, since I had given up all hope of passing -the night between four walls; and I went leisurely groping about, and -trusting that there were no wolves to be poked up out of their summer -drowsiness by my stick, when all at once I saw a château before me, not -a quarter of a mile off, at the end of what seemed to be an ancient -avenue (now overgrown and irregular), which I happened to be crossing, -when I looked to my right, and saw the welcome sight. Large, stately, -and dark was its outline against the dusky night-sky; there were -pepper-boxes and tourelles and what-not fantastically going up into the -dim starlight. And more to the purpose still, though I could not see -the details of the building that I was now facing, it was plain enough -that there were lights in many windows, as if some great entertainment -was going on. - -'They are hospitable people, at any rate,' thought I. 'Perhaps they -will give me a bed. I don't suppose French propriétaires have traps and -horses quite as plentiful as English gentlemen; but they are evidently -having a large party, and some of their guests may be from Tours, and -will give me a cast back to the Lion d'Or. I am not proud, and I am -dog-tired. I am not above hanging on behind, if need be.' - -So, putting a little briskness and spirit into my walk, I went up to -the door, which was standing open, most hospitably, and showing a large -lighted hall, all hung round with spoils of the chase, armour, &c., the -details of which I had not time to notice, for the instant I stood on -the threshold a huge porter appeared, in a strange, old-fashioned -dress, a kind of livery which well befitted the general appearance of -the house. He asked me, in French (so curiously pronounced that I -thought I had hit upon a new kind of patois), my name, and whence I -came. I thought he would not be much the wiser, still it was but civil -to give it before I made my request for assistance; so, in reply, I -said: - -'My name is Whittingham--Richard Whittingham, an English gentleman, -staying at ----.' To my infinite surprise, a light of pleased -intelligence came over the giant's face; he made me a low bow, and said -(still in the same curious dialect) that I was welcome, that I was long -expected. - -'Long expected!' What could the fellow mean? Had I stumbled on a nest -of relations by John Calvin's side, who had heard of my genealogical -inquiries, and were gratified and interested by them? But I was too -much pleased to be under shelter for the night to think it necessary to -account for my agreeable reception before I enjoyed it. Just as he was -opening the great heavy _battants_ of the door that led from the hall -to the interior, he turned round and said: - -'Apparently Monsieur le Géanquilleur is not come with you.' - -'No! I am all alone; I have lost my way,'--and I was going on with my -explanation, when he, as if quite indifferent to it, led the way up a -great stone staircase, as wide as many rooms, and having on each -landing-place massive iron wickets, in a heavy framework; these the -porter unlocked with the solemn slowness of age. Indeed, a strange, -mysterious awe of the centuries that had passed away since this château -was built, came over me as I waited for the turning of the ponderous -keys in the ancient locks. I could almost have fancied that I heard a -mighty rushing murmur (like the ceaseless sound of a distant sea, -ebbing and flowing for ever and for ever), coming forth from the great -vacant galleries that opened out on each side of the broad staircase, -and were to be dimly perceived in the darkness above us. It was as if -the voices of generations of men yet echoed and eddied in the silent -air. It was strange, too, that my friend the porter going before me, -ponderously infirm, with his feeble old hands striving in vain to keep -the tall flambeau he held steadily before him,--strange, I say, that he -was the only domestic I saw in the vast halls and passages, or met with -on the grand staircase. At length we stood before the gilded doors that -led into the saloon where the family--or it might be the company, so -great was the buzz of voices--was assembled. I would have remonstrated -when I found he was going to introduce me, dusty and travel-smeared, in -a morning costume that was not even my best, into this grand _salon_, -with nobody knew how many ladies and gentlemen assembled; but the -obstinate old man was evidently bent upon taking me straight to his -master, and paid no heed to my words. - -The doors flew open, and I was ushered into a saloon curiously full of -pale light, which did not culminate on any spot, nor proceed from any -centre, nor flicker with any motion of the air, but filled every nook -and corner, making all things deliciously distinct; different from our -light of gas or candle, as is the difference between a clear southern -atmosphere and that of our misty England. - -At the first moment, my arrival excited no attention, the apartment was -so full of people, all intent on their own conversation. But my friend -the porter went up to a handsome lady of middle age, richly attired in -that antique manner which fashion has brought round again of late -years, and, waiting first in an attitude of deep respect till her -attention fell upon him, told her my name and something about me, as -far as I could guess from the gestures of the one and the sudden glance -of the eye of the other. - -She immediately came towards me with the most friendly actions of -greeting, even before she had advanced near enough to speak. Then,--and -was it not strange?--her words and accent were that of the commonest -peasant of the country. Yet she herself looked highbred, and would have -been dignified had she been a shade less restless, had her countenance -worn a little less lively and inquisitive expression. I had been poking -a good deal about the old parts of Tours, and had had to understand the -dialect of the people who dwelt in the Marché au Vendredi and similar -places, or I really should not have understood my handsome hostess, as -she offered to present me to her husband, a henpecked, gentlemanly man, -who was more quaintly attired than she in the very extreme of that -style of dress. I thought to myself that in France, as in England, it -is the provincials who carry fashion to such an excess as to become -ridiculous. - -However, he spoke (still in the _patois_) of his pleasure in making my -acquaintance, and led me to a strange uneasy easy-chair, much of a -piece with the rest of the furniture, which might have taken its place -without any anachronism by the side of that in the Hôtel Cluny. Then -again began the clatter of French voices, which my arrival had for an -instant interrupted, and I had leisure to look about me. Opposite to me -sat a very sweet-looking lady, who must have been a great beauty in her -youth, I should think, and would be charming in old age, from the -sweetness of her countenance. She was, however, extremely fat, and on -seeing her feet laid up before her on a cushion, I at once perceived -that they were so swollen as to render her incapable of walking, which -probably brought on her excessive _embonpoint_. Her hands were plump -and small, but rather coarse-grained in texture, not quite so clean as -they might have been, and altogether not so aristocratic-looking as the -charming face. Her dress was of superb black velvet, ermine-trimmed, -with diamonds thrown all abroad over it. - -Not far from her stood the least little man I had ever seen; of such -admirable proportions no one could call him a dwarf, because with that -word we usually associate something of deformity; but yet with an elfin -look of shrewd, hard, worldly wisdom in his face that marred the -impression which his delicate regular little features would otherwise -have conveyed. Indeed, I do not think he was quite of equal rank with -the rest of the company, for his dress was inappropriate to the -occasion (and he apparently was an invited, while I was an involuntary -guest); and one or two of his gestures and actions were more like the -tricks of an uneducated rustic than anything else. To explain what I -mean: his boots had evidently seen much service, and had been -re-topped, re-heeled, re-soled to the extent of cobbler's powers. Why -should he have come in them if they were not his best--his only pair? -And what can be more ungenteel than poverty? Then again he had an -uneasy trick of putting his hand up to his throat, as if he expected to -find something the matter with it; and he had the awkward habit--which -I do not think he could have copied from Dr. Johnson, because most -probably he had never heard of him--of trying always to retrace his -steps on the exact boards on which he had trodden to arrive at any -particular part of the room. Besides, to settle the question, I once -heard him addressed as Monsieur Poucet, without any aristocratic 'de' -for a prefix; and nearly every one else in the room was a marquis, at -any rate. - -I say, 'nearly every one;' for some strange people had the entrée; -unless, indeed, they were, like me, benighted. One of the guests I -should have taken for a servant, but for the extraordinary influence he -seemed to have over the man I took for his master, and who never did -anything without, apparently, being urged thereto by this follower. The -master, magnificently dressed, but ill at ease in his clothes as if -they had been made for some one else, was a weak-looking, handsome man, -continually sauntering about, and I almost guessed an object of -suspicion to some of the gentlemen present, which, perhaps, drove him -on the companionship of his follower, who was dressed something in the -style of an ambassador's chasseur; yet it was not a chasseur's dress -after all; it was something more thoroughly old-world; boots half way -up his ridiculously small legs, which clattered as he walked along, as -if they were too large for his little feet; and a great quantity of -grey fur, as trimming to coat, court mantle, boots, cap--everything. -You know the way in which certain countenances remind you perpetually -of some animal, be it bird or beast! Well, this chasseur (as I will -call him for want of a better name) was exceedingly like the great -Tom-cat that you have seen so often in my chambers, and laughed at -almost as often for his uncanny gravity of demeanour. Grey whiskers has -my Tom--grey whiskers had the chasseur: grey hair overshadows the upper -lip of my Tom--grey mustachios hid that of the chasseur. The pupils of -Tom's eyes dilate and contract as I had thought cats' pupils only could -do, until I saw those of the chasseur. To be sure, canny as Tom is, the -chasseur had the advantage in the more intelligent expression. He -seemed to have obtained most complete sway over his master or patron, -whose looks he watched, and whose steps he followed, with a kind of -distrustful interest that puzzled me greatly. - -There were several other groups in the more distant part of the saloon, -all of the stately old school, all grand and noble, I conjectured from -their bearing. They seemed perfectly well acquainted with each other, -as if they were in the habit of meeting. But I was interrupted in my -observations by the tiny little gentleman on the opposite side of the -room coming across to take a place beside me. It is no difficult matter -to a Frenchman to slide into conversation, and so gracefully did my -pigmy friend keep up the character of the nation, that we were almost -confidential before ten minutes had elapsed. - -Now I was quite aware that the welcome which all had extended to me, -from the porter up to the vivacious lady and meek lord of the castle, -was intended for some other person. But it required either a degree of -moral courage, of which I cannot boast, or the self-reliance and -conversational powers of a bolder and cleverer man than I, to undeceive -people who had fallen into so fortunate a mistake for me. Yet the -little man by my side insinuated himself so much into my confidence, -that I had half a mind to tell him of my exact situation, and to turn -him into a friend and an ally. - -'Madame is perceptibly growing older,' said he, in the midst of my -perplexity, glancing at our hostess. - -'Madame is still a very fine woman,' replied I. - -'Now, is it not strange,' continued he, lowering his voice, 'how women -almost invariably praise the absent, or departed, as if they were -angels of light while as for the present, or the living'--here he -shrugged up his little shoulders, and made an expressive pause. 'Would -you believe it! Madame is always praising her late husband to -monsieur's face; till, in fact, we guests are quite perplexed how to -look: for, you know, the late M. de Retz's character was quite -notorious,--everybody has heard of him.' All the world of Touraine, -thought I, but I made an assenting noise. - -At this instant, monsieur our host came up to me, and with a civil look -of tender interest (such as some people put on when they inquire after -your mother, about whom they do not care one straw), asked if I had -heard lately how my cat was? 'How my cat was!' What could the man mean? -My cat! Could he mean the tailless Tom, born in the Isle of Man, and -now supposed to be keeping guard against the incursions of rats and -mice into my chambers in London? Tom is, as you know, on pretty good -terms with some of my friends, using their legs for rubbing-posts -without scruple, and highly esteemed by them for his gravity of -demeanour, and wise manner of winking his eyes. But could his fame have -reached across the Channel? However, an answer must be returned to the -inquiry, as monsieur's face was bent down to mine with a look of polite -anxiety; so I, in my turn, assumed an expression of gratitude, and -assured him that, to the best of my belief, my cat was in remarkably -good health. - -'And the climate agrees with her?' - -'Perfectly,' said I, in a maze of wonder at this deep solicitude in a -tailless cat who had lost one foot and half an ear in some cruel trap. -My host smiled a sweet smile, and, addressing a few words to my little -neighbour, passed on. - -'How wearisome those aristocrats are!' quoth my neighbour, with a -slight sneer. 'Monsieur's conversation rarely extends to more than two -sentences to any one. By that time his faculties are exhausted, and he -needs the refreshment of silence. You and I, monsieur, are, at any -rate, indebted to our own wits for our rise in the world!' - -Here again I was bewildered! As you know, I am rather proud of my -descent from families which, if not noble themselves, are allied to -nobility,--and as to my 'rise in the world'--if I had risen, it would -have been rather for balloon-like qualities than for mother-wit, to -being unencumbered with heavy ballast either in my head or my pockets. -However, it was my cue to agree: so I smiled again. - -'For my part,' said he, 'if a man does not stick at trifles, if he -knows how to judiciously add to, or withhold facts, and is not -sentimental in his parade of humanity, he is sure to do well; sure to -affix a _de_ or _von_ to his name, and end his days in comfort. There -is an example of what I am saying'--and he glanced furtively at the -weak-looking master of the sharp, intelligent servant, whom I have -called the chasseur. - -'Monsieur le Marquis would never have been anything but a miller's son, -if it had not been for the talents of his servant. Of course you know -his antecedents?' - -I was going to make some remarks on the changes in the order of the -peerage since the days of Louis XVI.--going, in fact, to be very -sensible and historical--when there was a slight commotion among the -people at the other end of the room. Lacqueys in quaint liveries must -have come in from behind the tapestry, I suppose (for I never saw them -enter, though I sate right opposite to the doors), and were handing -about the slight beverages and slighter viands which are considered -sufficient refreshments, but which looked rather meagre to my hungry -appetite. These footmen were standing solemnly opposite to a -lady,--beautiful, splendid as the dawn, but--sound asleep in a -magnificent settee. A gentleman who showed so much irritation at her -ill-timed slumbers, that I think he must have been her husband, was -trying to awaken her with actions not far removed from shakings. All in -vain; she was quite unconscious of his annoyance, or the smiles of the -company, or the automatic solemnity of the waiting footman, or the -perplexed anxiety of monsieur and madame. - -My little friend sat down with a sneer, as if his curiosity was -quenched in contempt. - -'Moralists would make an infinity of wise remarks on that scene,' said -he. 'In the first place, note the ridiculous position into which their -superstitious reverence for rank and title puts all these people. -Because monsieur is a reigning prince over some minute principality, -the exact situation of which no one has as yet discovered, no one must -venture to take their glass of eau sucré till Madame la Princesse -awakens; and, judging from past experience, those poor lacqueys may -have to stand for a century before that happens. Next--always speaking -as a moralist, you will observe--note how difficult it is to break off -bad habits acquired in youth!' - -Just then the prince succeeded, by what means I did not see, in awaking -the beautiful sleeper. But at first she did not remember where she was, -and looking up at her husband with loving eyes, she smiled and said: - -'Is it you, my prince?' - -But he was too conscious of the suppressed amusement of the spectators -and his own consequent annoyance, to be reciprocally tender, and turned -away with some little French expression, best rendered into English by -'Pooh, pooh, my dear!' - -After I had had a glass of delicious wine of some unknown quality, my -courage was in rather better plight than before, and I told my cynical -little neighbour--whom I must say I was beginning to dislike--that I -had lost my way in the wood, and had arrived at the château quite by -mistake. - -He seemed mightily amused at my story; said that the same thing had -happened to himself more than once; and told me that I had better luck -than he had on one of these occasions, when, from his account, he must -have been in considerable danger of his life. He ended his story by -making me admire his boots, which he said he still wore, patched though -they were, and all their excellent quality lost by patching, because -they were of such a first-rate make for long pedestrian excursions. -'Though, indeed,' he wound up by saying, 'the new fashion of railroads -would seem to supersede the necessity for this description of boots.' - -When I consulted him as to whether I ought to make myself known to my -host and hostess as a benighted traveller, instead of the guest whom -they had taken me for, he exclaimed, 'By no means! I hate such -squeamish morality.' And he seemed much offended by my innocent -question, as if it seemed by implication to condemn something in -himself. He was offended and silent; and just at this moment I caught -the sweet, attractive eyes of the lady opposite--that lady whom I named -at first as being no longer in the bloom of youth, but as being -somewhat infirm about the feet, which were supported on a raised -cushion before her. Her looks seemed to say, 'Come here, and let us -have some conversation together;' and, with a bow of silent excuse to -my little companion, I went across to the lame old lady. She -acknowledged my coming with the prettiest gesture of thanks possible; -and, half apologetically, said, 'It is a little dull to be unable to -move about on such evenings as this; but it is a just punishment to me -for my early vanities. My poor feet, that were by nature so small, are -now taking their revenge for my cruelty in forcing them into such -little slippers ... Besides, monsieur,' with a pleasant smile, 'I -thought it was possible you might be weary of the malicious sayings of -your little neighbour. He has not borne the best character in his -youth, and such men are sure to be cynical in their old age.' - -'Who is he?' asked I, with English abruptness. - -'His name is Poucet, and his father was, I believe, a woodcutter, or -charcoal burner, or something of the sort. They do tell sad stories of -connivance at murder, ingratitude, and obtaining money on false -pretences--but you will think me as bad as he if I go on with my -slanders. Rather let us admire the lovely lady coming up towards us, -with the roses in her hand--I never see her without roses, they are so -closely connected with her past history, as you are doubtless aware. -Ah, beauty!' said my companion to the lady drawing near to us, 'it is -like you to come to me, now that I can no longer go to you.' Then -turning to me, and gracefully drawing me into the conversation, she -said, 'You must know that, although we never met until we were both -married, we have been almost like sisters ever since. There have been -so many points of resemblance in our circumstances, and I think I may -say in our characters. We had each two elder sisters--mine were but -half-sisters, though--who were not so kind to us as they might have -been.' - -'But have been sorry for it since,' put in the other lady. - -'Since we have married princes,' continued the same lady, with an arch -smile that had nothing of unkindness in it, 'for we both have married -far above our original stations in life; we are both unpunctual in our -habits, and, in consequence of this failing of ours, we have both had -to suffer mortification and pain.' - -'And both are charming,' said a whisper close behind me. 'My lord the -marquis, say it--say, "And both are charming."' - -'And both are charming,' was spoken aloud by another voice. I turned, -and saw the wily cat-like chasseur, prompting his master to make civil -speeches. - -The ladies bowed with that kind of haughty acknowledgement which shows -that compliments from such a source are distasteful. But our trio of -conversation was broken up, and I was sorry for it. The marquis looked -as if he had been stirred up to make that one speech, and hoped that he -would not be expected to say more; while behind him stood the chasseur, -half impertinent and half servile in his ways and attitudes. The -ladies, who were real ladies, seemed to be sorry for the awkwardness of -the marquis, and addressed some trifling questions to him, adapting -themselves to the subjects on which he could have no trouble in -answering. The chasseur, meanwhile, was talking to himself in a -growling tone of voice. I had fallen a little into the background at -this interruption in a conversation which promised to be so pleasant, -and I could not help hearing his words. - -'Really, De Carabas grows more stupid every day. I have a great mind to -throw off his boots, and leave him to his fate. I was intended for a -court, and to a court I will go, and make my own fortune as I have made -his. The emperor will appreciate my talents.' - -And such are the habits of the French, or such his forgetfulness of -good manners in his anger, that he spat right and left on the -parquetted floor. - -Just then a very ugly, very pleasant-looking man, came towards the two -ladies to whom I had lately been speaking, leading up to them a -delicate, fair woman, dressed all in the softest white, as if she were -_vouée au blanc_. I do not think there was a bit of colour about her. I -thought I heard her making, as she came along, a little noise of -pleasure, not exactly like the singing of a tea-kettle, nor yet like -the cooing of a dove, but reminding me of each sound. - -'Madame de Mioumiou was anxious to see you,' said he, addressing the -lady with the roses, 'so I have brought her across to give you a -pleasure!' What an honest, good face! but oh! how ugly! And yet I liked -his ugliness better than most persons' beauty. There was a look of -pathetic acknowledgement of his ugliness, and a deprecation of your too -hasty judgement, in his countenance that was positively winning. The -soft, white lady kept glancing at my neighbour the chasseur, as if they -had had some former acquaintance, which puzzled me very much, as they -were of such different rank. However, their nerves were evidently -strung to the same tune, for at a sound behind the tapestry, which was -more like the scuttering of rats and mice than anything else, both -Madame de Mioumiou and the chasseur started with the most eager look of -anxiety on their countenances, and by their restless movements--madame's -panting, and the fiery dilation of his eyes--one might see that -commonplace sounds affected them both in a manner very different to the -rest of the company. The ugly husband of the lovely lady with the roses -now addressed himself to me. - -'We are much disappointed,' he said, 'in finding that monsieur is not -accompanied by his countryman--le grand Jean d'Angleterre; I cannot -pronounce his name rightly'--and he looked at me to help him out. - -'Le grand Jean d'Angleterre!' now who was le grand Jean d'Angleterre? -John Bull? John Russell? John Bright? - -'Jean--Jean'--continued the gentleman, seeing my embarrassment. 'Ah, -these terrible English names--"Jean de Géanquilleur!"' - -I was as wise as ever. And yet the name struck me as familiar, but -slightly disguised. I repeated it to myself. It was mighty like John -the Giant-killer, only his friends always call that worthy 'Jack'. I -said the name aloud. - -'Ah, that is it!' said he. 'But why has he not accompanied you to our -little reunion to-night?' - -I had been rather puzzled once or twice before, but this serious -question added considerably to my perplexity. Jack the Giant-killer had -once, it is true, been rather an intimate friend of mine, as far as -(printer's) ink and paper can keep up a friendship, but I had not heard -his name mentioned for years; and for aught I knew he lay enchanted -with King Arthur's knights, who lie entranced until the blast of the -trumpets of four mighty kings shall call them to help at England's -need. But the question had been asked in serious earnest by that -gentleman, whom I more wished to think well of me than I did any other -person in the room. So I answered respectfully that it was long since I -had heard anything of my countryman; but that I was sure it would have -given him as much pleasure as it was doing myself to have been present -at such an agreeable gathering of friends. He bowed, and then the lame -lady took up the word. - -'To-night is the night when, of all the year, this great old forest -surrounding the castle is said to be haunted by the phantom of a little -peasant girl who once lived hereabouts; the tradition is that she was -devoured by a wolf. In former days I have seen her on this night out of -yonder window at the end of the gallery. Will you, ma belle, take -monsieur to see the view outside by the moonlight (you may possibly see -the phantom-child); and leave me to a little _tête-à-tête_ with your -husband?' - -With a gentle movement the lady with the roses complied with the -other's request, and we went to a great window, looking down on the -forest, in which I had lost my way. The tops of the far-spreading and -leafy trees lay motionless beneath us in the pale, wan light, which -shows objects almost as distinct in form, though not in colour, as by -day. We looked down on the countless avenues, which seemed to converge -from all quarters to the great old castle; and suddenly across one, -quite near to us, there passed the figure of a little girl, with the -'capuchon' on, that takes the place of a peasant girl's bonnet in -France. She had a basket on one arm, and by her, on the side to which -her head was turned, there went a wolf. I could almost have said it was -licking her hand, as if in penitent love, if either penitence or love -had ever been a quality of wolves,--but though not of living, perhaps -it may be of phantom wolves. - -'There, we have seen her!' exclaimed my beautiful companion. 'Though so -long dead, her simple story of household goodness and trustful -simplicity still lingers in the hearts of all who have ever heard of -her; and the country-people about here say that seeing that -phantom-child on this anniversary brings good luck for the year. Let us -hope that we shall share in the traditionary good fortune. Ah! here is -Madame de Retz--she retains the name of her first husband, you know, as -he was of higher rank than the present.' We were joined by our hostess. - -'If monsieur is fond of the beauties of nature and art,' said she, -perceiving that I had been looking at the view from the great window, -'he will perhaps take pleasure in seeing the picture.' Here she sighed, -with a little affectation of grief. 'You know the picture I allude to,' -addressing my companion, who bowed assent, and smiled a little -maliciously, as I followed the lead of madame. - -I went after her to the other end of the saloon, noting by the way with -what keen curiosity she caught up what was passing either in word or -action on each side of her. When we stood opposite to the end wall, I -perceived a full-length picture of a handsome, peculiar-looking man, -with--in spite of his good looks--a very fierce and scowling -expression. My hostess clasped her hands together as her arms hung down -in front, and sighed once more. Then, half in soliloquy, she said: - -'He was the love of my youth; his stern yet manly character first -touched this heart of mine. When--when shall I cease to deplore his -loss!' - -Not being acquainted with her enough to answer this question (if, -indeed, it were not sufficiently answered by the fact of her second -marriage), I felt awkward; and, by way of saying something, I remarked: - -'The countenance strikes me as resembling something I have seen -before--in an engraving from an historical picture, I think; only, it -is there the principal figure in a group: he is holding a lady by her -hair, and threatening her with his scimitar, while two cavaliers are -rushing up the stairs, apparently only just in time to save her life.' - -'Alas, alas!' said she, 'you too accurately describe a miserable -passage in my life, which has often been represented in a false light. -The best of husbands'--here she sobbed, and became slightly -inarticulate with her grief--'will sometimes be displeased. I was young -and curious, he was justly angry with my disobedience--my brothers were -too hasty--the consequence is, I became a widow!' - -After due respect for her tears, I ventured to suggest some commonplace -consolation. She turned round sharply:-- - -'No, monsieur: my only comfort is that I have never forgiven the -brothers who interfered so cruelly, in such an uncalled-for manner, -between my dear husband and myself. To quote my friend Monsieur -Sganarelle--"Ce sont petites choses qui sont de temps en temps -nécessaires dans l'amitié; et cinq ou six coups d'épée entre gens qui -s'aiment ne font que ragaillardir l'affection." You observe the -colouring is not quite what it should be?' - -'In this light the beard is of rather a peculiar tint,' said I. - -'Yes: the painter did not do it justice. It was most lovely, and gave -him such a distinguished air, quite different from the common herd. -Stay, I will show you the exact colour, if you will come near this -flambeau!' And going near the light, she took off a bracelet of hair, -with a magnificent clasp of pearls. It was peculiar, certainly. I did -not know what to say. 'His precious lovely beard!' said she. 'And the -pearls go so well with the delicate blue!' - -Her husband, who had come up to us, and waited till her eye fell upon -him before venturing to speak, now said, 'It is strange Monsieur Ogre -is not yet arrived!' - -'Not at all strange,' said she, tartly. 'He was always very stupid, and -constantly falls into mistakes, in which he comes worse off; and it is -very well he does, for he is credulous and cowardly fellow. Not at all -strange! If you will'--turning to her husband, so that I hardly heard -her words, until I caught--'Then everybody would have their rights, and -we should have no more trouble. Is it not, monsieur?' addressing me. - -'If I were in England, I should imagine madame was speaking of the -reform bill, or the millennium,--but I am in ignorance.' - -And just as I spoke, the great folding-doors were thrown open wide, and -every one started to their feet to greet a little old lady, leaning on -a thin black wand--and-- - -'Madame la Féemarraine,' was announced by a chorus of sweet shrill -voices. - -And in a moment I was lying in the grass close by a hollow oak-tree, -with the slanting glory of the dawning day shining full in my face, and -thousands of little birds and delicate insects piping and warbling out -their welcome to the ruddy splendour. - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Curious, if True, by Elizabeth Gaskell - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CURIOUS, IF TRUE *** - -***** This file should be named 24879-8.txt or 24879-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/8/7/24879/ - -Produced by Delphine Lettau and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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